The title says it all. That's it. That's all. Beware the threes. The twos were a fucking dreamland. The threes will break you. My son is about 3 months away from turning 4, and there is an end in sight, so don't lose hope yet. Just stock up on the wine, hunker down and try not to have a nervous breakdown.
Tuesday, November 24, 2020
Saturday, October 3, 2020
The ugly truth (long post)
I'm sitting here thinking about a client of mine who recently had her first baby, not long after I had my second. This person is a bit of a hot mess--she can't take care of her own basic needs, let alone a baby's--and I've worried about how that child is going to fare ever since I found out about my client's pregnancy. Now that the baby is here, things seem to be just as I expected in terms of this baby's basic, essential needs not coming first and not being met. And it makes me angry and sad. Sad for the baby because she didn't ask to be born into this mess and angry at the mom because she wanted this kid, now she has it and she's not doing what she needs to do to properly care for her child. And I know why. Aside from her personality disorder, she's overwhelmed and under prepared for her new normal. Perhaps she thought "how hard can it be to take care of a baby? They don't do anything except eat, sleep and poop." And yet, from what I understand, she's struggling just to keep the baby clean and fed, for a multitude of reasons ranging from financial limitations to sheer laziness and selfishness on her part.
And as much as I want to be angry with her for not acting responsibly, and believe me I am, I also think it's important to point out that she may very well have fallen into a false sense of reassurance that motherhood is a breeze and the illusion that knowing how to mother your offspring is just an inherent trait that all women have. That, like in nature, as soon as the baby pops out our primal instincts will guide us toward knowing exactly what to do in all aspects of the baby, from feeding to hygiene to health issues. And as you may well know, this just isn't true. First-time moms have so much to learn (hell, second- and third-time moms are still learning new things) and it can be a shit show for awhile for all of us, no matter what our pre-existing circumstances are.
As I reflect on my own feelings about motherhood thus far with a 3-year old and a 4-month old, I can totally relate to the fact that so many moms are ill-prepared to meet the hard, shitty realities that come along with motherhood. Sure, squishy babies that smell amazing and adorable baby clothes can make the mom life seem like a Pampers commercial where all you do is laugh and play and roll around with your baby in a field of flowers while they are happy all the time and moms know how to do everything right all the time. But the ugly truth is that parenthood can be a blowout diarrhea shit some of the time. Or a lot of the time. And what pisses me off is that prior to having kids, I never heard my parent siblings or my parent friends ever talk about postpartum depression or feeling like a failure when the kid won't go to sleep at night or crying in the bathroom because the sleep deprivation is so punishing or having the fleeting moments where you're so exhausted and burnt out from this tiny human that came in like a wrecking ball that you think to yourself "what the fuck have I done and can you return babies??" All I ever saw or heard about were the milestones being met--rolling over, crawling, walking, first words--or the oohs and aahs about how cute the baby was. Perhaps I wasn't paying close enough attention to catch any of the negative stuff, since I was still so far away from being ready for my own kids. Well consider me on fucking high alert now. Universe, you have my attention.
For starters, the experience I had in the hospital with my first kid felt like being in a room full of rabid telemarketers. I was inundated with people coming and going in my hospital room, and at times it felt intrusive and jarring. Just as I would drift off to sleep, a nurse would come barreling in or the person bringing food would stop by or some other random person. If I was supposed to be relaxing or bonding with baby after 9 months of pregnancy, that objective was drowned out by the guy coming in my room while I had my tits out feeding my son to hock family photo packages. This was especially disruptive when it happened all hours of the night. However, I did appreciate the constant influx of nurses checking in with me, since I didn't know what the fuck I was doing. I had a nice balance of nurses who did the basic minimum and nurses who really talked to me and dove into my questions with kindness. Honestly, in the time of COVID, my experience having my second kid was so much more relaxed and serene. Nurses only came in when they had to, there was no one pestering me three times a day about my kid's name for the SSA, and there was definitely no one barging in to ask me about a family portrait package. Plus I got to leave the hospital a day early since I had no issues and they didn't want me to have to be in the hospital any longer than needed, in order to lessen the possible risk of exposure to coronavirus. Despite not being able to have visitors, it was a great experience that second time around.
The first night home with my first kid was a NIGHTMARE. I might still have a touch of PTSD from that horror show. It was so awful that I dedicated an entire earlier post to just the first night home from the hospital. Feel free to scroll back and read it. I won't go into detail here; just know it was a shit show of epic proportions. Looking back now, it was the first of many times to come in which I would find myself crying on the bathroom floor because kids. I'm happy to report that my first night home with my second kid was leaps and bounds better.
Having kids has truly brought all of my neuroses front and center. The germaphobe, catastrophizing control freak that I am shines brightly as a parent. Everything from pinworms to abduction to drowning to him splitting his head open on the driveway because he's such a klutz and beyond are on my daily mental list of fears. And in this time of COVID, you better believe every sneeze or cough that escapes their faces makes me cringe because obviously they have coronavirus. Sometimes I re-fasten my baby's diaper six or seven times because I'm worried the scratchy tab part of the fastener will irritate baby's thigh. Yep.
