FYI...

FYI...

If you give your 1-year old your phone to entertain him while you steal that 8-minute shower you truly deserve, make no mistake: he WILL take naked pictures of you through the glass shower doors. 18 of them in fact. You will not know this because during that 8 minutes, he was not screaming, climbing into the sink or toilet, or throwing anything at you. So you, honestly, did not know (or care) what he was doing with your phone. Delete my apps? Whatever. Call Daddy at work? Sure.

Fast forward two days later. You will attempt (in vain) to entertain that same 1-year old through an hour-long gymnastics class for your daughter. The books you brought are of no value to him, and he tore through the snack in 45 seconds. So... there are 48 minutes left. Fine, here's my phone, you'll say.

He will pull up some of the stunning shots he took of you 2 days prior and proceed to show them to your 6-year old son who is sitting several rows away in the bleachers. Your 6-year old son will then shout (for all the other parents to hear), "Mom! There are like a bunch of naked pictures of you in your phone."

So now you know what will happen if you take a mid-day shower with your toddler in the room and let him have your phone. You've been warned.

To the Allergy Moms

I have a confession. I have judged (silently and not-so-silently) other moms. And one group that I am particularly ashamed to say I have judged are the allergy moms. You know these moms: their kids are allergic to normal stuff. (Sometimes it is scary, like peanuts. I don't judge those moms -- that peanut allergy thing is terrifying). But the "my kid is allergic to wheat" mom, or the "my kid is gluten-free" mom, or the "my kid is allergic to raspberries" mom... I have often found myself wondering if you were a bit hyper about your kid and maybe he's really fine? Until now.

Because karma has come along and given me a big ol' bite on the booty. My adorably fat, dimple-faced 1-year old is allergic... to lots of stuff. He has broken out in terrifying hives, his face has blown up, and his eyes have swollen shut in reaction to: wiping his face with a paper towel, feeding him foods with cow's milk, feeding him raspberries, blackberries, pasta sauce, Goldfish crackers... the list goes on. And he is allergic to grass. If he plays in the grass, he breaks out in horrible welts and spikes a fever. And all of these reactions usually spawn eczema patches that he scratches relentlessly. So now I am "that" mom, asking what ingredients are in foods, putting my kid in pants when it is 102 degrees outside, having Benadryl in my car at all times.

I never thought I would be an allergy mom. We try to eat healthy, but I'll be honest. A year ago, I was NOT on the non-processed food bandwagon. I have eaten either Cheezits or Doritos or one of their first cousins every single day of my life as far as I know. I love my coffee creamer. My kids eat (gasp!) fruit snacks. (And not organic ones. They eat the Ninja Turtle and Hello Kitty ones.) But we do eat lots of fruits and veggies and healthy proteins, I promise. I don't totally suck at feeding my kids good stuff. I make my own mac-and-cheese and my own chicken nuggets (to which my kids adoringly respond by saying, "Did you make the yummy kind out of the box or that other kind? And I respond, "No, I did not make the kind out of the box that takes 5 minutes. I made the homemade kind that takes 45 minutes of Mommy's time. But thanks for the love, kids.")

But now I am an allergy mom. And I am coming at you, fellow allergy moms, with my tail between my legs, and I am saying that I am so sorry. I had no idea. I had no idea how sick your kids could get if they ate stuff they aren't supposed to. I also had no idea how much extra work you put in to keeping them healthy.

So, I am asking you, non-allergy moms, who may be inclined to judge unfairly (as I did), to think first. Think about how easy it would be for that mom to give her kid the pasta or sandwich or orange or pizza or whatever normal food it is that he can't have. And guess what else? She probably has other kids who CAN have that stuff. So she has to either say no to all of her kids or, as is the case in my house (since my son cannot tolerate dairy), he has to watch while the other kids have something he can't. And he's 1. So he's totally rational and understanding and easy to communicate with. Or the big kids have to eat in another room or at another time. Or Mommy breaks and lets him have the thing he isn't supposed to have because he is soooo upset, and then we all deal with the effects: hives, eczema flare-ups, and/or vomit.

