Broke Back Mommy

I’m fried. Completely and utterly fried. After two weeks of below par sleep, moving house, packing and unpacking, cleaning like a fiend, commuting back and forth from the new house to my mother in law’s, where we are staying while the place gets painted and re carpeted (have I mentioned she is a saint?), not to mention hauling boxes and moving furniture….this chick is done. I am officially toast. I should do a commercial for Aleve. I’ve taken enough. Please don’t mistake what I say for actually being all moved in. Far far from it. I mean I am POOPED! My brain, my body….my BACK….toast. I know you should never say never…but I NEVER want to move again. Three times in a year…I don’t recommend it. Not to mention moving into a house that needs a LOT of tender love and care.

I say all of this not just to rant and complain. Although it feels good. I am letting you in on this morsel of physical pain I am experiencing so you might understand why I have nothing of any worth to say this week. Nothing. Forming a coherent sentence is a challenge. I can’t even see straight these days. I’ve been wearing my glasses, as I truly think my eyesight has deteriorated in just a matter of days from exhaustion. Can eyeballs hurt?

When I mentioned to my husband that it was Thursday and I didn’t have a post…..he said, “Well, you better get crackin.” I have many responses to that. A saccharin “Yes, Dear” was not one of them. But i knew he was right, damn it…..so I sat down and wrote this letter to you. If you are a faithful reader, I apologize. If you are new to my tales, insights and observations, I’ll say, “Tune in next week.” This Mommy needs a heating pad, 4 Aleve, and a Cabernet chaser. Every Mom needs a break every once in a while….if not more. My Mother in Law says, “This Too Shall Pass.” I am sure it will….. As does all pain. Oh poor me. We all should have such problems. Trust me, the pity party will be over next week. And that’s it. That’s all I’ve got. When you’ve exhausted yourself, take a break. Words to live by.

Until then, keep fighting the good fight and remember, behind every great kid is a Mom who is sure she is messing it up!

Rainbows And Reality

I did not set out to write a controversial blog. In fact, if more people thought like me, it wouldn’t be. 🙂 I am still trying to figure out why everyone doesn’t share all my thoughts and opinions. Lol. But, seriously, folks…..this week marked a historical time in our country’s evolution. Marriage equality for everyone! The straights, the gays, the others…everyone, free to marry their one true love. Pretty awesome, I think. Most of my circle of friends are progressive people. Lots of artists, educators and all around wonderful people. A majority of my friends are gay. Some of my nearest and dearest. For the most part, the internet was a rainbow of colors celebrating this step forward for equality. Because my circle of friends are mostly like thinkers, my Facebook feed was pretty positive stuff. On the other hand, the thing about social media is that you don’t just get the stuff you want to see…you get a lot of the stuff you wished you hadn’t. That is what happened this week.

A friend of mine, who I knew was a church going gal, posted some pretty negative stuff regarding same sex marriage. I’m saddened by this, because I don’t know that I can be friends with her after reading her opinions. Before social media let you post your opinions for the world to see, I didn’t know she had such disdainful feelings towards some of my dearest friends, dare I say family. How can I remain friends with her when I know now how she feels about the people that I love?

She went as far as to say that God “detests” homosexuality. Hmm. That’s pretty strong. Firstly, how does she know? I mean a vast majority of us speak to God…but has he ever actually spoken to her saying,” I detest the Gays!” I’m confused by this righteousness coming from a twice married woman. For the life of me, I just don’t see why anyone wants to deny another person equality? It seems so un-Christian. It’s like being on a diet and being outraged that the person next to you is eating a hamburger. It’s irrational. At least in my opinion.

What I know for sure is that I want my child to grow up in a world where no matter what his sexual orientation is, he will be treated fairly. No matter what the color of his skin is, he will be treated without prejudice. If he decides he feels more comfortable in women’s clothes or he wants to be called Olivia, I want society to treat him with dignity and respect. I know, I know….life isn’t fair. But the laws that govern our land should be. At the very least.