The sleep deprivation. Man, you thought you loved sleep before kids? Well kiss that luxury goodbye, because you will never get a truly good night's sleep with children in the picture until they grow up and get the fuck out of your house. And even then, I'm willing to bet the farm that I'll still lose some amount of sleep over my kids. Some of my personal experiences with this facet of parenthood tie directly to the fact that I'm a neurotic mess, so this may not be the case for everyone. But certainly in the beginning, the adjustment you have to make to your sleep schedule in order to keep the tiny human(s) alive is no small feat. Again, since I'm a psycho, I can probably count on one hand how many times I've truly had a full night's sleep since my 3 year old was born. Between leaping out of bed at the slightest whine to creeping into his room every two hours to check and see if his hands/face/ears are cold and adjusting the fan or space heater twenty different ways to Sunday to try and achieve the ultimate comfortable temperature in the room, I don't get much sleep these days. The universe threw me a bone with my daughter, in that she was sleeping through the night by 3 months old. Maybe that's late for some but it felt really soon for her to be doing this, so I thought I hit the jackpot there. As I type this, though, she has entered her 4 month sleep regression/growth spurt, so I've had to get up a few times for the past couple of nights in order to feed her. Oh, and the concept of having an infant and a toddler at the same time? I. Am. Tired.
Relationships are difficult enough on their own, but add kids to the mix and you're looking at yet another thing you have to work extra hard at and fall short on and thus will probably immerse you in guilt most of the time. In order to maintain a semblance of a connection with your partner, you have to be able to make room in your physical and mental space-time continuum to spend quality time with that person. As for me, when I've had a baby and a toddler hanging all over me all day, sucking every ounce of patience and energy away from me like leeches, the last thing I want to do at night is put any kind of effort forth to spend quality time with my husband. Don't get me wrong; I love and cherish him. But between getting menial tasks accomplished after the kids go to bed (because that's the only time anything extensive can get done) and making sure I have time to myself beyond just the time I will spend pumping before my own bedtime, I have no energy or inclination to take care of anyone else in my house. Countless nights, myself and my husband go to bed separately and usually without saying good night because I will inevitably pass out in my or my kid's room and won't wake up until the wee hours, at which point he's already gone to bed. We are two ships passing in the night in a bleary haze of fatigue. Why did we decide to have kids again? Kidding...kind of.
Nothing and no one tests your mental limits quite the same way that your kid does. Because, at least for me, there is nothing that presents more of a dichotomy for me than my kids. I love these kids more than I am able to explain or put into words. I fought and endured to have these babies, and I am so grateful for the opportunity to be their mom. However, I cannot tell you how many times I have found myself so frustrated and angry over something related to my kids--the tantrums, the crying and screaming, the anxiety, the inability to reason with my toddler that he will not, in fact, die if I pour water on his head to rinse out the shampoo--that I have felt the push/pull of loving motherhood and hating it at the same time. Again, to be very clear: I love my kids. But I have found that I don't always love being a mom. And it's difficult to admit that to myself, even as I type out the thought, because it makes me feel like I'm not grateful for my kids. It makes it sound like I don't appreciate having these beautiful babies, and nothing could be further from the truth. But the hard truth about motherhood is that it's not always puppies and ice cream and sometimes you want to punch your kid in the face because you've asked him to do something for the 20th time and he has yet to do it. Obviously I don't punch my kids or act on these feelings in any way other than rage cleaning (yay!) or hiding in the bathroom for an ugly cry (or just crying right in front of my toddler because why not), but so many times I have found myself wanting to just scream into the void and then questioning my life choices but then smiling and laughing at these asshole kids who put you through the ringer and then make your heart feel so full in the next minute after. It's exhausting and confusing and rewarding and terrifying and beautiful.
At the very least, I hope that my mixed bag of feelings about motherhood and kids is helpful and comforting to hear for another frazzled mom. I hope that the ugly truths that I am happy to openly admit to anyone will reassure other parents that it's normal and ok to find parenthood both awesome and awful at times. I hope that more parents will admit to new parents that there will be dark days and many difficult moments. And I hope that when I think about the truth of motherhood for me, I will remember that the hard times are fleeting and cyclical. And that at the end of the day when I'm passed out in my son's bed with him, exhausted from whatever kind of day it was, I am lucky enough in this life to wake up the next day and do it all over again.
Monday, June 22, 2020
Our new normal
Well, we are now a family of four. Man to man coverage. So far it's been pretty straightforward, and all the expected adjustments seem to be on point. No big surprises yet, which is exactly how I like it. I'm the overwhelmed mom: the one who can't seem to get her shit together, is always a little frazzled and lags behind all the other moms who appear to so easily shower on a daily basis, wear makeup and prepare home-cooked dinners whilst raising their five kids. So I can't handle too much extra stress or adversity when it comes to the kiddos. In fact, just the other day I saw a mom at the store who was walking around with her partner and a toddler while pushing a brand new baby in the stroller, and this baby appeared to have some kind of facial or cranial deformity that looked like it would affect her eyesight in a long term, serious manner. I got a little emotional thinking about how much stress and anxiety this mom must endure in having had a baby with a presumed birth defect, and I wanted to tell her how much a hot mess like myself admired her strength. It also reinforced to me just how lucky me and my husband are to have had two healthy babies born with no health issues.
