I Don’t Care…I Love It

So my post the other day, among many other things, got me thinking – about women in general and about my personal place in everything. I know it wasn’t quite what that post was all about, and it was maybe going off on a bit of a tangent, but the part about my own self confidence and feeling so inferior in a roomful of working mothers has really been getting to me.

The women I was with are wonderful and I feel blessed to have met them. They by no means do anything to make me feel bad. At the get-together the other night some of us were meeting for the first time and so we did a little introduction session. As each woman stated their children’s names and ages and then their profession, I began feeling smaller and smaller and less and less of a real person. When I spoke I was sure to emphasize my editorial work over my stay-at-homeness. Because, who am I really? They all have children AND jobs/careers//professions. Why do I only have the children part?

I think there is some pressure out there, both overt and implied, that in order to be a feminist, in order to be a real woman, and often in order to be a good mother, you must also have a career. I’m sure there are plenty of working moms who feel the opposite. But, especially here in New York, where people are so defined by what they do for a living and stay-at-home moms are rare, it can be easy to get caught up by feeling inadequate. And I’m not even totally a stay-at-home mom. I do plenty of paid work in addition to my child work and house work and everything else.

So, as I was working the other day, I took some time to think. If I wanted to go back to work full time, I most likely could. I know of a few things opening up and I’m sure I could make the change. But I tell myself it’s not possible because I’m afraid. I’m afraid that if I admit that I could go back to work, and yet I choose to stay home with my kids, that I am some sort of failure as a woman. So I thought to myself. When I was working in publishing, at a job that I didn’t love, but liked and got satisfaction from, how did I feel? Now that I’m here, taking care of my kids and picking up freelance jobs, how do I feel?

The surprising answer is that overall, day in and day out, I am FAR happier now than I was then. I don’t want to feel guilty about that. When I was working, before I had kids, I was always longing for a change, looking at other jobs and other cities and other lives to figure out what it was that I really wanted. I still occasionally feel that way, but those moments are few and far between. I no longer have to contend with that constant pull of another life, that wistful feeling in the back of my mind, always telling me that what I was doing was not what I wanted to be doing.

I’m not happy all day everyday. I don’t get much time to myself. I don’t often get to do what I want to do. Little people, for whom I work very hard, yell at me every single day. I get exhausted and beaten down and overwhelmed. Sometimes I want to run away. Sometimes I am dying for uninterrupted, adult conversation. I am grateful for the connection I still have with my professional life and when I take a job that takes me out of the house, I really, really enjoy it. But mostly, I like where I am. I don’t want to be living another life and I think it’s time I accepted that. The fact that I am constantly telling myself that I need to be more than just what I am has been holding me back for far too long.

While I was running today, I had this song on repeat and I decided it’s going to be my new theme song. Don’t worry, I’m not planning on crashing any cars or pushing anyone’s shit down the stairs (although I am tempted from time to time). It’s the chorus that I need to remember, “I don’t care! I love it!”

Ahhh, Kids…

They’re lucky they’re such cute little buggers.

But they are cute.

Just some highlights from my week.

The tire on the Bugaboo blew out and I couldn’t transport Declan and the broken stroller to the bike shop by myself so I had to use the little stroller all week. That’s actually not so bad. But finding the blown-out tire on the way out the door to school on Monday morning was the start this week really needed.

I have had to rescue a naked Declan from the dining room table (and back of the couch, and windowsill) several (many, many) times. Well, he usually has socks on. He has decided that he must be nude, all the time. He takes off his clothes and then his diaper and then calls me “Mommeeeeee, mommmmmeeeeee??? PEEPEE! HA!” He also figured out how to pull out a chair and climb onto it and then onto the table. Fun stuff. Makes things like cooking, or say, peeing, a little difficult when I’m worried about my toddler taking a naked header off the table onto the bare wood floor at any moment. This is how they learn, right?

