Our Mommyhood

Posts Tagged ‘baby’

By Mommie V, Staff Writer, My Little Slice of Mommie Heaven (@MommieV1)

I write on my blog about using cloth diapers; I have used cloth diapers pretty much exclusively since my daughter was 2 months old. I love using cloth diapers, I am passionate about helping other parents use cloth diapers, and – because of my blog – I kind of feel like a poster child for cloth diapering. My daycare allows us to use cloth diapers. I have educated a number of caregivers and other parents about using cloth diapers. My family all snickered at baby showers and the comment “we’ll see how long that lasts” went around. I even took a 5-day road trip in a van with four other adult women and two children from my family and used cloth diapers the entire time. So imagine my embarrassment when I’ve had two major cloth diaper fails in the last couple of weeks.

One was due to an intestinal virus my daughter had, so with The Poops that day we ended up in the doctor’s office waiting room changing a diaper that had her wet from her armpits to her knees (that’s not really an exaggeration, even).

The other was at open gym at the gymnastics center, where we went for the first time. I took her out of her car seat in the parking lot to find wetness on her pants on the back of both legs. I changed her diaper in the driver’s seat (not an easy task now that she’s getting longer) and used a prefold and a cover. I have used prefolds and covers for a year and a half; this is not something that is new to me.

But then there she is with the teacher trying to swing on the rope, her diaper sticking up out of the front of her pants. When the teacher tries to help her with the monkey bars that she seems interested in and lifts her up to reach them, she says “Oh mama, it seems we have a leaky diaper here”. What the heck? I would really like to present cloth diapering in public for what I truly feel it to be: a more environmentally friendly, viable option for diapering your baby. But when she’s wet from head to toe from poo (okay, that one was an exaggeration) in the doctor’s office, then has evidence of leaks in gymnastics class, I feel like I’ve failed as the poster child for cloth diapers.

True, two incidents in a year and a half are not a big deal, that’s still a great track record for cloth diapering. And I’m positive that no one else in that gym realized we’d had a leaky diaper, let alone that it was a cloth one. So I fully understand this is only an issue in my head, really. But how can I expect to offer advice to other parents on how easy it is to cloth diaper, how great modern cloth diapers are and how simple it would be for them to switch when my daughter walks around town in wet pants?

Next time we go out, I’m packing extra pants in the car. Just in case of another diaper fail.

By Honey B, Staff Writer, The Honey B (@thehoneyb)

It seems that considering becoming a parent can turn a woman into a dreamer. I’m not the brightest at times, but even I smile at some of the fantasies that we ‘Pre-Mommies’ indulge in.

The most common are vowing to never allow your child to misbehave in public, or use the TV as a babysitter. Now I’m a believer in karma and I really think saying something like that out loud increases the likelihood of giving birth to a supermarket performer or a child mesmerized by nothing but the TV.

Now I’m not suggesting I don’t roll my eyes when Marmot and I hear a screaming child in a restaurant, but I will admit I still cringe at the memory of my little sister Ginger being the screaming child and the family having to cancel an order at a restaurant and slink out the door because Screaming Mimi Ginger was embarrassing us.

My personal favorite is seeing a fit Mommy (perfectly dressed and coiffed, of course) jog down the sidewalk with kiddos in a jogging stroller, at which point I think to myself ‘I’m going to be that kind of Mom someday, the fit Mom who stays active.’ HAH! I’m not active now! I don’t run unless chased, let alone perfectly dressed. Dream on Honey!

Queen B. swore that nothing that wasn’t organic would pass the lips of her children, and yet I was the child who would sing ‘Fref-ries, fref-ries’ any time we passed the Golden Arches.

As she says, it happens to the best of us; the indulgence of a moment of fantasy. But we all do it and from I’ve learned, live to roll our eyes at what we thought we had control over, even Queen B.

What was your biggest Pre-Mommy fantasy?

By Honey B, Staff Writer, The Honey B (@thehoneyb)

As we get closer and closer to the end of the Baby Bucket List, I find myself looking ahead to the pregnancy stage and the even more daunting parenting stage.

Because I’m Type A, my reaction to anything unknown that is coming up is to read books. I already have amassed quite the collection of pregnancy and birth books (on my Kindle, so Marmot isn’t alarmed) and have been giving some consideration to parenting books.

