The Daddy Phase

When I found out I was pregnant with a boy, all I heard was, "Boys love their mamas!" I was so excited to be a boy mom, and to have that special bond with my son. I have been enamored with Liam since the second he entered the world. There was no "bonding" period—he took my heart and ran with it.

In the early days, we were inseparable. (Literally.) He slept on me, he nursed from me, I carried him everywhere. He wasn't a baby that "needed" to be held all the time—I just loved cuddling with him. I spent all day some days on maternity leave snuggling with my sweet little boy.

 

Any mother will tell you that at the beginning, it's hard to help Dad feel included, especially if Mom is nursing. I remember worrying that my husband felt left out, and we had conversations about how he didn't really know how to help. 

I felt protective of Liam, and like I knew best because after all, I was his mother, I spent the most time with him and for God's sake, I carried him for 9 months. Thankfully, I recognized the problems that thinking like that can present, and together, Bryan and I came up with a routine that allowed him to create his own bond with his son, and do things his own way, without me suggesting it was wrong.

Liam is a happy, healthy, smart, sweet little boy. We taught him to give and blow kisses, how to be gentle, give hugs and snuggle. I tell him every day, multiple times a day, how much I love him.

So imagine my surprise when in late October, I noticed something: Liam started to prefer Bryan. He would get SO excited he got when Daddy would get home from work or walk in a room. He got upset when Bryan left. Bryan would leave the kitchen to go down the hall and Liam immediately yelled, "DAAAAA!" When they played or read together, Liam was just enamored. It melted my heart, seeing these two so obsessed with each other.

I brought up Liam's noticeable parental preference to Bryan one night and he thought I was crazy. I think he just didn't want me to feel bad, so as he does, he read about it. As it turns out, "Daddy Phase" is very normal. Apparently, at some point, babies already know that they have an unbreakable bond with Mom. They trust Mom to love them, no matter what, and so they turn to Dad to build the same relationship. It made sense, to both of us. I thought it was sweet, the way Liam over-the-top adored his Daddy.


But things have changed. It's now six months later and we are still in The Daddy Phase—and I no longer think it's cute.

When Liam and I are alone together, it's amazing. We have so much fun. He showers me with hugs and kisses freely, reaches to be held, brings me books to read, and engages me to play. We have our own little private game of chase that involves me chasing him up and down the hall, eventually "getting him," and tickling him while he squeals and belly laughs in delight. We are mother and son...the best of friends. The dynamic duo I always imagined.

But the second Bryan walks in the door, I become invisible. Unneeded. Unwanted.

Liam squeals for Dad in a way he doesn't for me. He lays his head on his shoulder in a show of tender of affection without being asked (or begged). He crawls willingly into his lap to sit and relax, or read a book.

 

Bryan and I alternate bedtime with Liam. Some nights, Bryan will finish reading Liam a book and have said his goodnight. When he goes to hand him to me, Liam rears his body away from me and cries. Hysterically cries, the shrill, can't-catch-your-breath kind of cry that sounds like he's in serious pain or really sick. I hand him back to Bryan—all is fine.

He hurts himself—walks into a wall or smacks his mouth on his crib. If I'm right there, I snatch him up immediately, covering him in kisses and hugs and reassurances and "Shhh Shhh Shhh, you're OK, you're OK." Frantic, in pain and hysterical in my arms, he looks for Dad...wants Dad. Reaches for Dad.

Do you know what that feels like? To have the one person you love most in this world shriek in your face and push you away? To that say to be rejected by this child—who was part of my body, who used to need and depend on me for everything, whom I love more than life—hurts my feelings, is an understatement. It is excruciating, and it breaks my heart.

Bryan tries to help by encouraging Liam to interact with me. "Mama will read you the book!" he'll say. My enthusiastic,"come here buddy, let's read!" is met with a whiney cry and a slow jog back to Dad's safe embrace.

I'm sure it's exhausting, whether you're the mom or the dad, to be constantly needed. Hell, I was the one who was constantly needed, a mere 12 months ago. I understand that I haven't done anything wrong. I know Liam loves me. But that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt like hell, or that I don't feel like a failure as a mother.

From afar, I watch Liam freely dole out hugs and snuggles and kisses and adoring looks to my husband. I treasure the fleeting affections I may or may not get on my way out or in the door. I yearn for him to want me the way he wants Bryan.

So when he shrieks at bedtime, rather than torture him by making him cry it out while we rock together—I just give him a quick kiss, tell him I love him and hand him to Bryan before either one of them can see me cry. And then I do cry, feeling an ache in the space between my jaw and my chest where his little head should be snuggled.

I know he is a toddler, and may not even recognize what he's doing. I know I should be grateful for the way he and Bryan love each other. I know this is somewhat normal. I know I'm not the only mother who is going through this. I know I should "take advantage of my alone time." I know this too shall (probably) pass.

But knowing all of that doesn’t take away the pain or the insecurity of being rejected by my baby.

Read More

SHARE:

Mama Moment #2: Monkey See, Monkey Do

At 14 months, Liam is currently obsessed with doing everything we do. He wants to eat what we eat, drink what we drink (No, honey, this is Mommy's juice!), do what we do.

And it's adorable.

He helps take out the trash. He feeds us dinner. He puts away his clothes. And lately, he is SUPER into brushing his teeth and brushing his hair, as well as mine.

We have his little banana toothbrush that he uses, but when he sees us brushing our teeth in the morning, he now insists on using an adult toothbrush (we used a spare). We lift him up so he can put the brush under the faucet, and he then "brushes his teeth." AKA, he sucks water off the toothbrush. 