Speaking of healthy babies born, my little girl was born on 4/27/20 at 10:25am. She was 6 lbs 13oz and 19 in long. I had another c-section, and overall it was a significantly better experience than my first, mostly because my anesthesiologist was amazing and the pain block he gave me was equally amazing. I wasn't nervous until the process began, and then I kind of felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. But as soon as they told me she was out, she immediately began crying at the top of her little lungs, and so did I. It was like being hit with a tidal wave of relief and joy, and for the first time since that little girl was conceived, I felt pure, uncomplicated love for this human who had joined our family. (Obviously I loved her already, but I was nervous at the idea of having a girl. I don't really know why.)
Oh, and even though the sleep deprivation is not nearly as shocking as it felt with my first, it is still PAINFUL. I am too damn old for this shit.
My toddler has adjusted pretty well to everything, considering his world changed drastically in multiple areas all at once; in addition to a new sister, he stopped attending school because of the pandemic, we moved to a new house and he also went a month and some change without seeing anyone else besides his mom and dad. He also didn't go anywhere in public for about 2 and half months. Some days are better than others; sometimes he wakes up with an attitude and mom and dad have to put that shit in check right off the bat. Other days he is sweet as pie. I'm doing my best to balance my time with him and the baby. Since I'm breastfeeding, I am tethered to the baby for a lot of the day, and I know that my son sometimes feels slighted because of this. He often tells me "mom, give Parker to daddy" when he wants me to snuggle with him or hold him. I do what I can when I can, but of course it feels like I'm not giving him enough attention. And then there are the times when he is being a shithead, and I have to remind him that it isn't all about him anymore, which is both necessary but hard to do.
We are surviving. We are trying to find our rhythm with the new baby and the pandemic. I return to work in a month. A MONTH. Maternity leave has flown by. I'm not ready to go back to work, but at the same time it will be clutch to get out of the house on a regular basis. There are multiple days in a row sometimes where I don't set foot outside the house or yard. I might go several days without driving my car anywhere, and it sucks big time. But the looming spike in COVID-19 cases keeps my ass from heading out unnecessarily. It will be nice when there is a vaccine for this bullshit.
Speaking of healthy babies born, my little girl was born on 4/27/20 at 10:25am. She was 6 lbs 13oz and 19 in long. I had another c-section, and overall it was a significantly better experience than my first, mostly because my anesthesiologist was amazing and the pain block he gave me was equally amazing. I wasn't nervous until the process began, and then I kind of felt like I was going to jump out of my skin. But as soon as they told me she was out, she immediately began crying at the top of her little lungs, and so did I. It was like being hit with a tidal wave of relief and joy, and for the first time since that little girl was conceived, I felt pure, uncomplicated love for this human who had joined our family. (Obviously I loved her already, but I was nervous at the idea of having a girl. I don't really know why.)
Oh, and even though the sleep deprivation is not nearly as shocking as it felt with my first, it is still PAINFUL. I am too damn old for this shit.
My toddler has adjusted pretty well to everything, considering his world changed drastically in multiple areas all at once; in addition to a new sister, he stopped attending school because of the pandemic, we moved to a new house and he also went a month and some change without seeing anyone else besides his mom and dad. He also didn't go anywhere in public for about 2 and half months. Some days are better than others; sometimes he wakes up with an attitude and mom and dad have to put that shit in check right off the bat. Other days he is sweet as pie. I'm doing my best to balance my time with him and the baby. Since I'm breastfeeding, I am tethered to the baby for a lot of the day, and I know that my son sometimes feels slighted because of this. He often tells me "mom, give Parker to daddy" when he wants me to snuggle with him or hold him. I do what I can when I can, but of course it feels like I'm not giving him enough attention. And then there are the times when he is being a shithead, and I have to remind him that it isn't all about him anymore, which is both necessary but hard to do.
We are surviving. We are trying to find our rhythm with the new baby and the pandemic. I return to work in a month. A MONTH. Maternity leave has flown by. I'm not ready to go back to work, but at the same time it will be clutch to get out of the house on a regular basis. There are multiple days in a row sometimes where I don't set foot outside the house or yard. I might go several days without driving my car anywhere, and it sucks big time. But the looming spike in COVID-19 cases keeps my ass from heading out unnecessarily. It will be nice when there is a vaccine for this bullshit.
Saturday, April 25, 2020
Changes
Pregnancy must have made me go temporarily insane, because that's the only explanation for why I thought I could handle moving into a new house, having a baby and taking a vacation all at the same time. But it was cool. This is my second kid, I got this....right? And then the universe was like "Hey, a global pandemic sounds like fun!"
