Our Mommyhood

Posts Tagged ‘being a mom’

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

The Mommy Club is an elite group, open only to those who willingly (or occasionally unwillingly) take on the task of raising a child.

Membership Criteria

• A willingness to go through labor and delivery, or the excruciating process of adoption.
• A solemn vow to raise your child to the best of your abilities.
• A willingness to sacrifice, whether it may be finances, a social life or your dignity for your child.

Agility Test for Entry

Getting two wiggling and screaming children and a loaded shopping cart from storefront to vehicle. Successful completion is getting children into car seats and groceries into the car without dinging another vehicle, dropping the groceries or cursing

Alternate Agility Test for Entry

Removing peas from nostrils, while simultaneously feeding another child a plate of peas. Successful completion is peas removed without accidentally stabbing the child with the tweezers and the second child eating an entire plate of peas with implementation of the airplane method.

Examination for Entry

24 essay and multiple choice questions covering laundry and stain removal, creative food combinations for the picky child, how to tell your mother-in-law that you’re not naming a child after her, the pros and cons of Cheeto utilization while on long trips and your position on natural vs. medicated childbirth.

Rewards

An elite club, this affiliation affords you the ability to shape the minds of the future generation, option of smiling knowlingly at other mothers when a non-mother complains about not getting enough sleep at night and reward of sweet kisses and large collections of crayon artwork.

New members welcome; apply now.

By JJ Keith, Staff Writer, JJust Kidding (@jj_keith)

Last week I swabbed the floors, hid the laundry, put out a bowl of fruit and hosted a play date at my house for other mothers of two kids two and under. One of the moms grew up abroad and has ample family and household help. She took one look at me anxiously bouncing my infant in a Bjorn, pulling the garden hose out of my toddler’s mouth and tripping over cat mewing to be fed and said, “American women work too hard; you need a maid.”

When I had one child I felt prideful about the ferocity with which I did it all. When my first napped I busted my ass to clean the house, then write a blog post, polish an article for submission, return calls and emails, put some veggies in the crock pot for dinner and lay out the materials to do an art project with my daughter when she awoke. I was a multitasking hero. I didn’t need help. Nannies are for sissies. Plus my husband is a loving and dedicated father who also contributes mightily to keeping this household running. Maybe, I wondered, nannies are for families with absentee fathers.

Now that I have two babies, mom clichés like, “There just aren’t enough hours in the day” or “There isn’t enough of me to go around” are starting to sound like scripture. At this point I would unironically embroider “Too much to do, Too little time” on a throw pillow if, ironically, I had the time.

In my last post I presented my friend’s parable about the rich mom who was stressed with managing her household staff and children’s scheduled edutainment and the poor mom who just let it all roll, cooler than the cucumbers de-puffing the rich mom’s eyes on spa days. These days I’m poor AND stressed. The parable doesn’t hold up for moms with more than one kid it seems.

I was valedictorian of my high school, a National Merit Scholar and had a B.A. before I was legally allowed to buy alcohol. I spent my adolescence so tightly wound that I had nightmares of B+’s, but I have never been more stressed than I have been in the last few months. On top of taking care of my kids and my home, I need to come up with some freelancing income to help keep our household afloat. Now I know: writing, editing and managing submissions on top of the demands of being a stay-at-home mom two kids two and under is much harder than being an ace student.

After nearly losing my mind while cooking an apple crisp, responding to emails, bouncing my wailing baby, while calling the pediatrician I had a moment of clarity. I remembered that once I became a twenty-year-old with a B.A. I was just another schmo who needed a job. No one cared how many grades I skipped. And so now as a stay-at-home mom who freelances part-time without childcare or any familial or household help I had to look at myself and wonder: what am I trying to prove?

That lady was right. I do work too hard. I need to make my life livable and my goals attainable. The first step was going through our budget to see what we could give up in order to afford some cleaning help once every two weeks. I’ve also been on the lookout for a young and inexpensive mother’s helper to entertain my toddler (while I’m home and keeping an eye on things) for a few hours a week. I beg you to share any other suggestions you might have.

No one ever said that being a mom was easy, but no one ever said it would be this hard either. Late at night, after the kids are asleep, the dishwasher is whirring, the laundry is folded and the cat box is scooped I fantasize about everything I’ll get done one I get these kids in school all day. I could rule the world.

By Betsy, Editor, Funky Mama Bird (@funkymamabird)

I got my first tattoo at the age of 17. A small Celtic rune that means love, I had it done in the Pit of Harvard Square while I napped on a bench. While I spent most of my 20s regretting it, I embrace it now as a symbol of what my life was like at the time.

I got my second tattoo in my mid-20s. This one I put a lot of time and thought into; I wanted something that would give me inspiration through some difficult times I was having. The character for Strong and Fierce now adorns my right wrist.

My third tattoo came at a time when I was fully embracing who I was, and I wanted a tattoo that showed that. A quirky piece of artwork became the tattoo I now wear on my shoulder. My only regret is that I can’t see it whenever I want to.