He does about 5-6 rounds of this before he sees me brushing my hair, and then he wants to brush my hair for me. How sweet is that?

And then he likes to go into brushing my teeth for me :)

My sweet little helper boy. Let's hope getting him to commit to hygiene is always this easy!

Read More

SHARE:

Stop with the Mom Guilt

The other day, a friend of mine posted something on Facebook about her struggles with breastfeeding and the guilt that came along with it. It triggered something in me, as I too, had guilt associated with breastfeeding, but in a different way.

It made me realize, and not for the first time, that Mom Guilt is real. And it's so unnecessary.

The times in which I've felt guilty in the past 13 months are extensive, and for the most part, unreasonable. Here's the short list of what I've felt guilty about since I had Liam:

• Breastfeeding
• Not breastfeeding
• Supplementing with formula
• Feeding formula
• Going back to work
• Taking a vacation without him
• Missing dinner
• Missing bedtime
• Wishing for bedtime
• Getting frustrated with him
• Going to happy hour with
• Not playing enough with him
• Cleaning, cooking or doing something other than spending time together when I get home from work
• Looking at my phone instead of him
• Not having family dinners
• Not getting outside every day
• Not enough tummy time
• Not getting outside with him every day
• Letting him cry it out
• Screen time before the age of 2
• Not making my own baby food
• Not preparing elaborate lunches every day
• Telling him no
• Sometimes I use food or TV as a distraction
• Putting him in timeout
• Laying in bed for an extra beat when he wakes up crying to see if he'll stop
• Not getting Liam dressed until noon some weekends
• Wishing time away
• Not buying organic
• Not losing the baby weight
• Not spending enough time with the dog
• Not providing my husband with opportunity to spend time with Liam (early days)
• Not "doing things" with Liam when I was on maternity leave
• Spending too much money on Liam
• Not spending enough money on Liam
• Serving the same thing for dinner two nights in a row
• Giving him Peanut Butter Jelly multiple times a week

This list isn't comprehensive, and I'm sure I will only add to it over the years. But it's just not OK.

There's enough mom shaming that goes on - I know other moms judge me, I don't need to judge me, too.

So let's stop, with the mom guilt, shall we? Or at least try to? Instead of focusing on things we do "wrong" or "selfishly," let's shift the focus. Feel your guilt if you need to, and then move on. Don't dwell. The fact that I can name all of the above instances means I am dwelling.

Anything you, or I, feel guilty about is not likely to ruin our children. And guilt is not going to make you a better parent, either. Instead, let's think about all of the ways we love, provide, teach and nurture our children.

I will if you will.

Read More

SHARE:

Mama Moment #1: A Shitty Morning

Becoming a mama is not only amazing - it makes for some great stories and a million awesome moments.

The storyteller in me is compelled to capture every moment - every giggle, every smile, every funny face and silly action, be it with my camera, a video, a SnapChat, or a blog.

But it's good to live in the moment, too. Just to let the moments happen and record them in your brain, for your eyes only, rather than sharing them for the world to be a part of.

I am so excited for the years to come with Liam. Yes, I know that toddlers bring a whole new set of challenges than a baby does, but bring them on, I say. Tantrums, candid comments, sweet gestures, unintentional comedy - I want it all! I know these years will bring with them so many things that I will never want to forget.

So this is my attempt at capturing those moments and memories. They may be sentimental, horrifying or hysterical. They're moments I never want to forget. I'll share them as they happen, and hope you'll do the same with me. In the spirit of other mamas doing the same on the Interwebs, we shall call these...Mama Moments.

Mama Moment #1

Bryan and I trade weekend days for getting up with Liam. On Sunday, it was my morning to sleep in. Sometime around 8:30am, Bryan came rushing into the room and with Liam in his arms, took him straight to the bath in our bathroom. I didn't have my glasses on, so I asked what was going on.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says.

I get up, go in the bathroom, and expecting to see Liam in puke or poop, I see the later. I go into Liam's room to see lay out some clean clothes. It's there I see the changing table cover is gone, and the pad underneath is covered in poop. But that's not all.

There is poop on the walls. On the crib rails. On the crib sheets. The floor is soaking wet. I stood there, stunned for a moment, and began to clean up. Bryan and Liam come back into the room.

I stood there, silently before asking..."What happened?"

Bryan explained that Liam had a blowout during breakfast and while changing him afterward, the poop got all over the changing table. So he put a naked Liam in his crib while he changed the pad and wiped things down.

Next thing he knew, Liam was standing up in his crib, and gleefully started peeing through the crib rails (hence the wet floor). Bryan went to get something to clean THAT up, he came back and noticed, in horror, that Liam had poop all over his feet, legs, hands, and crib. He had diarrhea...again, this time all over his crib.

And so we arrived at the moment in the bathroom. Thankfully, we were able to laugh at the moment, but let's be honest...it was a shitty morning.

(See what I did there?)

Read More

SHARE:

Parenting in One Word

Momentous occasions are always met with required follow-up commentary and questions. When you get engaged, people ask how it happened. When you get married, people ask if it feels different. When you get pregnant, people wonder how you're feeling, when you're due and are you excited?

Having a baby is no different. Along with congratulations on your child's beauty and asking if you're getting any sleep, people with kids usually ask how you're feeling, And people without kids ask:

What's it like being a mom?

Is it possible to sum up what it feels like to be someone's entire world in one sentence? Or one word?

