Our Mommyhood

Posts Tagged ‘Motherhood’

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 PV Lundqvist, Guest Writer, PV Lundqvist (@PVLundqvist)

The problem with writing a post about wives and mommyhood is…I’m a guy. I see these roles from the outside. Their effects only. So instead of imagining that I can know what another human being is thinking, feeling, experiencing, I would like to illustrate how the typical guy (meaning me) reacts when he first encounters these roles. Let’s start with two different conversations: the first with a wife. Second with a mommy.

(On the phone, while at the grocery store.)

Me: Kidding me—they have wings?

She: Yes. And get overnights.

Me: Green package?

She: No blue.

Me: Thin?

She: Ultra thin.

Me: Stars or hearts?

She: What????

Me: Just checking to see if you were putting me on.

Yeah, that’s married right there. Didn’t have to tell you what we were talking about, did I? Learning about the day-to-day mechanics of being a woman just comes with the husband job description. Living with a mommy is, of course, completely different.

(On the phone, while at the grocery store.)

Me: Movers or cruisers? And why do they sound like motorcycle names?

She: Cruiser.

Me: Drymax, super dry, or sucks the pee out with a fan?

But it was different. Priorities shifted. It’s all about the baby. Did he eat, did he sleep, did he poop? That was the only conversation worth having, it seemed. Yeah, the wife had turned into a mommy. Toggle that switch—I started to treat her differently. And like a toddler first learning to walk, I took a header first time out.

Yeah, I failed Christmas. After establishing a tradition of gift giving with jewelry, or a romantic event, I got her a video camera.

Video. Camera.

What can I say, the store was out of oven mitts. Sure, she was gooooood about it. And wisely, she nudged me in the right direction for Mother’s Day. “I’m sending you a link to this mom-jewelry website, you can choose whichever…” That was easy. But she wasn’t going to help me with her birthday—a week after our baby’s first. I was on my own. For that, I got her a silver belly chain. The type you could wear with low-cut jeans, or a swimsuit.

One gift to show her how I valued her as a mom, and the other to show how I valued her as a wife. Two different roles in one. I think I’m starting to get it.

But, just so you know, I have grown in other ways: I no longer blush purple when I get sent to the pharmacy. And I can talk absorbency products with the best of them. But I’ll save that for another post on husbands and fatherhood.

By Honey B., Contributor, The Honey B (@thehoneyb)

If you’ve ever read my blog, you’ve probably met my Mom. At least the blog version of my Mom- but I promise you that she is just that weird in real life, too!

So I opened a magazine today, and there was an article titled, “Are We All Destined to Become Our Mothers?” I didn’t actually get to read the article due to a fit of hysterical laughter. But the title made me stop and think. And I came to the realization that yep, I’m doomed. I don’t even have kids yet, and I’m already my mother!

It’s the sneaky little things. Like when the words “Store brand is just as good as name brand”, and “I’ll bet you a dollar you can’t tell the difference” came out of my mouth. Or when I first muttered the words under my breath, “Skinny B****” at some model-esque woman who asked for size 00 jeans at  Gap. Or when I told my dogs, “I don’t care if you don’t like what you are having for dinner, eat it or I’ll rub it on you.”

Ahh memories.

For better or for worse, I think we all have some of our mother in us. Some of us have it deeper down than others, and some (like me) have it right at the surface.

That can be a blessing and a curse, of course. I struggle with many of the same things my Mom does- my ever changing weight, my desire to shop without limitations (like money!) and being married to someone who doesn’t always understand the need to rearrange furniture on a quarterly basis. But the blessing is that I know that the best furniture is the stuff you had in the other room, that children/husbands/dogs don’t really care what brand food you made as long as you made it, and that shopping, like bathroom trips, are best done with a friend (like Mom).

And besides, after 28 years of hearing all sorts of Mom-isms, I’m kind of looking forward to telling my unsuspecting children my personal favorites: “The Mommy with the best-behaved children in the library wins a prize” and that “Yes, your brains will leak out if you pierce your ears before you’re sixteen” and “No I’m not lying, ask your father.”

What is your favorite Mom-ism that you’re carrying on to the next generation?

Maureen, Guest Writer, Tatter Scoops (@tatterscoops)

As a mixed couple coming from two very different cultures, my husband and I already knew we’d be facing some minor adjustments after we got married. But nothing really prepared me for the different motherhood ‘wisdoms’ my country held for me and our son.

Since the day my family in Indonesia learned about my pregnancy, my Mom started telling me the dos and the don’ts. From what food to avoids to what foods to chomp down on veraciously. I never knew those bland tasting mung beans were supposed to make my baby’s hair thick and after two servings, I gave up on them!

