So it started out like any other Thursday. We got the baby up, we got the toddler up, Daddy took the toddler out to breakfast, which sounds as though we'd have some quiet time at home, but we do have a pretty loud baby, so, no such luck. But this is normal. Again, like any other Thursday.
I wanted to run some errands and wanted to put Ansley in the big kid part of the shopping cart at Target, for a few reasons - she's been doing a great job at sitting up lately and I had a bunch of stuff to get and didn't think I could fit it all in the seat part up top and underneath. She was acting a little crabby and didn't want to take her nap so we took off.
I kept telling her that I wanted her to stay awake until we got to Target and then she could take a little nap on the way home. She did. And she continued to be a little crabby, even through her brand new vantage point in the top of the cart. I thought for sure she'd be excited. She was indifferent. Maybe even a little annoyed.
So she complained and I kept telling her about how much fun we were having and all of a sudden, in the middle of the accent rug aisle, as I was trying to decide between an $8.99 synthetic feeling rug vs. a $14.99 more natural feeling rug that may come apart after a month of feet walking on it, she spits up. Oopsie. Just a little bit. It's ok. Oh shit. There's more. Ok. It's ok, it's ok. And it just keeps coming. And all I can do is just stand there and watch in horror as she barfs all over herself - her shirt and her little skinny jeans and all over the inside of the shopping cart insert, making a little puddle. After what seemed like an eternity, that was probably no longer than a minute or so, she was done and put out her bottom lip and told me again about how she didn't feel good (but felt much better now, thank you). And I'm standing there and I'm completely dumfounded. I really have no idea what to do. Six months into my second kid and this has never happened to me before. My cart has all kinds of stuff in it - I've got jumbo packages of toilet paper and paper towels shoved underneath, I've got hand weights and a stability ball and pajamas for Ayden and some M&Ms for Nishant and I ask her to just be quiet for just a second so I can think about what I'm going to do next.
Did I mention that I didn't have my diaper bag with me? Of course I didn't. I'm a pro at this thing and we were only going to be out for a minute. I had a spare cloth diaper and some actual diapers and some wipes. Had I been quicker on my feet, maybe I could have gotten her to barf directly into a diaper for easy clean up and disposal but I think I would have to be some kind of mom ninja to pull that off. So I think about it for the split second that I have and decide that I have to just leave. Go directly to jail. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. There's vomit everywhere. I can't pull her out of the seat because then vomit will get all over me and probably drip all over the floor. So in an effort to contain it, I pull out the entire cart insert, with her inside, and prop it up on my hip. Then I stand there and look at my cart full of stuff. I can't wait in line, I can't get it in my car. But I also can't just leave it here in the accent rug aisle. Ok, so the plan is to get out as quickly as possible and as soon as I see someone that works there to give them the quick story so I'm not that jerk that just left my cart full of stuff.
So I'm walking and I'm starting to feel a wet spot on my sleeve. I have no idea what it looks like from the outside. I can only imagine a big smelly wet spot, that's growing. Time is of the essence. Must get to the car, now. Finally, I see someone working the fitting rooms next to the ladies section. She sort of attempts to ask me if I need help, I'm assuming from the look of sheer panic on my face and I push the cart over towards her one handed and tell her, "I have to leave, right now. She threw up all over the place. I just have to leave. I can't put any of my stuff back. I just wanted to make sure I told someone." And then basically I just turned and fled and didn't give her the opportunity to tell me that wasn't ok.
And then I get to the car and realize I don't have anything else to help the situation - no extra clothes, no blankets, no nothing. What kind of amateur doesn't have anything like that in the car? Jesus. So I lay her out in the back and get off everything that's been barfed on, which leaves her in her diaper and socks. I'm standing there in the parking lot. Think. Think. What can I do? I remember one time when Ayden threw up in the car and after he went through his spare outfit I ended up putting him in my tank top, somehow. So I take off my shirt, since I have on two and start to try to put it on her and it's so ridiculous that I take it back off and try to think of a way I can inconspicuously remove my tank top without standing in the Target parking lot in my bra on New Year's Eve. No way. So I stick her back in her carseat as is, in her diaper and socks and cover her up with my shirt, as a blanket. Poor little thing was happy as a clam the whole way home.
So, that was my day - how was yours?