Last night, and this is my favorite, Brady was angry at me because I wouldn’t let him go – at dinner time – down to his friend’s apartment. So this is his solution:

“Mommy, you know how Grandma’s job is to find kids better families?” (My mother is a county caseworker in adoption.)

“Yes.”

“Well, I’m gonna call her up cause I want her to do that for me!”

I seriously just cracked up. I couldn’t stop laughing. Brady actually started laughing too. We were eating hotdogs and I always write a letter on his hotdog with ketchup. I asked him if he thought his new family would do that and he started to rethink.

So I’m about ready for the weekend, and the alleged snowpocalypse. I just braved the grocery store and it was less than pleasant so I hope the snow comes and we can enjoy the bounty I got.

How’s your week been? 

Workin Mama

I refuse to let the blog suffer! As I said in my last post, I’ve been working WAY too much lately. I only have a certain amount of childcare each week and a certain amount of baby nap time. When work starts to spill over into evenings, I start to get crabby. I need some time in the day to relax. But when work starts invading the time I’m with the kids, there’s a problem. I’m ok with telling Brady to take his brother and go play in their room sometimes, although that usually results in some toy argument or another. But when I have to put on the television to get work done, I am not a happy mama.

At the moment, I feel like my apartment is a disaster, cooking is nearly impossible, everything is a rush, I’m exhausted, my kids are feeling neglected, and it just is not the overall situation that I would like to be in.

For the most part, I’m grateful to have some time devoted to work and some time devoted to staying with the kids. As a freelancer, it’s never that cut and dry, but I try my best to balance it. I’m hoping this project will be finished up soon so that I can get back to what I’m usually working on and feel more present in both my work life and my home life. The way things are now, I just feel stressed out and unhappy.

Luckily, I have a cute little helper for those times when I just have to fit it all in.

Breastfeeding Story #4 – Stephanie

Stephanie has shared her experience of bottle-feeding her first and breastfeeding her second with us. Check out Stephanie’s blog here http://whencrazymeetsexhaustion.wordpress.com, for her honest, funny commentary on motherhood.

I always wanted to breast feed. I figured it would be easy because it’s natural. Like, that’s why women have breasts–to sustain life! And I was really excited about the prospect of being a part of something some intensely emotional like that. But an emergency C-section + a horrific stay in the hospital + and someone weighing my son, Brady, incorrectly which resulted in him being taken from me for THIRTEEN hours = my chances were slim. I was in so much pain after the surgery, and the nurses really weren’t equipped to handle me! They thought they would just hand me a bottle and my baby and I would be quiet. Nope. I wanted to nurse!! Because Brady was away from me for so long, we didn’t get much practice in the hospital, but when the time came, we tried everything to help him latch; even this drip line that I’m sure has a more formal name, but the nurse was so exasperated by the time she hooked it up to me that it broke. The breast milk that I had expressed spilled all over the floor and I lost my cool. I no longer wanted the nurses’ help–I DIDN’T NEED THEM! (Aren’t hormones awesome?!) Only, I did. But by the time I realized it, I was at home and it was 2 weeks later. I had given up on nursing Brady and instead pumped morning, noon, and night to give him breast milk in a bottle. That lasted about 4 months and then I got clogged milk ducts. OUCH. I gave up pumping shortly thereafter and we switched to formula. Not my proudest Mommy Moment, but life goes on.

My daughter, Ella, was born 22 months later and I was adamant that not only would I have a vaginal birth, but I would breast feed immediately after she was born. I’m a bit aggressive when I want something (that’s a good thing, right?!), so I hired a doula to help my husband and me during the labor and birthing process. Everything was absolutely perfect. I was a successful VBAC momma, AND my girl latched right away. There was never an issue or a challenge when it came to nursing my daughter. It was heavenly. I felt so accomplished when the nurses would compliment the “excellent latch,” even though I had zero to do with it. I had no problem whipping out a boob wherever I was, either. I took my nursing cover and if the child was hungry, she ate. I got a few “ewww” looks from some people, but I could not have cared less. What I was doing (feeding my baby) was MUCH more important than what they were doing (passing judgement on a new mother–jerks!). I nursed in restaurants, in church, at the park–anywhere! I think it’s super important for moms to realize that nursing isn’t something to shy away or feel the need to hide. I’m not advocating stripping down by the sliding board to nurse your baby, but you get the point!

