At 38 weeks pregnant with my 3rd child (who will probably be over 9 lbs like his siblings and who recently dropped on top of my bladder and "pelvic region" with great gusto), I have redefined some Mommyhood terminology.
"The house is clean" = there is a clear and safe path for walking through rooms.
"Dinner is made" = there is PB&J and/or bread and cheese in the house.
"The kids are clean" = they sat in soapy water for 10 minutes and splashed all over the bathroom.
"The laundry is done" = we all have something to wear. For today.
"The kitchen is clean" = we all have a plate, cup, and fork to use. For today.
"The kids did something educational today" = they learned 3 new Spanish words from Dora the Explorer.
Wednesday, February 13, 2013
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
36-week "baby doctor" appointment... with kids
Most aspects of life are adventurous when you add a 2 and a 4-year old into the mix. Taking them to the OBGYN while pregnant, however, is extra special.
My kids are fascinated with the concept of me peeing in a cup. My 4-year old son had 400 questions. Why do they want my pee? What do they do with it? How do they test it? Why pee and not poop? My 2-year old daughter wants to do everything Mommy does, so of course she took a cup off of the shelf in the bathroom and wanted to pee in her own cup. She was very upset when I said no. There is also a black permanent marker in the bathroom with which Mommy needs to write her name on the cup. This, too, is amazing. Can I write MY name on a cup? Can I write your name for you? And finally, this experience is made most enjoyable by my son who is obsessed with reading everything to me that he sees anywhere in the world. So of course while I am peeing in a cup and trying to calmly explain to my irrational 2-year old why she cannot, he is reading the step-by-step instructions to me posted on the wall for "how to collect a clean urine sample."
And my first internal exam was next.
My kids are fascinated with the concept of me peeing in a cup. My 4-year old son had 400 questions. Why do they want my pee? What do they do with it? How do they test it? Why pee and not poop? My 2-year old daughter wants to do everything Mommy does, so of course she took a cup off of the shelf in the bathroom and wanted to pee in her own cup. She was very upset when I said no. There is also a black permanent marker in the bathroom with which Mommy needs to write her name on the cup. This, too, is amazing. Can I write MY name on a cup? Can I write your name for you? And finally, this experience is made most enjoyable by my son who is obsessed with reading everything to me that he sees anywhere in the world. So of course while I am peeing in a cup and trying to calmly explain to my irrational 2-year old why she cannot, he is reading the step-by-step instructions to me posted on the wall for "how to collect a clean urine sample."
And my first internal exam was next.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
Pregnancy... uncensored.
It is a miracle. It is a joyous experience. Birthing my 2 (soon to be 3) kids = my life's greatest achievements. However, there are many aspects to pregnancy and birth that no one talks about.
So I will.
1. Most of your maternity clothes will stop fitting comfortably around week 32. There are just no clothing manufacturers that can really figure out how to keep our pants up comfortably after this point.
2. You will stop looking at yourself in the mirror at around week 30. However, you will accidentally pass in front of a mirror at some point around week 32 and notice that your shirt does not cover your stomach. This will happen in a public bathroom. You will be away from home for the day and will not have another shirt with you.
3. No grown up in your life will have had the courage to tell you about #3 because they are all scared of you. Your kids would have told you if they had noticed.
4. Speaking of your other kids, they WILL tell you how it is. Your 4-year old will catch sight of your protruding stomach while you are getting dressed one day and say, "Whoa, Mom. Cover that up."
5. You will experience an exhaustion like never before, but somehow, you will have insomnia. You will lay awake at 2 a.m. having to pee (even though you will have peed twice in the last 20 minutes) wishing for sleep.
6. After 30 weeks, you will pee your pants a tiny bit if you sneeze.
7. You will get nosebleeds at unfortunate times -- like while you are getting your son ready for school. Therefore, you will drive him to school with tissues stuck up your nose. Your 2-year old will point at your face and say, "Boo-boos in Mama's nose?"
8. The bigger you get, the more people will tell you how "great" you look and how "small" you are. These people are lying because they are afraid of you.
9. You will hold on to your gym membership, despite the fact that you only walk at a 2.5 pace for 30 minutes on the treadmill, so you can have a place to put your kids. The gym employees clearly will not want you there anymore and will look at your stomach with horror when you walk in.
10. At some point in the last 6 weeks, you will abandon any and all attempts at normal "maintenance" like painting your toenails and shaving because these tasks are too painful and you cannot see what you are doing anymore. And really, what is the point?