Fellow allergy moms, I'm so sorry. Can I still get in your circle? I'll bring some dairy-free dip and homemade oatmeal bars.


And hey, 3rd kid! You're supposed to be the low-maintenance one. WTF?

Karma.

Boys and guns

You know that moment when you look over and notice that your 5-year old son has drawn a picture of a monster holding 2 guns along with an army of "minions", also ready to shoot at any enemy in their path... and you are in CHURCH? And that he drew this masterpiece in the coloring book from one of the children's bags that belongs to CHURCH?

I have blogged several times about my fears and struggles with raising a girl in this princess-centered body-image warped world. But I also have 2 boys. Yikes! And I am constantly at war (pun intended) within myself with the whole boys-love-guns thing. I don't love guns. I don't even like them. At all. And I don't have a brother, so I did not grow up with "Hi-Ya! Pow! Pow!" screaming through the rooms of my house. But I live in that world now. For being quite a book nerd and computer lover, my kindergartener is a boy. And he is fascinated with guns, violence, swords, enemies, good guys, bad guys... the whole gamut. Usually my husband handles it better than I do. He grew up playing Mortal Combat and did not turn into an adult who beheads others, so chances are, if we are the best parents we can be, and instill proper morals and values in our boys, they will also grow up to be properly functioning adults. However, for all the times he tells me "not to worry about it" when my son attempts to chop down Darth Vader in his Wii game, even Daddy found it disturbing that our little guy drew this lovely image in the church's coloring book. I think his words were: "Ummm.... buddy? Not okay in church."

We do believe in the importance of discussing violence with our kids. We are proud of our soldiers and thankful for their service. We know that violence has served a purpose and will continue to serve a purpose in many corners of our world and in many circumstances. We also teach our kids to stick up for themselves. We do not want them initiating violence, but if someone pushes them down, or pushes one of their siblings down, we give them free reign to open up a can of their best whoop-ass on that kid. We also talk about guns. We talk about how guns kill people and are not funny. This is hard as many of my son's idols (Luke Skywalker, Han Solo) use guns. "But it is okay, because they are good guys, right Mommy?" Ummmm.... ???? Are guns okay? Sometimes.... I guess??

So for all of the battles I fight for my daughter, I fight twice as many for my 2 boys. Guns scare me. Violence scares me. Teenage boys shooting up classmates in the school cafeteria scare me. But, like my daughter's love for princesses, I guess there is a certain love for guns that I have to accept in my household.

But I think next Sunday morning we may just stick to the crossword puzzles, okay little guy?

Out of buckets

In many MANY ways, I was unprepared for parenthood. Oh sure, I knew good sleep was over. (I miss being able to take Nyquil when I am sick.) I knew happy hour was going to become very rare. And I knew my marathon gym afternoons would turn into quick when-I-have-time workouts.

But for all the stuff I thought I knew, there are 10 times as many aspects of parenthood that have thrown me curveballs throughout the past 6 years. (Holy crap. I have been a parent for 6 YEARS?!)

One thing that I did not know, but I know now: little girls collect little things. All things small and/or pink and/or glittery are coveted by little girls. Tiny seashells, miniature stamps, erasers, little shoes for little dolls, hair bows of various sizes, plastic rings, little tiny stones that fall out of plastic rings but must be saved because they're sooooo pretty, tiny purses and hats for the mommy who lives in the dollhouse (I wish I had that many purses and hats), and stickers... oh so many stickers. 

I used to painstakingly file all the tiny things away in specific buckets:

dollhouse items in the red bucket

kitchen food and utensils in the blue bucket

arts and craft supplies in the yellow bucket

jewelry in the pink bucket

etc...

But I ran out of buckets. And sanity. Cleaning her room today, I found, on her floor: a nailpolish, 2 necklaces, 5 crayons, a plastic tomato, 4 legos, and a rock. I put them all in one bucket (the green one), turned her light out, and left the room.