At the time, we were still living in that small town of Dothan tucked in Alabama, so it was a bit easier to tune out some of this advice since it was given over the phone, from the other side of the globe. So I still drank cold water or cold ice-teas which according to the myth might make my baby too big – it was summer time for God’s sake! And I didn’t strap my post-baby stomach tightly with a girdle-wrapper-like-fabric many Indonesian moms had to wear because I had a c-section and even if I didn’t, it would be too much of a torture.

Imagine the horror on my husband’s face if I had followed one of the old wives tales to put scissors under the crib’s mattress to chase away evil spirits? Even worse, the scissors are supposed to go under the baby pillow!

Don’t get me wrong, not all of the advice is bad. Some is actually really good such as the one about the ‘telon oil’ (mixture of cajaput oil, fennel essential oil, and coconut oil). It’s supposed to warm babies and children and widely use amongst Indonesian moms.  We tried a few drops of this wonderful smelling oil and rub it on my son’s chest and tummy every night after bath time. Maybe it’s the oil or maybe pure luck but we never had any gas problem with him.

There were also the traditional ‘jamu’ (traditional medicines) for new mothers that my husband actually got for me. I don’t usually drink them but since he went out of his way and ordered me a box set of them, I swallowed! I’m not sure if they really work or not but I had a very fast recovery from my c-section.

Since we pretty much raise our son as a team being far from both sides of the family, I’m more Americanized and rely on either our pediatrician or my mommyhood bible (aka The What to Expect books) when it comes to how I handle our son. Some of my relatives find this wrong but after awhile my mother accepted my ways of doing things.

The first time we went home for a visit, my aunt called me mean mommy when she saw Lil’ A at his night time feeding – yes, he was still sitting up around the age of 9 months drinking his bottle. Most babies here will drink from their bottles lying down, which is something we never do. So even at 9 months old, Lil’ A was used to sitting up and drink away happily even if he’s tired.

Indonesians are more open to giving out unsolicited mothering advice and sometimes it still annoys me. Although I appreciate their good thoughts behind it, when you’re being bombarded with it and being criticized that you’re not doing it the right way, it can really get to you.

Raising a child with two influential cultures can really get interesting and I have learned to pick out what suits us best and ditch the rest.

by Honey B, Contributor, The Honey B (@thehoneyb)

Today I was thinking about all the reasons why I want to wait and finish the Baby Bucket List before I get pregnant.

Part of it is just wanting to feel prepared, and get some things off my plate before I take on the monumental task of motherhood. But another part of it is the paranoid part of me that is afraid that I’ll get pregnant, and then think whoa, did I really even want kids? The fear that I would resent my children for impeding my ability to do, well anything really- go on a trip, sleep, having a clean house, have the body I did before I got pregnant- what if I get into it and its not what I wanted it to be?

The blogosphere is positively brimming with posts about Mom’s who say motherhood was harder than they expected, not what they expected, and that its SO much harder than they expected. Wow. That is some scary shit. These are women who were ecstatic about getting pregnant- some after months or years of trying to conceive- and are feeling like they were dealt a really unexpected blow when motherhood isn’t all sunshine and happiness. Every expecting mother says they anticipate that it won’t always be easy and there will be rough days, but I’m starting to wonder if there isn’t some kind of self-delusion going on. The kind of delusion where we think I am different and I will be the perfect mother and I will be completely fulfilled by this life I have chosen and not loving being a mother every hour of every day is akin to not loving my child. Omg, did someone spike the Koolaid?? Where did the perfection requirement enter into this?!

I will admit I don’t understand a lot of what makes Mommies want to be perfect. I think about the choices I’ve made in life, like being married. Before I got married, I knew that it wasn’t going to be fun every day, and that there will be days when the single life seems like that’s where it’s really at. And of course, actually living it is far more in your face and unhappy than what you imagine before you’re married. But when the first fight happens and you have a rough day in marriage land, do I feel like being a wife is a mistake? No, I don’t! I think it’s a crappy day and I really hope that I like him more tomorrow.

Perfection wasn’t ever part of the equation when I thought about married life on a daily basis. In today’s society, there is a 50/50 chance of the marriage ending in divorce. That’s a pretty gruesome rate, and aren’t we thankful that it parenthood doesn’t have statistics like that? And yet we act as though anything less than perfect motherhood isn’t acceptable. Much like the choice to breastfeed or have a natural delivery or any other hot-button issue that Mommies get nasty about, its all about providing the best for your children. But sometimes, I think Mommies need to just cut themselves some slack.

But the old adage holds true, easier said than done…and I worry that I won’t be happy once I take the plunge.

What do you think?