When people ask me what it's like being a mom, my short, one-word answer would be this: Overwhelming. In every. single. way. you can possibly imagine.

You are overwhelmed with responsibility. With happiness. Overwhelmed with gratitude. With anxiety, and hormones. Overwhelmed with fear. And more than anything, with love.

Overwhelmed is not (always) a bad thing. It is just to say that everything you feel after having a baby is amplified. Bigger, sometimes heavier. You're at your most vulnerable, and suddenly, every choice you make directly affects more than just you.

So when people ask me what it's like to be a mom, or how I feel, the long answer I'd give, is this:

I'm overwhelmed with joy when I walk through the door and his face lights up like he has never been, will never be, happier than he is at that instant, at seeing his mama walk through the door. At the distinct "Mama," followed by a slur of jargon that only a parent could understand. Joy can be overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with guilt, at times. For not being the mom who makes all of her baby's food or buys only organic. For being the mom who buys frozen meatballs and serves Spaghettio's. For feeling like I'm never giving enough but knowing I can't give any more. For buying him things that I know in my heart he doesn't need, and for not buying him everything despite that. Guilt is overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with pride when he takes wobbly, hesitant (yet confident) steps, one hand holding on to his ear like he's holding a boombox, while the other is extended, like he's from The Walking Dead.

I'm overwhelmed with options. What is the difference between the convertible car seat that costs $100 more than the other model by the same brand? What is the difference between natural and all natural? Should his diapers be sensitive or cruisers or baby dry? Choices are overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with awe when I think I about how just one year ago, my baby was growing inside my belly. With the idea that my husband and I created him. With the way my heart feels when he looks up at me and in his eyes I can see happiness, wonder and love. To be constantly in awe of something or someone, is overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with fear. That something terrible, tragic and horrible is going to happen to me, my husband or my baby. Overwhelmed with grief and sadness when I read about other mothers, ones who are diagnosed postpartum with cancer or rare diseases. Parents whose babies died, for no reason at all or for the most unimaginable reason in the world. Isn't any reason unimaginable? Fear is crippling.

I'm overwhelmed with relief that right now, in this moment, me, my husband and my baby are alive, healthy and thriving. Then again, I'm overwhelmed with guilt at feeling this way at another family's expense.

I'm overwhelmed with information, about everything from when to start solid foods to how to wean off a bottle or pacifier to how to get the baby to sleep through the night, right down to what shoes are best when baby starts to walk. Knowledge, and my lack of it, is overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with nostalgia, thinking about my own childhood; traditions and memories with my parents and family, and the desire to create those same moments with my new little family. Nostalgia at my "old" self, and the notion that doing anything on a whim is no longer possible and that getting drunk on date night is not as fun when you know you still have to wake up and be a parent. (Hello again, guilt, at longing for a time of life when the baby wasn't here.)

I'm overwhelmed with time, both the sheer lack of it and the pace with which is moves by, so quickly.

But mostly, I'm overwhelmed by love. Incredible, all-encompassing, take-your-breath-away love that is shocking, really. A kind of love so great and so big, it's frightening, but wonderful...and indescribable.

Parenting is overwhelmingly hard. Overwhelmingly rewarding. And if you ask me what it's like to be a mom, or how I'm feeling - I'll tell you the short version.

And I'll hope that someday, you know just what I mean.

Read More

SHARE:

10 Things I Was Before I Was "Mom"

As most any mom will tell you - they love being a mom. But I think we'd all be lying if we said we didn't think about, miss -- sometimes even long for -- the period of life before we lost a bit of our former selves.

Times we didn't appreciate. Times my kids will likely never know about, and if they do, never believe. Times that I'm willing to bet, our closest friends didn't appreciate, either. (My friends LOVE drunk Rachel. And they miss her.)

So kids, if you're reading - here are some things you should know about your Mom:

1. Before I was a mom, my Instagram featured something other than you. I know it's hard to believe, but "Mom Me," my Instagram looked like anyone else's: Poorly "styled" food photos, snaps of the alcoholic beverage I was consuming, overused hashtags, my dog, and trips from travels.

But then I got pregnant and my baby bump took over the feed. And then you actually arrived and I totally became the mom that I swore I never would be on social media. #BLESSED (Just kidding, I have never and will never use that hashtag.)

2. Before I was a mom, I used to sleep. On the weekends, you could find me going to bed between the hours of midnight and 4am. I'd rise for a quick hangover fix between 10-11am and then go back to bed and stay there, drifting between states of consciousness, before I got up and did it all again. I napped when I wanted to, woke up when I wanted to and that's right, went to bed when I wanted to.

3. Before I was a mom, I wasn't annoying. Not AS annoying, anyway. I certainly wasn't doing things like talking baby talk, making up songs about stinky diapers, dancing like a fucking idiot to make you smile, and following people around saying "No thank you!" as politely as possible when I really want to say "Don't touch that, god dammit!"

4. Before I was a mom, I used to be kinda cool. That's right.  I was COOL AF. Nevermind. I wasn't cool. I'm still not.

5. Before I was a mom, I judged other moms. Kids throwing tantrum in public? Kids wearing mismatched clothes? Moms in public looking disheveled? Helicopter parenting? NOT ME. NEVER.

6. Before I was a mom, I used to party my ass off. Oh, the stories I could tell. The stories my friends could tell. I got five underage drinking tickets before I turned 21-three of those were in one week, and two were in one night. (No drinking until you're 21, kids!) The night I did turn 21, I took 21 shots to celebrate and lived to tell the tale. I was voted to have the "Best Party House" in high school. I passed out before noon on St. Patrick's Day, woke up three hours later and STILL went out to party the day away. Know this.

