Tag Archives: Writing

by

Why Halloween,It’s Good To See You.

Last year a freak October “Snowpocalypse” postponed our Halloween. This year, a freak hurricane headed our way. My son’s first reaction was “oh no, I’m going to miss school and my first student council meeting”, causing a pouty nearly 10-year-old walking around the house. It wasn’t until afterward when he heard a local town had already cancelled Halloween that his pout went into an angry face. “Not again!” I pouted on the inside too, the one holiday I look forward to every year was not going to be taken away from me again. It was bad enough all the stores saw fit to put out the Halloween decorations the same time as the Christmas ones. Christmas, you will not take this one away from me. The madness needs to stop.

Back to the point, without those cute little costumes and bonfire and all the candy I never eat this month means nothing. This year would almost mean nothing if it weren’t for the additions to my family without Halloween, that’s how serious I am about this holiday. It brings me more joy than it probably should, but I would find God and stab him if his stupid natural disasters had interrupted my favorite holiday again. He would regret it assuming I make it to Heaven, even assuming I believe in it. Don’t cross me, natural disasters.

All joking aside, (mostly joking) I hope people made it out of the storm alive. Stuff can be replaced, but loved ones are irreplaceable. The damage in other areas are terrible and we’re very fortunate here to walk away with nothing much but some downed branches. It’s times like this you really can sit back and think about how lucky you are, seeing other people lose everything. I’d say it’s times like these where we need to help each other out, but we shouldn’t be helping people only in times of extreme crisis. This is the same principle I hold on Thanksgiving and Valentine’s Day. You don’t need a day to tell someone you love them or that you’re appreciative of what you have. You should do it every day. My thoughts go out to people who are in need at this time.

Today I can smile while my boys are dressed up in their cute and overpriced costumes. As much as my husband and I love this day, it’s mostly for our kids. The tradition of getting dressed up to eat a ton of candy and get sick is as timeless as leaving cookies for the jolly fat man. Plus, they’re only young enough to do it for so long that you need to live in that short moment. Yes, that short moment where they only wear that overpriced costume once for an hour. It makes them happy though, and that’s the most important thing. Except for our baby, his costume and everything is more for us than him. But they’re both still very adorable. Happy Halloween readers, and donate to the Red Cross to help out. Every bit counts.

by

6 Weeks Later

I’m sitting there, embarrassed that my first “holy crap I leaked, and it’s obvious and embarrassing” happened, but pleased at least it was at the doctor’s office where they’re used to that sort of thing. I’m waiting in the uncomfortably cold room wondering why if they’re going to hand you something to “keep you warm”, they don’t give you something that’s actually warm while you wait to be examined. It could be worse though, I could still be pregnant. Or maybe that wouldn’t be a bad thing considering I got more sleep and could sit down and enjoy more of a meal than a granola bar or something else I only need one hand to eat.

Then the door opens, a troupe of people cheering and applauding me. My midwife comes in with a microphone… “3 minutes?!! 3 MINUTES??!! How does it feel?”

I look at the camera and asked “..3 minutes…?” I had no clue what was going on.

I shook my head and closed my eyes a minute, they were drooping from being exhausted. I opened them and my midwife and her student P.A. were standing there, waiting for my answer. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

She laughed, “I think you set a record. A 3 minute push time. How does that make you feel?”

“Really, that only took 3 minutes? It seemed a whole lot longer…”

“Don’t tell your friends, you’ll lose them all afterwards. Both deliveries happened quick and the last one was 3 minutes. I’m afraid to see how your next one goes. I might have to hospitalize you before your water even breaks. You might not last the 10 minute drive.. in fact you probably won’t. You’re famous. Everyone was talking about it. It’s even in your notes all capitalized.”

I laughed. I wanted to be a famous writer… apparently my claim to fame is getting a kid out of me because it was the only way to stop the pain. I’ll take it though. Obviously I ignored the whole “not telling anyone” thing, because honestly it just makes a funny story. Or gives me something to brag about. I don’t get much to brag about but how awesome my sons and husband are. This achievement.. this one is mine. I should feel sad that this is my accomplishment, but I made a friend with the labor nurse who said to call her next time.

The real lesson here is no matter what you do, you take pride in it. Whether it’s mastering making one son breakfast while holding an infant and making his bottle and feeding him after while making your son his cold lunch for school. These may seem minor, but minor victories are all the rage. Even the littlest of them to others are huge moments for you. Embrace them. No matter how boring or meaningless they seem to everyone else.

by

Wanted: Father

At the bus stop while waiting for my older son to come home, another mother and I were talking about the new baby. Somehow it came up that my older son was not biologically my husband’s. She explained to me that she understood and that the story was the same about her eldest. Then she proceeded to tell me about how she went to her class reunion for the sole purpose of finding a daddy for her child. Then went on to say she understood about when her and her husband had a child, it was different for him than it was for the child that wasn’t biologically his. I think she was looking for someone who understood her situation. She was looking at the wrong person.