Thursday, December 31, 2015
Saturday, November 7, 2015
No One Tells You...My List
I'll start by saying that becoming a mom has been the hardest thing I've ever done. And then I had a second baby and that quickly became the new, hardest thing I've ever done. I cried the night before my husband went back to work. All I wanted him to do was tell me that it was going to be ok and that I was perfectly capable and that I could do it and it just pissed off my new mom hormones that I had to tell him that I needed to hear that. It was so obvious to him that I would be ok and be able to handle it that he didn't feel the need to say it out loud. That helped a little. A little. We all lived to tell the story. How's that?
I'm still sort of laughing at how hard I thought it was being a mom to one kid, though I don't at all want to downplay how hard and how intense the transition is from zero to one. But once you've been through it once, you at least have a little bit of a clue. Hopefully. Being a parent is so hard. It's so hard and so important and yet somehow kids are the one thing that don't come with any sort of owner's manual. Sure, there are books. But to that point, there are books. There are so, so many books. Which ones do you read, which ones do you believe, does it make a difference which ones your friends read? Some of your friends have bratty kids. Maybe you don't want to read the books they read. Your kids will be different, anyhow. Your kids won't be bratty. Your kids won't throw tantrums in restaurants. If they do, that's the last time you'll be going out to eat, that's for damn sure! You'll show those kids! That reminds me of something else. With one kid, you're acutely aware of the level of noise coming out of your child. You probably blush, you're probably a little bit embarrassed, you may apologize to those around you for disturbing the peace. By kid two, you no longer hear the noise. I used to wonder about those moms with multiple children that were screaming out in public. Doesn't she hear them? No, she doesn't, actually. Something in your brain allows you to mute it out so that you can think straight for five minutes and get the freaking laundry detergent and toilet paper that you keep forgetting to pick up every time you're at the God forsaken store! Once there's more than one, it's that much more likely that someone will be upset at any given hour, if not everyone at once. Christ. We have been out to eat with a screaming child who won't sit down so someone has to stand and eat their meal. We have given bigger tips based on the amount of french fries we're leaving on the floor. We have let our child eat french fries for dinner. We have rewarded this shit behavior with ice cream because we just didn't feel like waiting until after bedtime.
Shew, anyhow, I digress. If you are one of these new moms, or even a seasoned mom, you've likely seen those lists of "things no one tells you..." and you giggle a little if you've already been there and you read the list in horror if you're getting ready to be there. So this is my list, to add to the table, for what it's worth.
I'll warn you that it gets a little personal, but we're all moms, so we've all been there...
1. Sleep deprivation does crazy things to you. You know, right? You've been to college and pulled all nighters. You are perfectly capable of functioning on little to no sleep. You're not in college, anymore. It's not the same, at all. For me, lack of sleep caused me to hallucinate. Like, for real, hallucinate. With my first baby, I would barely fall asleep and then wake up panicked thinking that I fell asleep nursing and the baby was in the bed and I might roll over on him or that the nipple shield was missing and had rolled under the bed and I needed to find it RIGHT NOW. I'd start patting the bed down hysterically and wake up my snoring (sleeping peacefully with no hallucinations) husband. Nope. The baby was swaddled and asleep in the crib next to the bed and the nipple shield was on the nightstand, right where I left it. Right where I left it every time. Relax. You can sleep. For another 5 minutes until the baby decides it's hungry, AGAIN. Jesus. Does this thing eat all the time or what?! Yes, it does.
With my second baby, during one middle of the night feed, I was changing a diaper and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I really thought I saw something move on my chest. The first thought that occurred to me was that it must be an ant. OH MY GOD, WHERE DID THIS ANT COME FROM?! I sensed that it wasn't real and slowly put my finger down on it. It wasn't an ant. It was one of my moles and it was completely stationary. Trippy stuff. Sleep deprivation is no joke.
2. The only reason your baby looks the gender that it is, is because you know it's that gender. I'm serious. There are some homely baby girls and some pretty baby boys. Dress your kid head to toe in clothes of the opposite sex and take a long objective look. Now, don't be offended when strangers don't know what your baby is, even if he is dressed all in blue or she has on five bright pink hair bows. I'm not sure what the cutoff point is, but up until at least 3 months, the baby really doesn't look like one gender or the other. It just looks like a baby. Oh no, not my baby. Yes, your baby, too.