I keep discovering things about myself as I continue on this journey of being a mother, especially at my advanced maternal age. One, is that I am stronger than I ever knew I was. Another is, I have no tolerance for people’s ridiculous hate. Life is just too too short. And I don’t have time to have my nose in anyone else’s garden if I want to tend to my own precious one. Most importantly, my priority is my beautiful family. If anyone threatened my son’s right to equality, I would no doubt get all Mama Bear on them. It is with that same ferocity I feel I must sever this friendship. I don’t say this lightly. I mean her no malice and I wish her well in all that is to come for her and her family. Yes, everyone is entitled to their opinion. But you don’t get to be my friend when your moral compass is so drastically opposing to what I believe in my heart to be right. Perhaps it is a failing in my character that I can’t overlook such things. I don’t know. What is clear to me is that when there is intolerance and hate, everyone loses.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight! And remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is sure she is messing it up. 🙂

Raising a Good Kind Decent Person

I am sitting for a moment. Resting. Catching my breath. I’ve been working all morning, packing, sorting, labeling boxes….all while trying to keep O’s routine afloat. At least let me feed him on time. And get him down for a nap…Yes! A nap! There is a sea of boxes in my kitchen. Some packed and some waiting to be filled. There are towers of suitcases in my living room. Multiple rolls of tape and bubble wrap….somewhere. We move in two days, but I just have to rest for a second. Catch my breath and write a little because there has been something gnawing at me. Through all the happy disarray that is our life right now, there is an underlying sadness sitting on my heart. I’m sure you have heard about it. I’m talking about the terrorist attack on a church and it’s members in South Carolina. I can’t shake it. I can’t just gloss over it and move on. I believe there are so many of us who are feeling this way. I’m not confused or baffled. I can’t say, “How could this happen?” I know exactly how it happened.

I’m upset and I’m mad. I am ashamed of our laws. I am ashamed of the racism that runs through our country’s veins, infecting generation after generation. I’m ashamed that our biggest priority, as a country, has been to defend ourselves from terrorism, but just the foreign kind. I’m mad at our elected officials who want to pretend this wasn’t an act of terrorism. I’m ashamed of “Merica.” I feel small and insignificant. I feel, as I imagine so many of us do, helpless.

I then look over at my son and see a lifetime of possibilities. I know that my husband and I have an important job to do. We have to raise this child to become a good, kind and decent person. In light of this crazy world we live in, it is clear to me, this is no easy task. I can’t imagine anyone having the intention to raise their child to be a monster. Of course not. But what about the idea of parenting with intention? Children don’t just raise themselves…..or is that is what’s happening? This world is filled with violence, hate, rage and unspeakable demons. My child will be bombarded with these things time and time again as he grows. It is our job to explain. To teach. To filter and interpret until he is old enough to do so himself. If we neglect to guide him, then we will have failed him. It is our intention to raise a good, kind and decent person. We can never lose sight of that result. It is the least we can do for him. He has given our life profound unexpected meaning. He has given us a love we didn’t really know existed until we were filled with it. We owe him everything.

I don’t want to throw stones at any parent. I don’t want to pass judgment, though it’s a tough one. The pain the shooter’s parents must feel is unimaginable to me. Frankly, it scares me to death. I wouldn’t want to be in those shoes, God Forbid. I always say, “never say never.” So I won’t say, “that would never be me!” I will just pray extra hard that it won’t be. I will try extra hard to have it not be. And I’ll keep both my eyes on the boy I am raising to be that good, kind and decent person.

There is so much more I want to say. So many thoughts swirling around my head regarding this quandary our country is in. I am struggling. I honestly can’t find the words. At least the right words. But one thing I know for sure is that we need to talk about this. We need to figure this out. And it isn’t going to happen if we try to forget about it or pretend it didn’t happen. I certainly don’t have the answers for everyone. I can only do my little part (which is pretty big). I need to love and raise our son. I need to actively participate in his upbringing. It will be the most important thing I can do to end this craziness that has become the norm.

To Kiss Or Not To Kiss

This week I was floating around the Facebook Mommy groups I belong to looking for topics Moms are sharing and talking about. There was a share of a June 9, 2015 article from everydayfamily.com. It was entitled, At What Age Should You Stop Kissing Your Kids On The Lips? Before I read it, I thought to myself, this is going to be one of those articles that grabs your attention by the ridiculous question title and then goes on to dispel the whole issue. Boy, was I wrong.

