I had the honor of helping throw my good friend Gretchen's baby shower the other day, and it brought back such beautiful memories of having my first baby. The feeling of holding her in my arms for the first time, the wonder of her tiny little fingers and toes, the sheer joy of knowing she was finally HERE...and the suffering, carnage, and sheer horror that was my birth experience.
Yeah. Good times.
Now, I wasn't trying for a natural birth, or hypno-birthing, or a V-back at home, or any other ballsy maneuvers my much braver and ballsier friends have been attempting these days . I'd resigned myself to taking drugs, and was just hoping to push my little baby out in relative peace. Not such a tall order in these modern times, was it? It was.
Here, for your reading pleasure...
The Top 9 Things I Wish I'd Done Differently During Childbirth.
1. I really, really wish I hadn't eaten that giant burrito in the early stages of labor. I wasn't really hungry. But it was 2 in the morning and I was really, really tired of counting minutes between contractions, and that juicy bean-cheese-rice-and-guacamole burrito was just sitting there, so neat and tempting, all wrapped up in that crispy yellow paper. What would it hurt, to just take a FEW bites of this tempting morsel of goodness? Fast forward ten minutes. I've eaten the entire burrito and I am REALLY cramping up. The contractions are getting harder and closer together and I know it's time to go to the hospital. But....I just ate this huge burrito. Holy crap, I had to try to poop it out! Otherwise I was going to be one of those pregnant horror stories pooping on the delivery room table. And...guess what? I was.
2. I wish I'd told my husband to hurry the f-ck UP! When I wrestled Ian from bed at 3am, he looked like he might move pretty fast. I was ready to go. Bags packed. Kneeling by the front door in pain. When I heard....the shower running? Yes, my beloved was TAKING A SHOWER to freshen up before the birthing of our daughter. SHUT THE FRONT DOOR. Then, when Ian, smelling of cologne and shampoo, finaally managed to head in the general direction of the exit, he paused for a moment to turn on the stereo and select the right station for our dog and cat, so "they'd feel comfortable" when we were gone. I sh-t you not.
3. I wish we didn't listen to the "Boys in the Hood" by NWA on the way to the hospital. What once was a perfectly good -rap song is now tinged with pain and fear.
4. I wish I'd gotten to the hospital ahead of the annoying couple in line in front of us in Triage. (See #1 and #2 above for reasons we were late.) This couple was annoying. She wasn't even in labor. I was practically doubled over on the floor, and she was TEXTING people. B-tch should have MOVED OUT OF THE WAY.
5. I wish I hadn't wasted my time making the stupid goodie basket for the nurses. They probably didn't give a shit, and I had no business buying ribbon and a basket from Michaels at 39 weeks and stuffing it with cookies. NO ONE GIVES A SHIT.
6. I wish I had told them to give me the epidural SOONER. Waiting until you are about to rip the I.V. out of your arm and wheel your pregnant ass to the window to plunge headfirst into the parking lot five stories below in the hopes of ending it all is TOO LATE. Why, oh why, didn't I get the epidural at 5 centimeters when I had the chance? Getting it at 8 is no bueno!
7. I wish I hadn't let that Nazi nurse midwife boss me around. She wasn't even a DOCTOR and I let her turn my epidural down because I was a "poor pusher."
8. I wish I'd remembered to that I had a SPECIAL BUTTON to self-administer more drugs. I was in so much pain I forgot about the button. Ian forgot about the button. My mom forgot about the button. I was clutching it my hands the whole time, crying, screaming, and wishing I was dead. Why didn't SOMEONE remind me about the button?
9. I wish I could remember the exact moment that I pulled my baby girl into my arms. A moment that sweet and perfect eclipses all pain, suffering, and fear. I wish I could articulate to my friends, pregnant with their first babies, that it is OK...everything will turn out just fine. And despite our "perfect" birth plans, God has his own plan, and hopefully it involves a lot of drugs!
Thanks for reading. Anything you wish you'd done differently during childbirth? If so, please share!
Friday, March 16, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Are You Frazzled and Frumpy, or Just Plain Nasty?
Look at me. Look closer. Do you see it in my eyes? Pupils dilated? Shifty? Unfocused? Is it hard to tell if I'm about to cry, dissolve into giggles, or start speaking in tongue? Do I look like I might have a deadly explosive tucked into my fake Coach backpack? (Or is that just a box of wet wipes?)
Look at me. Look into my eyes.
This is the look of the Frazzled Mom.
I used to see those moms on the street. I laughed at them. Pitied them, really. Moms with crazy, jacked-up hair. Moms with mismatched socks. Stained shirts. Moms who were always dropping things...keys, phones, bottles. Moms whose makeup was....not present. Moms who looked like they hadn't seen a shower in weeks.