After a hard pregnancy, tough bout with PPD/PPA and a difficult time bonding with my son, I wanted a tattoo to commemorate what we had gone through together. After all, we may have had a rocky start, but the kid and I are so bonded now there are times I think he wants to get back inside.

I had spent my pregnancy dreaming of birds, and one of my son’s favorite things is to watch the finches at our favorite refuge. Funky Mama Bird was the name I took for myself to describe my new role as a mom, and it seemed right that a tattoo commemorating my son’s birth and our journey together should be of birds.

As the editor and senior writer for an online magazine for tattoos, I write, research and read a lot about tattoos every day. I took much of what I’ve learned on the job to help make sure that I had no tattoo regrets ever with my Mommy tattoo. If you’re considering getting a Mommy tattoo as well, make sure you pay attention to the following.

Placement

Placement of your tattoo is extremely important. I can see three of my four tattoos easily, two extremely easily, and those are the two tattoos I have no regrets about. My favorite tattoo, the one on my shoulder, I can’t even see in a mirror. If you’re getting a tattoo to remind you of your journey toward becoming the mother you are today, give some thought to the fact that you, and your children, should be able to see it whenever you want to.

Design

For me, the design selection process was simple; I had drawn hundreds of bird images while pregnant, all I had to do was choose one. For others, the process may be different. Take inspiration from any of the following for your Mommy tattoo:

• A song you listen to with your child
• Your children’s names or the meanings of their names
• A symbol of how being a mother makes you feel, such as lion, warrior or willow tree
• A circle of life tattoo
• A portrait tattoo
• Baby foot print tattoos made from your infant’s first footprints
• A favorite story you read to your child
• Something you dreamt of while pregnant
• A special event or object you and your child share together

Get a Stencil

Print out the design for your tattoo on carbon paper. Rub some oil into your skin and place the carbon paper on top. Rub and remove the paper. You now have a transfer of the tattoo. Take a while to look at it there. Do you like the location? The size? The final design? Does it need to be bigger, smaller, more detailed, less detailed? These temporary tattoos can last for a few days if you powder them well; live with the image there for a while to make sure it’s the right one.

Talk to Your Tattoo Artist

Can’t quite get the right image? Talk to your tattoo artist about creating a custom piece. Bring in photographs, drawings and art work that inspire you and let them do the drawing. Just make sure to be firm about what you want; it’s your tattoo. My artist tried to add a wing to my blue bird. I didn’t want a wing; if I had wanted a wing, I would have drawn one. Speaking up meant that I got the design I wanted, not the design he thought I should have.

Cherish It

A Mommy tattoo is a great way to carry a reminder of the remarkable and personal journey you and your child went through together everywhere you go. Take the time to make sure the design is right and the placement is accessible, and know that your Mommy tattoo will show your love for your child is a totally new way.

Do you have a Mommy tattoo? Are you planning on getting one? Tell us about it in the forum!

By Megan M., Staff Writer, All A Bunch Of Momsense (@taxmegan)

It’s amazing how much time real life sucks out of our days. After the kids went back to school a few weeks ago, it was time for us to kick off our own “back to school” period at my job. My work hours kick back up a little bit, and include some evenings again, so trying to keep up with meals, housework, and oh heaven help me, the laundry becomes a new challenge all over again.

To top that off, I’m not really an organized person. I work from the chaos in my head, which spills over onto my kitchen table, 3 desks at work, my purse, at least 2 tote bags and the front floorboard of my van.

Y’all? We’re lost. It’s a good thing my kids know where to find the Pop-Tarts, or they might be starving by now.

Ok, it’s not really quite THAT bad, but it’s a little crazy to say the least. And all the crazy is making me tired; so we’re on a mission at our house to accomplish some things.

1. I will not allow Mt. St. Laundry to grow and live on my couch anymore. My couch is for me to lounge on while reading a book or watching TV; it’s NOT for my clean unders to hang out on for all the world to see.
2. I will put a desk in the spot I have selected and stop using the kitchen table to work on. The table is so we can eat, or play board games, or color pictures or whatever, as a family; it’s not my home office.
3. My children will not drop backpacks and shoes at the front door the moment they walk through it. Shoes go to their rooms, backpacks get emptied and then hung on new hooks by the door to prepare for the next day.
4. We will spend 15 minutes each day working on cleaning up our bedrooms, including purging toys/books/clothes/etc that we no longer need, want or use. We can do ANYTHING for 15 minutes.
5. We will have set morning, afternoon and evening lists of things we need to do. Completion of the lists will result in some sort of celebration (family Wii time, movie night, playing at the park, etc.)

We rotate who’s hosting holiday events, and it’s our year to have Christmas. I want my house to be a comfortable, happy place where my guests can visit any room without me being embarrassed by it. As a woman with three kids, one husband, two dogs, a cat and a job, I’ll never live in a showplace and frankly don’t want to, but I am not going to continue to live in chaos!

What kinds of routines work for your family? Do you have some tips on how you maintain order in your home and life?

By: Leigh, Guest Writer, Jersey Diva Mom (@jerseydivamom)

While I’m an adoptive mom and would gladly extol its virtues, I wouldn’t say I’m expert material; a passing glance at my blog would call key parenting skills into question. So while “expert” is beyond reach, “adoptive mom who lost it a couple of times on strangers” is pretty accurate.