This “article” cites two “experts.” The associate clinical professor of psychology from UCLA says the time to stop is NOW, as a kiss on the lips could be confusing to a child. At the very most, stop at age 5! What? And the other, a Proactive Parenting Coach, says the time to stop kissing on the lips is when either party feels uncomfortable. Again….huh? I’m so disturbed by this parenting advice. What the hell is wrong with people. Talk about psychology messing people up! Not to mention, how do people get published writing this kind of ridiculous stuff? How can someone take a pure form of affection between a parent and child and make it into something dirty? I just don’t get it.

Now to be fair, the article on everydayfamily.com was more of a regurgitation of quotes from the “experts,” with a pinch of the writers own vague opinion, which seemed to be either here nor there. It concluded with a “What do you think?” ending. So I looked into the online bio of the writer, a Mr. Jace Whatcott. The bio didn’t say whether Mr. Whatcott had children himself, although there was a photo of (I am assuming) him holding a child. But, I am inclined to think he actually may not have a child himself, as his writing didn’t have a parental tone. And his list of hobbies (crossword puzzles, reading, and naps!) made me think he has WAY to much time on his hands to be a parent. At least, a parent who parents. BAM! Yeah, I know, harsh.

Because I live under a very large Mommy rock, I didn’t know there was a huge to-do this past winter about the New England Patriots Coach, Bill Belichick, giving his 30 year old daughter a congratulatory kiss on the lips at the Super Bowl. Why would anyone feel that was inappropriate? Now, if there was tongue involved, I could see someone having issue. But a closed mouth kiss on the lips? I truly believe it says more about the critic than the kiss. Is there such a heightened eye on sexual abuse that we can’t discern between a non sexual intuitive act of affection and abuse?

I believe affection is oh so important to the development of a child into a healthy adult. And, of course, there is data to support that theory. Research published in the Journal of Epidemiology and Community Health found that babies with very affectionate moms grew up to be “more resilient, less anxious adults.” At about the age of 34, the same individuals showered with love and kisses as babies in the study showed the lowest levels of distress as adults.

But beyond all the data you can find to support either school of thought, what about common sense? What about healthy instinctual affection between a parent and child, at any age? If I see a grown man or woman kissing either their father or mother on the lips or cheek or forehead or hand….I think it shows a healthy relationship with intimacy and affection. Kudos to the parent who taught their child to not be afraid of affection.

We are such an all or nothing society. Instead of teaching a child the shades and nuances of affection and the meanings of affection in different relationships, we would rather avoid the conversation all together and just say NO KISSING ON THE LIPS AFTER 5 YEARS OLD. Well, not this Mommy. Or Daddy, for that matter. My husband seems to have no problem showering our little O with kisses and hugs. I can’t imagine him having a problem with it even when O gets older. I see him kiss his mother on the lips and I think it’s lovely. To think anything weird about it would be…well, weird. I’m not worried about O being confused by our affection towards him. What any child might find confusing is the inappropriate subtext people attach to such an instinctual natural act. Children pick up on everything. Even our latent fears.

The Best Part of My Day

As a full time Stay At Home Mom, my days are on a crazy schedule. Add to it the fact that we are moving house, and it is truly chaotic. I have all I can do to stay up till 9pm these days. O goes down at 8pm and, I swear, the bed starts calling my name….”Mary…..Sleeeeep…Sleeeep!” If I decide to live on the edge and stay up till 9:30 or (Oh My God! ) 10 o’clock, I pay for it dearly with a tired crabby attitude the next day. You would think that the best part of my day would be hitting the pillow. But I have to tell you, although it is always welcome, it is not the BEST part of my day.

The BEST part of my day is when I give O his bottle. My husband has dibs on the bedtime feeding for now, so I do either crazy early in the morning when I wake out of my coveted slumber….or before his nap time. I sit in the rocker in his room and he lays across my lap. I stroke his hair. Sometimes his little hand holds my finger. We look deep into each other’s eyes. He lets me know he loves me. And I let him know his love is safe with me and whole heartedly requited. It is fifteen minutes that feel as if time stands still. Where my little baby boy communes with me. Where we connect on a level so instinctual, yet so profound, it knocks my socks off. I don’t care if I get woken up out of a sound sleep. I don’t care if I have a “to do” list that is fifty feet long. I have never known such pure uncomplicated love. And it’s in those 15 minutes (or so) that I savor every part of this incredible gift.