Didn't they care? Didn't they know how they looked or how strange they acted? They were so frazzled and frumpy!
No, that will NEVER be me, I told myself. I will always remember to moisturize. I will wash my hair, at least every other day. I will apply lipstick and eyeliner. I will diligently coordinate my outfits, and never emerge in tracksuits. I will drink enough fresh-brewed coffee each morning so I keep my shit together in the Albertsons checkout line. I won't leave my wallet in my car. I won't lock myself out of the house.
And I didn't.
I held it together pretty well after I had Marley. (She's now 3.5 years old.) I took care of myself. I brushed my hair. I applied underarm deodorant. There were bad moments of course, but nothing crazy.
Enter, Baby #2. And now...well, let's face it...I am one of those moms. I do dumb shit. I look like shit. I do dumb shit (lock myself out of the house) and drop shit (phone and bottle) while I'm digging through shit (digging in the dirt and Pekingese poop for spare key) and looking like shit.
I am both frazzled and frumpy.
But now that Holland is nine months old...I have noticed an alarming trend. It's not getting any better. In fact... It's getting worse. I am crossing the threshold. Things have escalated beyond FRAZZLED and surpassed FRUMPY. I am turning into something far worse....something I never planned on, or even imagined.
And now, for your reading pleasure....
Top Nine Signs You're a Frumpy, Frazzled Mom...and Quite Possibly NASTY.*
1. You have hairy, bushly legs and eyebrows. You're going native down South...and if you're NASTY, you have a pair of stinky, hairy pits. That's just sick, get out your razor!
2. You haven't washed your hair in over seven days. You have clumps of dry shampoo flaking off your head and mucking your bangs together. You probably have grey roots. If you're NASTY, you have dandruff.
3. You have dark circles under your eyes...and haven't bothered to properly apply concealer. Cover that sh-t up! Honeybadger don't give a f-ck about your sleepless nights. In the very least, you should be wearing tinted moisturizer, mascara, and lip gloss. GAW. If you don't put anything on your face you're NASTY.
4. You have spitup (or is that shit?) smeared on your Lululemon workout top. That's pretty disgusting, but least you're wearing Lululemon. If you're wearing a lesser brand go ahead and punch yourself in the face. Pull yourself together, you're NASTY!
5. You just pulled a month-old banana from your double BOB. Yes, bananas will liquefy if you leave that shit in your stroller. You're NASTY!
6. You just left a stinky, poopy diaper and a shit-smeared onesie in the trashcan in the Trader Joe's bathroom at Liberty Station last weekend. You are so beyond nasty.
7. You leave a trail of white powder where ever you go. Stop spilling your Enfamil everywhere...people are going to think you have a drug problem! Mommy's little helper indeed!
8. When your husband takes you to Vegas for a night away from the kids, you get so drunk at dinner that you try to sneak up to the room to go to sleep at 9pm. When your husband tells you that you have to meet friends out at the club, you cry and try to lock yourself in the bathroom. You forget why you're crying, and you manage to pull it together long enough to change into some sleazy tight pants then tramp around a club in wobbly 4-inch heels. Yup...you're NASTY.
9. You try to give your baby cheerios before she is ready, so she gags and projectile vomits all over the dining room table. Congratulations, you're not only a crap mom... you're also NASTY!
*I'd like to reiterate that this list is in NO WAY a representation of who I am as a mother. I always, always shave my pits and never, ever leave shitty diapers in Trader Joe's. Also, I don't drink.
Is there anything I missed? Any other signs that you're a frumpy, frazzled mom...and quite possibly NASTY? If so, please share!
Look at me. Look into my eyes.
This is the look of the Frazzled Mom.
I used to see those moms on the street. I laughed at them. Pitied them, really. Moms with crazy, jacked-up hair. Moms with mismatched socks. Stained shirts. Moms who were always dropping things...keys, phones, bottles. Moms whose makeup was....not present. Moms who looked like they hadn't seen a shower in weeks.
Didn't they care? Didn't they know how they looked or how strange they acted? They were so frazzled and frumpy!
No, that will NEVER be me, I told myself. I will always remember to moisturize. I will wash my hair, at least every other day. I will apply lipstick and eyeliner. I will diligently coordinate my outfits, and never emerge in tracksuits. I will drink enough fresh-brewed coffee each morning so I keep my shit together in the Albertsons checkout line. I won't leave my wallet in my car. I won't lock myself out of the house.
And I didn't.
