Tag Archives: motherhood

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Two Dogs and Three Kids

After coming up with the title, I realized that I’ll probably need to clarify: the third kid is not me expecting, it’s me counting my husband as a child. Sometimes I loving refer to him as my third child, as I’m sure a lot of wives also are guilty of. In my case it isn’t because I think my husband is juvenile or immature, in fact he’s basically the opposite of either scenario. He’s a great father because he’s able to tap into the minds of the boys and entertain them a lot better than I can. He knows what it’s like to be a child. I never really enjoyed cartoons or Disney movies. I liked books, art, and writing. I suppose not much has changed.

The long weekend started on around Thursday, when the baby decided to be incredibly fussy and tired. (Image borrowed from funnyasduck,net) Last time we played this lovely game of “how can I make you happy today?”, I ended up with a painful surprise of his first set of teeth. Our assumption is that we’re ready for round 2 of “To Teethe or Not To Teethe”. I was just getting used to my angel getting back to a proper sleeping schedule. Now, I get evil glares from over the crib saying “excuse me, I would like you to pay attention to me now” at all hours of the night. And when there isn’t that, I get kept up because he has his father’s and brother’s skill of “sleep talking”. And he’s loud. I want to be mad and tired and cranky, but he smiles his “two teeth” smile at me, and I can’t do anything but laugh. I also pretend to be awake the rest of the day, but if I keep one eye open I don’t doze off.

Then there are the sick puppies. Doggy number one comes down with mystery illness also on Friday, giving a fun weekend of “where is he going to get sick on now?” It was a thrilling game that I luckily didn’t have to play too much of, which was great because did I mention there might be a teething baby? He eats everything so we just assumed that he ate something that upset his stomach and he’ll work through it. Until doggy number two ended up sick as well this morning. Oh yes, always on my toes.

Then there is my husband. Let’s be honest: men are babies when they are sick. They whine, they whine some more, then they fall asleep. It’s ok though, at least in my case, I know he returns the favor. And by favor I mean ordering me to bed making me trust he’ll take care of everything. He does, in his sweet way of serving me tea and helping me feel better. He also makes sure the oldest son is kept in Slim Jims and Salt & Vinegar chips with a side of pepperoncinis, while they stay up late watching cartoons. Oh I love my boys.

Mothers thrive on this adrenaline of not sleeping. We want to sleep, but we keep going and we have the ability to not complain too much about it. The family is worth every sleepless night and every article of your clothing that ends up in the wash or trash due to something incredibly gross getting on it. We might end up with God knows what in our hair at the end of the day with a sick family and we can honestly say we’re too tired to care. (I admit it.) But like everything else in life, you have to just take the bad with the good. Because the good is worth every second of the bad.

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Oh Pregnancy, Where Did You Go?

I was posed a question on a website the other day: what do you miss most about being pregnant? I laughed for a moment, and wondered what someone could possibly miss about being pregnant. You’re fat. You can’t see you’re own feet, which is shocking with how much they seem to swell up. Every muscle in your body feels like they want to fail you. You have pimples and skin tags and sweat a lot. The only relief to any of this is to a) get half your body numbed while you pop out a baby that seems way too big to come out; b) get half your body numbed while they cut you open right in front of your eyes; or c) refuse medicine for whatever reason and squeeze out something that seems 100lbs and 7 ft. tall. What could you possibly miss about any of that?

I took the question seriously though, there must’ve been something. My husband is always amazing so it’s not that the pregnancy transformed a moderate guy into an angel. In fact, it turned my husband into a completely nervous version of himself that jumped at every “ouch” or clung onto me as if every step I was going to take was going to make me fall. It wasn’t that I got to buy a whole new wardrobe, I got a few things to survive but I hate shopping so there was no enjoyment in any of this. Then it hit me, and I decided to make a list of what I miss about being pregnant.