Moms: help a girlfriend out. If your friend is having a girl, please, warn her of the tiny things. Tell her the truth. Tell her that at some point, (in my case it was around year 3), she will give up and start throwing all of it into any bucket or bag in the room. (She need not worry -- her daughter will have 17 bags and backpacks and purses for carrying the tiny things). Sorting and organization will eventually serve no purpose. Play food will live alongside Elsa dolls and bracelets will be thrown together with seashells. 

Tell them, because that is the gloriously pink and glittered life of living with a 3-year old girl.

My favorite person

I have a friend about to have a baby. AT HOME. Like, in a pool. I sort of think she is a crazy person.

Me: Hospital. Drugs. Tubes. More drugs. 87 people traipsing in and out of my room every 11 minutes.

Her: Pool. No drugs. Midwife. Husband. That's it.

Yikes!

She and I obviously have a complete opposite mindset about birthing. Her favorite person through her birthing experience is probably her patient, soothing midwife who gives her the confidence and strength to make it to the finish line. Or maybe her husband is her favorite (or at least a close second). My favorite person during labor and delivery? Yes, I adore my nurses, and yes, my husband is an excellent coach. I also greatly appreciate my OB who usually appears for the last few minutes and endures my screaming and thrashing about. But my FAVORITE person is the epidural fairy. LOVE me some epidurals.

So yes, there is a huge range of "birth plans" women can choose or attempt to choose because sometimes things don't go as planned. So when I heard about her pool party birth, I think my reaction was something like "Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat??" And although I felt confusion about her choice and I worried for her, do you know what I also felt?

Proud of her. For doing HER thing HER way with HER body and HER baby.

Know who else I am proud of?

Myself. For doing MY thing MY way with MY body and MY baby.


And to the mom pushed into an unexpected c-section: I am proud of you and I admire you. That must have been scary, but you did it.

To the mom with the planned c-section? I applaud you for doing what YOU think is best.

To the mom who had a VBAC: I applaud you for doing what YOU think is best.

To the mom who labored at home until the last minute and pushed that baby out with 4 minutes to spare at the hospital: Holy crap, I admire you. I hope you are proud of yourself. You are incredible.

To the mom who could not conceive naturally and used fertility treatments: I admire your courage.

To the mom who could not have children and chose to adopt: I admire your strength. I am in awe of you.

To the mom who CAN have children and still chose to adopt: Thank you. You are truly amazing.

To the mom with 1 kid: You are doing an awesome job.

To the mom with 4 kids under 5: You are an inspiration. Have an extra glass of wine tonight.

To the newly pregnant first-time mom: You got this. Your body will know what to do.

To the post-partum mom who still looks pregnant: You look beautiful when you are staring at that little baby.


And to my friend about to birth a baby in a pool in her living room: You are an incredible mama!



To the epidural fairy: I love you.

A rant from an angry Christian liberal

By chance, I live in a very conservative, Christian state in the Midwest. I am a Christian, but I am not too conservative. I am what many call a "Christian liberal." (I can sense the eye rolls from some of you already.) Being more liberally-minded, while also a Christian, I am often caught between two worlds. I believe in a few basic tenets that I strive to impart unto my children: Jesus loved us. Jesus died for us. We should try really really hard to be like Jesus as best we can. For my kids (5 and under), that pretty much sums up our Christian philosophy. However, it is not this simple, and we do have to navigate through some choppy waters with our kids.

Last week, my 3-year old daughter asked, "Can girls marry girls and boys marry boys?" I paused for about 3 seconds... and then said, "Yes. People can marry any person they love." She seemed very content with my answer, even running to tell her older brother: "Girls can marry girls and boys can marry boys!" to which he responded, "Ok, cool" and returned to his Legos.