The great thing about this time for me, is that I can’t do anything else while I’m feeding him. Well, I guess I could. I could check my email. I could text on my phone. I could surf Pinterest. I could watch TV. But WHY would I ever do that and MISS this amazing time??? I’d have to be coo coo for cocoa puffs to gip myself out of this slice of heaven. I suppose I CHOOSE to do nothing else whist feeding him. I just can’t imagine any other way. How would I sing him his favorite songs? How would I catch the look in his eyes that lets me know I’m his world (right now)? Nope, I’m gonna take in all this bliss before it’s gone. And let me tell you, it will be gone and before I know it. He is already getting less bottles, which means less sweet time for him and I. I can already see my husband and I duking it out over who gets to give O his bedtime bottle, when that is the last bottle feeding remaining. I’m not sure how that’s gonna go. We will have some major negotiations for sure!

Its funny, I worried so much about not being able to breastfeed my little O. I beat myself up over it and obsessed that I wasn’t going to bond the same way because we wouldn’t have that special closeness. Well, one year into this motherhood thing and I’m a lot wiser for wear. I can tell you with all certainty, my little O couldn’t be any more attached to me. Our bond is true and unbreakable. The time and attention I have given him and the love he has come to know and rely on, is the basis for that bond. I don’t believe it has anything to do with a nipple. Oh, I’m sure there are thousands of women who would disagree. Trust me, if I had been able to breastfeed successfully, I’d still be doing it. Nutrition wise, I believe it to be the best thing for a baby. But I don’t believe my not being able to nurse my son hindered our bond in any way. I wish I would have known that last year. I would have been a lot easier on myself.

These moments…..these “best parts of the day” are the joys we find in the mundane. They are the example of power in simplicity. They are proof that something so small, and so routine can bring such profound happiness. What’s the best part of your day? I would wager to say it’s something simple. Something simply wonderful.

Feeding Time Confessions of an Overwrought SAHM

I really do love lists. To do lists. Grocery lists. You name it LISTS! It’s a type A person’s daydream. Oddly, I have never written a list as a post for my blog. But the other evening I was finishing up feeding little O in his high chair and I found myself picking up the dropped macaroni from his seat and putting them in my mouth. I was eating the discarded droppings from my sons tray. Was this a new low? How had I come to this? Rather than go four feet to the trash bin, I used my mouth as a human garbage can to avoid getting up and throwing it away. I was beyond tired. I was overwrought. It was then I knew I had a list I had to share. The following admissions are not for the squeamish or easily grossed out. You have been warned. Sometimes motherhood is just a dirty job.

10 Feeding Time Confessions Of An Overwrought Stay At Home Mom:

1. I eat the puffs that fall on the floor from O’s highchair. Yup. I do. P.S. Puffs taste like nothing, but they seem like crack to Little O.

2. If I’m not hungry, I sometimes pick up a puff from the floor and put it right back on O’s tray for his consumption. Is that the five second rule? Or is it three seconds? Whatever it is, he doesn’t seem to mind.

3. I eat the food that falls out of O’s mouth. Yes, I use a wet wipe, but occasionally, I use my finger to get that glob of mashed up sweet potatoes and carrot purée off of his face. It occasionally goes in my mouth. Delicioso!

4. I often (more often than not) accompany O’s dinner feeding with a glass of wine for myself. I prefer a nice Cabernet with most puréed delicacies.

5. I have ever worn the shirt I wore to bed the whole next day. If my sleeves have baby food on them, I just roll them up. Classy.

6. If we have potato chips in the house, I will eat them in a mindless trance if O cries because he was just put down for a nap. Its an SCM (snacking coping mechanism.). I try NOT to keep such trigger snacks in the house.

7. I feel guilty between 10-20 times a day for feeling like I’m not doing enough for my LO.

8. I often have pee on my clothes and spit up in my hair. Yes indeedy! I have a friend who says, “you are always so put together!” It’s all smoke and mirrors, folks.

9. I sometimes cry because I am so tired.

10. I often cry because I am so happy.

A Little Help From My Friends

There are hundreds of topics to be written about. Endless opportunities for conversations about the journey of motherhood. Yet my mind doesn’t want to let go of a comment that came after last weeks blog. It was basically tips on how to keep my sanity/self whilst being home raising my child. I believe it was posted with the best of intentions. It was not mean or malicious. It was a comment filled with concern. Dare I say, worry. It was another mother being blatantly honest. But it left me wanting to defend my writing, my actions, my choices. And then I took a breath.