1) You’re not fat, you’re pregnant. With every pound that was gained, I felt it. Obviously it was completely mental, I couldn’t physically feel every pound that I gained. I was fat, in my mind. I was huge. Well the being huge wasn’t in my head, I really was pretty big. But I wasn’t fat. Every time the words “I’m fat” came out of my mouth, 10 people would point out that you’re not fat, you’re giving another human being life. Pregnant does not equal fat. It’s all a sham, you really are fat when you gain that much weight. But it felt really good to pretend that it really was just being pregnant. That isn’t a license to eat whatever you want though, that’s really terrible for you.

2) Sure, You can carry that. You always have no faith in people. There’s not a nice one in the bunch… or is there? People are surprisingly nice when they see that lovely baby bump. I’m not sure if it’s because a pregnant woman brings out the kindness in people, or they’re just afraid of the wrath of a pregnant woman’s hormones. Either way, I won’t complain about people giving up their seat for me or helping carry bags to the car because my husband’s arms are full and I obviously can’t help because pregnancy does equal “inability to do anything”. (Sarcasm.)

3) Cravings? The final positive is cravings. Some people believe cravings are a myth, I don’t. But I definitely know cravings aren’t only felt by pregnant women. My biggest cravings were Chipotle’s Chicken Tacos (with extra cheese and spicy salsa), Panera Caesar Salad, and fruit salad (Strawberries, Watermelon, and pineapple, to be exact). What’s great about that is those are foods I constantly want when I’m not pregnant, just when you’re pregnant you just get them to appear in front of you with little effort if any at all. What’s better is my husband definitely used my pregnancy as an excuse for his cravings. “She wanted fruit, and I figured I’d get some beef jerk, salt and vinegar chips with pepperoncinis, and chocolate since I was at the store anyways”. I was a scapegoat, but this one definitely benefited us both. Though, now I really want Chipotles…

It doesn’t feel like it when you’re fat and it’s the middle of summer, but there are some positives that you need to find. Otherwise, you’re going to go crazy and sometimes you need more than the imagined version of that child inside of you. They cry all the time, they poop and pee all over you, and you never get a good night’s sleep. If you focus on the negatives all the time during pregnancy and that first year, you won’t make it out with your sanity intact.

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To Dote Like A Pro

My five month old has 2 teeth, sleeps a full adult night of sleep, sits up all by himself, and crawls like he’s been doing it forever. He’s a boss, or that’s what my oldest son calls him. It’s true, he is a champ. I’m fortunate I got to see his first crawl and tape his second for everyone to see, I missed all my oldest son’s firsts. Over the weekend, my son received his first “hair cut” from my husband. It was sad to see that he’s growing way too fast. It’s very exciting to watch though.

I thought previously that watching their children hit milestones were something only really mothers concerned themselves with. That was until I met my husband. He doted on my first son as if he were his own blood child every time he hit a milestone. (Fun fact: his first word was ‘Dada’ aimed towards him.) Now with the baby, I see the same excitement and glow in his eyes. He was meant for this, he really was. When he first saw the video of the baby crawling, he bragged to everyone who would listen. “Yeah I know they aren’t supposed to be doing it until their 6-8 months, you try to tell him that” I would over hear him say. He still brings the same enthusiasm to our oldest. “Top reading in his class, student council and he’s a star short-stop and second basemen”. He dotes like a pro.

I wonder every time I hear someone say “he’s such a doting dad”. What does that really mean? Is it one of those sarcastic comments meant to demean him or is it a compliment? He wears it like a badge of honor either way. He’s protective and wants to spend every second watching the boys grow. A friend of his would call and say “come hang out and have a boys night”, and though I tried to encourage him to have a night out, he chose us. He would always say, “they grow too fast, and we have to enjoy them while they still like us”. It’s true, at least I think so. I watch our 10-year-old already hate hugs and kisses in public, and show that preteen sass that makes you want to ground them until they are 18.

Our kids grow fast, I think any parent of any age can agree. At some point we just have to hope we did the best with them and that they down turn out to be jerks. If they make it out of the teens with only threatening their lives a few times, you probably didn’t do that bad of a job. Just enjoy the moment, because soon you’ll close your eyes and have little toddler grandchildren running around the house. Good news about grandchildren though, you can spoil them and leave the hard stuff to your kids.