Maybe the universe sensed my growing anxiety as a result of overbooking myself, because we ended up deciding to cancel the vacation due to COVID-19. It's unfortunate timing because I was really looking forward to a vacation and a change of scenery, but it's not like we didn't have enough to do here at home with the new house. However, now we're facing down a whole other set of challenges with the pandemic: the work we wanted to have done at the house prior to moving in may not happen due to the governor shutting down nonessential businesses; the proximity of giving birth to a possible spike in numbers of infected people in the state causing all kinds of fresh anxiety for me; a delay in being able to move and not being in the new house by the time the baby is born. Fucking hell.
All of these things weren't even a blip on the radar a few months ago. Just goes to show you what a rapid-fire novel virus can do to your plans, I guess.
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UPDATE: since I'm a procrastinator and didn't finish the above post in a timely fashion, I have some happy news to share. Turns out painters, carpet cleaners and movers are "essential workers," so we were able to proceed with getting into the new house a little earlier than planned due to canceling our vacation. So...gutters and strikes. Overall, though, I'm so glad to be in the new house in time for this baby to arrive. During our last two weeks in the old house, the universe reinforced our need to get the fuck out of there by way of the yearly ant invasion that happens in the spring, as well as the unwelcome visit of a mouse in the living room late one night. Hint taken. So we got the fuck out, and I couldn't be happier about that.
However, COVID-19 has still made life a little more cumbersome. My work closed down, forcing me to work from home, which is completely not conducive to the type of job I have; I'm a social worker and used to seeing my clients face to face in a vocational skills program setting. My son's daycare closed down as well, so in addition to navigating a whole new way of doing my job, I now had childcare responsibilities to juggle along with that. My husband also started working exclusively from home, which sounds like an ideal situation when you have a toddler to take care of all day, and we did have some effective tag-teaming going on when necessary, but overall I took on most of the kid care, thus resulting in getting a lot less work done and eventually getting written up for not meeting my productivity standard. That pissed me off for a minute, but what was even more upsetting to me was the dejection in my kid's face at times when he wanted me to play with him and I had to tell him that I couldn't because I had work to do. So, I decided to go on maternity leave a few days earlier than planned, because right now spending time with my son before he has to share mommy and daddy with a sibling is more important to me than trying to keep up with a bullshit productivity standard for work.
Speaking of the new baby, tonight is the last night my kid will go to bed here at home an only child. He will stay overnight with his grandma tomorrow night since I have to be at the hospital first thing Monday morning for my c-section, and then he will be a big brother with a new sibling and a new normal. Obviously I'm anxious about how he will do with the new baby and how he will feel about having to share his mom and dad with someone else. He is my rainbow baby, my whole world (for better or for worse) and I know I have carved him out to be the center of everything just about every day since he was born. I mean, don't get me wrong, when he's being rude or obstinate I will demand he straighten up or face the consequences; he's not utterly spoiled to the point of obnoxious. But he is my firstborn and I willingly admit I am probably more accommodating to him than I ought to be sometimes. So I worry that a sibling will completely mess up his world for awhile amidst all the other new changes that have happened all at once (new house, daycare closing, pandemic life, etc). I know, I know, we will all be ok and things will sort themselves out. In the meantime, worrying about my kid is actually keeping my mind off the anxiety about *my* new normal and how *I'm* going to handle the big changes coming. Ready or not, here comes baby! I'm just crossing my fingers that the second time around, the sleep deprivation isn't quite so shocking and profound.
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UPDATE: since I'm a procrastinator and didn't finish the above post in a timely fashion, I have some happy news to share. Turns out painters, carpet cleaners and movers are "essential workers," so we were able to proceed with getting into the new house a little earlier than planned due to canceling our vacation. So...gutters and strikes. Overall, though, I'm so glad to be in the new house in time for this baby to arrive. During our last two weeks in the old house, the universe reinforced our need to get the fuck out of there by way of the yearly ant invasion that happens in the spring, as well as the unwelcome visit of a mouse in the living room late one night. Hint taken. So we got the fuck out, and I couldn't be happier about that.
However, COVID-19 has still made life a little more cumbersome. My work closed down, forcing me to work from home, which is completely not conducive to the type of job I have; I'm a social worker and used to seeing my clients face to face in a vocational skills program setting. My son's daycare closed down as well, so in addition to navigating a whole new way of doing my job, I now had childcare responsibilities to juggle along with that. My husband also started working exclusively from home, which sounds like an ideal situation when you have a toddler to take care of all day, and we did have some effective tag-teaming going on when necessary, but overall I took on most of the kid care, thus resulting in getting a lot less work done and eventually getting written up for not meeting my productivity standard. That pissed me off for a minute, but what was even more upsetting to me was the dejection in my kid's face at times when he wanted me to play with him and I had to tell him that I couldn't because I had work to do. So, I decided to go on maternity leave a few days earlier than planned, because right now spending time with my son before he has to share mommy and daddy with a sibling is more important to me than trying to keep up with a bullshit productivity standard for work.