I held it together pretty well after I had Marley. (She's now 3.5 years old.) I took care of myself. I brushed my hair. I applied underarm deodorant. There were bad moments of course, but nothing crazy.
Enter, Baby #2. And now...well, let's face it...I am one of those moms. I do dumb shit. I look like shit. I do dumb shit (lock myself out of the house) and drop shit (phone and bottle) while I'm digging through shit (digging in the dirt and Pekingese poop for spare key) and looking like shit.
I am both frazzled and frumpy.
But now that Holland is nine months old...I have noticed an alarming trend. It's not getting any better. In fact... It's getting worse. I am crossing the threshold. Things have escalated beyond FRAZZLED and surpassed FRUMPY. I am turning into something far worse....something I never planned on, or even imagined.
And now, for your reading pleasure....
Top Nine Signs You're a Frumpy, Frazzled Mom...and Quite Possibly NASTY.*
1. You have hairy, bushly legs and eyebrows. You're going native down South...and if you're NASTY, you have a pair of stinky, hairy pits. That's just sick, get out your razor!
2. You haven't washed your hair in over seven days. You have clumps of dry shampoo flaking off your head and mucking your bangs together. You probably have grey roots. If you're NASTY, you have dandruff.
3. You have dark circles under your eyes...and haven't bothered to properly apply concealer. Cover that sh-t up! Honeybadger don't give a f-ck about your sleepless nights. In the very least, you should be wearing tinted moisturizer, mascara, and lip gloss. GAW. If you don't put anything on your face you're NASTY.
4. You have spitup (or is that shit?) smeared on your Lululemon workout top. That's pretty disgusting, but least you're wearing Lululemon. If you're wearing a lesser brand go ahead and punch yourself in the face. Pull yourself together, you're NASTY!
5. You just pulled a month-old banana from your double BOB. Yes, bananas will liquefy if you leave that shit in your stroller. You're NASTY!
6. You just left a stinky, poopy diaper and a shit-smeared onesie in the trashcan in the Trader Joe's bathroom at Liberty Station last weekend. You are so beyond nasty.
7. You leave a trail of white powder where ever you go. Stop spilling your Enfamil everywhere...people are going to think you have a drug problem! Mommy's little helper indeed!
8. When your husband takes you to Vegas for a night away from the kids, you get so drunk at dinner that you try to sneak up to the room to go to sleep at 9pm. When your husband tells you that you have to meet friends out at the club, you cry and try to lock yourself in the bathroom. You forget why you're crying, and you manage to pull it together long enough to change into some sleazy tight pants then tramp around a club in wobbly 4-inch heels. Yup...you're NASTY.
9. You try to give your baby cheerios before she is ready, so she gags and projectile vomits all over the dining room table. Congratulations, you're not only a crap mom... you're also NASTY!
*I'd like to reiterate that this list is in NO WAY a representation of who I am as a mother. I always, always shave my pits and never, ever leave shitty diapers in Trader Joe's. Also, I don't drink.
Is there anything I missed? Any other signs that you're a frumpy, frazzled mom...and quite possibly NASTY? If so, please share!
Wednesday, February 15, 2012
Date Night Disaster!
Okay, so it wasn't exactly a disaster...but it wasn't your typical night out, either.
It started innocently enough. Ian and I were on our Friday Night Date. (Yes folks, I've finally hired a babysitter--that is not a family member--to watch our two little bundles of joy every other Friday night. Now hubs and I can actually have a conversation...with each other. For date nights, I get to apply eyeliner, perfume, and brush my hair. Sometimes I get crazy and put on earrings. But I digress...back to the story.)
We live within easy walking distance of some pretty great restaurants, so we decided to stop at a nice seafood spot for happy hour.
I was in heaven. Giant glasses of red wine, the tastiest selections on the happy hour menu, my awesome husband, and no children in my direct line of vision. Hoorah! Everything was perfect...until I picked up some sushi with my chopsticks, and...
...from underneath my sushi roll....OUT RAN....A ROACH!!!
"No FREAKING WAY!" I jumped. "Did that just happen? Did a roach just crawl out from under my sushi roll?"
"Uh...I think it did!" Ian laughed. The funny thing was, we weren't mad. We found it hilarious. I mean, how often does this actually HAPPEN in ones life, in a high class dining establishment? I wouldn't be shocked to find a short-n-curly on my Taco Bell, but a roach in my sushi roll? Well, that's taking it to the next level.
Luckily, we had Ian's iPhone with him, so we were able to take a photo of the little guy. There he is in all his glory, taking cover under a plate.
"Excuse me," I said when our server--a nice, tall surfer dude--came back to our table. "We have a little friend at our table." Ian lifted the plate to expose the roach.