7. Before I was a mom, I was athletic. Well, kind of. I worked out on a semi-regular basis. I ran (a) half-marathons. I did a Tough Mudder. I was pretty much a badass.

8. Before I was a mom, I cursed like a motherfucker. I'm trying to get better at this, especially while I still have the luxury of you not really being able to talk. I'm sure hearing you mutter, "God Dammit" will not only give me the chuckles, but I will think it's adorable and impossible to scold you. That is until you start dropping F bombs. (And even then, let's be honest...)

9. Before I was a mom, I was put together. I curled my hair. I straightened my hair. If I styled my hair one way and didn't like it, I'd try the other. I had time for these things. I did my makeup.  I wore jewelry. I tried on multiple outfits, worried about parts of my body other than my post-baby mom pouch. Now that I go to work, I am a *little* closer to being put together, but if you bet on my outfit on any given day, if I were you, I'd include "hoodie" and "yoga pants" in your wager.

10. Before I was a mom, I never knew how much how much I wanted to be one. Most of us spend our life trying NOT to get pregnant. We're scared of it. Even when we decided we wanted a baby, it was terrifying. But that moment you, my first baby, entered the world, you took it over. Life split into two halves: before you, and after.

Life before you was wonderful. I'm grateful for it. But I wouldn't trade one moment of this "after" life with you.

Read More

SHARE:

To The: Huffington Post Edition

As many of you know, I recently had the privilege of becoming a blogger for the Huffington Post. What that means is, I have my own platform on the back-end where I can submit blogs for them to say "yay" or "nay." I've been lucky to have three blogs published so far, all of which were previously published here.

My most recent blog, "The Parenting Cliche I Cannot Stand," generated quite a conversation. I knew it would, but didn't anticipate the reach. The first time it was posted on Facebook, it got 3,421 likes, 759 shares and 237 comments. The second time, it was 328 likes, 83 shares and 25 comments. On the actual article, it got great engagement, too:

So, all in all, lots of likes, tons of shares, and lots of comments. Of which I read every single one.

And I've got to say - the comments were fascinating. Majority of people sharing and commenting on it were saying "THANK GOD SOMEONE IS TALKING ABOUT THIS!" or "AMEN!" or "Thank you for making me feel like I'm not alone." All sentiments that tie back to why I love to write.

But everyone else? What a bunch of miserable people, and parents. Seriously.

I suppose me writing that only goes to support their arguments that if I don't want to hear what other people have to say, I shouldn't have a blog or "post my shit on Facebook." 

But, honestly - why does parenthood have to be so polarizing? Why do people feel like their way is the right way? Or feel like it's OK to put other people down? Or just be plain mean? And judgmental?

I don't get it.

As much I would have liked to tell many of the commenters to "Fuck off" directly, I figured that'd be poor form. So I'm going to passive aggressively tell them to fuck off here, where they likely won't see it.  

To this genius:

"35 weeks? How about your child is almost 3 years old."

I'm not the best at math, but I'm pretty sure there are about 52 weeks in a year. I hope you don't have to use math or simple, every day knowledge to get through each day.


To this insightful lad: 

"I feel like this author needs more sleep. Geez." 

Ummm, yep. Pretty much the gist.

To this dumbass: 

"This is just plain stupid and obviously written by a first time mom of a still a baby. My daughter was such a hard baby. She woke up every hour screaming at me for an hour then would make me bleed. She didn't sleep through the night until 1 year. And age 3 was the worst. And my boys were 18 months apart. My middle son was colic. Now my daughter is 11 and my middle son is starting kindergarten. And I know with a blink of an eye they will all be adults. I wonder where the time went and if I could do it all over again even without the sleep. I would love to snuggle my crying baby girl at night again. I would in a heartbeat. And imagine a mom of all grown children reading this or one who has lost a child. So I agree with the comment not this ridiculous petty blog post from someone with little experience. What a bad attitude on parenthood. Sheesh."

So many things. The first being, I'm willing to bet that when you were in the thick of those experiences - YOUR experiences - you were not enjoying it all. It's easy to look back on those times now that your kids are older and say you'd "snuggle at night again in a heartbeat." That's the way hindsight and perspective works. But at the time I wrote this, I wasn't there. If I get there on my own journey as a parent, I'll let you know. But your feelings/experiences are yours, and mine are mine. 

As for the bit about imagining a mom of grown children reading or one who has lost a child - first, many mothers of grown children did read this and comment and agree. So there's that. And for the women who read who had lost a child - I'm so very sorry for their loss. But that loss and experience is not the same and can't be compared to what I was experiencing at the time I wrote this.

Finally: I have a bad attitude on parenthood? Did you read your comment, or? 

To this moron: 

"Get a life- there are people in the world with real problems." 

Why don't you get a life, and spend your time doing something better and more productive than writing nasty comments on a blog, you troll! 

To this kind mama: 

"I wish I could dissolve the negative comments and tell you that your post really hit home. I shared it on my wall and it was doubly irritating when the people who commented clearly missed the point. We love our children with every ounce of our being. But it doesn't mean we love musical beds at night, especially when we have to function the next day and the days after that. I squeeze all the hugs I can get now. I bring them into bed with us just so I can spend more time with them even if it means while we sleep. I will miss so many things, their smell, their laugh, their cuddles, etc. The poop running down my leg, the over tired toddler who slaps me in the face, the baby who dips his hand in the food only to immediately grab my newly washed hair (ok that one maybe a little), the crying fits in the car when we all just want to reach our destination, etc....... I will gladly look in the rear view mirror on those. Thank you for writing this and letting me know I'm not alone. Hugs to you!