Speaking of the new baby, tonight is the last night my kid will go to bed here at home an only child. He will stay overnight with his grandma tomorrow night since I have to be at the hospital first thing Monday morning for my c-section, and then he will be a big brother with a new sibling and a new normal. Obviously I'm anxious about how he will do with the new baby and how he will feel about having to share his mom and dad with someone else. He is my rainbow baby, my whole world (for better or for worse) and I know I have carved him out to be the center of everything just about every day since he was born. I mean, don't get me wrong, when he's being rude or obstinate I will demand he straighten up or face the consequences; he's not utterly spoiled to the point of obnoxious. But he is my firstborn and I willingly admit I am probably more accommodating to him than I ought to be sometimes. So I worry that a sibling will completely mess up his world for awhile amidst all the other new changes that have happened all at once (new house, daycare closing, pandemic life, etc). I know, I know, we will all be ok and things will sort themselves out. In the meantime, worrying about my kid is actually keeping my mind off the anxiety about *my* new normal and how *I'm* going to handle the big changes coming. Ready or not, here comes baby! I'm just crossing my fingers that the second time around, the sleep deprivation isn't quite so shocking and profound.
Monday, December 9, 2019
Working mom and adult time
Last night, the hubs and I went out to a comedy show, a gift I had gotten him months ago for his birthday. We had the day all planned out: drop the kid off at grandma's, go to some open houses nearby, head to a quick dinner and then off to see the show. An almost full day of just the two of us doing adult stuff and spending time together. It was going to be awesome.
My husband said it best: "The best laid plans..." *eye roll, shrug* That's because right when we were getting dressed and getting his bag packed up to leave, the kiddo decided to pukeface all over the couch and floor. This followed an epic diarrhea diaper earlier that morning. And he had been fighting something for the last couple of days, as this was the fourth or fifth pukeface since Thursday of last week. But in our defense, we had been lulled into a false sense of security that everything was ok, because the previous day came and went with no alarming bodily fluid ejections.
Obviously we didn't feel right taking a pukeface, mud butt toddler over to grandma's house and making it her problem, so we cancelled plans to go to the open houses, and the hubs went to Costco to grab something for dinner. My saint of a mother-in-law agreed to just come to our house and watch the kiddo while we went to the show later in the evening. Oh, and he puked all over himself and the couch while we were gone, so she ended up having to deal with that, and she washed the soiled clothes, blanket, couch cover, etc. A saint, I tell you.
As we left the show that night, my husband thanked me for getting the tickets, and I made a comment along the lines of "well we never really celebrate each other's birthdays or anniversary with any significance anymore, so I wanted to actually make an effort this year." And we chatted for a minute about how having a kid has changed the way we prioritize each other and has basically pushed most things to the back burner, including our own birthdays and what not. (Case in point: we still haven't made it to the fancy restaurant I wanted to go to for Mother's Day this past year) I mused "maybe with this next baby we will be more relaxed and laid back, since it's coming in the spring and we will have more opportunity to get out and about earlier." (We had our son in the dead of winter, so obviously I didn't leave the house for three months) And then I remembered how neurotic and anxious I am about everything and I laughed at myself for thinking I could ever be relaxed with a newborn.
At lunch this past weekend, an ADULT lunch with my husband, brother and SIL (we threw our kids at my parents and ran for it), my SIL and I joked about how much we crave adults only time or alone time, but when we're actually away from our babies we miss them and just want to get back to them. Of course, my husband had a different opinion:
SIL: "But don't you ever miss him when you do actually get time away from him and want to get back and see him?"
Husband: "No! You have to take full advantage of the time away and enjoy yourself!"
I made the point that one of the reasons why I miss my kid when I'm away from him, even just for a couple of hours, is because I work full time, I'm not a stay-at-home mom, and when I do spend time with him during the week, it's morning and evening routines in order to stay on schedule, which can feel regimented and restricted rather than actual quality time. So I really try to maximize our time together on the weekend. For better or worse, I like to have lazy mornings on the weekend, snuggling, watching cartoons and eating cereal in bed and not getting dressed for the day until at least the ten o'clock hour. I know toddlers need to stay on a schedule, even on the weekends, but I figure we have five days a week we are rushed and hurried in the mornings and evenings; two days a week of getting off course isn't going to kill us.
Recently, I had a particularly challenging morning where everyone was running late, I was stressed and trying to get the kid fed and his teeth brushed as quickly as possible so that we could try to get to school/work on time, and then my kid decided mid-way through breakfast that he had to poop and wanted to sit on the potty. As a mom who has been trying to encourage using the potty as much as possible, who was I to deny my kid when he requested to use the potty?? Obviously, I already knew as we dilly-dallied up the stairs that I was going to be late for work, so I texted my boss who should've fired me a long time ago for tardiness that I was going to be late to work because of my "goddamn kid." He didn't end up pooping on the potty (go figure), but he did poop in his diaper about five minutes after getting off the potty.