"NO WAY!" he said. He swiftly scooped the roach off the table into his hands. "I'm so sorry!" He disappeared.
"We are SO getting this meal comped," I smirked to Ian, as we slurped down our next glass of wine. "For sure," he said.
Then, we got our bill.
"I was able to get you a little discount, considering you had an extra guest at the table," the server said. Wait a second here, a discount?
We inspected the receipt, and we were awarded a TEN DOLLAR DISCOUNT. And it states the reason right there on the receipt...ROACH.
It started innocently enough. Ian and I were on our Friday Night Date. (Yes folks, I've finally hired a babysitter--that is not a family member--to watch our two little bundles of joy every other Friday night. Now hubs and I can actually have a conversation...with each other. For date nights, I get to apply eyeliner, perfume, and brush my hair. Sometimes I get crazy and put on earrings. But I digress...back to the story.)
We live within easy walking distance of some pretty great restaurants, so we decided to stop at a nice seafood spot for happy hour.
I was in heaven. Giant glasses of red wine, the tastiest selections on the happy hour menu, my awesome husband, and no children in my direct line of vision. Hoorah! Everything was perfect...until I picked up some sushi with my chopsticks, and...
...from underneath my sushi roll....OUT RAN....A ROACH!!!
"No FREAKING WAY!" I jumped. "Did that just happen? Did a roach just crawl out from under my sushi roll?"
"Uh...I think it did!" Ian laughed. The funny thing was, we weren't mad. We found it hilarious. I mean, how often does this actually HAPPEN in ones life, in a high class dining establishment? I wouldn't be shocked to find a short-n-curly on my Taco Bell, but a roach in my sushi roll? Well, that's taking it to the next level.
Luckily, we had Ian's iPhone with him, so we were able to take a photo of the little guy. There he is in all his glory, taking cover under a plate.
"Excuse me," I said when our server--a nice, tall surfer dude--came back to our table. "We have a little friend at our table." Ian lifted the plate to expose the roach.
"NO WAY!" he said. He swiftly scooped the roach off the table into his hands. "I'm so sorry!" He disappeared.
"We are SO getting this meal comped," I smirked to Ian, as we slurped down our next glass of wine. "For sure," he said.
Then, we got our bill.
"I was able to get you a little discount, considering you had an extra guest at the table," the server said. Wait a second here, a discount?
We inspected the receipt, and we were awarded a TEN DOLLAR DISCOUNT. And it states the reason right there on the receipt...ROACH.
Of course we had to document the receipt.
So now, you know...if you find a roach in your food at dinner, its good for a ten dollar discount.
I know, I know...we should've complained to the GM or something. But we were having such a great time, and we didn't want a little roach to cramp our style. So we moved onto Candela's for another glass of wine...in a presumably roach-free environment. Oy!
Anyone else had anything nasty crawl out from their dinner on date night? If so, please share!
Friday, December 9, 2011
Perverted Phone Calls...Back in Style!
I thought perverted phone calls were a thing of the past. Like, didn't that stop in the 90s when caller-ID came out? You know, the gross suggestions, heavy breathing into the receiver, conspicuous background noise?
I'm here to report that they are making a comeback! I got one today.
I was driving through Jack-in-the-Box with the kids. (Not everyday you get a pervert calling your cell phone when you are ordering a shake and a spicy chicken sandwich.)
I'm not going to go into details about what the caller said...let's just say HE KNEW MY NAME and it was GROSS and it involved specific questions about a specific part of my anatomy (which also happens to be another word for "feline.") I was taken aback and responded with, "What? Oh my god, oh my god, what did you say? Ew, GROSS, GROSS, EWWWW!" and hung up. Apparently he liked that, so he called for round two. I just hung up.
His number was blocked, of course.
The only way someone could get my cell phone number is through my real estate business (unless I have some really f-cked up friends), so I called my mom to warn her, since she's my partner. Here's what she said.
Mom: Well, next time he calls, get a WHISTLE and blow it into the phone really hard.
Me: A whistle?
Mom: Yes, a WHISTLE. Keep one in your pocket and blow it into the phone if he calls again.
Me: (Sarcastically) OK, I'll go get my whistle. Wait, I can't find it. Can I borrow yours?
Mom: I don't have a whistle. I don't even know where you'd get one.
Me: OK.
Mom: He was probably jerking off, you know, the caller.
Me: Mom, GROSS! I don't need to talk about that.
Mom: Well, Christine...that's what they do. That's why he called you back. He was jerking off.
Me: Mom, GEEZ! I'm 34, I know what goes on in the world. We don't need to talk about it!