3. Breastmilk is the female equivalent of semen. Now, let me start by saying that I breastfeed my babies. I'm fortunate in that breastfeeding comes easily to me. I nursed my first for a year and have the same plans for this one. We are 4 months in and going strong. I produce enough milk, don't have to restrict my diet, babies are big, fat and happy. So I am pro-breast milk and still believe this fact to be true. But it's not this way for everyone and formula isn't poison (though formula may be just as semen-like when you see my point). Back to my original point. If you're breastfeeding, you will leak milk everywhere in the beginning. You may feel it, you may not, but I don't think you've really made it as a breastfeeding mom until you've soaked big wet spots in at least one shirt, through your breast pads, through your bra. Yuck. And this is where it's gross. It leaves a stain. A nasty, smelly, stiff, off color stain. It smells whether it came straight out of your boob or if it came back out the baby's mouth. It's tricky because sometimes it doesn't smell at first. If you're nursing on a pillow or a boppy or something like that, you may want to put a cloth diaper or burp cloth under the baby's head for the inevitable dribble. The cover will get wet and then later will smell. Just like when semen gets on things. We've all conceived and birthed a baby. We should be able to agree that we all know a thing or two about semen. But that's why we have washing machines. It all comes out, dirty things are clean again (unless it's mustard, which isn't related to breastmilk at all, but my 2 year old loves mustard and is a messy eater, and we've already discussed why I can't complete a single, uninterrupted thought in my brain). After a few months, things regulate and you don't leak as much, although you may have a spitter for a baby and really, that's no better. Maybe even worse. Just don't wear nice shirts at home. Shoot. Nice outfits. And if you get one dirty, you might as well just leave it on because the surefire way to get spit up on again is by changing into a clean shirt.
4. Moms are assholes. They are. We are. And you know, I have to believe in my heart that no one really means to be an asshole, but sometimes it just happens. It's like the instant you become pregnant, you become part of this mom tribe. And the problem with the tribe is that, as mentioned previously, there are millions of different ways to raise children, but it would seem that every single mom in the tribe thinks that her way is the best. Of course she does, because that's how she is doing things. And then you will find that there are different levels of vocal moms who believe their way is the best way and the only way and that's where we become assholes. Some of us just can't keep our mouths shut and leave well enough alone when it comes to disposable diapers vs. cloth diapers, homemade organic baby food vs. the good ole jar food, car seat positioning, crying it out (CIO in tribe shorthand), co-sleeping and certainly not last or least, but vaccinating. We look down on other moms who clearly haven't done all their research and are (in our opinion) endangering their children and just not doing it right! Don't they know?! Maybe they don't! Maybe I should tell them! You see how this can get out of hand. The other issue is that they really let anyone get a blog these days (ha, case in point) and all those people can put whatever they want to on the internet and they can declare it true and divine and it's all up to us to believe it or find time to do enough of our own internet research to be able to earn a doctorate and prove it right or wrong or indifferent. Exhausting. At the end of the day, we're all trying our best. And to the 10 or so people that will read this, I just have one plea. We have this ongoing issue with self esteem and bullying that just doesn't seem to go away. So can we all just try to not be assholes and not raise our kids to be assholes? If we could start there, that would at least be something.
5. Your body will never be the same. Oh, you've heard this one? Yeah, I had too but somehow still didn't believe it. And then somehow, as different as your body is after 1, it's different in a new way after 2. Can't we get a little break?! You may weigh exactly the same but all of a sudden, your pants don't fit and your shirts just don't look the same. Just recently, I finally got rid of some of my old halter tops. Not to say that moms can never wear halter tops but let's be honest - maybe as a mom of two, I no longer need to be wearing the same halter tops I was wearing in my 20's even if they do fit again (they don't). Dieting and exercise will come in time, but for now, I'm just trying to make sure my baby gets enough to eat and I'm not showing anyone the belly panel on the maternity pants I'm still wearing. And it's weird and awkward because you're this new shape that you've never been before and you may not know how to dress it. I'm still struggling with that, to be honest. It's like I need to start a whole new research project on how my new size is supposed to dress and look the most flattering. You know, for the two or three times I get dressed enough to leave the house. Add it to the list of things to do after the kids go to bed. Otherwise, it's leggings, tank tops and zip up hoodies. This outfit may also double as an emergency grocery store outfit. It really depends on the day. If you see me and I don't make eye contact, just let it go and walk on by.
And the things that people consistently tell you is that parenthood, especially motherhood, changes you. Man, does it change you. And it probably ages you as much as it changes you because really, this shit is exhausting. Whether you're doing it at home all the time or doing it along side a full time job, it's just hard. It's hard to know if you're getting it right or screwing things up almost every single day. Some days I laugh and some days I cry, but each day does have an end and each new day brings those big bright eyes that look to you for guidance and love - or maybe it's just food and clean pants. If we can at least start with food and clean pants (for everyone), I think we're at least doing something right.