11. You will feel an extreme loathing for your husband followed immediately by love and appreciation for him all within 90 seconds. He will start spending time in other rooms to protect himself from your wrath.
12. You will be pregnant for a really long time. 40 weeks is as close to an eternity as you can get, but it does end. Eventually.
Stay tuned for the 12 truths no one tells you about birth. Except me.
So I will.
1. Most of your maternity clothes will stop fitting comfortably around week 32. There are just no clothing manufacturers that can really figure out how to keep our pants up comfortably after this point.
2. You will stop looking at yourself in the mirror at around week 30. However, you will accidentally pass in front of a mirror at some point around week 32 and notice that your shirt does not cover your stomach. This will happen in a public bathroom. You will be away from home for the day and will not have another shirt with you.
3. No grown up in your life will have had the courage to tell you about #3 because they are all scared of you. Your kids would have told you if they had noticed.
4. Speaking of your other kids, they WILL tell you how it is. Your 4-year old will catch sight of your protruding stomach while you are getting dressed one day and say, "Whoa, Mom. Cover that up."
5. You will experience an exhaustion like never before, but somehow, you will have insomnia. You will lay awake at 2 a.m. having to pee (even though you will have peed twice in the last 20 minutes) wishing for sleep.
6. After 30 weeks, you will pee your pants a tiny bit if you sneeze.
7. You will get nosebleeds at unfortunate times -- like while you are getting your son ready for school. Therefore, you will drive him to school with tissues stuck up your nose. Your 2-year old will point at your face and say, "Boo-boos in Mama's nose?"
8. The bigger you get, the more people will tell you how "great" you look and how "small" you are. These people are lying because they are afraid of you.
9. You will hold on to your gym membership, despite the fact that you only walk at a 2.5 pace for 30 minutes on the treadmill, so you can have a place to put your kids. The gym employees clearly will not want you there anymore and will look at your stomach with horror when you walk in.
10. At some point in the last 6 weeks, you will abandon any and all attempts at normal "maintenance" like painting your toenails and shaving because these tasks are too painful and you cannot see what you are doing anymore. And really, what is the point?
11. You will feel an extreme loathing for your husband followed immediately by love and appreciation for him all within 90 seconds. He will start spending time in other rooms to protect himself from your wrath.
12. You will be pregnant for a really long time. 40 weeks is as close to an eternity as you can get, but it does end. Eventually.
Stay tuned for the 12 truths no one tells you about birth. Except me.
Saturday, December 8, 2012
Perils of having a young reader
Of course I LOVE that my kid was reading at 3 years old. But...
Having a child who reads at a very young age can lead to the following situations:
1. "Mommy, that sign said 'Speed Limit 35'. You are going too fast and the police are NOT going to be happy."
2. "Mommy, that sign said 'No Turn on Red' and you just turned when the light was red. The police are NOT going to be happy."
3. "Mommy, the sticker on the cart says 'Do Not Put Child in Basket of Cart' so that means I need to walk through the whole grocery store."
4. While with me in a public bathroom, "Mommy, why does that machine give out napkins in the bathroom, and what are tampons? Can we get some? They are only 25 cents."
5. "That sign says 'Adult Store. XXX. Next Exit.' What do they sell there? They must not have toys because kids are not allowed."
Having a child who reads at a very young age can lead to the following situations:
1. "Mommy, that sign said 'Speed Limit 35'. You are going too fast and the police are NOT going to be happy."
2. "Mommy, that sign said 'No Turn on Red' and you just turned when the light was red. The police are NOT going to be happy."
3. "Mommy, the sticker on the cart says 'Do Not Put Child in Basket of Cart' so that means I need to walk through the whole grocery store."
4. While with me in a public bathroom, "Mommy, why does that machine give out napkins in the bathroom, and what are tampons? Can we get some? They are only 25 cents."
5. "That sign says 'Adult Store. XXX. Next Exit.' What do they sell there? They must not have toys because kids are not allowed."
Thursday, November 8, 2012
The glory of motherhood
There is no training for motherhood. At no time previous to becoming a mother has any woman met with the daily, usually minute-by-minute demands that will fall upon her once she is holding that first baby in her arms. From the first minute of life, there are demands: milk, mostly, but the list grows as they get older and as the number of children in the house multiply.