Something that I’ve heard from so many mothers is how they were unprepared for the moment when they leave the hospital with their little bundle of joy. As Queen B. put it- is it really safe for us to just leave the hospital with this poor innocent baby?? Is that legal?! My SIL said she felt unprepared, my best friend said the responsibility hit her like a ton of bricks and Gramma B. says you should have to get a permission slip and take a baby training course before being allowed to procreate.

I’ve heard that parenting is the hardest job I’ll ever love. I’ve heard it’s the biggest challenge I’ll ever undertake and by far the most rewarding. I’ve heard that I’ll never love anything as much as I love my children and being a Mom.

But something I have never heard? That parenting is easy.

Like never. Never ever. In fact after 28 years of hearing people talk about parenting, I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t a whole lot that is nice about it, and that it includes a lot of crying, no sleeping, no more spending money and bodily fluids. From what I can tell, the only redeeming quality of parenting is the mysterious (and incomprehensible to non-parents) parent-child bond that makes it all worth it.

Now with that in my mind, I find it beyond puzzling that the blogosphere is full of new mothers announcing to the world their new-found knowledge that ‘Motherhood is tough!’ And every time I read that, I’m truly and honestly surprised. Didn’t they get the same warnings I did? Have we not been warned that parenting is tough?

So as I’m contemplating this mystery, I was reading reviews of the compilation work from Amalah, Finslippy, and other bloggers about motherhood, appropriately titled Sleep is for the Weak. And the first review I read said, “It is so refreshing to read REAL stories from REAL moms.”

Ok, something is wrong with that. The REAL moms. Who are the REAL moms?? Which brings me to the only possible conclusion: there are Fake Mommies out there somewhere, telling innocent mothers-to-be that motherhood is easy.

Who are the Fake Mommies that are saying that motherhood IS easy?!

By Mommie V, Staff Writer, My Little Slice of Mommie Heaven (@MommieV1)

Conversations:

Nosy Old Lady: Oh, what a precious baby girl.

Me:  Thank you.

NOL: Is she your first?

Me: Yes, she is

NOL: Does she have cousins?

Me: No, I’m an only child, so she is the only grandchild.

NOL: OH MY HEAVENS, you can’t let that go on much longer.

Another Nosy Old Lady: Oh, she’s so precious

Me: Thank you.

ANOL: Is she your only?

Me: Yes, she is

ANOL: Does your husband have a big family?

Me: I’m not married

ANOL: Do you have a big family?

Me: No, I’m an only child, and my dad’s family doesn’t have any children

ANOL: Oh, dear, I hope you’re planning to have another

I have conversations like this weekly.  Any time I take the Wee One out shopping, to a restaurant, or even to the grocery, I seem to end up in a conversation like that.  Apparently being the only child daughter of an only child single mother is the equivalent to … well, apparently it’s bad.

None of these Nosy Old Ladies express what their concern is.  By not having siblings and family children around, will she grow up to be selfish and self-centered, bored, lonely?  Am I selfish and self-centered, bored, lonely?

I loved being pregnant.  Even when I was sick, I loved the idea of a new life forming inside me.  I loved that my body was growing and nourishing my baby.  I enjoyed being pregnant so much, that I thought at the time that I must do this again.  I wasn’t sure if I would or not, but I didn’t consider it to be my only pregnancy.

I thought that I had a support system in place.  I thought that we would be fine, me and my Wee One.  I hadn’t expected pregnancy issues, ongoing health effects, or what 419 days without a full night’s sleep does to a person.  As my maternity leave was winding down, I suddenly realized what that would really look like.  It wouldn’t be impossible, it was something that I could do.  I was just realizing truly what that would entail.

I moved back home.  For me, that was a pretty significant event.  I left home 18 years ago and only came back to visit.  I never considered that I would live here again.  Even when the Wee One was on the way, I was adamant that I would live where I lived, that I could take care of her on my own.

I decided to move home to be closer to my family, to have more of a support system to take care of her.  I truly feel that was a good decision – it’s been good for me to be close to my family, it’s been wonderful for her to have her grandparents close.  And my parents help far more that I ever thought.  It’s been really great.