I'm still sort of laughing at how hard I thought it was being a mom to one kid, though I don't at all want to downplay how hard and how intense the transition is from zero to one. But once you've been through it once, you at least have a little bit of a clue. Hopefully. Being a parent is so hard. It's so hard and so important and yet somehow kids are the one thing that don't come with any sort of owner's manual. Sure, there are books. But to that point, there are books. There are so, so many books. Which ones do you read, which ones do you believe, does it make a difference which ones your friends read? Some of your friends have bratty kids. Maybe you don't want to read the books they read. Your kids will be different, anyhow. Your kids won't be bratty. Your kids won't throw tantrums in restaurants. If they do, that's the last time you'll be going out to eat, that's for damn sure! You'll show those kids! That reminds me of something else. With one kid, you're acutely aware of the level of noise coming out of your child. You probably blush, you're probably a little bit embarrassed, you may apologize to those around you for disturbing the peace. By kid two, you no longer hear the noise. I used to wonder about those moms with multiple children that were screaming out in public. Doesn't she hear them? No, she doesn't, actually. Something in your brain allows you to mute it out so that you can think straight for five minutes and get the freaking laundry detergent and toilet paper that you keep forgetting to pick up every time you're at the God forsaken store! Once there's more than one, it's that much more likely that someone will be upset at any given hour, if not everyone at once. Christ. We have been out to eat with a screaming child who won't sit down so someone has to stand and eat their meal. We have given bigger tips based on the amount of french fries we're leaving on the floor. We have let our child eat french fries for dinner. We have rewarded this shit behavior with ice cream because we just didn't feel like waiting until after bedtime.
Shew, anyhow, I digress. If you are one of these new moms, or even a seasoned mom, you've likely seen those lists of "things no one tells you..." and you giggle a little if you've already been there and you read the list in horror if you're getting ready to be there. So this is my list, to add to the table, for what it's worth.
I'll warn you that it gets a little personal, but we're all moms, so we've all been there...
1. Sleep deprivation does crazy things to you. You know, right? You've been to college and pulled all nighters. You are perfectly capable of functioning on little to no sleep. You're not in college, anymore. It's not the same, at all. For me, lack of sleep caused me to hallucinate. Like, for real, hallucinate. With my first baby, I would barely fall asleep and then wake up panicked thinking that I fell asleep nursing and the baby was in the bed and I might roll over on him or that the nipple shield was missing and had rolled under the bed and I needed to find it RIGHT NOW. I'd start patting the bed down hysterically and wake up my snoring (sleeping peacefully with no hallucinations) husband. Nope. The baby was swaddled and asleep in the crib next to the bed and the nipple shield was on the nightstand, right where I left it. Right where I left it every time. Relax. You can sleep. For another 5 minutes until the baby decides it's hungry, AGAIN. Jesus. Does this thing eat all the time or what?! Yes, it does.
With my second baby, during one middle of the night feed, I was changing a diaper and caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and I really thought I saw something move on my chest. The first thought that occurred to me was that it must be an ant. OH MY GOD, WHERE DID THIS ANT COME FROM?! I sensed that it wasn't real and slowly put my finger down on it. It wasn't an ant. It was one of my moles and it was completely stationary. Trippy stuff. Sleep deprivation is no joke.
2. The only reason your baby looks the gender that it is, is because you know it's that gender. I'm serious. There are some homely baby girls and some pretty baby boys. Dress your kid head to toe in clothes of the opposite sex and take a long objective look. Now, don't be offended when strangers don't know what your baby is, even if he is dressed all in blue or she has on five bright pink hair bows. I'm not sure what the cutoff point is, but up until at least 3 months, the baby really doesn't look like one gender or the other. It just looks like a baby. Oh no, not my baby. Yes, your baby, too.