In all honesty, I loved nursing my daughter 99% of the time. However, I truly feel like she did not bond with anyone else (even her DAD!) because she was so dependent upon me…and my boob! She vehemently refused to take a bottle of expressed milk, so I was literally the only one who could feed her. And, of course, nursing became a source of comfort for her, too. So, when she was hungry, she wanted me. When she was sad, she wanted me. When she was tired, she wanted me. This also meant that I couldn’t be away from her for more than 3 hours at a time. It got a little overwhelming and right around 5 months, I thought about throwing in the towel and just insisting she drink formula from a bottle. But I persevered and Ella nursed until she was just about a year old. My opinionated little gal was the one to make the decision that our nursing relationship was over; I could tell she was less interested in eating and more interested in gnawing on something to make her budding gums feel better. That only worked well for one of us.

If I have another baby, I would still like to nurse. BUT I plan on introducing the bottle right away, too. This way, my baby can still have the breast milk, but will have the opportunity to bond with dad, grandma, etc., too. I felt like my husband and so many other family members missed out on the first part of Ella’s life because she was quite the project. In contrast, my bottle-fed Brady was on everyone’s lap, happily lapping up the formula. Of course, I don’t have scientific proof that Ella’s demeanor was a direct result of nursing, nor that Brady’s steady smile was because he took a bottle. I’m sure many nursing moms have pleasant babies who allow everyone to hold them and will even take a bottle sometimes. I didn’t! But that doesn’t mean I wouldn’t try my hand at nursing another baby; I absolutely would. It’s healthy, has a trillion benefits, and I truly enjoyed it.

Big Boy Blues

Brady is just getting so BIG! I don’t know if I can take it. It’s strange to think that I once counted his life in developmental milestones like sitting up, taking steps, saying words and now it’s gone to actual life events. He’s graduated from preschool, gotten his yellow belt in martial arts, gone to camp for a full day all by himself, and sat with rapt attention as I read the entire first book of Harry Potter. He’s gone from a chubby little toddler to a skinny(ish) little boy with thoughts and ideas all his own. While I’m so proud of him for being such a cool and interesting person, I’m also sad to be losing my baby. He rarely asks me to pick him up anymore, can’t fall asleep if I’m laying with him, and needs me for much more than just to feed and love him.
He’s been a bit preoccupied with death recently. Not sure why. I attribute it to his being my child because I remember doing the same things when I was little. I also blame the reading of Harry Potter to some degree. Why do the parents always have to be dead? We’ve had some very intense talks about death, God, what happens when you die, who is and is not dead, and other things I really didn’t expect to have to deal with until he was like, at least 10. It’s a strange new layer to parenting. Brady has always been inquisitive to say the least, but the more mature content of his questions lately reminds me that I am raising a person, not just a kid, and of all the responsibility that goes along with that. Sometimes, in midst of getting healthy food on the table, discipline for incessant whining, brushing teeth, changing diapers, washing clothes, and all of the other things that have to fit into these short 24-hour days, I forget that I’m also charged with putting these people out into the world on their own one day. It makes me at once feel more important and less important in the grand scheme of things.
This was a bit of ramble, I guess Brady put me in that mood with all this talk of mortality. So on to the cute photos…

Yellow belt.

Big kid camper.

Amazing big brother.

I Have a Baby Sleep Secret…

and his name is Brady. We recently bit the bullet and decided that we needed to sleep train the baby (or cry him out or torture him or whatever your preferred terminology is.) This is a more difficult task when said baby shares a room with an older sibling. The first two nights we let Brady go to sleep in our bed when we put Declan into his crib so that it wouldn’t disturb him. Declan cried and then we checked him and then he cried and then we checked him and he eventually passed out and we moved Brady back into his bed. But it didn’t work quite as well as when we did it with Brady. Instead of magically sleeping through the night after screaming, he was up earlier wailing for ‘mama’.