After my initial reaction of wanting to announce to the world that A, “I’m not drinking alcohol during the day with my 11 month old!!!” And B, “Sometimes I add dark humor to my writing to make it more entertaining because I think it’s funny!!” I sat back and realized this woman was not only compassionate, but she was right. A woman I don’t know, who reads my blog, was sending me a huge hug over the internet. She was sending me support. It was everything I say is missing in our modern day Motherhood Madness. And my initial reaction was defense. Silly me.

Now I stand by the notion that every one of our journeys is, indeed, our own. That all our circumstances are individual. That every child is unique and brings different circumstances and challenges to the table. But we must remember, there is a big difference between bashing and constructive criticism. What is the idea? It takes a village? Well, when did that just become a catch phrase and not an actual thing we engage in?

I remember growing up in the 70’s and 80’s. Neighborhood parents would actually parent. And ones who didn’t or who weren’t right there, had no issues with other parents jumping in. It was more of a collective effort. In today’s world if you correct another person’s child, or admonish them for bad behavior, you likely have a disgruntled parent telling you to mind your own business. Yet, a common theme among Moms is the feeling of isolation. But when someone offers help, we get defensive. As if someone thinks we aren’t capable. That we aren’t doing enough. But the truth of the matter is, in many cases, it is our own self criticism that makes us defensive. I know in my case it was.

Shouldn’t we be grateful someone else is watching out for our children? Watching out for our well being, as a mother? It’s complete b.s. when people say “I don’t want to get involved.” Or “It’s not my business.” We are a culture of peeping toms watching everyone’s business on Facebook, YouTube, and every other form of social media. But we do it in the privacy of our home, or on our cel phones. It lets us peer in, and often judge from a distance. But let’s own the fact that we are interested, even (oh my gosh!) involved. How often do you read a post or share a story on Facebook that touches you for real? That makes you feel something? For real? That’s involvement. Scary that today’s “involvement” can be so removed.

Anyway, I just wanted to thank this Mom. For actually caring. For trying to share some tools to help me succeed. After all, I did ask for help! Why was I so surprised someone would actually offer it? I will keep her advice. And be grateful. It was not only helpful to me, but a ray of light in these dark times of the Mommy Wars. There is hope that this era of judgement may someday become a thing of the past. There is hope that the “village” will actually lend you a hand on this journey, and not just Tweet about you from afar.

Until next time, I’m gonna keep on keepin on…and lighten up on myself a bit. Cause I have to be there for O…happy, fit, and rested. A friend gave me that piece of advice. 🙂

Crash Test Mommy

I don’t know how it happens. It’s like I go from 0 to 60 in a matter of moments. Everything is going fine, I’m handling the day with O. I should say, enjoying the day with O. Ok, I didn’t sleep great the past couple of nights, but I’m tough. Then I navigate family stuff i.e. dysfunction, over the phone while I’m trying to get some exercise by taking a walk. Then, I make baby food while I figure out what we will have for dinner. Then I field emails and calls to make our crazy (at the moment) life actually function. Add laundry, keeping our house show ready for prospective buyers, throw in a trip to the post office, a stop at the grocery store and a diaper run for fun. Then O decides not to take a nap, but rather stand in his crib crying until Mommy comes in to save him. And every whine and whimper sends my head spinning further and further into a place I don’t know how to return from sometimes.

By the time my husband gets home, I’m feeding the overtired wonder boy in his high chair, while he wears some of his meal, as he has now taken to swatting the spoon away and then crying because there is no food in his mouth. Of course, I have a large glass of wine beside me. I swear, O will be a toddler able to open a bottle of wine like a professional sommelier and make a killer dirty martini to rival Dean Martin. He’s seen it done enough. I look like I’ve been through a prison camp. A camp where they dress you in yoga pants and make you wear your hair in a ponytail everyday. My husband asks me if I’m ok? He is truly concerned. He takes over feeding our child. And all I feel is guilt. Like I have somehow lost the battle of the day.

I then don’t know how to come back? Has that ever happened to any of you? It’s like I don’t know how to wipe the day away and start over. The guilt of getting frustrated or of wasting the gift of the day stays with me. I can’t imagine how my husband could love me. I’m so so far away from what he signed up for. And it seems I can’t handle even the simplest task. I can’t even keep it together as I write this. Thankfully, I know this too shall pass and I will recover and become “me” again. But in the midst of the whirlwind I seem unrecognizable, even to myself.