Having a 3-year old and a 1-year old, the typical demands of Mommy these days are usually for snack, drink and butt-wiping. Also, Mommy must intervene to referee fights and regulate TV, computer, etc. Mommy must help one with a puzzle while coloring a picture with the other. She must dance to If You're Happy and You Know It while simultaneously giving kisses to 11 different stuffed animals. From the minute the first one wakes up (around 6 a.m.) to the last second before the second one falls asleep (around 8 p.m.), and all the middle of the night requests for Mommy as well, she is on call.
Pregnancy hormones (and the fact that this third one has also already started making demands from the womb -- more food, less food, a different food, and a pee break every 30 minutes) have caused me to be a bit more emotional and sensitive lately. I have been feeling something every (or most) mom feels at some point -- that nothing is ever good enough in this house. The house is never clean enough, the kids are not eating well enough, or are not doing enough educational activities throughout the day, and there is never the right food combination in this house to keep everyone happy.
Having a daddy trying to eat "paleo" as much as possible, a mommy craving carbs, cheese, and pasta (=NOT paleo), and a son with extreme food issues that cause at least 2 meals a day to be a knock-down drag-out battle, Mommy has been feeling a lot of "food demands" and often feels like she visits the grocery store nearly every day and cooks for hours and hours on a weekly basis. Yet, somehow, someone is always "out" of something or unhappy with the choices (myself included). I know, I know -- I should make one family meal and everyone has to eat it or deal with it -- but that really does not work in our house. We have tried it. It is actually worse on Mommy to fight the battles that ensue by going that route.
I am trying to find a happy medium between the strict "one family meal" policy and being a crazed exhausted lunatic trying to appease everyone's needs (or wants, I should say). Unfortunately for him, my husband got the brunt of this burden thrown his way this morning when he jokingly commented there was nothing for him to have for breakfast. My head spun around in exorcism-like fashion, my eyes bulged, and after spitting fire for his last 5 minutes at home before leaving for work, I broke down into tears.
Being the husband he is, he called a few minutes later to apologize (even though we both know much of this meltdown is hormone-pregnancy-sleep deprivation related) and spent several minutes on the phone with me trying his hardest to make me believe in what a wonderful mother and wife he thinks I am. It is not always easy to see it his way, but having him work so hard to make me see it certainly made a difference. We were able to have this crucial conversation (to saving my sanity for the day) before my 1-year old DEMANDED (once again, I use this word) to talk to Daddy, took the phone from me, and promptly hung up on him.
Sigh. Sigh of frustration, sigh of exhaustion, and sigh of relief and appreciation.
Having a 3-year old and a 1-year old, the typical demands of Mommy these days are usually for snack, drink and butt-wiping. Also, Mommy must intervene to referee fights and regulate TV, computer, etc. Mommy must help one with a puzzle while coloring a picture with the other. She must dance to If You're Happy and You Know It while simultaneously giving kisses to 11 different stuffed animals. From the minute the first one wakes up (around 6 a.m.) to the last second before the second one falls asleep (around 8 p.m.), and all the middle of the night requests for Mommy as well, she is on call.
Pregnancy hormones (and the fact that this third one has also already started making demands from the womb -- more food, less food, a different food, and a pee break every 30 minutes) have caused me to be a bit more emotional and sensitive lately. I have been feeling something every (or most) mom feels at some point -- that nothing is ever good enough in this house. The house is never clean enough, the kids are not eating well enough, or are not doing enough educational activities throughout the day, and there is never the right food combination in this house to keep everyone happy.
Having a daddy trying to eat "paleo" as much as possible, a mommy craving carbs, cheese, and pasta (=NOT paleo), and a son with extreme food issues that cause at least 2 meals a day to be a knock-down drag-out battle, Mommy has been feeling a lot of "food demands" and often feels like she visits the grocery store nearly every day and cooks for hours and hours on a weekly basis. Yet, somehow, someone is always "out" of something or unhappy with the choices (myself included). I know, I know -- I should make one family meal and everyone has to eat it or deal with it -- but that really does not work in our house. We have tried it. It is actually worse on Mommy to fight the battles that ensue by going that route.
I am trying to find a happy medium between the strict "one family meal" policy and being a crazed exhausted lunatic trying to appease everyone's needs (or wants, I should say). Unfortunately for him, my husband got the brunt of this burden thrown his way this morning when he jokingly commented there was nothing for him to have for breakfast. My head spun around in exorcism-like fashion, my eyes bulged, and after spitting fire for his last 5 minutes at home before leaving for work, I broke down into tears.