Thank you for this. You are the kind of person I hoped I would reach, and the kind of feedback I hoped I would get. You hit the nail on the head, and thank you for your support.

To this ass-hat: 

"Sounds like your in need of counseling, if not for you then for your Baby!"

Thank you for the laugh! I needed it.

To you, my friend:

"Thank you for writing this. I too cried as I read the final lines because you have described motherhood exactly as it is."

I cried when I read your comment because it made me feel so good!

To you, Negative Nancy:

"Maybe you shouldn't post shit about your kid on Facebook. No one wants to read it anyways. Problem solved."

Which part of a FB status that reads "For Lent I'm giving up sleep, #newmom" references anything about my child? What's that? It doesn't? It only talks about my own lack of sleep? K, thanks, bye!

To you, Mommy War advocate:

"Babies can't manipulate you our use you as a pacifier. That's a cliché. And a myth. Put forth since formula feeding became a norm."

You're the reason that "mommy wars" exist. I didn't say a word about being manipulated, and the bit about using my boob as a pacifier? You bet your ass that my baby would at times only sleep if my boob was in his mouth. He was not eating. So, sorry, but to me, that's the same effect as a pacifier. Take your judgement and move along.

To the most miserable person ever:

"Another in an endless tirade of victimhood by parents who take offense at every interaction that they themselves haven't pre-approved or scripted. Why write a blog if you don't want people to comment? Go through life and grade every social interaction as not good enough and be miserable all of the time. That's your choice."

I love this comment so much. I don't really have much to say in response, except that the post and it's entirety went completely over this person's head, and if that's what she picked up, then I'm guessing it's a reflection of her own feelings of parenthood.

To this ignorant ass:

"What did she think before she became a mother...that the baby was just going to be this cute little person that lies around in a onesie all day? Boo hoo she loses some sleep - she is supposed to be molding and a life...losing a little sleep should be the least of her problems."

While I admit my version of being a mom was slightly romanticized, I was not naive enough to think that I would be getting a lot of sleep at the outset. I certainly underestimated how hard it was going to be though. Good news for you, asshole, I am molding a life and doing so while getting a full night's rest these days. Fuck off.

To this jackass:

"Get over it. Stop writing a blog. You are not the first woman to have a baby."

WHAATTT!?? Stop it. I don't believe you.

To Peggy:

I think if there are 'many days and nights' where you are breaking down and crying you should ask those around you for help. It should not be this terrible. Good Luck

You must not remember the complete hormonal imbalance that your body goes through after having a baby. I won't apologize for being supremely emotional in those early weeks of being a new mom, and being overwhelmed with happiness, responsibility and with love. Sometimes my "break downs" were crying out of pure joy. Other times it was because I was clueless. Never because it was terrible. I have a tribe of help around me that I go to when I need it.

To Miserable Melvin:

You made them, deal with it. In a few years that kid won't be able to stand the sound of YOUR voice. By the time they are teens, you will be the dumbest most worrisome person on Earth. 

So what you're saying is, your kids really like you, huh? Worry about your your own relationships with your children, and don't prophesize what mine will be like.

But mostly, to this woman:

"I think it is time we all stop judging ourselves based on other's opinions of how motherhood should look. If you are loving your child, caring for your child, providing for all of your child's needs, and doing your best to contribute positively to their life, then you are doing exactly what a parent should. I am sure there are and will be some who comment negatively and often downright nastily, just let those go. Your words are true for you and so many others and it is refreshing to read them."

Thank you. That is perspective that I can appreciate, that is support, which is what so many other comments were not.

Ahh, hate mail. Gotta love it.

Read More

SHARE:

To the New Mom Walking

Hey, you.

Yes, you - the mama at the intersection looking nervously in every direction to make sure all the cars are stopped before you cross the street with the baby stroller you are gripping for dear life.

You, the one pushing your new travel system, which you have covered, but keep peeking under to make sure your brand new, beautiful, most precious piece of cargo is still alive - and sleeping.

You push the stroller back and forth, back and forth, a quiet "shhhh" crossing your lips - unconscious movements and noises. You hope, wish, pray that you can make it to Starbucks and back without the baby waking or screaming.

I know you. We've never met. But I'd recognize you anywhere.

You're self-conscious out here in broad daylight. You wonder if people around you think you look fat, or like a slob in your yoga pants, or if your breasts are leaking. You subconsciously tug your shirt down.

You walk gingerly, still sore from the trauma of delivering a human.

I see you, sneaking your phone under the car seat cover to snap a picture of that sleeping beauty. You're making sure to get some of the sidewalk or sunlight in the photo, to make it known that you're outside, and that you're brave enough to leave the house.

You have a venti coffee in the cup holder, and as you walk, you do so carefully, so as not to spill a drop of your precious caffeine. You're already thinking about when you can have a second cup.

Beneath your sunglasses, your eyes are tired and bloodshot. They still sting from this morning, when for no reason at all - yet for every reason in the world - you burst into tears when your mom called to see how you're doing.

Your hair, piled high in a pony tail, is wet from the shower you took this morning. The first one you've taken in days. The one that lasted a whole three minutes, because even though your little one was sleeping in his Rock 'n Play just outside the bathroom door, you still stuck your head out of the shower every 30 seconds because you swore you could hear him crying.