“What is there to lose it about after adopting?” you rightfully ask. Well, apart from all the lovely stressors parenting brings, there are some comments you field that are unique to your situation; sometimes they just get rub you the wrong way. I really don’t think people mean any harm; they just don’t think or realize. My plan here isn’t to make you feel uncomfortable, but rather to help you see some things through the eyes of an adoptive parent. One less foot in a mouth… that’s what I’m all about here.

Loving Them as much as Children by Birth
My husband had two daughters when we married. I asked him repeatedly if he’d feel differently about his new sons vs. his daughters. After weeks of denial, he cracked. “Of course I’ll have a different relationship with them!” That saddened me, until he quickly clarified, “I was in my 30’s & 40’s for the girls but will be in my 50’s & 60’s for the boys. I don’t have the same career demands now. I probably won’t need to sit by a Barbie playhouse much.” It was really that simple to him; a question of lifestyle and gender play preferences. When I hear people talk about different feelings toward adopted kids, I go back to him since he’s poised to know the truth. He doesn’t get people who can’t believe you feel the same toward an adoptive child as one by birth. He’s really baffled by men’s reactions, “It’s not like you’d be breastfeeding yourself.” They’re just “his kids,” and by “they” I mean all four, all viewed the same way.

We clean up after kids who get the flu at 2:00am. We cry when we open hand drawn Mother’s Day cards. We stare at our sleeping kids, awed by their beauty, and befuddled that they can look so angelic in sleep while being so devilish when awake. We leave the house at 6:00am to schlep to gymnastics meets 100 miles away. Yep, we’re absolute idiots for our kids, too.

“Real” Kids
This was the phrase that put me over the edge on several occasions. I finally gave up, sarcasm taking over. To the woman in McDonald’s, the mom at my son’s preschool, the family friend at a party, and anyone else my flip tone offended at the time, “I’m kinda sorta sorry.” Eventually to comments such as, “They look just like your real kids,” I replied:

“He’s not got strings, to hold him down.”
“And yet, faux really is more humane.”
“We decided real was best since the holograms were too expensive.”
“Nope, he’s real. I lost the Nerf one years ago. The hubs was so pissed.”
“Madame Tussaud’s mail order – what can’t they do?!”
“Yeah, but the replacement parts are a bitch to find.”

When you become a parent, God gives you the kids you’re meant to have. Everyone in our family believes this. My stepdaughters have repeatedly said it to me. Physical similarities, personality traits, talents, crazy flash temper (huh? who said that?)… my sons share some of these with me, and I love it. But it’s not what makes them “real” to me; love alone does that.

“Bet You’re Happy You Missed That!”
This usually refers to morning sickness, swollen ankles, insomnia and labor pain. The paper pregnancy has its own set of challenges, though. There are things adoptive moms go through that can tear you down emotionally as well as physically. For starters, births have a due date. You knew, much like a road construction warning, that “on or about January 10…” you would be a parent. In the majority of cases, adoption has no due date. Even when couples are working with a birthmother there are legal milestones of equal significance or an undying fear that minds could be changed.

When you give birth, there’s no real fear the baby’s going to change his mind. Adoption brings all kinds of chances for uncertainty until final court approval. Don’t get me wrong – I’m ok with skipping some of the less than fun pregnancy highlights. Anxiety and doubt, though, can torment your stomach and sleep for months on end. Trust me, in the long run the roller coasters of birth and adoption even out to a dead heat. One other snag I’ll mention that can hurt feelings is the issue that many women who have adopted REALLY wanted those experiences you’re joking about. You never know so least said best said sometimes.

“They’re so Lucky to have You”
No. Not really. I feel very blessed that I was approved by the caretakers, judge, Russian Education Ministry, and above all, God, to be their mom. But no one walks around thinking, “WOW are my kids suuuuuuuper lucky that I’m their mom! I mean, I am FABULOUS” Whether you gave birth or adopted, you simply don’t think in those terms. Ok, maybe you do. No really, you don’t. I hope.

And while I’m on a Roll
The last little tidbit I have is something I wish I could scream at every reporter everywhere. I don’t walk around calling my sons my “adopted sons.” They’re just “sons.” Did you ever notice that in a story about any celeb who’s adopted, the kids are always labeled? Read an article about the Jolie-Pitts, Sandra Bullock, Sheryl Crowe, etc and their children are labeled when adopted. Curiously, the genetic Jolie-Pitts are not labeled. They are simply their kids. All of them are “their kids.” Period. If you happen to be a journalist, please keep that in mind. If you know one, please share this. Feel free to message People.com stories. Lord knows I do.

At the end of the day, however they ended up in our arms they are our children. They imprinted in our hearts like the werewolves do in Twilight. God sent me to them and them to me, not via a stork, but via Boeing. The humorist Art Buchwald was a parent via adoption. He once said, “You’ll know they’re your kids when you want to kill them.” On any given day, laundry, noise and bickering floating through my home, I’m with him. I love them more than life itself, yet want to murder them in frustration at times. So you see we are all the same. We are moms.