I don't know what's more disturbing. Getting a perverted phone call from someone jerking off, or discussing it with my mom.
So I guess I'm out to buy a whistle. So I'll be ready for you, pervert crank caller. BRING IT!
I'm here to report that they are making a comeback! I got one today.
I was driving through Jack-in-the-Box with the kids. (Not everyday you get a pervert calling your cell phone when you are ordering a shake and a spicy chicken sandwich.)
I'm not going to go into details about what the caller said...let's just say HE KNEW MY NAME and it was GROSS and it involved specific questions about a specific part of my anatomy (which also happens to be another word for "feline.") I was taken aback and responded with, "What? Oh my god, oh my god, what did you say? Ew, GROSS, GROSS, EWWWW!" and hung up. Apparently he liked that, so he called for round two. I just hung up.
His number was blocked, of course.
The only way someone could get my cell phone number is through my real estate business (unless I have some really f-cked up friends), so I called my mom to warn her, since she's my partner. Here's what she said.
Mom: Well, next time he calls, get a WHISTLE and blow it into the phone really hard.
Me: A whistle?
Mom: Yes, a WHISTLE. Keep one in your pocket and blow it into the phone if he calls again.
Me: (Sarcastically) OK, I'll go get my whistle. Wait, I can't find it. Can I borrow yours?
Mom: I don't have a whistle. I don't even know where you'd get one.
Me: OK.
Mom: He was probably jerking off, you know, the caller.
Me: Mom, GROSS! I don't need to talk about that.
Mom: Well, Christine...that's what they do. That's why he called you back. He was jerking off.
Me: Mom, GEEZ! I'm 34, I know what goes on in the world. We don't need to talk about it!
I don't know what's more disturbing. Getting a perverted phone call from someone jerking off, or discussing it with my mom.
So I guess I'm out to buy a whistle. So I'll be ready for you, pervert crank caller. BRING IT!
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Top 10 Signs You're a Crappy Mom
"You're such a great mom."
Ahhh....music to my ears! Nothing sounds sweeter. Those words make me glow. They make me feel like I've won an Oscar. Like I've scaled Mt. Everest. Like I've written a Pulitzer-prize winning novel. Like I've...well...you get the picture! To all the moms out there, I ask you... Is there a greater compliment in the world?
But some days I feel like I'm not a great mom. Like I'm not even a GOOD mom. Sometimes I feel like a downright crappy mom. Some days, the stars are not aligned. I'm not the happy, earthy mom with a perfect side-swept bangs peacefully breastfeeding her baby in public. I'm the ANGRY MOM with messy hair guzzling a latte and yelling at her kids in Target. I'm the impatient mom honking at the intersection because the old person in front of me can't find the accelerator fast enough. (I'm probably headed to Target where I'll guzzle a latte and yell at my kids.) I'm the mom who can't wait to put her kids to bed and pour a tall glass of wine. (I'm probably bitter because I have messy hair and have spent my day at Target yelling at my kids and honking at other drivers on the road.)
So yes, I've been feeling like a crappy mom lately. Since it's been bothering me, you know I have to write about it. Here are the Top 10 things that make me feel like I'm a crappy mom.Can you relate?
Top 10 Ten Signs I'm a Crappy Mom
1. I give my baby formula. Everyone knows that breast milk is the best food for your baby. Yes, I managed to successfully breastfeed Marley for nine months with minimal formula supplements. The first month every time I nursed it hurt so badly I'd start crying. (And if you tell me, "If you're doing it right, it shouldn't hurt" I will smash my breast pump over your head. I was doing it right and it hurt.) Holland was another story. She was over 9.1 pounds and had low blood sugar so they gave her formula in the delivery room. Holland preferred the bottle, and I preferred to avoid excruciating pain, so I pumped five times a day, nursed once or twice a day and supplemented with formula. Needless to say, six months later she has opted out of breastfeeding and now enjoys a nice warm bottle of Enfamil. On one hand, I'm delighted to give away my breast pump, but sad that I was not able to nurse her longer. Did I screw up? Did I pump too much? Will she grow up at a disadvantage, more prone to infections and a host of other ailments because I didn't nurse her longer? The thoughts tug at the dark corners of my mind...
2. I don't use cloth diapers. Yup. I use landfill diapers. The kind of diapers that pollute our earth, thus making it less inhabitable for our kids and their grandchildren. There's nothing really I can say about this.