Being the husband he is, he called a few minutes later to apologize (even though we both know much of this meltdown is hormone-pregnancy-sleep deprivation related) and spent several minutes on the phone with me trying his hardest to make me believe in what a wonderful mother and wife he thinks I am. It is not always easy to see it his way, but having him work so hard to make me see it certainly made a difference. We were able to have this crucial conversation (to saving my sanity for the day) before my 1-year old DEMANDED (once again, I use this word) to talk to Daddy, took the phone from me, and promptly hung up on him.
Sigh. Sigh of frustration, sigh of exhaustion, and sigh of relief and appreciation.
Monday, November 5, 2012
Grocery store adventures
I premiered this blog about a year and a half ago with a grocery store tale. At the time I had a newborn in the midst of the poop-through-the-clothes stage and a very jealous and often uncooperative 2-year old. Now that 2-year old is almost 4, and that newborn is almost 2. The grocery store woes may have changed in nature, but many trips to my second home are still blog-worthy.
After a long week of several Halloween celebrations, a bit too much candy, and a trip to the ER to have a head wound stapled, my little guy still seems to be recovering and he reached his breaking point in the ice cream aisle today. He and his sister have just started sitting next to each other in the cart (a gamble that lately has faired well for Mommy) but today, they would not stop fighting, pushing, and yelling, so one of them had to be removed from the cart. Obviously with an almost 4 year-old and a 22-month old, the older one gets to walk and the younger one stays strapped in and contained. Well, my older-should-be-more-mature child was not supportive of this rationale and let me know it.
I was dumbfounded. I cannot recall the last time he behaved this way in public. There was some foot stomping, mind-splitting screaming at Mommy, and huge crocodile tears. All because she got to stay in the fun shopping cart with 2 steering wheels.
After a few minutes of "are you kidding me with this?" death stares from Mommy, and "no computer" threats, he regained control of himself and we began to proceed. However, almost immediately his sister realized that she no longer had the ability to irritate him, so she leaned over to get his attention, smacking her face on the cart and giving herself a fat lip. More crying, more tears.
And the ice cream kept melting.
After a long week of several Halloween celebrations, a bit too much candy, and a trip to the ER to have a head wound stapled, my little guy still seems to be recovering and he reached his breaking point in the ice cream aisle today. He and his sister have just started sitting next to each other in the cart (a gamble that lately has faired well for Mommy) but today, they would not stop fighting, pushing, and yelling, so one of them had to be removed from the cart. Obviously with an almost 4 year-old and a 22-month old, the older one gets to walk and the younger one stays strapped in and contained. Well, my older-should-be-more-mature child was not supportive of this rationale and let me know it.
I was dumbfounded. I cannot recall the last time he behaved this way in public. There was some foot stomping, mind-splitting screaming at Mommy, and huge crocodile tears. All because she got to stay in the fun shopping cart with 2 steering wheels.
After a few minutes of "are you kidding me with this?" death stares from Mommy, and "no computer" threats, he regained control of himself and we began to proceed. However, almost immediately his sister realized that she no longer had the ability to irritate him, so she leaned over to get his attention, smacking her face on the cart and giving herself a fat lip. More crying, more tears.
And the ice cream kept melting.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Working mommies, I salute you.
Who has it harder -- working moms or stay at home moms? I have a sister and many friends who work, and on many occasions, I am thankful that I don't live their lives. On other occasions, I am envious of their lives. Today was one day I salute working mommies.
My daughter has been fighting a cold for a week and today she seemed to take a turn for the worst. I called the pediatrician at around 1:00 to get an appointment for the afternoon. The only time the doctor could fit me in was 4:30.
Also, a few essential ingredients for tonight's dinner had not yet been purchased and she was already asleep for nap, which left my only window for hitting the grocery store to be after her appointment.
Early rush hour combined with the incessant amount of construction throughout my county caused traffic to already be heavy on our way to the doctor, but we still managed to arrive to our appointment on time. However, the nurse took us back late because the office had become backed up throughout the day, causing us to not even get to the grocery store until 5:15. It was packed with people just getting out of work (I noticed the moms' attire was quite different -- most were professionally dressed unlike my typical 8 a.m. grocery run uniform of comfy pants and a sweatshirt).
The ride home from the grocery store was longer than usual due to traffic, and I did not walk in the door until 6:15 with both kids screaming for dinner. The dinner I had started in the crock pot earlier was already half-cooked without the ingredients I bought at the store, so I frantically chopped everything else up to throw it in there while tossing a yogurt and banana at my kids for dinner.