3. Breastmilk is the female equivalent of semen. Now, let me start by saying that I breastfeed my babies. I'm fortunate in that breastfeeding comes easily to me. I nursed my first for a year and have the same plans for this one. We are 4 months in and going strong. I produce enough milk, don't have to restrict my diet, babies are big, fat and happy. So I am pro-breast milk and still believe this fact to be true. But it's not this way for everyone and formula isn't poison (though formula may be just as semen-like when you see my point). Back to my original point. If you're breastfeeding, you will leak milk everywhere in the beginning. You may feel it, you may not, but I don't think you've really made it as a breastfeeding mom until you've soaked big wet spots in at least one shirt, through your breast pads, through your bra. Yuck. And this is where it's gross. It leaves a stain. A nasty, smelly, stiff, off color stain. It smells whether it came straight out of your boob or if it came back out the baby's mouth. It's tricky because sometimes it doesn't smell at first. If you're nursing on a pillow or a boppy or something like that, you may want to put a cloth diaper or burp cloth under the baby's head for the inevitable dribble. The cover will get wet and then later will smell. Just like when semen gets on things. We've all conceived and birthed a baby. We should be able to agree that we all know a thing or two about semen. But that's why we have washing machines. It all comes out, dirty things are clean again (unless it's mustard, which isn't related to breastmilk at all, but my 2 year old loves mustard and is a messy eater, and we've already discussed why I can't complete a single, uninterrupted thought in my brain). After a few months, things regulate and you don't leak as much, although you may have a spitter for a baby and really, that's no better. Maybe even worse. Just don't wear nice shirts at home. Shoot. Nice outfits. And if you get one dirty, you might as well just leave it on because the surefire way to get spit up on again is by changing into a clean shirt.
4. Moms are assholes. They are. We are. And you know, I have to believe in my heart that no one really means to be an asshole, but sometimes it just happens. It's like the instant you become pregnant, you become part of this mom tribe. And the problem with the tribe is that, as mentioned previously, there are millions of different ways to raise children, but it would seem that every single mom in the tribe thinks that her way is the best. Of course she does, because that's how she is doing things. And then you will find that there are different levels of vocal moms who believe their way is the best way and the only way and that's where we become assholes. Some of us just can't keep our mouths shut and leave well enough alone when it comes to disposable diapers vs. cloth diapers, homemade organic baby food vs. the good ole jar food, car seat positioning, crying it out (CIO in tribe shorthand), co-sleeping and certainly not last or least, but vaccinating. We look down on other moms who clearly haven't done all their research and are (in our opinion) endangering their children and just not doing it right! Don't they know?! Maybe they don't! Maybe I should tell them! You see how this can get out of hand. The other issue is that they really let anyone get a blog these days (ha, case in point) and all those people can put whatever they want to on the internet and they can declare it true and divine and it's all up to us to believe it or find time to do enough of our own internet research to be able to earn a doctorate and prove it right or wrong or indifferent. Exhausting. At the end of the day, we're all trying our best. And to the 10 or so people that will read this, I just have one plea. We have this ongoing issue with self esteem and bullying that just doesn't seem to go away. So can we all just try to not be assholes and not raise our kids to be assholes? If we could start there, that would at least be something.
5. Your body will never be the same. Oh, you've heard this one? Yeah, I had too but somehow still didn't believe it. And then somehow, as different as your body is after 1, it's different in a new way after 2. Can't we get a little break?! You may weigh exactly the same but all of a sudden, your pants don't fit and your shirts just don't look the same. Just recently, I finally got rid of some of my old halter tops. Not to say that moms can never wear halter tops but let's be honest - maybe as a mom of two, I no longer need to be wearing the same halter tops I was wearing in my 20's even if they do fit again (they don't). Dieting and exercise will come in time, but for now, I'm just trying to make sure my baby gets enough to eat and I'm not showing anyone the belly panel on the maternity pants I'm still wearing. And it's weird and awkward because you're this new shape that you've never been before and you may not know how to dress it. I'm still struggling with that, to be honest. It's like I need to start a whole new research project on how my new size is supposed to dress and look the most flattering. You know, for the two or three times I get dressed enough to leave the house. Add it to the list of things to do after the kids go to bed. Otherwise, it's leggings, tank tops and zip up hoodies. This outfit may also double as an emergency grocery store outfit. It really depends on the day. If you see me and I don't make eye contact, just let it go and walk on by.
And the things that people consistently tell you is that parenthood, especially motherhood, changes you. Man, does it change you. And it probably ages you as much as it changes you because really, this shit is exhausting. Whether you're doing it at home all the time or doing it along side a full time job, it's just hard. It's hard to know if you're getting it right or screwing things up almost every single day. Some days I laugh and some days I cry, but each day does have an end and each new day brings those big bright eyes that look to you for guidance and love - or maybe it's just food and clean pants. If we can at least start with food and clean pants (for everyone), I think we're at least doing something right.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)