I never went out for the purpose of finding someone to play daddy to my son. Sure, a guy who was kind to my son was something I looked for. I didn’t want anyone to play daddy, I didn’t ever once think that I needed a person in a father’s role for my son. We were doing just fine. I understand now that I met someone who fit so perfectly in the role that at a certain age a boy does need a male influence, but I still don’t think it necessarily needed to be a “daddy”. I’m the only girl with 3 older brothers; a male influence for my son wasn’t exactly hard to find. I imagine problems when you go out into the world for the sole purpose for looking for a replacement father. You’d find someone perfect for him but not for you and end up miserable. Or you find someone absolutely perfect but wonder if he was only there because your kid was so awesome. Then there’s the paranoia part of “what if he was a pedophile targeting me for my kid?”. I’m fine with not having any of these scenarios, I have a hard enough time understanding why someone as awesome as my husband puts up with me.

Then to the other point. I might be naïve in my thinking, and I admit there’s probably a difference when you hold your baby for the first time than when you meet your girlfriend’s baby at 6 months old. In general though, I see no difference in the way my husband cares for either child. He loves them both equally, and is equally proud in both their achievements. Though one’s achievements is acing his schoolwork and making student council while the other one is going a day without explosive poop… still he beams with pride at both his boys.

I lucked out. I didn’t need to find a daddy for my child. I found a guy that was right for me and it turns out he is an amazing and caring father. I don’t think you need that though, your child will survive just fine even if it’s only you raising him. Turns out, kids aren’t as complicated as you think and just need a strong influence in their life that loves them with every inch of their heart and soul. This applies if you’re unhappy in your relationship or single with your child. They’ll be happy and thrive as long as you’re there happy and thriving too, showing them that all you need is love and hard work.

by

And It’s Been 10 Years.

The announcement of my 10 year reunion should’ve shocked me. Has it really been 10 years? I was prepared though, as my oldest son was born a few months after graduation. I’ll show this in a hilariously funny conversation my son, my father, and I had when my son finished the third grade and was about to start his summer vacation.

“Can you believe I graduated Kindergarten only a few years ago? Man I’m getting old.” My son looked down as if he were remembering an ancient memory.

“Can you believe this time 40 years ago I graduated high school?” My father said.

“Well this was a long time ago for someone my age, Pop.” My son rolled his eyes as if to say “Oh silly Pop”. My father laughed.

“What do you mean? That we’re old?” I looked at my son, pretending to be angry. He looked stunned and started to stutter something to backtrack his statement. I decided to join in the conversation. “Can you believe this time 10 years ago, I graduated high school?”

My son looked at me, and he goes “10 years ago? Wait.. I’m going to be 10….” He looked at me confused. I changed the subject.

This made me realize the timing of my pregnancy was terrible. If I had gone to my reunion pregnant, there would be an excuse for my size. They’d touch my belly, making me wish I could drink to forget them all touching me, and be done with it. Then they would mock the other skinny girls from high school that seemed to double in size since graduation and we’d all feel better about ourselves. Don’t worry about the girls being mocked, it’s an open bar and they’d probably already be half in the bag.

Except this reunion I’m not the skinny girl from high school. I’m the “just had a baby and look awkwardly big” stage of post-pregnancy. I figure I have about a month after my doctor gives me the thumbs up to get back to working out to get into some sort of decent shape before I become the girl who was scrutinized. At least I have the advantage of basically being invisible and not so memorable.. maybe. The calendar is giving me hives considering this, but I’m stubborn… I mean, I’m determined.

So dear weight loss gods, just give me 20lbs and I’ll be happy. Either that or replace the 20lbs from my lower half and redistribute it up top. If they’re bigger, people won’t pay attention to the baby weight. Yep, I’ll be happy either way but I would prefer losing it. I might be vain for thinking this, I probably am. But I’m definitely not the only person in history that wants to look at least semi-decent for their reunions. I’m sure gyms split their money up from people getting in shape for reunions and people getting in shape for their weddings.

by

Shames and Small Victories

Prior to this pregnancy, I had a pair of jeans I’d refer to as “my fat jeans”. I know I’m not the only one who has them. They’re the pair of jeans you can always count on to fit on your most uncomfortable days when you want a little more freedom, but otherwise wore a belt that barely helped keep them up. I’m not ashamed to admit that every day since coming home from the hospital that I try on this trustworthy pair of jeans just to see if today will be the day. So far, none has been “the day”.