The third night when we brought Declan in, Brady said he wanted to stay and that he would ignore him. Declan started screaming, we listened at the door, and then suddenly, quiet. About 15 minutes later, Brady came out to pee. We asked him how the baby quieted down and he said “I went ‘shhh shhhh shhhh shhhh’ for a long time and then ‘boom’ he was out of crying.” It was one of the sweetest, cutest, most amazing things I had ever heard. And then to make it more amazing, the baby slept, nearly the whole night, in his crib. Things have been up and down since. But the nights we get him into his crib awake and Brady shushes him to sleep, he sleeps amazingly well. We like to think it’s because he knows his brother is there to keep him safe. Last night Brady told me he sang him “an extra-long lullaby so he would sleep extra long” and it totally worked!

Next step, getting me to sleep too. I’m still up at all the times the baby normally wakes up. I could really use a solid stretch. Maybe I should get Brady to sing me a lullaby.

Hopefully I haven’t jinxed the whole thing by writing this post. I’ll knock wood now.

What good brothers!

Right Now

My baby is eating little bits of things he finds in the rug and, honestly, I’m just happy he’s not crying about his teeth and is leaving me alone.

Discipline Dilemmas

Very often, editing child development texts (as I do) and raising children do not mix well. For instance, when trying to get pregnant with Declan I kept having to work on material on fertility and conception including statistics on infertility, failure to implant, chromosomal abnormalities, etc. Then, when newly pregnant with him, I kept having to work on material dealing with fetal development including the statistics on miscarriage, tables listing teratogens and their consequences, and trauma during birth. Fun stuff, right?

Lately, I have been really struggling with Brady. He wants to be in charge OF EVERYTHING and that makes life pretty difficult. The child has a prepared argument for why he cannot do anything I could possibly ask him to do. Lately he likes to say “Sorry, we’re doing it my way. Sorry, that’s not going to happen. Sorry, I am not doing that.” And it makes…me…crazy!! It is so rude and insolent and just maddening. It makes me feel like I have no control over anything and of course this is why he does it himself. He wants control. While I get it and I empathize, it still makes life hard. He is facing a huge change in his life. Preschool ends in just ten days and then he faces the uncertainty of summer and the looming inevitability of kindergarten. It’s tough. But we have to find some balance.

So of course at this tough time I’m working on early childhood and discipline and learning all about how I can turn my willful child into a juvenile delinquent or an unsuccessful, unhappy adult with the wrong response to his rants and tantrums and arguments. Plus, Declan is getting his top teeth and not sleeping well, so I’m not sleeping well and that makes everything that much worse. For the most part I’m trying to use logical consequences and be consistent, but it is so hard! Especially when I’m so exhausted that what I really want to do is flip on the television to cartoons and just lie on the couch. I must stay strong and work through it, we don’t need any juvenile delinquents in this house…

Happy Mother’s Day

I just wanted to say Happy Mother’s Day to all of the lovely moms I know. Each and every one of you deserves a day with a few more breaks than usual, a little time to yourself, and gifts made especially for you by your children (if your children are small that is).

I’ve had a bit of hard time with Mother’s Day over the 5 years I’ve been able to celebrate it. I won’t go into it, but I had an epiphany this year that I actually DO deserve a break and who cares if it takes a made up holiday to get one.

I also want to take this time to be so appreciative of my family. I have a husband who loves me and our kids and is a totally hands-on dad. I have two boys who are so unique and special and amazing that it blows my mind on a daily basis. Being a mother is by far the most difficult, most exhausting, most confusing and confounding, and most rewarding experience of my life.

Reason to Love Warm Weather

Exposed baby legs!

Check out that fat foot!