You're confident from taking a shower. This small victory made it easier for you to put on fresh yoga pants - not the ones you've been wearing the past few days. Cleanliness and accomplishment propelled you out the front door with determination to seize the day.

I know you, Mama. I was you. I am you.

You're tired in a way that you've never known, never knew, was possible. You're overwhelmed, in every sense of the word - with love, responsibility, amazement, uncertainty. You're scared. You have no idea what you're doing. You question every single decision you make. Your Google history would show me everything from "how long can breast milk sit out" to "why is my baby crying." You cry for no reason, sometimes just because you love that baby more than anything.

But outside the walls of your home, being a mom doesn't seem as hard. The day ahead of you, filled with feedings and crying, shushing and soothing, dirty diapers and spit up, doesn't seem as daunting.

You look forward to that baby opening his eyes, so you can talk to him, kiss him, snuggle him. You don't feel like bursting into tears when someone asks you how you are. You don't feel scared at the prospect of taking care of this baby, whom you've only just met and are still getting to know, all by yourself - at least until Dad gets home. In the fresh air and sunshine, you feel like you've got this.

And you should. Because you do. I promise you, despite how unfit for it you feel, you are the best person for this new job you hold. You will find your groove. And while I can't promise you it will get easier, I can tell you on good authority that it does get better.

So keep walking, Mama. You're doing great.

Read More

SHARE:

An Open Letter to My Boobs

Well, girls. What can I say?

I guess I'll start with thank you. Thank you for allowing me to nurse Liam. I know how hard that can be for some women. I was worried before he arrived that you might fail me, but when the physical part of nursing came easily to us, I was so proud of you, girls! I knew that some day, your ridiculous size (a quality I've never liked about you) might come in handy. You didn't let me down.

Speaking of let downs, I have a bone to pick with you, Boobs. When Liam went on a nursing strike a few months ago, which caused me to have to pump exclusively for going-on three months now - why did you girls insist on being so stubborn? Why have you put me under so much stress, making me freak out and stress over clogged ducts, no let downs, my inability to empty you and lack of supply?

I know it was a sad day that fateful morning when Liam screamed at the sight of you. It made me feel bad, too. But that's no reason to just give up, is it?

For months now, Boobs, you've been playing mind games with me. "How much milk should we give her today?" I can just hear you both snickering to each other as I hook myself up to that damn pump for the umpteenth time, hopeful that for a let down (or two).

At least four times each day, I sit down, looking forward to our time together, confident you'll work hard for me, for the baby. And each day, ladies, especially lately, you disappoint me. I sit, and I pump, and I speak to you kindly. I give you warmth, good food, lots of vitamins and supplements, and plenty to drink to keep you full.

And still, you give me the silent treatment. (Except for those times when the only noise you make is a boob fart.)

I'm starting to think you really just like the intense massages I have to give you for the entire 30 minutes of our sessions together, since that seems to be the only way to get you do anything at all.

And hey, left boob? Why are you so damn lazy? Your sister on the right shows up to work every day, doing about twice, sometimes three times the work you do in a 24-hour period. Get it together, would you?

I'm sorry for everything you've gone through the last 9.5 months. I know it hasn't been easy, what with all the clogged ducts, engorgement and bleeding you've experienced. I'm sorry for those times when the baby reared his head back during a feeding session, and didn't let go of the nipple first.

I'm only asking for a couple more months of this. Less, if you can start to work harder. Can we do it? Can you just work with me a little while longer?

After that (and after the next kid...and maybe one more after that...), I cross my heart and hope to die: I will pay for the nicest face lift money can buy. You've got my word.

Read More

SHARE:

Teething Bites: 3 Teething Tips

Two little chompers, front and center!

Babies go through so many difficult phases. Teething is one of the worst. Why? Because it lasts for YEARS - not just days, months. Babies teethe, all the time.

In fact, teething topped the list as the most difficult childhood milestone, trumping potty training, the terrible twos and the first day of school. according to a survey conducted by Infants’ Advil® in April 2015 among 2,000 U.S. parents.

Teething was one thing I was not looking forward to with Liam. Once we got through the sleep regression, which remains the hardest phase for us to date, I breathed a sigh of relief. Only for about 6 weeks though, when we were faced with TEETHING!

I've heard horror stories of babies teething, but so far, teething has not be horrible for us. (Knock on all the wood.) It hasn't been great, but it hasn't been horrible. Liam definitely gets super fussy, doesn't sleep well, and just cries the saddest, most whimpery cry ever. I can take a few sleepless nights, but hearing my baby cry in pain/discomfort and not being able to help him is quite honestly, THE WORST.

I'm not alone, either - according to Infants’ Advil®, 29 percent of moms and 16 percent of dads admit to having cried as a result of watching their child teethe. Been there, done that.

Currently, Liam has two teeth with three on the horizon. I'm pretty sure a third tooth on bottom will break through soon, in addition to his top teeth. That's a lot of pain my babe is in!

The kind folks at Infants' Advil reached out to me to let me know they had teamed up with NUK® have teamed to create simple and effective solutions that provide relief for both baby and parent. They kindly provided me with teething tip information, product samples and tips from their survey.

Yay for free stuff to help with Liam's discomfort!

Thankfully, we've been able to manage Liam's pain and discomfort with a few tricks and toys, so I wanted to share some things that have worked for us. Nothing really revolutionary, but they do help!

1. Invest in teething toys. For a few months now, all Liam wants to do is put things in his mouth. It's been kind of hard to determine if that's due to curiosity or teething. We figured it wouldn't hurt to get our hands on some teething toys. If he was teething, they'd help soothe - if not, he could just chew away to his heart's content anyway.