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The One Tooth Wonder?

I’ve always took pride in the fact that both my boys are laid back little angels. They were great babies, barely fussed and always smiling. A few weeks ago, my littlest angel turned into one giant monster. I admit almost going to tears, not just because nothing could make him feel better but because I couldn’t sleep and my arms and back were sore from the only thing that would console him at least a little bit. He barely ate, barely slept, and didn’t want to play. It was a miserable week for the both of us.

What could possibly make your angelic little baby turn like this? My mommy gut said this little guy was teething. My father and husband looked at me like I was insane, he’s too young for that they said. I mentioned it to my mother, and she agreed with me. My mother doesn’t agree with anyone for the sake of agreeing, which means she thought so too. Magically he stopped one day, and I could finally breathe. Then I saw it, a bump under his gums getting ready for its appearance. My first instinct probably should’ve been “he’s growing so fast!”. It wasn’t though. My first response was “I told you! I was right”.

On Sunday, it was confirmed. The tooth is almost officially out, making my child an official pain in my butt. Milestones mean nothing to him, he wants to be a show off hotshot. I’m not concerned with that; I’m more happy that he’s no longer screaming bloody murder every second of the day. He’s back to being himself. A goofy looking version of himself, because they’re always goofy looking when you first see that gummy smile with a single lonely tooth on the bottom. Always adorable though.

I wonder if the fact that my boys were just quiet and laid back babies had nothing to do with genetics but because they were boys. I keep hearing horror stories about girls are the devil and are moody and temperamental babies. Back to the point, teething is a terrible time for everyone. I mean everyone within ear shot of the baby. They’re miserable and in pain, and if they aren’t happy no one is. (Hilariously, he has that written on one of his bibs. Doesn’t make it any less true.) The only thing you can remember is that patience is the key when it comes to children. The baby doesn’t know what’s going on; he just knows he’s in pain and he doesn’t like it. It’s your job to smile through your tired frustration and make sure he knows that you’re here to help him and love him. It may not feel like it, but that makes you both feel a lot better.

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The New Mom Diaries

Now that it’s halfway through my baby’s 4th month alive on this planet, I think I have as coherent list of advice as anyone can who chases around an active infant. It’s always important to impart whatever wisdom you have on others, a nice way to pay it forward. Everyone is so willing to give advice, and let’s be honest, most of the time you never asked or wanted it. Sometimes you’re lucky and you think back to it and go “oh well that was great advice” in a non-sarcastic manner. I’ll be honest though, most of the time you won’t be that lucky. A lot of what I’m going to say here, I have written before. But I think that my advice was so awesome, that I should reshare it. That, and I’m way too tired/lazy to go back and see it as I’m sure you are. Or maybe you’re new here, and you’re in for a treat. A treat of some sort, anyways.