So I’ve been thinking about the “have another?” question.  Not just because of the Nosy Old Ladies in the grocery, but that does tend to bring up the thought.

I’ve read that you should have your second when your first is about two.  That’s when they’re so interested in the world that they won’t notice your attention being taken by a new little one.  That means … I’m running late.  Wee One will be 18 months old in about another week.

I’m quite independent.  And I ended up loving life on my own better than life with others.  Is that because I’m an only child?  Or because I’m an Aquarius, or something even more anecdotal and unrelated?  If I’d had siblings, would have I ended up less independent?  Or would I have just been miserable having to share life and interact when I’d rather read and play by myself?  My Wee One seems to love people.  Will she hate me for not giving her siblings?  I’ve already deprived her of a father in her life, shouldn’t I consider giving her other to love and to love her, in addition to extended family?

Time Magazine had a cover story over the summer that discussed these perceptions that only children are deficient in social skills.   (Eerie how similar her grocery store conversations were to mine.  Wonder if it was the same Nosy Old Lady.)  Their conclusion is that there isn’t anything to the rumors.  Only children are just as well adjusted and seem to score higher on intelligence tests.  So maybe I’m doing her a favor if I keep her an Only.

The decision wouldn’t just affect me.  My parents would end up helping even more with her if I had a newborn in arms, so they would be impacted by my decision as well.

Do I get rid of all the baby stuff as if I’m “done”?  Or do I let it languish in the basement “in case I have another”?

With two I’d be outnumbered.  Can one mama really handle two?  I’ve been reading mama blogs of single mama’s to two.  They don’t seem fazed by it at all.  My daycare would be more expensive.  Could I actually afford two?  (I already have the diapers!)

I turn 37 in January.  I wouldn’t be ready then.  Next summer?  Probably not?  Then when?  I’m going to be 38 schlepping around a preggo belly and then 39 and getting no sleep with a newborn?  Seriously?

But here’s the bottom line.  I thought the other day “I’d only have another if I knew it would be a boy.”  And that’s when I knew the answer is “no”.  I don’t know if it’s “not now” or “not ever”, but if I’m putting qualifiers on having another, then it definitely isn’t time.

And I only slightly feel like crying.

Now, about getting that cat …

By Honey B, Staff Writer, The Honey B (@thehoneyb)

When people find out that you’re considering getting pregnant, the horror stories come out!  In fact, I don’t recommend ever telling anyone you want to get pregnant because they’ll talk you out of it.  I’m told it’s the same when you actually do get pregnant, which is hilarious because it’s not like you can do anything about it at that point!

But just for a moment let’s look at some of the gems of stories I’ve been told; the descriptions of what awaits me at the end of the Baby Bucket List:

*Pregnancy arrives! And brings morning sickness, hemorrhoids, constipation, hemorrhoids, muscles and joints aching, hemorroids, cankles, hemorrhoids, ginormous painful boobs, hemorrhoids, sheer exhaustion and quite possibly even hemorrhoids.

*Labor: the physical feeling of having your hoo-hah stretched to allow the baby with the largest head known to man to emerge, and if you’re really a trooper you will do it ‘naturally’.

*Sleep: enjoy it now, because you will never have more than 3 minutes of uninterrupted sleep. Ever.

*And because you want to breastfeed, you will surrender my boobs for the sake of your child; they will then sag to the point of touching your waistline. If you had one, because your stomach will have a permanent pooch.

*Hair will never be styled again, or cut for that matter, which is OK because the Mommy Uniform isn’t all that flattering anyway.

*And speaking of the Mommy Uniform: sweatpants! Learn to love them because sweatpants and a shapeless t-shirt with baby spit up on it is your new look.

*Homes no longer have a need for nice furniture or any extra furniture that matter; you will not have time for guests and will not be presentable for them anyway.

*And don’t ever plan on having a vacation, hobby, or anything of your own anymore. This dear child will suck the life out of you, physically, mentally, emotionally and financially.

And yet, hearing all of this has not deterred me! The only rational conclusion I can come to is that the biological clock is engineered with these sicknesses in order to further the species of mankind.

What’s the worst Mom-horror-story you’ve ever heard?