His new teether from Nuk!

Some of our favorite teething toys include The First Years John Deere Massaging Corn Teether, Nuby Bug A Loop Teether Bead, Nuby Icybite Hard/Soft Teething Keys, Banana Brush and of course, Sophie!

2. Use food. Cold and frozen things are awesome for teething babies. Before we had any toys, we just froze wash cloths and gave them to Liam to suck on. He also enjoys gumming the bottoms of our cold beer cans and bottles. :) We also invested in these feeders. They are not only awesome for bringing to restaurants and keeping Liam occupied, but we can literally stuff anything in there for Liam to chew on. We've put everything from frozen fruit to ice cubes to frozen bagels. Good for helping to relieve pain and be nutritious!

3. Don't be afraid to medicate. Obviously this is personal preference. For me personally, I was hesitate to give Liam medicine at first. After talking to my pediatrician, she assured me that it would be more than fine.

The first time I gave him a pain reliever was after his two-month wellness visit when he was in clear discomfort and had a fever, and it helped so much! Seeing that made me more confident moving for future instances where we've had to give him medicine for illness, or recently - pain!

My biggest tip here is, if you're comfortable with it, don't be afraid to give your babe some relief. S/he will be fine. And don't wait for things to be bad before giving! I should add that my child happens to love oral medications - he gulps down Gripe Water and pain reliever with no issue. He really loved the white grape, dye free flavor of Infants' Advil! (He cried when I was done giving the dosage.)

That's all I've got! Like I said - nothing earth shattering or new, but more tried and true. You can do it!





*Disclosure: I was given free product for this post, however all thoughts and opinions are my own, and writing a post was optional.

Read More

SHARE:

37 Times You Know You're a Parent

Parenthood changes you - physically, mentally and emotionally. Priorities shift, emotions intensify, marriages evolve.

And tolerance for bodily functions increases tenfold.

After just seven months, I’ve gone from an aversion to blood and vomit, to now deciding whether or not to shower or change clothes based not on IF I was pooped, peed or puked on, but on the amount that is still on me. So there's that.

Note the vomit on my shoulder. #dontcare

Whether it’s catching puke midstream with my hand before it hits someone in the face, or recognizing the warm (yet not fuzzy) feeling spreading across my stomach while nursing – these are the moments where I think, "You're definitely a parent."

I asked other parents when they had this same revelation. Their answers left me equal parts entertained, horrified and frightened.

Spoiler alert: Being a parent involves a lot of poop. Can you relate?

Photo Credit: lifecreations via Compfight cc

You Know You're a Parent When...

1. You'd rather stay home on Saturday night than wake up at 6am to nurse a baby AND a hangover.
2. You celebrate bowel movements with a "poop dance."
3. You don’t think twice about pushing on your boobs in public to see how full you are.
4. You want to kick the person’s ass that coined the saying, "Sleeping like a baby." It should be switched to, "Sleeping like my 80-pound Labrador Retriever on a Tempur-Pedic bed."
5. You accidentally tell your co-workers you'll be ready for lunch after you go "potty."
6. You institute a "no bodily functions" rule at the dinner table.
7. You find yourself alone in the kitchen at night softly singing "Old McDonald" as you do dishes.
8. You find yourself saying "Oh, good, it's just vomit."
9. Your husband asks if you want to have a "quickie," and you think he said "cookie." You’re disappointed because you would prefer the cookie.
10. You learn to shower with people watching you.
11. You sniff your baby's butt multiple times a day and think nothing of it.
12. You leave the house and find pacifiers in your pockets.
13. The 10pm showing of a new movie is too late for date night.
14. You use the restroom with a kid in your lap.
15. You know the pain of stepping on a Lego.
16. You and your spouse create a swear jar just so your kiddo doesn't repeat that four-letter word to his Sunday school teacher...again.
17. The most revered object in the household is the hairdryer. Not because you give a damn what your hair looks like, but because it's the only thing that can get your baby to stop crying and fall asleep.
18. You poop with the door open.
19. You're singing along to the Frozen soundtrack, then realize you're in the car alone.
20. Getting poop on your hand—or anywhere else—doesn’t faze you.
21. You know precisely how to "extract" a hard poop ball from your child.
22. You have groceries in the cart, and you're totally okay with leaving them in the aisle, so you can assist your screaming child out of the store.
23. You find yourself swaying and rocking, no matter where you are—or if there is a baby in your arms.
24. Food falls out of your bra when you undress at the end of the day...and it wasn't food you ate.
25. You find boogers on your curtains.
26. You learn to bribe your children with everyday tasks. "If you pick up your blocks before bed, you get to brush your teeth!"
27. You keep watching kid shows after the kids go to bed.
28. Going to work on Monday sounds like a vacation.
29. You buy clothes for yourself based on how easily puke will wash out.
30. You hear a baby cry in the store and instantly start rocking your shopping cart.
31. You hide to eat a snack because you don't want to share.
32. Your trip to the gynecologist is your idea of "girl time!"
33. You make up songs… for everything.
34. You consider 7AM sleeping in.
35. You pretend to use the bathroom just so you can play on your phone for a few minutes without being bothered.
36. You know where all the drive-thru Starbucks are in your city since you frequent them daily driving baby around for nap.
37. You can fall and stay asleep in almost any position.

When was a moment that you realized you were in the thick of parenthood?