  1. A Deer in headlights looking at the parenting section. I can recall staring at the pregnancy section of Barnes & Noble, wondering which book on breast-feeding I wanted to get. Wanted? More like needed. (More on this topic later.) Books are terrible when it comes to pregnancy, breastfeeding, and child rearing. I actually think they’re scamming new parents half the time. Sure, they are great when it comes to the changes in your body or what to expect in scientific scenarios. They don’t capture the emotions or the possibility of other scenarios you’re going to need to adjust to. Any book on these topics are a fantastic starting point. I say starting point because they don’t discuss any variables, just the way things are in normal circumstances, but how many live through normal circumstances. None of my pregnancy books had the information to prepare me on an induction, but thank goodness for free information on the internet that seems it’s only there to make you more terrified about an already terrifying situation. So, books are good if you’re new to the game in general and great for tidbits of knowledge like the fetal development and such. Terrible on everything else.
  2. What To Expect When You’re Not Expecting It. My first pregnancy was perfectly storybook, well in terms of its progression, not anything else about it. I gave birth right down to my exact due date. The second one? Entirely different. I gained a lot of weight, I gained it quicker, and I was nearly 2 weeks past my due date. You can compile all the knowledge you think you need, then you can compile all the information on top of that you think you also should get. I’ll give you a great word of advice: All that knowledge can only go so far, because you really can’t prepare yourself fully for any of it. It’s like a crash course, only if you fail, you take little unknowing children down with you. This is one class you really can’t afford to fail. The best thing you can do is realize that you’re not going to get what you expect to. Plans change, and we need to adjust. And in this case, always prepare yourself for the worst case scenario. It can mentally prepare you in case you’re faced with it.
  3. Great Expectations and Failures. Never ever let someone make you feel guilty because your plans failed. You want to go in for natural child-birth, and 4 hours later you beg for an epidural after all. You plan and study on how to breastfeed, but for whatever reason things didn’t fall into place for this. People will probably judge you for this, I’m not going to lie. I’ve even experienced this as a second time mom. It’s your job to readjust your plans however you think you need to and be strong enough to stand up for that. I planned to breastfeed, and my son just couldn’t do it. He even had problems latching onto the bottle. It wasn’t in the cards for me to nurse, but my husband felt very strongly about his children getting the best. He bought me the best pump he could afford to buy me, and I learned to grow accustomed to feeling like a milk cow. People said “you just didn’t try hard enough” or made me feel like they thought that because I couldn’t nurse my son, that I couldn’t bond with them. (More on this topic later.) My adjustment made me no less of a mother than a person feeding their child formula or having an epidural. Everyone is different, and children are born into all of these scenarios and come out perfectly fine. Don’t let anyone make you feel guilty, life is all about changing plans and adapting to your situations.
  4. The Great Mother/Child Bond. People say that nursing and skin to skin contact is the best way to form a bond with your child that is everlasting. I think that’s a lie. You’re child will bond with you because it can sense your love and it trusts you to take care of it. Your family and friends mean well giving out this advice, but not everyone’s comfortable with the idea of putting a naked baby skin to skin with you. I wasn’t comfortable about this, and my children are doing very well. Babies know who loves them and knows who takes care of them. That’s all a baby really needs to bond with you. Every time you feed it, while you stare into each others eyes, you are bonding. Every time you smile at each other, you’re bonding.
  5. The Gut. My final piece of advice is simple: You know. As a mother, you might be completely lost your first time. People have asked me “how do you know if ___?” My answer is always the same: You know. Your instinct will be the #1 tool in your arsenal, followed only by patience and the ability to work under very stressful situations. You can sense when you’re child is in pain, you know when they’re hungry, and you’ll definitely know when they need to be changed. Babies are simple beings, but they know exactly how to tell you what they want. Likewise, you’ll get a nice gut feeling that you need to learn to follow. A mother always knows, sometimes even more than the doctors and other professionals do.

Keep all that in mind. All the books in the world won’t be able to help you, neither will all the advice. Sometimes you just have to accept that things won’t go as planned or as expected and you need to learn that it’s completely ok. All that matters is you raise your child to be a great person and an incredible addition to this world.

 

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A Little Rice Cereal is Better With Raspberries.

Last week I officially got the okay from the doctor to start solid foods. I didn’t tell him that we’ve already reached that hurdle, a mom always knows when even if Daddy fights it. I was ready for this moment. My freezer had banana and avocado purees waiting to be defrosted and served. I had the bowls and spoons washed, all the bibs ready to grab, and the high chair and walker ready to go for “nom time”. I wasn’t prepared for all the milestones that would hit me at once.

His feedings go better than the textbook says. He eats, but he decided that was boring. He needs to be entertained and what’s more entertaining than realizing that those raspberries he loves to blow makes all the food fly everywhere. He took his spoon, and place it in his mouth, and would blow raspberries until the spoon was empty then would cry wanting more. Since most of it was still getting in his mouth at least, I let him continue this game. The joke was on him when he blew cereal right into his eyes. While it startled him, he laughed and laughed and thought it was so great he wanted to flick cereal into my eyes. Joke was on me, that was funnier.