3. I don't make all my own baby food. With Marley, I made most of her own baby food. I made baby apple butternut squash, I made baby carrots, I made baby green beans. Look out, Martha Stewart! With Holland...well, I've busted out the baby food maker once. The rest of the time she gets Earth's Best. It's organic, right? So is it really worse for my baby then the mushy squash I made her? Last time it was so runny that she pooped twice in her bumbo seat during one feeding!
4. I let my baby cry it out. I'm not going to pretend to feel bad about this. I let Holland cry it out because there is absolutely no reason a 18 pound, 6 month old baby needs to eat at 4am. Sorry, kitchen's closed!
5. I don't "wear" my baby." I tried to shove Holland in the Ergo. I really did. Every time I stuck her in there, she screamed bloody murder until she fell asleep. Then she woke up screaming. I DO however manage to cram her into the Bjorn facing front for a good 30 minutes at a time. Great success!
6. I give my baby a pacifier. Marley took the binky. It was awesome! Holland...not so much. I do, however, sneak the paci in her mouth from time to time to see if she's ready for it. Fingers crossed!
7. I let my kids watch T.V. I celebrated the day Marley was old enough to watch Baby Einstein in the Zanzibar bouncer. Imagine, eating a meal in its entirety! Now she watches Disney cartoons in the morning, Yo Gabba Gabba before "quiet time" and enjoys the occasional Tim Burton DVD. Her favorites? Corpse Bride, Edward Scissorhands and Nightmare Before Christmas. A little dark, of course, but not so bad compared to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and some other creepy classics. Holland is just getting started on Yo Gabba Gabba.
8. I bribe my kids. Marley got an elbow to the head during soccer a couple of weeks ago, and decided she wasn't going to play anymore. I tried to get her to play again, but nothing worked. Finally, I told her if she went to soccer and "tried her best," she'd get to eat ice cream and watch a DVD. Now, every time she finishes soccer, she says, "Coach Shiloh! I get ice cream and a DVD!" So much for playing for the love of the game!
9. I got an epidural. Twice. And loved every minute of it.
10. I don't clean my own house. Yes, I'm a stay-at-home mom and I have a house cleaner. I know this doesn't really have a lot to do with parenting, but it bothers me. I don't really work anymore, so shouldn't I be able to clean my house properly? Alas, Marta does a MUCH better job than I could ever do, and she needs the work, so it's a win-win, right? My lack of skills is helping the economy and helping me achieve a clean home.
Anyway. This is what's on my mind lately.
Is there anything that's making you feel like a crappy mom?
Ahhh....music to my ears! Nothing sounds sweeter. Those words make me glow. They make me feel like I've won an Oscar. Like I've scaled Mt. Everest. Like I've written a Pulitzer-prize winning novel. Like I've...well...you get the picture! To all the moms out there, I ask you... Is there a greater compliment in the world?
But some days I feel like I'm not a great mom. Like I'm not even a GOOD mom. Sometimes I feel like a downright crappy mom. Some days, the stars are not aligned. I'm not the happy, earthy mom with a perfect side-swept bangs peacefully breastfeeding her baby in public. I'm the ANGRY MOM with messy hair guzzling a latte and yelling at her kids in Target. I'm the impatient mom honking at the intersection because the old person in front of me can't find the accelerator fast enough. (I'm probably headed to Target where I'll guzzle a latte and yell at my kids.) I'm the mom who can't wait to put her kids to bed and pour a tall glass of wine. (I'm probably bitter because I have messy hair and have spent my day at Target yelling at my kids and honking at other drivers on the road.)
So yes, I've been feeling like a crappy mom lately. Since it's been bothering me, you know I have to write about it. Here are the Top 10 things that make me feel like I'm a crappy mom.Can you relate?
Top 10 Ten Signs I'm a Crappy Mom
1. I give my baby formula. Everyone knows that breast milk is the best food for your baby. Yes, I managed to successfully breastfeed Marley for nine months with minimal formula supplements. The first month every time I nursed it hurt so badly I'd start crying. (And if you tell me, "If you're doing it right, it shouldn't hurt" I will smash my breast pump over your head. I was doing it right and it hurt.) Holland was another story. She was over 9.1 pounds and had low blood sugar so they gave her formula in the delivery room. Holland preferred the bottle, and I preferred to avoid excruciating pain, so I pumped five times a day, nursed once or twice a day and supplemented with formula. Needless to say, six months later she has opted out of breastfeeding and now enjoys a nice warm bottle of Enfamil. On one hand, I'm delighted to give away my breast pump, but sad that I was not able to nurse her longer. Did I screw up? Did I pump too much? Will she grow up at a disadvantage, more prone to infections and a host of other ailments because I didn't nurse her longer? The thoughts tug at the dark corners of my mind...