I still use my maternity pillow, that lovely little “comma” shaped Boppy that helped me sleep when I was at my fattest point. I haven’t decided if I’m ever going to stop cuddling with that thing at nighttime, it’s incredibly comfortable. Admitting that is less embarrassing than my next point. One month later, I’m still wearing my maternity pants. Not the ones from the early pregnancy, but the one pair that fit me at the end when I was incredibly huge. I’m not wearing them because they’re more comfortable than any other pair I own. No, I’m wearing them because they are the only ones I can squeeze over my “still recovering” body. (Somehow that sounds better than saying “fat”.)

Then a few days ago I did have a small victory. I pulled out a pair of maternity pants from earlier in the pregnancy. (It should be noted, I was in them very early in the pregnancy. So early that it was really embarrassing.) This pair came from around the middle of it, and as sad as it seems this was a huge moment for me. So huge, I texted my husband saying “I was able to squeeze my postpartum butt in my skinnier pregger jeans. I’m moving up in the world”. It’s the little things that matter. Maybe next I can try squeezing myself in one of my pre-pregnancy shirts, because I’m still wearing my maternity shirts too. I even managed to look slimmer in a picture taken this weekend of me, my husband and the eldest boy out pumpkin picking with friends. These are my small victories that make me happy.

We’re not all celebrities that can buy all the best healthy foods and have personal trainers that can make us a twig again a week after giving birth. Most of us are looking at ourselves a month later going “really? I still look this big?” while comparing ourselves to Jessica Alba after her children. I do still try on those fat pants every day hoping, and I admit shamefully that every centimeter I manage to pull them up further from the previous week feels like a Super Bowl win to me. When you spend your day covered in godknowswhatevercamefromsomebodypartofthebaby, with tousled hair tossed up in the best ponytail you can manage with one hand since a visit to get it cut seems so far away, you take these small victories.

by

How Dare You Hit Your Child

Last night while making my son’s favorite cheese and salsa dip, I looked over while he watched me eagerly and noticed his eye. He had a black eye, that he passed off while in the “just red” stages as a bug bite that his father believed and put bug bite stuff on his eye. I didn’t laugh at him for buying that excuse since I was too tired to notice it myself until this moment. My little almost tween had lied about what it was, yet that wasn’t the top of my concern list.

I will warn you that my first concern might make me seem like a bad parent in most minds. I was concerned about my son and whether he was hurt but since he obviously was fine my concerns went to a different thought. This concern should be a statement more on the state of our society than my job as a mother. I was concerned that some overzealous school employee would see a black eye and automatically assume that my husband or I had hit him. Every time he falls down or hit his head and it leaves a mark, I could only come back to this worry. I know I don’t abuse my kid. The school doesn’t and are hyper-vigilant to avoid issues involving liability tells child services about it. I appreciate the concern, it has its place. They do need to catch abuse and children are too afraid to say something. I’m not opposed to the schools being involved, I’m more concerned about the high prevalence of child abuse.

I told my son before he got on the bus to make sure he told the truth if a teacher asked. Lying would be caught by the teachers and they’d think he was harmed. It did make him come clean how it happened, so there was a bright side. Apparently he was playing football with his bigger cousin, and got a ball to the face. I laughed, all I could think of is when Marcia Brady received a broken nose from a ball to the face. I told him it could be worse and not to lie next time because head injuries are serious and he needs to let us know when he hits his head. We’ll see what happens today and hopefully someday people will stop seriously harming their children.

by

In The Name Of Politics

Normally I save Friday’s for the occasion of discussing matters that matter to teen and single mothers. I debated with myself of posting something about politics, let alone on a day I specifically set aside for a certain audience. It didn’t take me long to decide that while I normally try to keep politics out of this blog, that this election matters to all people. It affects single and teen mothers as much as it does anyone else. So I decided to go for it.

This will be my first year voting… ever. I don’t believe in voting. I don’t believe my one vote matters, because in the grand scheme of an electoral college it really doesn’t. An election has never been decided based on one vote, and I know the argument of if there are 100 people just like me felt the same way, that’s 100 people who didn’t vote and cost an election. Last I checked, I didn’t think anyone lost by 100 votes either. It’s not our fault for not voting really; I blame the politicians we’re forced to choose from. They’re what’s wrong with the system by not giving people a reason to vote for them. This year seems like a good year to finally do it, though I admit my main reasoning is because of my state’s Senatorial race.