In making his food (not the rice cereal though I do have that ability with my Baby Bullet blender), I learned quite quickly that I save a fortune. To put this into perspective: one little jar = $1.05 for the “good brands”. For about $1.69 I spent on a sweet potato, I filled up 9 baby bullet servings of food. With the bullet servings being double the size of those little jars, I estimated I’d need about 18 jars for the same amount of food. That total equals about $18.90, versus the $1.69 for my sweet potato and it packs more vitamins, less preservatives, and from what I remember, tastes a lot better. The moral of the story? If you have the ability to make the baby food, do it. It’s cheaper if nothing else, and healthier at the risk of sounding like a hippie.

That wasn’t the only thing to happen in this week time frame.

I would say “I don’t mean to brag”, but every parent is proud of every achievement their child does whether it’s big or small. My scrawny little peanut of a baby impressed the doctor by being “developmentally advanced”, but worried him by being a skinny little guy. He’s not little though; he’s a tall bugger. He’s just his father’s son: taller and skinny with a flat skinny butt and even has the hairline my husband thinks he has. He’s hit milestones months ahead of him, and that made me happy thinking that maybe he’d wait a little and stop growing fast. Not my kid though, he’s his brother’s brother. He never slows down, and never misses a beat.

He has quickly learned that his rolling that he mastered a while ago is much more efficient than his attempts at crawling. To prove his point, he quickly rolls across the room until he reaches whatever destination he decides he want, which I quickly learned is the one that makes me run after him saying “baby come back!”. I think my chasing after him is more amusing to him than the action of rolling away from me. My oldest son was an early crawler and an early walker. The faster they learned to move meant they would always stay the closest to the action. Now it seems I blink and he’s across the room. I wasn’t ready for this, but like everything else with children, you adjust real quick.

Babies grow quickly without warning. They learn from every little movement you allow them to do. With freedom on the floor, my son learned that he could quickly move across it. Now with Boppy, he learned that sitting up and “playing catch” with a little football is more fun than anything else. You can’t blink because you might miss everything. Then before you can even believe it, they’re almost in middle school and full of independence. All you can hope is that you did everything the best you could.

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It’s Like Petfinder, But With Kids.

It was going to happen eventually, when the discussion would end up with a consideration of our future with kids. Are we done, do we want more, etc. I laugh when people ask me, “are you going to have more?” The last thing you think about when you can still close your eyes and remember and re-feel everything from the last birth, is another child. I made no secret that I wanted a girl this time around, since I already had one boy and I didn’t want to be overrun in a houseful of testosterone. No such luck, but I wouldn’t have it any other way because my baby is absolutely perfect.

I did know that a point would come when we had to have the talk. Do we try again in 2 years? 5 years? Are we done because we have 2 beautiful boys as is? We do want a girl, that much we absolutely agree on. How we get there though, that’s what we’re figuring out. What happens if we try again and we  are blessed with a 3rd little boy? We can’t afford the test tube baby for a guaranteed girl, and quite honestly I’m certain no one would be happy with us going that route. Then my husband researched adoption, and said that maybe we should just consider that. They need a home, we’d love a girl, why not?

I decided to research this myself. I’m on the fence, mostly because I like the idea of a baby with a clean slate. Adopting a baby girl is a lot more expensive and a lot longer of a wait. In researching, I discovered how sad it was. It was almost like when I look at Petfinder to look at all the puppies I’d love to adopt, only with children needing homes. It seemed so wrong to make that comparison. But I mean… how can you not? You chose from age and gender options and up comes pictures with descriptions. I’m not sure which saddens me more though: the fact that there are that many kids that need a home with a loving family or that we’ve resorted to picking them out like you pick out your future animals for their “forever home”.