2. I don't use cloth diapers. Yup. I use landfill diapers. The kind of diapers that pollute our earth, thus making it less inhabitable for our kids and their grandchildren. There's nothing really I can say about this.
3. I don't make all my own baby food. With Marley, I made most of her own baby food. I made baby apple butternut squash, I made baby carrots, I made baby green beans. Look out, Martha Stewart! With Holland...well, I've busted out the baby food maker once. The rest of the time she gets Earth's Best. It's organic, right? So is it really worse for my baby then the mushy squash I made her? Last time it was so runny that she pooped twice in her bumbo seat during one feeding!
4. I let my baby cry it out. I'm not going to pretend to feel bad about this. I let Holland cry it out because there is absolutely no reason a 18 pound, 6 month old baby needs to eat at 4am. Sorry, kitchen's closed!
5. I don't "wear" my baby." I tried to shove Holland in the Ergo. I really did. Every time I stuck her in there, she screamed bloody murder until she fell asleep. Then she woke up screaming. I DO however manage to cram her into the Bjorn facing front for a good 30 minutes at a time. Great success!
6. I give my baby a pacifier. Marley took the binky. It was awesome! Holland...not so much. I do, however, sneak the paci in her mouth from time to time to see if she's ready for it. Fingers crossed!
7. I let my kids watch T.V. I celebrated the day Marley was old enough to watch Baby Einstein in the Zanzibar bouncer. Imagine, eating a meal in its entirety! Now she watches Disney cartoons in the morning, Yo Gabba Gabba before "quiet time" and enjoys the occasional Tim Burton DVD. Her favorites? Corpse Bride, Edward Scissorhands and Nightmare Before Christmas. A little dark, of course, but not so bad compared to Snow White, Sleeping Beauty, and some other creepy classics. Holland is just getting started on Yo Gabba Gabba.
8. I bribe my kids. Marley got an elbow to the head during soccer a couple of weeks ago, and decided she wasn't going to play anymore. I tried to get her to play again, but nothing worked. Finally, I told her if she went to soccer and "tried her best," she'd get to eat ice cream and watch a DVD. Now, every time she finishes soccer, she says, "Coach Shiloh! I get ice cream and a DVD!" So much for playing for the love of the game!
9. I got an epidural. Twice. And loved every minute of it.
10. I don't clean my own house. Yes, I'm a stay-at-home mom and I have a house cleaner. I know this doesn't really have a lot to do with parenting, but it bothers me. I don't really work anymore, so shouldn't I be able to clean my house properly? Alas, Marta does a MUCH better job than I could ever do, and she needs the work, so it's a win-win, right? My lack of skills is helping the economy and helping me achieve a clean home.
Anyway. This is what's on my mind lately.
Is there anything that's making you feel like a crappy mom?
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Testing Your Breastmilk for Alcohol: A Step-by-Step Guide!
I must say, I'm loving my Milkscreen Home Test for Alcohol in Breastmilk strips. For
For your reading pleasure, I conducted several tests. Here are the results!
Specimen 1. FAIL!
Time of Milk Testing: 7:35pm.
Location of Drinking: Coronado Brewing Company. Kids Night. Ha!
Drinks consumed: 16 oz of Orange Avenue Beer. (Equals roughly 2 beers, but I was cool and drank out of a large mug.)
Food consumed: 4 buffalo chicken tenders and 1/2 a side salad.
Summary: I was pretty buzzed by the end of dinner, so I'm not surprised that my milk failed this test. I was disappointed because I was able to pump 6 ounces of milk when I got home from dinner, and was hoping it would squeak by. My buffalo chicken tenders were delicious though, and the dinner was quite enjoyable. I find it ironic that I was able to garner a big enough buzz to fail the milk test on Kid's Night. No place is safe!
Specimen #2: PASS!
Time of Milk Testing: 6:45am
Location of Drinking: Night before...Ortegas Mexican Bistro for dinner, Candelas in Coroando for wine, Peohes in Coronado for more wine, and Il Fornaio for...yep...more wine.
Food Consumed: Fresh lobster, served up Baja style! Delish!
Drinks Consumed: 2 glasses of Sangria at dinner, and 4-5 additional glasses of wine (I lost count).
Summary: It was date night, and we went big. Incredibly enough, I was NOT hungover the next morning, which I could not believe. Either I am a total alcoholic or I went to bed early enough to avoid a hangover. Uh...yeah. Anywho, have you seen the episode of Kourtney and Khloe where Kourtney gets super wasted one night, and her milk STILL tests positive for alcohol the next morning? Well, to be safe, I decided to test my milk also. Amazingly enough, it passed! Whoohoo!