I don’t like Elizabeth Warren. I don’t like the idea of her. I decided a while back that I liked Scott Brown, and my reasoning might be silly but I believe in it and stand by it. My most hated thing about politics is that everything seems based around political parties. I hate that, I want to vote for a person because of what they stand for not what letter is next to their name. I think that they should omit the placing the political party next to a person’s name on the ballot to make it so people can’t go in their uninformed, see a (R) or (D) and just place a check there. (Though admittedly, I’m all for making people pass a test on basic current event knowledge to vote, because really the election could come down to someone who knows more about Jersey Shore than they do about anything going on in the world today.)  Why do I like Scott Brown? I like that though he’s pro-life, he doesn’t think it’s his business to be in mine. I like that even though he believe marriage should be between a man and a woman, he doesn’t think it’s his business to be in either. I like that he doesn’t care about who writes a bill, he’ll vote how he feels would be benefit our state, not because it’s a Republican bill. I appreciate someone who thinks for himself.

If only the presidential race was as clean-cut for me. On on hand, I’m not certain about Obama and how he can fix things. On another hand, I’m morally opposed to Romney’s fundamental values especially the ones I think he’s going to force upon us. Yes, I think there are too many people who are getting free government money and that needs to end. I also think that the government has no place in my ovaries or someone’s bedroom. I don’t think that you can rant about Obama forcing too much government on us and in the same breath say Romney is a great person for wanting to make government in charge of who someone marries and what a woman does with her body. If you want the government out of what healthcare decisions you make, make sure the government stays out of other private business as well. I can’t bring myself to vote either way, though I know I have to. If only there was a super candidate that combines the few good things about either of these choices and omits the absolutely terrible ones, I wouldn’t have to wonder who to choose.

Eventually I have to make the choice, as does anyone else who will vote. You can’t count on the cable news channels to help you, they have their own agendas they want to force upon you. I want to be able to make a proper and informed decision before this election, and I’m not entirely sure the tools to make that informed decision are available to me. Especially considering both candidates change their beliefs depending on the audience in front of them. Though, I should be more easy on them because it’s not like any president ever really sticks to their campaign agendas. In fact, how do you know a politician is lying to you? You know the rest of that joke, you don’t need me to finish it. When you step into that booth next month, I hope you have the knowledge and the ideals to make a good choice for you. Don’t let anyone try to convince you to vote against your beliefs. Your beliefs are the one thing no one can take from you.

by

We Heard His Cry… and a List

I won’t lie and say I remember too much about when my son was born, either one really. When you’re in that much pain, you just remember specifics. You remember his size, time of birth, you remember that people were standing around you but your eyes were closed and didn’t see who stood where. You remember his cry, at least you think you do. You try to anyways. I don’t remember his cry, I don’t remember much aside from my husband standing around the warming bed as they seemed to show off issues with my son. I couldn’t hear them, and no one bothered to tell me until after the fact.

When my husband started rattling of issues they noticed, I was looking at this little innocent child and felt bad. His face was bruised, apparently he was facing my back and smacked into my tailbone on the way out. One side of his face, specifically the mouth, was drooping. He had a double uvula (seriously). All of these problems were merely cosmetic, but you look at your little newborn and can’t help but to feel awful for them. Eventually he mentioned there was one problem that wasn’t just cosmetic, it wasn’t serious or life threatening which is good, but it did need to be fixed.

Tomorrow my husband and I get to meet with a pediatric urologist surgeon that’s going to fix my son. I’m nervous, he’s nervous but it’s something that we need to do. When you hear your child has a condition, you can’t help but to look up every detail you can about it and the surgery to correct it. The condition is hypospadias, watch out if you Google it I definitely had nightmares for a while after. Graphic pictures were unnecessary Wikipedia, drawn diagrams would’ve done just enough. There is such thing as too much information, probably much like this post.

No matter what the surgery is for, no parent wants to see their child have to go through a surgery. The idea of the large amount of pain and tubes being attached to him scares me. The idea of changing his diaper and seeing a catheter there with blood and grossness both worries me and grosses me out. I’m not ashamed to admit I’m terrified, as silly as it seems since it’s “supposed” to be a simple and common enough procedure. I’m also not ashamed to admit that I’m terrified of the idea of changing his diaper until the area heals. It needs to be done, so I’m good at just taking a breath and dealing with it.