When I was dealing with postpartum baby blues, I’d often have the “drive away” fantasy. I didn’t know how many women had this fantasy until I started reading other women’s blogs. I’d see myself getting into my Kia and just driving away. To nowhere. Just to breathe. Just to feel the wind on my face. I didn’t know how far I’d go… I always planned on coming back, but in my mind it was the perfect escape. Now my escape fantasy involves a bath and a nice hotel room. I fantasize about sleep like it is some elusive unattainable thing. When I start fantasizing more frequently, I know I am approaching my breaking point. I am getting close to crashing into the wall.

I am not a super woman. I am just a woman. I’m trying. Everyday I try. That counts, right? My number one concern is that I do right by O. That I give him everything I can, everyday. That I teach him what I know and more, to make him a decent kind loving person. But inevitably, there are days when you are at the end of your rope, and you wind up teaching him something negative. A curse word you said out of frustration (it only has to happen once) …or how to make a killer dirty martini. How can you be the perfect mom at every moment?? If you have the answer, let me know. Until then, I’ll be putting one foot in front of the other. Occasionally, I’ll take a step backwards…because I’m only human.

Moving Mommy

I am officially certifiable. My husband and I are moving house, again. Good Lord, give me strength. It’s bad enough that we moved from Florida to New England when O was only 3 months old. I truly don’t know how we did it. I think I must have been on auto pilot. Like some sort of new mommy zombie. It’s the only way I could have gotten through it. We kept our Florida house furnished, so we didn’t pack up every last morsel. It was tough enough packing up all our personal things with a newborn infant. But this move will require us to move EVERYTHING…all with a 12 month old, who is crawling and cruising like a demon and getting into anything and everything that isn’t safety sealed shut. Like I said, Good Lord, give me strength!

Of course, it will most likely NOT be an easy, care free transition. You see, we haven’t found the house we want to move into yet. (Nervous smile). So we could very well be packing this home up into a storage facility until the right house comes along. Eek. Live out of a suitcase much? Good thing I have lots of experience with that from touring. My biggest concern, however, is not how I will handle it, but how O will adapt. When he was 3 months old he was completely adaptable. I knew he would have no recollection of it. The several transitions he made were easy peesey. But will it be that way this time? I mean, he won’t remember it, but will it affect him adversely?

If things don’t go swimmingly, as they most never do with real estate…then we may be moving in with my Mother-in-law until we secure and close on a new residence. Thank goodness I adore her! I can only hope she will still love me after this possible cohabitation. To say we are grateful for her is a great understatement. A huge positive will be O getting to spend more time with her. You know how I feel about grandparents! I’m a big advocate for Grammy time. See, I’m trying to focus on the positive side if things.

I’m certainly not dreading any part of this journey. I guess it’s just that I just want to be settled. Once and for all. I went from leaving my “in and out of town” career to be settled for what turned out to be a hot second…to move up to New England to stay with my MIL until our house was available, to be in our house for another hot second, to now be packing it up for some unknown abode. I feel like I’ve been on the move since forever. It’s just time to slow down and get settled. Time to nest. My soul feels it. Hell, my bones feel it. I not only want to plant roots in the home that O will grow up in…I want to plant a garden and be around to watch it grow. I want to plant perennials and see them pop up next spring and the next 10 springs to come. It’s something THAT simple. I’m ready for simple.

It’s not like this move is news to me. It’s all part of our plan. We actually want to move. But the reality of it is just starting to set in for this Mommy, and it’s a tad daunting. So if any of you Moms have any advice to make the whole undertaking easier…fire away! I am in need of some serious input. I figure I’ll need a secure place for O to play. So far, O doesn’t seem to mind being in his pack and play. He actually seems to like it. If I put a few toys/activities in there, he is usually quite content to amuse himself while I get dinner ready or go to use the bathroom. But packing up a house? Eek! That’s a little more time consuming. And a pack and play isn’t a very big space for him to move around in. I guess I will rely on his nap times? And after his bedtime? Woof! This is gonna be one crabby tired Mama. I guess it will all just happen, as everything does. One day at a time. One box at a time. One foot in front of the other….all while keeping a routine that O can count on. Did I say “Give me strength?” Oh, that was the third time? Well, third time’s a charm. Wish me luck, Ladies.