Specimen #3: FAIL.
Date: November 8, 2011.
Time of Milk Testing: 8:21pm.
Location of Drinking: Casa de Van Tuyl (our lovely home)
Food consumed: Pasta and salad.
Drinks consumed: 1.5 glasses of red wine.
Summary: I was hoping that my hearty artichoke pasta would soak up more of the wine. Alas, it did not. Although I can't say I felt buzzed by the end of the meal, I was feeling spry and spunky. I only pumped a measly 3 ounces of milk, so no great loss. WHATEV.
Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed this experiment. Happy testing!
Anyone else tried these strips? What do you think?
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Top 6 Lessons Learned from This Halloween
This is my first Halloween with two kids. Most of it was awesome! Some of it sucked. Fun was had. Mistakes were made. Here are some of the lessons I learned this year that I SHAN'T repeat next year.
1. Learn the difference between a good costume and a bad costume. Good costumes are cute and require little or no adjusting throughout the Halloween outing. Bad costumes are DECIEVINGLY cute, yet have many, many parts that require constant fixing and tweaking throughout the evening.
Exhibit A. Marley's pirate girl costume. Cute, yes. Practical? No. Notice all the parts. Belt. Boot covers. Hat. Bandana. All it takes is one trip to the bounce house at the Halloween carnival to jack this costume UP. At one point I found her belt hanging from a tree.
2. Some costumes are mild forms of child abuse. No, I wasn't out to abuse Baby Holland when I ordered this adorable peacock costume.
See how cute she looks laying there? Yeah. Now try to put this baby into a car seat or the Bjorn. And did I mention the A/C in my car doesn't work? Result: One pissed-off peacock.
3. Think your three-year-old doesn't know how to unwrap candy? Think again. That "quiet" toddler in the back seat is ripping through dozens of bite-sized snickers and smearing chocolate all over the window. She'll also probably wake you up twice in the middle of the night to poop. Awesome.
4. Eliminate questionable Halloween props. The harmless little pirate sword I bought Marley? Not so harmless when she runs through the house threatening house plants, Pekingese and princess figurines, "I'm going to poke you in the EYEBALLS!"
5. Don't overdo it. It's cool to try to hit up all the fun parties and Halloween happenings...but try not to go overboard. If you're on your way to the third dress-up party of the morning and your costumed-kid is screaming in the carseat, "GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" then it's a sign you've gone too far.
6. Strollers and Haunted houses don't mix. No matter how "not scary" a haunted house is...it's still a HAUNTED HOUSE, people. It will probably still scare the crap out of your kids. And wheeling your stroller through cobwebs is a bad, bad idea.
Thanks for reading! Anyone else have any great Halloween tips I missed? If so, please share!
1. Learn the difference between a good costume and a bad costume. Good costumes are cute and require little or no adjusting throughout the Halloween outing. Bad costumes are DECIEVINGLY cute, yet have many, many parts that require constant fixing and tweaking throughout the evening.
Poor Costume Choice
Exhibit A. Marley's pirate girl costume. Cute, yes. Practical? No. Notice all the parts. Belt. Boot covers. Hat. Bandana. All it takes is one trip to the bounce house at the Halloween carnival to jack this costume UP. At one point I found her belt hanging from a tree.
2. Some costumes are mild forms of child abuse. No, I wasn't out to abuse Baby Holland when I ordered this adorable peacock costume.
Child Abuse
See how cute she looks laying there? Yeah. Now try to put this baby into a car seat or the Bjorn. And did I mention the A/C in my car doesn't work? Result: One pissed-off peacock.
3. Think your three-year-old doesn't know how to unwrap candy? Think again. That "quiet" toddler in the back seat is ripping through dozens of bite-sized snickers and smearing chocolate all over the window. She'll also probably wake you up twice in the middle of the night to poop. Awesome.
4. Eliminate questionable Halloween props. The harmless little pirate sword I bought Marley? Not so harmless when she runs through the house threatening house plants, Pekingese and princess figurines, "I'm going to poke you in the EYEBALLS!"
Questionable Accessory
5. Don't overdo it. It's cool to try to hit up all the fun parties and Halloween happenings...but try not to go overboard. If you're on your way to the third dress-up party of the morning and your costumed-kid is screaming in the carseat, "GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!" then it's a sign you've gone too far.
6. Strollers and Haunted houses don't mix. No matter how "not scary" a haunted house is...it's still a HAUNTED HOUSE, people. It will probably still scare the crap out of your kids. And wheeling your stroller through cobwebs is a bad, bad idea.
Thanks for reading! Anyone else have any great Halloween tips I missed? If so, please share!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)