I've never really wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but that morning, I wanted nothing more than to shed the stress and frantic morning pace of trying to be on time and have the serenity of knowing that if my kid wanted to spend thirty minutes trying to shit on the potty, that he could and being late to work wouldn't be a consequence. On the other hand, work gives me the opportunity to be among adults and have the adult time that I know I want and need. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I decide to stay home and not work after baby #2 is born, I will be much more willing and enthusiastic to prioritize adult time into my routine as a way to stay sane and connected to other grown-ups. However, these days with kids and jobs and families, the opportunity to spend time with friends isn't always a sure thing. At least with a job, you're guaranteed a daily dose of time with other adults.
I know there are pros and cons to being a stay at home mom, as well as being a working mom. I'm doing the working mom thing now, and while I'm hesitant to let that go (bye-bye, financial independence...yikes) I do think it might be worth it to give staying at home a try. I know I can always get a job later if I really need/want to. But any major transitions or changes give me anxiety, so I haven't yet completely made up my mind. Maybe I'll wait and see how late I'm running tomorrow morning and revisit the issue.
My husband said it best: "The best laid plans..." *eye roll, shrug* That's because right when we were getting dressed and getting his bag packed up to leave, the kiddo decided to pukeface all over the couch and floor. This followed an epic diarrhea diaper earlier that morning. And he had been fighting something for the last couple of days, as this was the fourth or fifth pukeface since Thursday of last week. But in our defense, we had been lulled into a false sense of security that everything was ok, because the previous day came and went with no alarming bodily fluid ejections.
Obviously we didn't feel right taking a pukeface, mud butt toddler over to grandma's house and making it her problem, so we cancelled plans to go to the open houses, and the hubs went to Costco to grab something for dinner. My saint of a mother-in-law agreed to just come to our house and watch the kiddo while we went to the show later in the evening. Oh, and he puked all over himself and the couch while we were gone, so she ended up having to deal with that, and she washed the soiled clothes, blanket, couch cover, etc. A saint, I tell you.
As we left the show that night, my husband thanked me for getting the tickets, and I made a comment along the lines of "well we never really celebrate each other's birthdays or anniversary with any significance anymore, so I wanted to actually make an effort this year." And we chatted for a minute about how having a kid has changed the way we prioritize each other and has basically pushed most things to the back burner, including our own birthdays and what not. (Case in point: we still haven't made it to the fancy restaurant I wanted to go to for Mother's Day this past year) I mused "maybe with this next baby we will be more relaxed and laid back, since it's coming in the spring and we will have more opportunity to get out and about earlier." (We had our son in the dead of winter, so obviously I didn't leave the house for three months) And then I remembered how neurotic and anxious I am about everything and I laughed at myself for thinking I could ever be relaxed with a newborn.
At lunch this past weekend, an ADULT lunch with my husband, brother and SIL (we threw our kids at my parents and ran for it), my SIL and I joked about how much we crave adults only time or alone time, but when we're actually away from our babies we miss them and just want to get back to them. Of course, my husband had a different opinion:
SIL: "But don't you ever miss him when you do actually get time away from him and want to get back and see him?"
Husband: "No! You have to take full advantage of the time away and enjoy yourself!"
I made the point that one of the reasons why I miss my kid when I'm away from him, even just for a couple of hours, is because I work full time, I'm not a stay-at-home mom, and when I do spend time with him during the week, it's morning and evening routines in order to stay on schedule, which can feel regimented and restricted rather than actual quality time. So I really try to maximize our time together on the weekend. For better or worse, I like to have lazy mornings on the weekend, snuggling, watching cartoons and eating cereal in bed and not getting dressed for the day until at least the ten o'clock hour. I know toddlers need to stay on a schedule, even on the weekends, but I figure we have five days a week we are rushed and hurried in the mornings and evenings; two days a week of getting off course isn't going to kill us.
Recently, I had a particularly challenging morning where everyone was running late, I was stressed and trying to get the kid fed and his teeth brushed as quickly as possible so that we could try to get to school/work on time, and then my kid decided mid-way through breakfast that he had to poop and wanted to sit on the potty. As a mom who has been trying to encourage using the potty as much as possible, who was I to deny my kid when he requested to use the potty?? Obviously, I already knew as we dilly-dallied up the stairs that I was going to be late for work, so I texted my boss who should've fired me a long time ago for tardiness that I was going to be late to work because of my "goddamn kid." He didn't end up pooping on the potty (go figure), but he did poop in his diaper about five minutes after getting off the potty.
I've never really wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, but that morning, I wanted nothing more than to shed the stress and frantic morning pace of trying to be on time and have the serenity of knowing that if my kid wanted to spend thirty minutes trying to shit on the potty, that he could and being late to work wouldn't be a consequence. On the other hand, work gives me the opportunity to be among adults and have the adult time that I know I want and need. I have a sneaking suspicion that if I decide to stay home and not work after baby #2 is born, I will be much more willing and enthusiastic to prioritize adult time into my routine as a way to stay sane and connected to other grown-ups. However, these days with kids and jobs and families, the opportunity to spend time with friends isn't always a sure thing. At least with a job, you're guaranteed a daily dose of time with other adults.