For us, the homosexuality debate within a Christian household, a Christian culture, is a personal issue. I don't feel overly inspired to argue my points into the ground. For those of who think homosexuality is a sin and feel that gay people should not be allowed to marry, I disagree with you. However, if you support your beliefs with biblical text and / or you appear to be a remotely kind, loving human being who just feels differently than I do, I don't disrespect you. I am saddened by this mindset because I do believe it discriminates against men and women who live and work alongside us, but I do actually see your side. I just don't agree. It is pretty black and white.

There was another conservative Christian argument I heard the other day, however, that I do not respect. I am fired up. I am ready to voice my very frustrated and frankly bewildered response. I was experiencing the very rare opportunity of driving alone in my car -- no kids -- while doing errands. Flipping through the radio, I heard a pastor preaching, and for some reason, felt compelled to stop and listen. I actually do listen to conservative Christian radio on occasion, mostly to really try to hear the other side. I want to educate myself and feel strong in my convictions about what I believe and what philosophies I am passing on to my children. So sometimes I do stop and listen to pastors who, I know, are going to ruffle my feathers and make blanket statements about Christianity that I think are flat wrong. But it is good to listen anyway.

This well-known pastor was from California, and started with his "homosexuality is a sin and is going to cause the demise of the human race" speech, which really did not present any new thoughts or ideas I had not heard before. But it was his next sermon that floored me. He asserted that women, if truly Christian and following the teachings of the Bible, should marry, obey their husbands, and stay in the home tending to their children. That is all they should do. That is all they were meant to do.

Well, as a woman, and a Christian, a CHRISTIAN WOMAN, who IS married AND a stay-at-home mom by choice, I felt a long list of emotions hearing this. First, I was offended at the value he was placing on all women. Nothing gets my face redder than hearing that women should "obey" their husbands. My husband I have a mutual level of respect, admiration, tolerance, patience, and support for each other. I don't "obey" him anymore than he "obeys" me because, frankly, we are not children. Or puppies. Also, the idea that ALL women should serve in this role and only this role is not only oppressive, but it honestly does not make any sense. So, Pastor, I have some response questions for you.

In your ideal "biblical" world, where NO women work outside of the home, how does society function? I don't have to guess -- I am pretty confident that you believe there should be no female police officers, doctors, lawyers, construction workers, soldiers, etc., so I will skip that debate. But, in your utopia, are there only men ringing up our groceries? Are there only male nurses caring for our children? Or the mothers bearing the children? Are there only male teachers? Are there only men working in offices or banks, managing crucial paperwork and transactions? I am honestly baffled by this concept. How does your visionary society function? Everywhere I go, there are women. Important women. Working.

And then the momma bear -- mother of a daughter -- comes raging out. You are passionately telling girls that their ONLY option, if they are true to Christ, is to get married, have babies, and not work. That girl who wants to be a nurse and care for sick babies. That girl who wants to teach, to inspire, to reach out and save the child ready to give up on life by giving him a book, touching his shoulder, and telling him he is worth something. That girl who wants to start a non-profit organization that will bring clean water and medicine to families -- CHRISTIAN families around the world. No, you are saying to them. You aren't meant for that. Our world does not need women doing wasteful non-Christlike things like saving people, teaching people, helping people. Heavens, no. Jesus would NOT approve of that work.

I try to see your perspective. Has having my children brought me closer to God? Yes. It is a miracle. All three of them are miracles, gifts from God, for which I am grateful. And I am thankful that I was granted the choice of whether to work or stay home with them. And I believe I made the right choice for my family. But there are devout, good Christian mothers who work and there are abusive, cruel mothers who don't. I ask you to simply look around your world as you walk through each day and notice all of the women in every building you enter, on every street you pass by, in every facet of our society. Excuse the cliche, Pastor, but women -- mothers -- CHRISTIAN wives and mothers -- are making the world go round.

Being a stay at home mom does not define how "good" of a Christian a woman is. Just as being a Christian does not define how "good" of a mother a woman is. Honestly, Pastor, when I hear these impassioned sermons, I have a hard time with the fact that we claim to follow the same Jesus.