Until next time, keep on keepin on. And remember, behind every great kid, is a mom who is sure she is messing it up! 🙂 Like me! Like 20-30 times a day! 🙂

Car Seat Cry Baby

I feel ridiculous. It’s silly to even write about. But it’s been the big change that’s been haunting me all week. O has graduated from his infant car seat to his big boy car seat. The car seat that will stay with him until he doesn’t need one anymore. (Boy, THAT day isn’t gonna be pretty for this Mama.) I feel idiotic for telling you, but I cried the day we switched his car seat. I literally shed tears. What the Hell?

Why can’t I be like the Moms who celebrate these milestones with a saucy “thank God!” and move on. It just seems like it’s all going by in a flash. Like he is growing with reckless abandon. And there is nothing I can do to stop it. So I’m emotional. That’s not a stretch for me, as anyone who knows me can attest. But I’m more so now. How will I navigate all the changes and milestones to come?

I recognize that I am not only sad about this recent event, but I am fighting it every step of the way. I found myself saying today, “It’s just so hard now. I hate going out!” Let me tell you since O was about three weeks old, I have taken him out, one place or another, almost every single day. It’s rare that we don’t have some adventure to go on each day. But I have been spoiled. I had a Graco Click and Connect Travel System. I’d get him set in his car seat in the house..carry it out to the car, click him in and we were off. When we got to wherever we were going, I’d take the car seat out and click it into the super easy stroller frame. I had it down to a science. And O liked it. We had our rhythm. Now, I have to carry him out to the car….get him into his seat whilst bent over into the car (not easy)…and when I arrive wherever the hell it is I thought it was a good idea to go to, I have two choices. I either get the very light, but yet ridiculously cumbersome, umbrella stroller (which is a ludicrous name, because when it rains, it will NOT keep baby, or you, dry. In fact, quite the opposite). Or I get my jogger stroller…which weighs 30 lbs. So I hoist one of these contraptions out of the car and then hoist my 27lb baby boy out of the car seat, in a hunched over manner, so as not to hit my head or the baby’s head on the car. I try to remember not to lift with my back. I try to remember to use my abdominal muscles…yeah, right. All while O is not, I repeat, NOT loving this new routine. Then I have to strap him into the stroller, hang the diaper bag on the handles…..and get inside wherever it is I was dumb enough to venture off to in the first place. If there are multiple stops, I’d like to shoot myself. If there is rain involved I think I will just stay home.

Everyone says it will get easier when he can get in and out himself. Well, that’s a long time away, I think. I am blessed with a beautiful boy, but he is a big boy for his age. He became too long for the infant seat over a month ago. I started to feel like some Good Samaritan Mommy was going to report me for having my son in a seat he was clearly outgrowing. And because he is young…I miss seeing him when we are strolling along. And I swear, he doesn’t like it. He might wonder “Where is Mommy?” as he faces forward in this strange new world. Right? Or is it just me, fighting it every step of the way? I could have sworn today that he was feeling scared and alone as he faced forward, rolling along….but he actually had a very wet diaper. A wet diaper that I was out of tune with, because I was so convinced he was unhappy to be facing forward. Because this Mommy was unhappy her baby was facing forward. Unhappy that her baby was gaining independence. That he was, indeed, moving on. I don’t like it. I don’t like it one bit.

I’m going to brood about this some more, I fear. They say that time goes by quicker as you get older. Have you heard that? I think it’s true. But I think when you are older you cherish the time more. I know that when I was younger I took time for granted. Not the case now. I am SO aware that this time with O is flying by. If one more well meaning, but yet unsoliciated, granny tells me, “It goes by so fast,” I’ll scream….”I KNOW!!! STOP REMINDING ME!!” Like right in her face! And really loud! It also doesn’t help that this all coincides with that time of the month for me. When it rains it pours! Just don’t use the umbrella stroller that day.

Until next time, keep fighting the good fight…and I’ll try to get a hold of myself. Remember, behind every great kid is a mom who is certain she is screwing it up. 🙂

From Gucci To Gerber

Tales, Insights & Observations from an Advanced Maternal Age New Mother

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