I know there are pros and cons to being a stay at home mom, as well as being a working mom. I'm doing the working mom thing now, and while I'm hesitant to let that go (bye-bye, financial independence...yikes) I do think it might be worth it to give staying at home a try. I know I can always get a job later if I really need/want to. But any major transitions or changes give me anxiety, so I haven't yet completely made up my mind. Maybe I'll wait and see how late I'm running tomorrow morning and revisit the issue.
Wednesday, October 2, 2019
Being a mom is messed up
Picture this, as I'm sure many moms can easily do: it's my kiddo's first day at daycare. He's one year old. Drop-off was full of tears and him frantically grasping for me as I tried to limit my hugs goodbye to a mere fifteen. When I finally managed to get my sorry ass out the door and to my car, I sat in the car and cried for about ten minutes. I had taken the day off work because I knew I would be worthless there that day, and I spent the rest of my day leaning on my mom and sisters for support as I intermittently weeped over my baby's first day away from me. If I'm correct, I believe I picked him up by 4pm that day, unable to spend another minute with him possibly thinking I abandoned him to a bunch of strangers.
Fast forward to today: my kiddo is 2 1/2 years old and has just changed classrooms this week. He has a new teacher but familiar friends in his class. When I drop him off at school, my routine now is to fill out his daily sheet, give it to him to take to his teacher and ask for "one more hug, one more kiss" before sending him into his day, which he has gotten pretty good at doing without any fuss. Today was pretty normal; he took his sheet from me and started to walk away, and I quickly pulled him back for "one more hug, one more kiss." He endured this affection from me and as I stood up to leave, he walked over to his teacher, gave her his sheet and took his place on the floor where the other kids were sitting for story time. He didn't even give me a backward glance, which is not necessarily a bad thing, as we've had our share of difficult goodbyes because I've lingered too long and/or he just doesn't want to let go of me. I exited the building, got into my car, gave myself a high five in my mind for a quick, easy drop off...and then I started to tear up.
I'm happy my kid feels confident enough now that he doesn't need to cling to me or cry because I'm leaving him. He knows well enough now that "mommies and daddies come back." And this is a great thing; it means he feels good about his teachers and his friends and his school, which makes me feel good about those things, and also I'll probably get to work on time. But because the emotions of a mom are so fucked up and nuanced, at the same time I felt a little sad, too. It was a "happy" sad, which I can't really explain, but for the moms reading this, you already know what I'm talking about, and I don't have to put it into words. You understand exactly how I was feeling this morning after drop-off and why I was feeling that way, because more than likely you've been right there with me yourself. Being a mom is totally messed up sometimes.
Fast forward to today: my kiddo is 2 1/2 years old and has just changed classrooms this week. He has a new teacher but familiar friends in his class. When I drop him off at school, my routine now is to fill out his daily sheet, give it to him to take to his teacher and ask for "one more hug, one more kiss" before sending him into his day, which he has gotten pretty good at doing without any fuss. Today was pretty normal; he took his sheet from me and started to walk away, and I quickly pulled him back for "one more hug, one more kiss." He endured this affection from me and as I stood up to leave, he walked over to his teacher, gave her his sheet and took his place on the floor where the other kids were sitting for story time. He didn't even give me a backward glance, which is not necessarily a bad thing, as we've had our share of difficult goodbyes because I've lingered too long and/or he just doesn't want to let go of me. I exited the building, got into my car, gave myself a high five in my mind for a quick, easy drop off...and then I started to tear up.
I'm happy my kid feels confident enough now that he doesn't need to cling to me or cry because I'm leaving him. He knows well enough now that "mommies and daddies come back." And this is a great thing; it means he feels good about his teachers and his friends and his school, which makes me feel good about those things, and also I'll probably get to work on time. But because the emotions of a mom are so fucked up and nuanced, at the same time I felt a little sad, too. It was a "happy" sad, which I can't really explain, but for the moms reading this, you already know what I'm talking about, and I don't have to put it into words. You understand exactly how I was feeling this morning after drop-off and why I was feeling that way, because more than likely you've been right there with me yourself. Being a mom is totally messed up sometimes.
Friday, August 9, 2019
Terrible twos?
I'm not sure if we're into the throes of the "terrible twos" yet, but it has sure felt like it a handful of days recently. It seems like my kid's new favorite pastime is challenging rules and pushing boundaries. I realize this is a completely normal thing for toddlers to do as they explore and learn about the world around them, but does it have to be all the goddamn time?? *eyeroll*
Sometimes I find myself desperately wishing for my kiddo to stay little forever, as many moms do in those feverish moments of not wanting to get any closer to the day when that little jerk won't need his mother as much as he does right now. Having said that, I do long for the days when I don't have to change diapers anymore and when my kid doesn't need naps. That's important enough to say again: I can't wait for my kid to outgrow naps. Because then I can stop feeling like a failure when I don't plan right and he misses his nap or he only gets an abbreviated nap and melts down later. Maybe it's just me, but I find it very difficult at times to balance activities and nap time. It really reinforces just how critical it is for toddlers to stick to a schedule, especially mine. This is rarely a fun thing to try and achieve, especially on the weekends, but when we get off schedule, we basically fuck ourselves over in one way or another and end up paying dearly for that shiz. Now I truly understand why it was so important for my friends to cut social events short in order to take their kids home to nap while I rolled my eyes at their stringent schedule-keeping. I get it now, and I'm so sorry for ever questioning why it was so important for your kid to stick to a napping schedule. Please forgive my past, child-less ignorant foolishness.