My God loves my daughter and he sent Jesus down her for her. And when she is grown, if she works as an attorney like her daddy, he will love her. But if she quits the workforce and stays home with her kids, he will love her. And no sermon of yours is going to take that choice away from her.

Which mom are you at drop-off?

Now that I am several years into being a "school mom," I have observed that there are several categories (and subcategories) of moms who drop their kids off at school.

Category 1: The Working Mom

I envy her but I don't envy her. I envy how put together she looks in her Ann Taylor clothes. I envy that her hair is actually blow-dried. I don't envy that I know she has been up since 4:30 am. And not like I have often been "up" since 4:30 am, with a screaming teething baby, half asleep in the rocking chair with baby snoozing on my chest, a small spittle of drool dripping down my chin. I mean that mom has been UP since 4:30. Running around, getting herself ready, her kids ready, hopefully not also her husband ready. But she looks amazing and I... do not.

Categories 2 and 3 require, in my opinion, subcategories.

Category 2(a): The Gym Mom

This mom clearly goes directly to the gym after drop-off. EVERY SINGLE DAY. How do I know this? Because she is dressed in $85 Lululemon pants and matching work-out tank (also made of some sort of fancy lycra... something). Also, she is in phenomenal shape. She rocks those Lululemons and with good reason.

Although I have often dropped my kids off in work-out attire, I am in no position to join category 2(a). Hence, the need for category 2(b).

Category 2(b): The Other "Gym" Mom

This mom is making an effort. She is wearing her work-out clothes because she knows that the chances are greater that she WILL actually work out today if she starts the day dressed for exercise. However, she wears cotton running shorts that she has had since college. She graduated 12 years ago. She also wears a cotton top of some sort. It may be an old tank top from Walmart. It is likely stained. It may be the t-shirt she received as an "award" for running that 5k... that time. She does not own anything with a Lululemon label, nor can she pronounce that word. Mostly this is because she cannot justify buying new gym clothes. Her half-assed work out attempts 1) have not earned her a spandex-conducive backside and 2) she would rather spend that money on a big steak and bottle of wine at a kid-free restaurant with her hubs or girlfriends. But, she knows the importance of exercise, wants to exercise, and often(ish) DOES exercise. So bleached cotton running shorts circa 1998 it is.

Category 3(a): The Stay-at-Home-Mom Who Truly Cares What She Looks Like. For Real.

This mom, like the working mom, does her hair in the morning and wears jewelry and pretty scarves. Her jeans do not have holes in the knees. She must be going somewhere amazing after drop-off. No way is she going back home to scrub toilets with Kelly and Michael on in the background. Also, she is carrying Starbucks. She had time (after getting herself ready) to get Starbucks on the way to school. On the off chance that she did not have time to get it, she is going there next and then will continue on to other very cool places. I am this mom on average 1-2 times per month. I do enjoy being this mom. My children look at me aghast at how put together I am. The other day (when I was this mom), I was putting mascara on. My children were terrified and worried that I was going to pull my eyelids off. This is the effect of having a mommy who does not wear makeup.

Category 3(b): The Stay-at-Home-Mom Who Cares What She Looks Like the Bare Minimum Amount

This mom's goal is to not embarrass her children at drop off. 50% of the time she is showered. 100% of the time her hair is in a ponytail. 0% of the time she is wearing makeup. 30% of the time she is wearing the exact same outfit as she did yesterday because it did not get that dirty, it fits, and it was draped over the side of the pack and play in her bedroom. I am this mom the other 29 days of the month.

Category 3(c). The Stay-at-Home-Mom who DOES NOT GIVE A SHIT. And Owns It.

I am partly sad for her, partly scared of her, and partly very envious of her. She probably IS going home to scrub toilets with Kelly and Michael and knows it.



Whatever mom you are, I hope you are comfortable in your skin. I cannot speak for all of the moms out there, but I can say that the moms I see at drop-off truly love their kids. All of them. And their kids get smooches (despite Mommy's coffee breath) and hugs and love their mommies right back. And that's a good thing.