Part of me can’t help thinking I did something wrong, I think any parent that just goes through birthing a child with anything “unusual” about him worries about that. Maybe I shouldn’t have divulged my love of Chipotle’s and Panera Caesar Salad, or maybe those 6 glasses of cola I had while pregnant did something. Rationally I know that things like these just happen. I keep saying that these things make him special, and special is better than a boring old normal baby. But somehow realizing that special doesn’t make surgery on a baby any less terrifying. I suppose that’s one reason you see the surgeons before you go through something; somehow meeting the person who will do the procedure will make you feel better and more comfortable about it. It’s hard to get comfortable about something even as routine as this though.

by

It’s What Day?

Today is Columbus Day, and everyone keeps restating what a “useless holiday” it is. I agree, but I agree most holidays are useless holidays. I call for Halloween to be a day off like Christmas. So what, a guy gets lost on the way to India and thinks he made it but was really sooooo far off. Then people figured out he made a mistake, someone else landed in America naming it after himself and uprooted the Native Americans giving them reservation land and casinos. Though they really made off with those casinos…

I don’t think of today as Columbus Day. I think of it as a day I don’t have to rush around at 7 a.m. to make sure my older child is fed, dressed, and ready to get to school while waiting at a bus stop for a total of upwards to an hour between the morning and afternoon stops. I consider this as a day that if the baby can sleep in past 8, I can too. I’m ok with useless holidays my son gets off from school, that’s one day I can try to get naps when I can without worrying I’ll over sleep something so important like picking him up from the bus or CCD. I don’t even mind that he’s not in school because he’s at the age that unless he needs something he can’t get himself, I don’t even hear from him.

It’s sad that he doesn’t need me that much anymore, but at least it means I did something right. Or that I spend way too much money on videogames for him. Probably a little of both. I like having him home though, I know in a few years I’ll barely see him so these days off and vacation times are perfect. You don’t realize how big they’ve gotten until you blink and 10 years flew by. It’s almost like you don’t realize how old you are until you realize it’s been 10 years since high school and everyone you knew in high school seems to be marrying off. Time does go by quickly.

So enjoy this made up holiday and live it to its fullest. We only have a few of these pointless holidays with no backing every year, and we need to welcome them. It’s a good free holiday where you don’t need to spend it with the entire family, where some people get a day off, and you don’t need to do any special cooking or baking. I think we lack useless holidays and should come up with some more. Videogame Day anyone?

by

I Don’t

The other day I happened to read an online celebrity baby blog and immediately got annoyed. The person was Kristin Cavallari, and I honestly don’t even know who she is except she’s engaged to a crappy NFL quarterback. Apparently it’s noteworthy that she had a baby and wrote about how marriage wasn’t a priority for her, she just wanted to enjoy her kid and have another one soon. I think a few weeks after having a baby is too soon to decide if you’re going to have another one soon, but it’s not my business. I mostly read these things to see the comments afterwards, because there are some downright mean people out there, pretty much just for the sake of being mean it seems. One thing was a theme in the comments, and it really made me get a little frustrated. Repeatedly, people would say “marriage should be a priority if you have kids. I feel sorry for kids of unwed parents.”

I thought about it for a minute. I maybe felt a little bad for this child because his mother is some reality show fame seeker and his father is a terrible quarterback. I stopped feeling so bad for him when I realized even with all that considering, this child will have more money than I could ever dream of seeing let alone making. I certainly didn’t feel bad for him because his parents weren’t married though, and I actually thought we moved away from this idea. Why should she get married? It’s not a fundamental right; if it were then everyone could do it. The minute you start denying people the right to get married because you don’t believe they should be marrying that person completely ruins this argument.

My last problem with this probably goes back to my problems with marriage in general. I don’t feel like anyone should have to get married, it’s not a requirement. I least of all think people should get married because they have a kid together, in fact I think this is a terrible idea to get married for that sole reason. For a lot of people, I think the kid would be better off if the parents didn’t get married because a bad marriage is far more traumatizing to a child than having parents happily with other people or happily unmarried together.

The times have changed. We [should] live in a more accepting society, considering all the changes we’ve witnessed. We do see successful unmarried mothers and we see very openly gay couples having families that are just as “normal” as heterosexual couples. It’s no one’s place to “feel sorry” for children that are raised in families that are different from the traditional. My first son had a great life for a young unwed mother, and he’s excelling in everything he does. I don’t feel sorry for him because I didn’t marry his father, I think one reason he excelled is because we didn’t get married and we’re both much happier for that. Times have changed, and there’s no reason you need to settle for being unhappy because everyone else thinks it’s the right thing to do. The right and moral thing is whatever suits your family and situation, and it’s no one’s right to judge you for that.