I recently found myself marveling at (and also staring adoringly at, probably making the moms uncomfortable) some little boys in public spaces who were behaving like fucking saints. Standing still, quiet, well-behaved and not at all constrained (i.e. not strapped into a stroller or cart). I don't know if this is ok to admit or if I should feel bad, but my first thought was aw, what a cute kid and then my immediate second thought was I bet my kid wouldn't be as well-behaved as he is. I'm a cynic, ok? I often sell my kiddo short in the behavior department because I just assume he's gonna be an asshole most of the time since he's all of two years old. I don't give him enough credit sometimes, I know that. But I also know how I am as a parent, and I realize that I haven't yet reached a point where I've ceased to coddle my child. I haven't become so disenchanted with his shenanigans that I don't baby him anymore. I still baby him all the time, because he's my baby and because I'm a bleeding heart. So therefore, my kid will sometimes act like an asshole when he's on one or in a mood, and then I have to deal with the fallout which I basically deserve anyway.
On the other hand, I feel like I'm starting to see results of my efforts to be a decent parent and teach my kid the concept of gratitude and appreciation. More and more often, when I give my kid his cup or bring him a basketball or hand him something he wants, he will say thank you without prompts. I still have to remind him to say "please" most of the time, but baby steps. However, sometimes when he does something unkind and I instruct him to apologize to someone for what he did, he will hesitate and not respond. If I'm especially stern in my demand for him to apologize, it's even more difficult to get him to say he's sorry, which kind of makes sense to me and kind of doesn't at the same time. Maybe he's starting to learn how to process feelings of guilt, I'm not sure. But he's two years old, so I'm trying not to read into it too much.
I've been told by numerous moms that the phrase "terrible twos" is pretty much antiquated; the new reality is "terrible threes" or "threenager." Fuck. If this isn't the worst of what's to come, I'm gonna need more wine.
Sometimes I find myself desperately wishing for my kiddo to stay little forever, as many moms do in those feverish moments of not wanting to get any closer to the day when that little jerk won't need his mother as much as he does right now. Having said that, I do long for the days when I don't have to change diapers anymore and when my kid doesn't need naps. That's important enough to say again: I can't wait for my kid to outgrow naps. Because then I can stop feeling like a failure when I don't plan right and he misses his nap or he only gets an abbreviated nap and melts down later. Maybe it's just me, but I find it very difficult at times to balance activities and nap time. It really reinforces just how critical it is for toddlers to stick to a schedule, especially mine. This is rarely a fun thing to try and achieve, especially on the weekends, but when we get off schedule, we basically fuck ourselves over in one way or another and end up paying dearly for that shiz. Now I truly understand why it was so important for my friends to cut social events short in order to take their kids home to nap while I rolled my eyes at their stringent schedule-keeping. I get it now, and I'm so sorry for ever questioning why it was so important for your kid to stick to a napping schedule. Please forgive my past, child-less ignorant foolishness.
I recently found myself marveling at (and also staring adoringly at, probably making the moms uncomfortable) some little boys in public spaces who were behaving like fucking saints. Standing still, quiet, well-behaved and not at all constrained (i.e. not strapped into a stroller or cart). I don't know if this is ok to admit or if I should feel bad, but my first thought was aw, what a cute kid and then my immediate second thought was I bet my kid wouldn't be as well-behaved as he is. I'm a cynic, ok? I often sell my kiddo short in the behavior department because I just assume he's gonna be an asshole most of the time since he's all of two years old. I don't give him enough credit sometimes, I know that. But I also know how I am as a parent, and I realize that I haven't yet reached a point where I've ceased to coddle my child. I haven't become so disenchanted with his shenanigans that I don't baby him anymore. I still baby him all the time, because he's my baby and because I'm a bleeding heart. So therefore, my kid will sometimes act like an asshole when he's on one or in a mood, and then I have to deal with the fallout which I basically deserve anyway.
On the other hand, I feel like I'm starting to see results of my efforts to be a decent parent and teach my kid the concept of gratitude and appreciation. More and more often, when I give my kid his cup or bring him a basketball or hand him something he wants, he will say thank you without prompts. I still have to remind him to say "please" most of the time, but baby steps. However, sometimes when he does something unkind and I instruct him to apologize to someone for what he did, he will hesitate and not respond. If I'm especially stern in my demand for him to apologize, it's even more difficult to get him to say he's sorry, which kind of makes sense to me and kind of doesn't at the same time. Maybe he's starting to learn how to process feelings of guilt, I'm not sure. But he's two years old, so I'm trying not to read into it too much.
I've been told by numerous moms that the phrase "terrible twos" is pretty much antiquated; the new reality is "terrible threes" or "threenager." Fuck. If this isn't the worst of what's to come, I'm gonna need more wine.
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