Read More

SHARE:

Why I Hate This Parenting Cliche

A couple of months ago, when Lent started, I published a Facebook status that said, "For Lent, I'm giving up sleep. #newmom."

Funny, right?

It got 45 likes and several comments from commiserating and empathetic mommies and daddies, saying "Amen!" or "Piece of cake!" They got my joke. They understood that as a parent, you have to try and find the humor in pretty much everything, or you won't survive.

But then I saw this comment:

I know it sounds like total BS, but you really will miss the late night snuggling once he gets older. So although it sucks now, try to soak it up.

I 'liked' the comment, but actually, I fucking hated the comment. Like, it really pissed me off. 

"Soak it up," along with "Enjoy this time" or "Embrace the moment" have become my most hated pieces of parenting advice. (I hate even more that I have said this cliche to other expecting mommies.)

Why, you ask?

Most of the time, this instance included, I get this advice after a comment about some of the less-desirable parts of being a mom to an infant. Here, it was about lack of sleep. But the well-intended advice pisses me off because for one, I didn't say anything that would imply that I am NOT "soaking it up." I didn't complain about the lack of sleep. I didn't say "No sleep sucks," I didn't even mention late-night snuggles. 

(Side note: No sleep for mom does not always equal "late night snuggles." Sometimes, it equals a screaming, writhing baby who does not want to snuggle, he wants to cry/scream/play/eat/chat, etc.) 

So to tell me that I should be "soaking it up" in the middle of the night when I'd rather be sleeping? No thanks.

Quite simply, I was making light of the fact that, as the mom of a then-8-week-old, I wasn't sleeping, and therefore, giving up sleep for Lent would be easy peasy. HA. HA. HA!

For another thing: Not all moments in motherhood are enjoyable or precious. In fact, some of them are quite literally, shitty. Just because I don't particularly enjoy having bloody nipples and I don't cherish every dirty diaper I change and I don't like waking up every 45 minutes to receive a pacifier, doesn't mean that I'm a bad mom. At least I don't think it does. It also doesn't mean I won't do those things. Of course I will. It's all part of the gig, so I'll grin and bear it.

And finally, perhaps most important: Things are hard enough as a new mom, or even a veteran mom. I don't need the added pressure of feeling like I absolutely have to enjoy every moment of parenting. There have been nights and days when I break down and cry at the enormity of it all, of this job being a mom. I think selfish thoughts like, "I want to sleep," or "I can't do this," or "I just want to be alone." 

And my next thought is always, "But you should enjoy this time, everyone says to enjoy this time!" And then the guilt floods my veins like a drug. Oh, the guilt. It's overwhelming.

Yes, I know, and I agree: Motherhood is precious. Babies are miracles. Time goes too fast. The days are long, but the years are short. But here's the thing: I will choose to "embrace," "enjoy" and "soak up" the moments that I deem deserving of such emotion. 

And for me, those do not include nights where I only get an hour or two of sleep. Days where I have to sit around topless because my child has decided he will only be placated by my breast in or near his mouth. Moments when I'm late for work because my baby puked on the first three outfits I had on. Times when my child is in hysterics and I have no fucking clue what is wrong or how to make it better. Visits home when I want to cuddle up and play with my nieces and nephews like I used to, but I can't because there's someone else who needs me more than them. 

For me, it's these hard moments that make the others so enjoyable. 

With each passing day that Liam has been a part my life, I am learning. I am growing. It is getting easier, as everyone told me it would. I am "enjoying" a lot more these days, and even now, it's hard to dig deep and remember just how hard those first few weeks were, for all of us. 

I know he won't always need me. I know he won't always be small. I know that the toughest phases of parenting won't last forever. I know I won't be able to cuddle him forever.I know this.

I snuggle Liam as often as I can, and savor it, because even though he's only 20 weeks old, he is already too busy discovering the world to sit still with me very often. 
I inhale his baby smell and kiss his chubby cheeks, thighs and belly a hundred times a day. 
I tear up when I'm rock him, overwhelmed by the all-consuming love I have for him. 
I grieve when he outgrows clothing or goes up a size in his diaper. 
I melt when I see him light up when his Dad walks in the room. 
When he smiles at me, I think, "my heart cannot take any more emotion." 
When he "talks" to me, providing all of the facial expressions and dramatic pauses of adult, I laugh so hard, and my cheeks hurt from smiling. 
When he relaxes in my arms, I breathe a sigh of relief - he needs me and I can make it, whatever 'it' is at that particular moment, better. 
I am crying as I write all of these things, because my heart swells thinking of all the fun we've had, and have yet to experience.

So, I am enjoying it. Most of it. 

But just because, for one night, I might want to lay my baby down to sleep instead of holding him in my arms, does not mean I am not soaking it up. It just means I'm tired.

Many of you reading this probably disagree with me. You're probably shaking your head, thinking that I couldn't know what I'm talking about. How could I, my baby is only 4 months old! You sit there,with your toddlers, tweens, teenagers or adult children, and think, "No, I really do miss those hard moments, honest." I'm sure you do. You're entitled to. And maybe someday I'll look back on this post and I'll laugh at my naïveté, and I will miss EVERY moment, not just the snuggley ones.  

But that's my journey to go on. You went through it, now let me go through it. Let me feel what I feel, enjoy what I enjoy, and not embrace what I don't want to embrace, and please don't tell me to do otherwise. I'm embracing, enjoying, soaking in everything, as best as I can, just like you and every other mommy or daddy out there.

Anyone else feel like this, or am I a Negative Nancy, party of 1?

Read More

SHARE: