Throw me a Bone

A few years ago, I tore my meniscus (for those Anatomy and Physiology drop-outs, that's an important part of your knee). Even though it was a microscopic tear, and the doctor said I could resume activity as usual, that sucker hurt like it had a pogo stick jammed through it for about 4 months. Why am I telling you this? Well, because during those 4 months I had to take a total hiatus from running (my CRACK at that time in my life) and I suffered serious withdrawal - it was so bad that I would actually sit in public places and stare at peoples knees. Yes, that's right - I drooled over their functionality and was jealous over every single knee that sauntered by pain-free. Even though my knee is totally healed now, I've been feeling that same psychotic jealousy recently - only now I covet Mommies who have slept and have energy.

That's right - this past Sunday I stared angrily at a pretty blond Mommy with a beautiful blond daughter, who blissfully cut up her child's pancakes and laughed in delight as she explained the difference between the 10 types of IHOP syrups. It made me furious. SHE apparently had SLEPT.

Later, we went to Trader Joe's and I nearly killed a poor college student with my glare, as she pranced down the aisles in her tanning bed glory, and showed off quads that would make David Beckham do a muscle check. She, clearly, had slept.

This morning as I drove to work, I nearly pulled the car up on the sidewalk to run down the beautiful Mommy jogging in her little shorts and jog bra with not an ounce of fat jiggling. SHE obviously had been experiencing good sleep for MONTHS.

There was a point in my life when exercise was my meditation - my pleasure - my escape. Now, I'm lucky if I have enough energy to lace up my sneakers. To top it all off, you add the whole Working Mother piece into the mix, and the guilt associated with leaving Livija for even 30 minutes during our time at home with her, and whole thing becomes even more complicated.

I'm hoping sleep is in my future. For the well-rested Mommies of the greater Boston area, they should pray I get some sleep too before this mania of mine gets really out of hand and I start taking hostages at local gyms - well, that is, if I have enough energy.

Yard Sale Enlightenment

So, today we had an impromptu yard sale. I've never done of one those before, and I have to say, "Whoa". Who knew yard sales were such a fascinating sub-culture?

Anyway, one lady walked away with bags of stuff. I nicely chatted with her as she looked at some of my exercise gadgets. She told me she had 12 and 13 year olds, and that she was just on her way back from a Weight Watchers meeting. She shared that she was trying to focus on herself for once, and that she battles this feeling that she has to go straight home; but, today she felt kind of saucy and decided to stop at a yard sale and spend a few minutes to herself.

The whole interaction brought on mixed feelings for me. Just this week I have really been thinking about this intense feeling of OBLIGATION I carry around with me everywhere. Even though my pregnancy weight is gone, it has been replaced by the weight of feeling a deep, stirring panic when I think I have left Livija too long.

I understand, practically, that this is really irrational - particularly because the times I experience this the most is when I leave Livija with my husband. It's like I feel guilty for making him spend "too much" time with her. The thing is, he has never once complained - never even made a sideways comment inferring that I have been absent for too long - in fact, he always makes a point to tell me to "take my time".

So, the result is, a wife and mother who can't go for a walk, grocery store run, CVS pit stop or visit with friends without checking my watch incessantly and having my stomach spin in uncontrolled anxiety.

When this woman at our yard sale shared this same feeling with me, I was on one hand glad to know I wasn't the only one; however, completely horrified that she was still dealing with this after 13 years as a mother.

I'm trying to get a grip - and I think going back to work has been really helpful for me; but, I wonder for just how much longer I will convince myself that working out for more than an hour is selfish or insensitive? Hmmm....I've got some self-reflection homework to do....

Life is Swirling Around Me and I'm, like, "Ahhhh"

One of my friends in high school said this once, and it has stayed with me. I can't remember in what context she said it - we were probably lamenting about college essays or SAT's or which plaid flannel to wear. Wow. We just had no clue. As I look at this blog, and realize four months have gone by since my last entry, I can honestly say, "Life is swirling around me and I'm, like, AHHHHHHHHHHH"

In four months, Livija has:
- Grown 7, agonizing, painful (but gorgeous) teeth
- Learned to scoot, crawl, cruise and WALK
- Tackled not only rice cereal, prunes and "puffs"; but, avocado, rice and beans, tofu, tater tots, pears, peaches, strawberries, bananas, kiwi, mandarin oranges, applesauce, soy yogurt, graham crackers, fig newtons, pasta, and waffles
- Been diagnosed with dairy, barley and sunflower allergies
- Learned to say "Bye Bye" "Mama" and "Dada"
- Endured 2 chest x-rays, 1 neck x-ray, 1 blood draw, 1 EKG and several shots
- Figured out how to climb stairs, open cabinets and drawers, and drink her own bottle
- Tamed Napoleon into complete and utter submissiveness
- Become a huge fan of buses, Baby Einstein, motorcycles, and sneezes
- Switched from size 3 to size four diapers
- Abandoned the Jumperoo and Excerpooper

Not to mention, I went back to work, and Livija started "school"!

Now that we're both career women, there should be some interesting stories to share. I have one good one that I like to refer to as the "Poop Scandal of 2009"; but, it just stirs up bad memories so I'll let that one be for now...

It's good to be back to blogging. I know folks have been anxious for the most recent chronicles. I imagine there should be some good hilarity around the corner now that Livija is officially a "toddler"! I can't believe it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Motherhood is KILLER

The other night I was thinking - this motherhood thing is hard...I mean REALLY hard. There are so many challenges, it's a wonder that any of us are still standing at the end of the day. Emotionally, physically, and mentally motherhood is KILLER.

Let's start with sleep. Sleep is equal to water and air in terms of things that humans need to survive. Sleep is essential to brain function and development. Sleep allows us to operate large machinery without risk of losing a limb. Sleep (you'd think) would be pretty darn important for parents nurturing a new life and ensuring a newborns safety - but life has played this cruel trick on us, challenging us every day to be BETTER than our usual selves, on HALF the gas. What gives?

Without sleep, making sound decisions is difficult - but, the irony is that now that you're a Mom, you make decisions every second of the day regardless of whether you've had 8 hours of sleep or just one. When do you take baby to the doctor? What is the best way to soothe them? What is wrong with them THIS time? Should you switch to a convertible carseat? Should you change diaper brands? Should you sleep with the monitor on, or with the door open, or both?

With all of this decision making comes pressure. Pressure to not only make decisions; but, to make the RIGHT decisions. Making decisions has not been so important since middle school when deciding whether or not to wear a purse could make or break your social life. These decisions define what type of Mother you are in the eyes of your family, friends, and other Mommies everywhere...

And of course all of these other Mommies are now you're only source of support. It's like freshman year of college all over again where you have to meet entirely new people and identify friends before all of the "cool" people are taken by some other evolving clique. There's this sense of urgency to meet Mom's who you can connect with so you don't miss out on all of the latest stroller comparisons, finger food tips, doctor recommendations, and class sign-ups.

Meanwhile, you're having an identity crisis because you can't quite figure out who this new YOU is. You're a mom; but, can you still be fun? Can you still be cool at a bar, or will you inevitably break down about your diaper champ woes and whip out your cellphone with pictures of your little one learning to eat prunes. Not to mention, will you EVER lose that last 10 pounds and feel your abs again?

Did I mention you have that whole "career/having it all" question hiding in dark corners of your mind? Are you doing the best thing for you and your family by staying home/going back to work?

Oh! And how could I forget to add that among all of these woes you have to maintain a MARRIAGE? That according to that crazy guy expert on Oprah we have to continue to shower our Husbands with compliments and thanks or they'll feel unappreciated and stray (naturally...it's not their fault, it's OURS).

Uhg. I need a drink or cookie dough or something...

Yuck

There are some things only a Mother can get away with - they include: picking your baby's nose, smelling their butt, licking your hand to wipe their face, and using your sleeve to clean a surprise reflux attack. They are all gross and inappropriate; however, they are totally acceptable in the book of parenthood. Eating your baby's leftovers, on the other hand, can get down right nasty...

Eating already chewed pieces of tofu, puffs, broccoli and other foods that have fallen into the abyss of the highchair, and not hesitating for even a moment, is an act of Motherhood that I just can't explain; yet, it serves a few very practical purposes:

1) It's eco-friendly and supports recycling and renewable energy.
2) It allows me to be nourished as well.
3) It prevents the dog from eating too many scraps and throwing up on the carpet.

Today I caught myself getting an entire mid-afternoon snack on half-chewed puffs trapped in Livija's pants, and bits of tofu that were lodged in the creases of the highchair pad. That's just WRONG in so many ways...but, I was totally okay with it.

It's a never-ending battle, this motherhood thing. You finally get some of your groove back, and BANG,then you start eating regurgitated 1st foods.

Will I ever be a normal woman again?????

Losing Track of Time

For my entire life I have been a watch and time addict. I think my need for checking the time borders on obsessive compulsive. I could be sitting on my butt, watching Ellen, with no where to go, and I just NEED to know what time it is. I once had a friend in college who surprised me one day by reaching over to my arm, grabbing my wrist, removing my watch, and placing it in a drawer - I nearly fainted from the shock. I don't think I made it through the night without having to go to the drawer and sneak it back on my wrist.

Well, a couple of weeks ago my watch battery died. Of course, I discovered this within about 10 minutes of the failure and I nearly died. If you've ever tried to find a store that replaces watch batteries without a hassle, it's not as easy as it seems - and my throat began to tighten as I imagined trying to find a replacement battery with baby in tow.

I spent an evening looking online at watches. I even updated my status on Facebook, exclaiming to my friends that my watch had died....oh "the horror".

And then I weird thing happened.

I forgot all about it.

I totally took the watch off my wrist, and never looked back. It's been about two weeks now and I still have the empty feeling on my left wrist, but no panic that I can't check the time.

What I've realized is that in all of the chaos of learning how to become a mother, I've just let some things go (in a good way). Time being one of them. I've actually started learning to value the time I have, and not to panic about the time that is lost, that is coming up, or that we might be late for. I'm being more intuitive and forgetting about the BIBLE of a notebook that Piyum and I have kept since day one of Livija's life. This little notebook records when she eats, poops, and sleeps and until 2 weeks ago I felt like the walls were caving in if I missed an entry.

Okay, so I cheat a little and check the time on my iTouch which is nearly glued to my being throughout the day; but, I'm pretty proud of myself for figuring out that my days are more about memorable moments than minutes on a ticking piece of silver.

Yesterday, Livija learning how to crawl. I don't know at what time, and I don't care...I'm just glad I was paying attention and not worrying about my watch.

Going Slow

You know "that" driver who goes 10 miles below the speed limit and gives you sweaty flashbacks of the scene in Ferris Bueller's Day Off where the Dad is stuck driving behind the little old lady with the beehive? I used to hate "that" driver; but, now I'm sad to admit I AM "that" driver...but not for the reasons you'd think.

I'm not afraid of highways. I don't mind driving fast. In fact, I always used to be a quickest-way-from-point-A-to-point-B kind of girl. There's a reason I drive a car that has a turbo charged engine and eats up premium fuel. In fact, here's a picture of me at this years car show - I never miss it - I'm weird like that.

Howevever, driving has become a purposeful, strategic, and necessary means to get Livija to take much needed cat naps so she can make it through to bedtime. I have memorized the twists and turns of Route 9 between Newton and Natick so well that I could drive it with a Lovey pulled over my eyes. I've learned, that a quick trip to Babies R Us affords us just enough car time for Livija to sneak in 25-30 minutes of snoozing BUT only if I drive the speed limit.

It has made me a safer driver, and my time in the car is much less stressful now that I don't feel the heavy anxiety of "needing" to get someplace on time. Sorry to the young, childless folks out there who get stuck behind me on the highway....but naptime is more important than feelin' the wind in my hair.

You know you're a Mom when...

1) Projectile vomit or spit up doesn't even make you flinch

2) Your body is on a permanent tilt to one side as you adapt to carrying a little one on your hip all day

3) Instead of singing in the shower, you hum the songs that play on the Jumperoo and Exersaucer

4) You can nap anywhere, anytime, and in any position

5) You buy the PedEgg because you've forgotten how to get yourself to the nail salon

6) Diaper wipes become all purpose cleaner

7) Joovy, Britax, Bugaboo, and McLaren seem like good names for your next pets

8) You turn in your diamond necklace for a faux turquoise teething necklace

9) Your "on the go" meal is whatever is left of the jarred sweet potato and barley slop

10) You spend more time with the washer and dryer than you do with your husband

No sick day for you!

As I sit here with my Sleepy Time tea, saltines and roll of toilet paper (we're out of tissues) I am fondly reflecting on my "Ferris Bueller" days. When I was little, if I stayed home sick from school, my family called me "Ferris". I remember when being sick involved curling up in bed, turning on the boob-tube, and napping as the moment so inspired me. What I've learned this week, however, is that being sick with a baby in tow is no Bueller day at all.

Regardless of my snotty nose and scratchy cough this morning, I still had to roll out of bed at 6:00am to greet a bright and bubbly Livija. I hoped to grab a few moments of zoned out peace as she played in her jumperoo; but, eventually that wore off and sick Mommy had to find ways to entertain Livija without touching, kissing, or breathing on her too hard.

Even though I was on the brink of laryngitis, I found myself reading "Pat the Bunny" 10 times this afternoon, in addition to 9 other books as I tried to calm my savage reader who grunts anxiously if I have not selected the "right" book. Additionally, today was the first day in weeks that Livija decided she just didn't want a nap between 2pm and 7:30pm. 5 and half hours of awake time would drain a perfectly healthy Mom, let alone a Mom who feels like her chest is going to cave in.

Night time is the worst. When you're a Mommy you can't take NyQuil or another sleep medicine...it just doesn't feel right. Instead, you lay awake most of the night praying for your nasal passages to clear up so that you can steal a few minutes of sleep before you have to start the whole routine all over again. The best part is as you're getting ready to go to bed, your husband announces that he's getting up at 5am to go to the gym. Because you're a good wife, you don't object - but you know that means that you'll be up at 5am too, and that last hour of precious sleep will be lost.

They aren't kidding when they say you're life will change when you have a baby. Right down to the sick days. God I miss sitting in a pile of tissues all by myself!!!!

Pearls of wisdom

I am 6 1/2 months into being a new mother, and I figure that I should probably have some pearls of motherhood wisdom to pass along by now. Honestly, I'm not sure I'm any less clumsy now than I was in the first few weeks; but, I have learned a few valuable lessons along the way:

1) Never leave the house without at least 5 diapers. Trust me....the day you leave the house with just a couple of diapers you will be rewarded with a handsome poop explosion and an unanticipated pee. Three diapers at home would normally be just fine to cover such a catastrophe...but add in trying to change the diaper in the trunk of your SUV, realizing you forgot wipes which means you have to use another diaper to substitute, and you've got yourself one sticky situation.

2) There will not be flocks of people telling you what an amazing mother you are. You'll have a few (mainly your own mother); but, not as many as you think...and certainly not enough to keep the confidence up day to day. Sometimes you have to be your own cheerleader on this one because not everyone GETS that you really need to hear that you're a fantastic mother just for making it through Monday.

3) Don't ever, EVER, believe that you have a "routine". Garbage. Any consistency in schedule will never last long, and just when you think you have something mastered a wrench is always thrown into the equation. This is called parenthood. This is why pediatricians smirk at you when you brag about your schedule, or when you say you are using "Baby Wise" and it's working.

4) Animal sounds are magic. You might be amazed how many times you resort to clucking like a chicken, or scratching your armpits like a monkey just to put a smile on your little ones face.

5) It's not an excersaucer - it's an excerpooper. I put Livi in that thing right after eating, and within 5 minutes "Shazam!" - we've got a winner.

6) There is no, one, right way. Not for anything. Ever. It's horrible. When it comes to babies, no one agrees on anything. Don't look for the magic bullet, because there isn't one. You have to be your own best expert. If you can embrace this fact it's empowering - but it can also frustrate the crap out of you when you're just plain tired of making decisions.

7) Frozen washcloths are over rated. Frozen pacifiers are golden.

8) Animal Planet is way better than Baby Einstein.

9) Things you wouldn't think of, like your brassy door knobs, are way better than Animal Planet and Baby Einstein combined.

10) Don't ask about percentiles. They'll just stress you out. If your baby is eating, pooping, and laughing, that's all that should matter. Who cares if your baby's head circumference is in the 95th percentile????

Post Partum Meltdowning

The experts say that post partum depression usually strikes anywhere between birth and 6 months. Symptoms like lack of appetite, feeling overwhelmed, crying, lack of sleep and negative thoughts about yourself or the baby, are very common and should never be ignored - and while I'm sure that I flirted with diagnosable depression in the early weeks, what I'm POSITIVE I have now is what I refer to as "post partum meltdowning".

Post partum meltdowning are the random, unexpected spells of complete and utter panic. This panic is not generally regarding rational things; rather, the meltdowning may be triggered by things like being exposed to crawling babies.

Let me explain. Last week, upon the recommendation of our Gymboree teacher, Livija and I tried the "level 2" class (6 -10 month olds) to see how she would do. We went in feeling like puffed up peacocks - we were going to the "big kids" class. However, to our dismay, of the 15 kids in the class, Livija was the only one who didn't move off her butt and, to our horror, there were actually 12 month old kids (kind of like kids on the 5 year plan in high school or college) who were walking and running around the multi-colored play space. While Livija thwarted off an over-eager 8 month old who very badly wanted to rip her nose off her face, I gaped in dismay as I saw a peek into my future. How was I EVER going to handle movement!!!??? Good God! We just figured out sleep!!!!

That night, as Piyum and I settled in to bed, post partum meltdowning hit full force. Piyum struggled to keep up as I told him I didn't know who I was anymore - that I didn't think I was suited to be a good enough mother to handle a CRAWLER - that my life was engulfed by researching child proofing and solid foods - that I was paralyzed - that I wanted to be the woman he married, not the woman who couldn't keep up with a walking baby!!!! Between sobs Piyum, very nicely, told me that he didn't really understand. I don't blame him. I was "meltdowning".

When morning came I, of course, realized my irrationality and felt pretty lame that I was such a drama queen. I decided if I could accomplish one small goal, that everything would feel possible - so I conquered taking a shower during the day (instead of at night when Piyum got home from work). To my surprise, no big deal. Livija didn't cry when the shower turned on. She didn't hurl herself out of her crib in anger that I was taking time to practice good hygiene. We both survived, and things felt better. Possible.

I fully expect another meltdowning session to occur in the next week or so. They're pretty much like clock-work. It will probably be a result of Livija's 6 month "wellness check" with her new doctor, where she points out where she sits in the percentiles and I feel "judged", or when Livija refuses avocados (supposedly the food that NO child will refuse). However, I know I don't need drugs for this sort of post partum stuff. I just need a good head on my shoulders, and the confidence that I can do this. No Mom ever died because her kid started walking. I won't either!

Let me count the ways...

Sometimes I read my blog and think that people who don't know me well must think I'm an awfully bitter new mother. As I sit here next to the video monitor, sleep deprived and holding my breath that Livija will stay peaceful tonight, I know I would be lying to you if I told you I wasn't exhausted, tapped, worn out, sticky, or smelly - or, that this morning I forgot to brush my teeth, didn't shower, didn't fully change out of my pajamas, and didn't get lunch until 2:30pm (that's a long time to wait when your breakfast was at 6:30am). I'd also be lying to you, however, if I didn't share some of the wonderful things about being a mom - so here it goes - catch it now, because I'll be right back to my same old bitter blogs by tomorrow!

1. I love her skin. Her feet and her bum particularly. It's amazing to feel those little fingers wrap around mine when I feed her...and I think the best part of my day is getting her ready for her bath and kissing her naked butt and hearing her squeal in delight. She takes such pleasure in being naked and it's wonderful.

2. Her laugh is infectious, and it seems to change every week. First she started with smiles - then we graduated to laughs - now we are in full blown hysterics phase. It's amazing to see her face light up and to giggle at her toothless grin. It's even more amazing that her laughter is reacting to something that I've done to make her happy.

3. I love watching and observing when she has no idea I'm there. Occasionally she loses herself in play, and it's so fun to actually witness learning. It's like her brain is developing before my eyes.

4. Livija and her Dad are absolutely precious. Piyum was the first to hold and feed Livija when she was born, and they certainly have a special bond. She gushes with excitement when he comes home from work, and she searches for him in the morning while I change her diaper. Seeing Piyum so natural as a father is truly incredible.

5. Staying at home is a blessing. My mother stayed at home with me, and I hope I can create some of the same memories for Livija. My generation of women has been told from the beginning that we can "have it all". Now that I have Livija, I see that staying at home IS having it all.

6. Livija has taught me to let go of "stuff". Most of this involuntary - but I have just learned to ACCEPT. It's hard sometimes, but a valuable lesson nonetheless and I'm happy that she's teaching it to me.

7. I love that, in the morning, she is always happy and full of smiles. It's like she is so GRATEFUL that I have come to find her. No matter what sleeplessness the night brought her, she always begins the next day with laughter.

8. She may not look like me, but it's amazing to see what personality traits and characteristics she takes from me. In a new environment, or with new people, she absorbs and observers her surroundings with great care. Her eyes scan every detail until she feels secure. People laugh and say she looks so serious - those are the moments I feel she looks the most like me and it's wonderful to watch.

9. I've never seen anyone take so much joy in watching a cat or dog. Livija's obsession with Napoleon and Cleo is absolutely adorable. She pumps her fists, opens her mouth in a big "O", and taps her feet.

10. Okay...well, now I'm distracted. Livija has just started crying (I am not being dramatic) and I have no idea why. Looks like we're in for another long night. I'll try to keep points 1-9 in mind as we head into the early morning hours....

Solid Food Stinks

Motherhood is fruitful with torturous rights of passages - not sleeping, aching backs, hair loss, permanent belly fat, loss of brain cells, etc. - but to top it all off SOLID FOODS arrive between months 4-6.

In theory, solid food should be fun. Your baby tries new tastes and textures, and learns how to eat from a spoon and a cup. It's messy and hilarious, and every new parent has the pleasure of sitting in front of their baby just as they sneeze a mouthful of rice cereal. As a new Mom, you plan to feed your baby the most wholesome foods - never introducing her to sugar, flour, or preservatives - and having a kid who jumps up and down for a snack of wheat germ sprinkled celery.

In reality, solid food stinks. First you have to get your baby to like rice cereal (if that's what you start with - I could write a whole other article on how to decide WHAT food to have your baby begin with!) Does she like it before her bottle, or after the bottle? Does she want it mixed with water, formula or breast milk? Does she like it liquidy or thick?

Good lord.

Once you have accomplished that feat, you are supposed to introduce beginner foods; but, they have to be given for four days with nothing else to ensure there is no allergy. However, most babies don't fall for any new food in four days - it probably takes more like 15 - but since you can't introduce another new food while you're feeding the old food (again, allergies) it would take about 6 years to get through bananas, avocado, apples, sweet potato, and pears.

Meanwhile, the rice cereal is constipating your little one because it's iron fortified, and although all of the books tell you that your baby now needs to start drinking water, no one has told your baby that. They won't take it from a bottle, they haven't figured out the sippy cup yet, and they're too smart for watered down formula. So, you've got this poor baby, turning red in the face all day trying to poop AND your making her try peas.

Try prunes says my sister. Yeah. They only make pureed prunes mixed with other berries ( a no-no because you can only introduce one new food at once) and because she's still not sleeping through the night, this mom can only think of napping during the day and not planting herself in front of the food processor and chopping up prunes. Gross.

To top it off, as the weeks go by, your baby is getting hungrier and hungrier - the bottle is not doing it's job anymore - but you still haven't moved past rice cereal and are afraid to feed it to her twice a day because she gets so friggin' gassy at night (preventing her from sleeping well, and thus preventing you from pureeing prunes)! Of course, move on to oatmeal you say; but, there is another four days lost and we still haven't even mastered the sweet potato!

I'm jealous of the moms who say their baby eats everything. I don't think they realize just how miraculous that really is. At this rate, Livija might still only be eating rice cereal when I send her off to college.

Let's stop making things personal...

Let me just preface this rant with the following: I support breastfeeding. I believe it is a healthy and beautiful way to nurture an infant. I believe that breast milk offers benefits that formula cannot.

That being said, I am SICK of the countless propaganda which guilt women into breastfeeding and imply that women who choose not to breastfeed are unfit mothers. The article linked in the title above goes so far as to say women who don't breastfeed have a higher incidence of NEGLECTING their children because they don't have an intimate bond with their babies. It also says that women who choose to breastfeed are just naturally BETTER mothers, and that they can PERSEVERE through hard times (where, apparently, women who formula feed lack perseverence).

Are you kidding me?

I could write a whole article about the holes in the stated study; but, I'm not writing this for academic purposes. The article stung and insulted me like nothing else I've read. Although the researchers nicely imply that it's possible for formula fed infants not to be neglected, it's clear that this is simply a nicety.

I chose not to breastfeed. Not because I physically couldn't. Not because I adopted. Not because of the other "acceptable" excuses not to breastfeed. I just didn't. No one should need any further explanation - it was my researched, educated, thought-out choice.

Livija is a healthy, thriving, and LOVED little one. I am just as neurotic, perfectionistic, worried, and in love with Livija as any other woman in my mothers groups who breastfeed. We share the same emotions and concerns regardless of how our babies are fed. We have all felt hopeless, we have all felt elated, we have all felt isolated, we have all felt amazed.

Education on the benefits of breastfeeding is great. Let's continue to educate mothers on all of the healthy options available to our children ... not just breastfeeding; but, healthy eating beyond the first year, vaccinations, being aware of the chemicals in our homes, cleaning prodcuts, and toys, and providing an EMOTIONALLY healthy home.

I have just one request - can we embrace each others' decisions instead of making it personal?

Socks

I'm not sure why I even bother with socks. Livija hates her socks. HATES them. No matter what I do, those suckers just slip right off. At first I thought it was because the socks weren't made well, so I tried a variety of brands and styles; but, I've come to the conclusion that Livija is hell bent against having anything cover up her little toes (of course, because socks prevent her from eating her feet).

It's amazing really, we'll start the morning with socks on. By 8:00am I've replaced the socks at least 5 times. They slip off on the exersaucer, they fall off in the jumperoo, and they're kicked off vigorously while sitting on her play mat. If she has socks on, she'll rub those little feet together like she's a caveman trying to create fire. I swear - I'm just waiting for her socks to burst into flames from all of that friction.

What's funny is that I've never been a sock person, and either has my father. Sock aversions must be genetic. My father and I are both infamous for not wearing socks in the dead of winter...not even while shoveling snow...we just don't like socks. I'll start off the night with socks on, and inevitably kick them off around 2am. Piyum always asks me why I wear socks at all, and I don't really have a good answer for that (probably because, like underwear, you're just SUPPOSED to).

So, if Livija doesn't want to wear socks, who am I to tell her she has to? She's 5 months old - I'll let the kid live a little!!!

Inauguration Day

Today was historic. The first African-American President of the United States was sworn in to office, and our country swarmed the Washington D.C mall in unprecedented numbers to celebrate the occasion. As Barack Obama took the oath of office, my sweet Livija contentedly commemorated the moment by eating her toes.I hoped that we might watch the ceremony together. I envisioned her sitting on my lap, mesmerized by Barack Obama's voice, and somehow understanding that the first year of her life would most probably be a year that marked change for generations to come. Instead, as luck would have it, she began to grunt and rub her eyes at exactly 11:55am.

Fortunately, Livija cooperated and went down for her nap quickly and peacefully as I soaked in every word of his masterful speech. While watching, I couldn't help but wonder what the future holds for my sweet Livija. Will she live in a world of peace? Will she have a female President? Will she drive an electric car and own a home fueled by the sun?

Today I felt great hope for Livija. I can't wait to see what she contributes to the world one day (beyond eating her feet).

Messy, sticky, slobs!

Babies are slobs. They are dirty, messy, sticky, slobs, and I think it's hysterical that we all think it's so darn cute. Realistically, it's all pretty gross. I mean, anyone who has a runny nose that drips into their mouth, sneezes with such vigor that drool ends up three kids down on the play mat, and poops so hard that it not only leaks out of the diaper but somehow ends up on their toes, would be exiled to an island populated by lepers in a heartbeat.

Today, in Gymboree, as we all sat around comparing sleep stories (oohhh, the excitement), we looked on lovingly as little Andrew spit up all over his chin, overalls, socks and blanket. It was this white, chunky, drooly stuff that looked like it could be the ooze out of a wound; but, we all still giggled and smiled at him.

The week before, little Julian needed a rice cereal break in the middle of class. The porridge-like muck never made it to his stomach - just to his cheeks, and perhaps even snuck around under his ears ( I hope he got a bath that night, because I'm guessing day old rice cereal lodged behind your ear gets a little crusty by morning). No one batted an eyelash; because, this of course, is considered "normal".

Or how about this one - the red, awful rash that develops in between the neck folds of a baby's little throat because of all of the milk, drool and formula that hibernates in there? If you saw that on an adult, you'd be calling the CDC or the Department for Homeland Security. On our little ones, however, it's endearing.

Perhaps the most shocking is when a baby decides that the stuff in their diaper would make a really good self-tanner, and spreads it generously all over their face, arms, body and legs. Can you imagine what might happen to an adult who pulled this stunt? Lock down in the local mental institution; but, for a baby, it's what legends are made of.

I know, I know...babies can't help it; but, can we please all stop pretending that they smell like peaches? There is a discernible difference between the sweet smell of fruit, and the unlikely combination of baby powder, formula, Desitin, and pureed peas.

My "Skillz"

For those of you who know me well, you know that I looooove the movie "Napoleon Dynamite." One of my favorite parts is when he talks about how guys have to have "skills" to get girls - you know - "nunchuku skills, bow hunting skills, computer hacking skills..." I think along these same lines, that Moms develop new skills as a part of evolutionary "survival of the fittest." Fathers and babies need Moms who have killer skills so they can be assured that they will thrive. Here are just a handful of the skills I have acquired in the past 5 months:

1) Super sonic hearing (I can hear a baby cry from a house three miles away)
2) One handed extraordinaire (making bottles, washing dishes, cooking meals, opening mail, shopping, typing, etc.)
3) Going to the bathroom with a baby on my lap (a sight to see indeed)
4) Getting from a sitting on the floor position, to a full stand, while all the while holding Livi
5) 2, 832 children's songs stored in memory for instant recall
6) Ability to drive and complete complex tasks on three hours of sleep
7) Understand a frustrated cry, from a hungry cry, from a tired cry, from a bored cry, from a "you scare me" cry, from a boo-boo cry....
8) Patience, patience, patience
9) Change Livija's diaper while she has both feet in her mouth
10) Wake up from a sound sleep exactly one minute before she begins to whimper
11) Smiling nicely at all of the Mom's who tell you about their child who sleeps 12 hours at night AND takes naps
12) Developing snazzy home remedies (my latest is that instead of a frozen washcloth, I use frozen baby socks for Livija to chew on...much more proportionate!)
13) Sewing ( I swear to God...the last time I touched a sewing machine was in Home Ec; but, this weekend, I whipped out a handmade "Taggy"...what the F?")
14) Sleep with one eye glued to the video monitor

Confess your mommy moments to me!

The best thing that has come out of writing this blog are the wonderful confessions and stories I hear from other Moms! I'm psyched that my writing inspires women to share their funniest (or darkest) moments of motherhood...and I'd love to hear more!

Like the woman in my Mother's group who after reading "Frumpy" wrote me and said she wondered if she would ever wear perfume again.... or two of my sisters co-workers who admitted to accidentally driving with their baby unbuckled in their car seats because they were just THAT tired.

If you have a story, leave it in the "comments" section. I'm in the middle of enduring Livija's "Great Sleep Strike" and I could use the humor (and the validation) that I'm not the only one who while telling a story FORGETS HER DAUGHTER'S NAME!

Thanks for the great feedback. I hope you continue reading. Knowing you read this, inspires me to write more!

Daydreamer

Everyone tells you that the first months of your newborns life are the most precious...the most amazing...and the most memorable. They tell you not to miss one moment, to soak up the wonder of it all, and to look down upon your baby with an unparalleled adoration. I'm beginning to believe that "everyone's" babies must have pulled out some mind eraser contraption like they do in the movie "Men in Black" and forever eliminated all memories of hair pulling, drool inducing, sleepless nights because I'm in the middle of it right now, and I'm telling you, this is far from heaven.

I am caught in the oh-so-heavenly middle of deciding whether or not to let our little one cry it out, or to let her continue with her unfortunately horrible sleep habits until she figures it out on her own. I'm beginning to think instead of doing cry it out (which apparently only lasts a few days and you and baby forget the whole ordeal fairly quickly), that maybe it would be much more fun to endure this painful period, let my little Livi torture us endlessly, and then wait for the perfect moment of revenge.

Maybe it will be when she's a teenager and she has just wrecked the family car, or gotten caught smoking pot. Instead of grounding her, I will lovingly send her to bed, smile at her from ear to ear and wait until she is in a sound slumber. At the perfect moment I'll whip out the cymbals and the drums and dance around like a banshee in her room. I won't just do this for one night, I'll do it for several. And just as we experience now, I'll give her a week of peace and make her believe that maybe, just maybe, the torture has ended. Then, when she least expects it, I'll start the whole darn ritual all over again. When she looks at me in horror, pillow pulled over her head, asking "Why, Why!!???" I'll just continue dancing and scream over my cymbals, "Payback's a bitch!"

I know this sounds pretty vindictive and, I'll admit, totally unrealistic. At the end of the day I completely understand that her lack of sleep is not her fault, and that she is just as miserable as we are. But, the daydream is kind of fun, and right now whatever puts a smile on this exhausted face is entirely worth it.

Mommy Rage

One thing no one tells you about being a parent is that suddenly your free will to express anger is totally thrown out the window. It's only logical that you wouldn't want to expose your baby to yelling, swearing, or frustration; but, when a good loud f-bomb is no longer an option for helping relieve stress, you start to build up a backlog of anger that just needs to come out in some form. It's not productive to take it out on your spouse, and aggressive stroller pushing is a bit of a social taboo - so what is my outlet for this pent up emotion? Road rage.

I'm not speaking of the outlaw road rage we see on Cops. I'm talking about the good old, scream your head off in the car where no one can hear you, and if you spit wildly only the windshield will suffer, road craziness. Of course, this road rage can only happen when you actually steal a moment to yourself without baby in tow; but, when you do get those few minutes, and you're lucky enough to have some jackass cut you off on a rotary, it's heaven.


My sister and I went to see Marley and Me this past weekend (cried out friggin' eyes out). On the way out of the movie theatre parking lot, I was blessed enough to have a shiny Mercedes with tinted windows decide he was going to bypass the entire lane of backed up cars by driving up the oncoming traffic lane. As I spotted him in my rear view mirror, adrenaline bubbled up inside me like century old lava, and my hands gripped the steering wheel so hard I think I cracked my knuckles. As I leaned on my horn, words tore out of my mouth like a redneck truck driver, "You f-ing Newton driver! Who the hell do you think you are! Learn how to f-ing drive you f-ing yuppy!". I proceeded to chase the guy down the street, honking my horn the entire time. Meanwhile, my sister sat aghast in the passenger seat, jaw dropping to her seat belt.

Now I don't condone road rage. I think it's an awful waste of time, and a dangerous habit; but I think a little road nuttiness is allowable for a new stay at home Mom who has smiled for 5 months straight and has, with only the will of some magnificent force, stopped herself from swearing over her baby as she spills formula or spreads poop all over the changing table.

So, if you see me banging on the steering wheel and yelling obscenities to the sunroof, just cut me some slack. I may look crazy, but it's all for the benefit of my little Livi.