It was mayhem. I realized today how spoiled I am in several ways. I usually get in to the doctor in the morning, when appointments are still relatively on time and the doctors and nurses are fresh, perky, and not watching the clock to go home from their long day of crying boogery kids. I usually hit the grocery store between 8 and 9 a.m. when it is nearly empty. I never wait for a cashier -- in fact, they are usually standing around bored waiting desperately for a customer to come fill the next 8 minutes of their shift. My kids are used to having dinner at 5 or 5:30, which occurs at their leisurely pace, and a fun bath followed by play time, story time, and bed time at 7:30. And I almost NEVER deal with rush hour traffic.
I thought about my life vs. that of the working mom's today and saw two drastically different pictures. I thought of moms who always take their kids in to the doctor late in the day because they had to organize the appointment around work. And these same moms probably never saw the same grocery store I did -- the neat, organized store with nearly empty aisles and bright-eyed employees who have just punched in and are standing around desperate to help me find something. They see the crazed post-work day grocery store with jam-packed aisles, carts full of cranky kids hungry for dinner, and check-out lines 5 people deep. Then they rush home watching the clock tick away at the time they have left to feed their kids, bathe their kids, play with their kids and get them to bed.
This mad rush is the daily life of many working moms. I covet their fancy work clothes and fancy work lunches, I envy their adult conversations all day and their financial contributions to the household, and frankly, I am flat jealous of the break they have from their kids. But today, I thought about what I do have, especially when having a sick kid. And today, working moms, I salute you. I dream of breaks from my kids because I have SO MUCH time with my kids, and days like today make me realize how lucky I am.
My daughter has been fighting a cold for a week and today she seemed to take a turn for the worst. I called the pediatrician at around 1:00 to get an appointment for the afternoon. The only time the doctor could fit me in was 4:30.
Also, a few essential ingredients for tonight's dinner had not yet been purchased and she was already asleep for nap, which left my only window for hitting the grocery store to be after her appointment.
Early rush hour combined with the incessant amount of construction throughout my county caused traffic to already be heavy on our way to the doctor, but we still managed to arrive to our appointment on time. However, the nurse took us back late because the office had become backed up throughout the day, causing us to not even get to the grocery store until 5:15. It was packed with people just getting out of work (I noticed the moms' attire was quite different -- most were professionally dressed unlike my typical 8 a.m. grocery run uniform of comfy pants and a sweatshirt).
The ride home from the grocery store was longer than usual due to traffic, and I did not walk in the door until 6:15 with both kids screaming for dinner. The dinner I had started in the crock pot earlier was already half-cooked without the ingredients I bought at the store, so I frantically chopped everything else up to throw it in there while tossing a yogurt and banana at my kids for dinner.
It was mayhem. I realized today how spoiled I am in several ways. I usually get in to the doctor in the morning, when appointments are still relatively on time and the doctors and nurses are fresh, perky, and not watching the clock to go home from their long day of crying boogery kids. I usually hit the grocery store between 8 and 9 a.m. when it is nearly empty. I never wait for a cashier -- in fact, they are usually standing around bored waiting desperately for a customer to come fill the next 8 minutes of their shift. My kids are used to having dinner at 5 or 5:30, which occurs at their leisurely pace, and a fun bath followed by play time, story time, and bed time at 7:30. And I almost NEVER deal with rush hour traffic.
I thought about my life vs. that of the working mom's today and saw two drastically different pictures. I thought of moms who always take their kids in to the doctor late in the day because they had to organize the appointment around work. And these same moms probably never saw the same grocery store I did -- the neat, organized store with nearly empty aisles and bright-eyed employees who have just punched in and are standing around desperate to help me find something. They see the crazed post-work day grocery store with jam-packed aisles, carts full of cranky kids hungry for dinner, and check-out lines 5 people deep. Then they rush home watching the clock tick away at the time they have left to feed their kids, bathe their kids, play with their kids and get them to bed.
This mad rush is the daily life of many working moms. I covet their fancy work clothes and fancy work lunches, I envy their adult conversations all day and their financial contributions to the household, and frankly, I am flat jealous of the break they have from their kids. But today, I thought about what I do have, especially when having a sick kid. And today, working moms, I salute you. I dream of breaks from my kids because I have SO MUCH time with my kids, and days like today make me realize how lucky I am.
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