It’s a lot to consider. I know that despite all my self-deprecating humor where I talk about how terrible of a mother I am, I’m actually pretty decent at it. Shocking considering I never really wanted kids, but it came pretty naturally. I’ll approach it like I do most everything in life: I’ll think about it in a mostly cold and logical manner until I just know what I’m going to do. I’ll admit it’s enticing to think about having a child without having to destroy my body further with another pregnancy for a guaranteed outcome. We’ll see, you never know where the road will take you until you follow it. Unless you have a map… which unfortunately life doesn’t come with.

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Have a Little Faith?

In my entire  life, I never saw a purpose for religion. I went through the motions as a kid, attending CCD classes every year by no choice of my own, getting my first communion and confirmation. It wasn’t a choice, and I hated every second of it. It made me feel like we were supposed to have religion in our lives, it wasn’t something we chose. Eventually, I chose to read about religions on a spiritual or intellectual level, not as a journey of discovery. My bookshelves eventually became covered in Wiccan books. At first I’ll admit it was to see the reactions on my family’s face as they saw my interest grow in “the devil’s art”. It was a fascination though, and I found them to be interesting. No, I’m not a Wiccan. I don’t prefer to follow or celebrate any religion. I won’t call myself an Atheist though, I’m definitely not that. I hate labels, but if I had to label myself into a religious belief I would classify myself as Agnostic.

It wasn’t until I had my first son though, that I found comfort in at least taking a shot in the dark by asking whatever would listen in my head to watch over my son. Now, I still do that for both of my boys. I wouldn’t call it a prayer, I don’t say “God, take care of them”. I say “please make sure my boys are safe while they sleep”. I feel a little ashamed admitting this, especially as I definitely admit a distaste for organized religions as a whole. I do believe we need to instill some sort of belief system in our children if for no other reason than to open them up for the choice to have a religion in their life. I’ve baptized both my sons, and my oldest has attended CCD every year since he became of age to and he has had his first communion. I believe strongly that, if nothing else, I should let him decide for himself when he’s an adult to do whatever he wants in that department but he should get all the “starter” stuff done while he’s young. Which I suppose is exactly what my parents did despite my hating every second of it.

Now I have the looming fear of my son’s surgery coming up, as I wait for my appointment card to come in to schedule his next appointment with the surgeon in 3 months, with a tentative 5 month wait until his surgery. I don’t normally admit fear, I suck it up and hope that I retained my laid-back “no worries” demeanor while I’m really biting all my nails nervously in my head. In the car with my husband, I heard myself ask a question I’ve never considered. (My youngest son is named for my grandfather, side note that is relevant here.) “Do you think that if my grandfather is out there, that he’d watch over Georgie during his surgery?” I never considered the possibility that there was anyone watching from the afterlife. I assumed that once someone dies, the only afterlife for them is decay, maggots and dirt. It’s a cold and depressing way to think about death, but that’s the only way I’ve thought of it until that moment the question slipped out of my lips. My husband, ever the kind person, indulged me. “I think so”, while discussing a scientific view of matter never dying, it just simply changes form and that it’s possible. I felt better, a little bit.

This isn’t the first time I’ve ever needed something to believe in. But I think everyone at some point in their lives decide they need something to cling onto when you feel like you need a little extra strength. I think that’s why religion exists. I don’t remember the last time I prayed, I really prayed. I’ve said prayers in church like you’re supposed to. I’ve had kind thoughts for people I knew needed them. But I don’t remember every saying “Dear God, could you give me a little hand here?” Sometimes you really just need to have a little faith because you don’t know if you can get through it.

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Dylanisms

Once upon a time, my husband said to my oldest son “one doesn’t buy Mexican food; we merely rent it”. We all laughed, because sometimes the most disgusting of jokes are hilarious. Yesterday, my son begged for Taco Bell and we obliged him. It was his last day home, why not just get a taco box and volcano nachos for him? We did, and my son did enjoy every bit of his tacos, like he normally would. They relaxed and watched zombie movies, and then he brushed his teeth and went to bed. Or at least pretended to on the couch, while my husband and I watched TV.

My son always reminds me of what my husband said about Mexican food every time we get it for him. He will leave the bathroom and enter into the living room and says “Mom, the rent just ran out.” Every time I partly cringe, but mostly laugh. It’s disgusting, you’re welcome for the information. He says hilarious things all the time, it’s what kids do. I end up just calling them “Dylanisms”, though you never fully get the idea unless you see his facial expressions while he says them.

Remember this, even while your child is still a baby in diapers: children are characters.  I often thing that their main purpose in childhood is to entertain us. They can get away with saying whatever comes across their mind, because no one really expects a 4-year-old to have the sense of what’s socially acceptable to say out loud. I’m actually very jealous of this ability they have, though honestly it doesn’t seem to stop me. While you’re sitting with a crying baby at 3 a.m., it’s hard to imagine that it could get better from here. It does, I promise. (Though at the risk of being hated by every mother, I lucked out twice and my baby’s are pretty well-tempered. They don’t get it from me.) Even at 3 months, my baby son shows the same personality my eldest one has. Silly, with a bit of serious business. Even mannered, and smiley. And, enjoys his sleep as much as his father does.

So when things seem like they will never end, the crying will never stop nor will the endless stream of poop diapers to clean up, you should remember that every reaction you have to them might very well shape their future. Sometimes all it takes is a deep breath instead of a bad attitude, and you get a smiley baby that grows up into a fine young adult. And then that fine young adult will announce every time he “blows it up” and you can shake your head in laughter and disgust. That’s the best part of being a parent.

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Don’t Ask

I dread moments when people ask questions. I enjoy to keep my secrets, and I think we’re all entitled to that. When I was pregnant, I showed people ultrasound pictures, but I’d never post them for a public realm of people to see. I feel like that’s a secret that my family and I should share, not my family and I and an odd assortment of people who follow me on social media. It wasn’t until my husband really begged, did I even show a slight picture of my baby bump. I felt that anymore more would invade a privacy I like to keep. When the baby is born and everyone can see it, I feel that you no longer have that “only I can see and feel you” overprotective vibe. That, and I really enjoy my privacy.  The great thing about this blog is I can share what information I want, and nothing can be stolen from me otherwise.

Now that let’s people as questions. It wasn’t until my first son was born that I realized that women are touchy and you need to watch what you say. When they ask “how was the birth?” and I tell them it was quick to the point and I didn’t need medicine, they get jealous. And they aren’t happy with me. I’ve memorized this look, it’s the same look I now give people who are toothpicks after giving birth. It’s that look that says “well aren’t you special”. They also give this look when they ask how your child is and what milestones he’s accomplished. When I respond “for the past month, he sleeps 8-10 hours at night and can roll both ways and he inches forward on tummy time”, I get asked how old and then I also get that look. Don’t ask the question if you’re going to get angry at the answer. It’s probably why I never ask questions, that and I generally don’t like being nosy. If people want to share information, fine. I’m not going to go around asking.

It’s scary though, last night my son decided he wants to sleep on his stomach. After a few futile attempts to correct this, I nervously watched over him a while. He’s been moving around his crib for a while now, and a few weeks ago decided he liked sleeping on his side. Now I see him on his stomach after repeatedly putting him on his back, I can only hear his pediatrician saying “remember, back to sleep”. I remember, but maybe you could let my son know because he didn’t seem to get that memo. I learned watching him that I could be a little at peace. He would lift his head and switch sides, and demonstrated great head control for a little 3 month old peanut. I’ll still worry though, but I’m not entirely sure what I can do. He’s becoming an age where I can no longer control these sort of actions.

Next time you ask a question and don’t like the answer, think of why you didn’t like the answer. Did you hope the other person’s child was not as advanced as your little one and you wanted to brag? Did your labor go poorly and hoped that they had a more painful story so you could feel better about yourself? Everyone is different, and every baby hits milestones differently. Babies and births are not competitions, they are miracles to be enjoyed and adored.