MW Links: The Body After the Baby

Antonia proves that it’s possible to maintain a sense of humor while dealing with uterine prolapse. (She also wrote beautifully about birth and pregnancy depression.)

Wannabe

By Allison H.

I moved to the Valley from Boston when my son was 15 months old. My husband and I had just one car at the time, which he needed for work. I saw this as an opportunity to become a true mom of the area. I bought myself a trailer for my bike, a helmet for my son and was ready to embrace my latent inner-hippie. I took one preemptive practice run around the block a few times and then felt ready to be a real local. I imagined myself in the best shape of my life from biking everywhere! I imagined my days biking into Amherst with my happy toddler, meeting up with some like-minded women, running a few errands and coming home feeling fit, refreshed, in-touch and like a great mom. I was going to be that mom and I was psyched.

For my first real outing, I packed my son into the trailer with a snack and a drink and headed off to the supermarket. I loved the adventure of it all! I found the bike rack, figured out how to park my giant trailer there without obstructing the whole rack and felt great as I headed into the market. I still felt great as I packed my son back into the trailer and surrounded him with the groceries: 2 gallons of milk fit nicely under his seat, eggs and raw meats in the back where he couldn’t reach them, non-fragile items packed all around him. It was a tight squeeze. Once I got it all secure, I hopped on for my ride home.

I had not considered several factors:
1.    Groceries are heavy;
2.    Heavy trailers are very hard to pull;
3.    The supermarket was downhill from my house, which means that my house was uphill from the supermarket;
4.    I was not so fit;
5.    I don’t really like things that are really hard;
6.    My son has no patience for things that take a long time.

We finally made it home. I did not feel fit, refreshed, in-touch and like a great mom at all. I felt sweaty and sore and tired and obviously not fit. I felt irritated and angry at all those hippie moms with their happy kids in trailers. Instead of feeling like a great mom, I felt lousy for making my son endure a very long, uncomfortable bike trip packed in with the groceries in the hot trailer listening to me curse at the world.

I knew I was not ever going to be that mom. Why did I think I ever would be? That very night I met my husband at the car dealership and we got our second car.

About Allison H.

I’m a stay at home mom of a 3 year old and a 7 month old. I never really pictured myself as a stay at home mom. I have a Master’s degree I don’t use and the student debt to prove it.

I was so in love with my infant son, my first, and was lucky enough to be able to stay home with him. Slowly, over the last 3 years the infatuation has worn off, and yet, here I am. Now that I have my baby daughter, I’m in love all over again. We’re all surviving. We have good days and bad, but most are a mix of the two. I have to laugh at it all in order to keep on going.

I look at parenting, my life and my children rather irreverently and I like to poke fun at it all. I hope you can laugh along with me as I trip my way along the road of motherhood. Visit my blog at www.motherhoodwtf.com for more.

MW Links: Depression During Pregnancy

Today at Motherlode (the NY Times’ parenting blog), they’re discussing pregnancy depression and what loved ones can do to help. Been there yourself? Go join the discussion.

inherent capability.

By Tara Jean

April is a month set aside for poetry, and I stumbled again, on this clip of a mother who cares less about what others think of her than I am capable of. I want to be this mother – sign me up for the tattoos, the sweater, the cropped haircut, even the skull and crossbones broach, if it means, that I can stop caring about what people think.

It’s just the way I mother-
will not look like the way you mother -
and sometimes – that shakes me up- and challenges my core.

I make choices that do not look like yours -
I am crunchier than you – or not crunchy enough -
I am less likely to do things that you do – or more.
I might be louder, quicker to anger, slower to react,
or more anxious -
than you.

And then,
I love my boys so much I feel like I might break into pieces with joy at any moment -
Your love might look just like that -
or different.

And- I’ve resolved;
that each of us – no matter what our parenting style,
or how we feed our baby – by breast or by bottle,
no matter how we school our children, or what books we read to them, or how much media we bring into their lives or not.
No matter which bed we lay our babies in, or how we carry them on our bodies—
I have resolved – that each mother – has the inherent capability
to parent.
to learn.
to ask questions when needed-
and to be allowed to do just do what they can.

I resolve-
That I will support without judgment,
I will listen without advice,
and I will sing the songs,
and write the poems about mamas -
who shiver with the joy of love for their children.

About Tara Jean

She is: A woman who muses.  A woman with an inner monologue that never shuts down. And so, as that woman, I feel that I need to get these constant ramblings on the page.  I see the world through many filters, as woman, mother, wife, and teacher; as nerd, feminist, tree hugger, and music lover.  I am constantly trying to work my writing chops, and to commit to that writing. My blog is my attempt to work all these conditions in to one fluid, comprehensible  discourse. Visit my blog at Happy Valley Mama.



Spiderman Doesn’t Want to be Your Friend.

By Allison H.

When I hear myself say things like “Spiderman doesn’t want to be your friend anymore!” while watching my 3-year-old’s face crumble to tears, I feel like a crazy person. I feel like I must be the worst mom ever. Then, 1/16th of a second later, my attention is brought back to the moment, to my annoying son who refused to go to the potty on time, and pooped in his beloved Spiderman underpants. I dramatically throw the underpants in the garbage and say “Bye-bye Spiderman! No more cool Spiderman underpants!” Sobs turn to hysterics and I leave the bathroom before I say something I’ll regret. I mean, that I’ll regret more.

Am I the only mom who is crazy? Telling my son that Spiderman doesn’t want to be his friend, while making a big show of throwing Spiderman in the garbage is not so nice. But, in my defense, I did tell the kid a billion times that it looked like he had to go to the bathroom. I did tell him that I wanted to go to the park but we weren’t going to leave until he went to the bathroom. I did offer him books to be read aloud, stickers as trophies and endless maternal pride. I then threatened him with never going to the park again. None of it worked. My son, who has been potty trained for over a year, decided to hold it in past the point when he could. All when a perfectly nice bathroom was just steps away. And worse yet, he now does this nearly every day. Spiderman is not the first friend to find himself in the garbage can. It started with Elmo, Nemo, and even Buzz Lightyear. I have thrown away many, many pairs of pooped-in underpants.

I know that yelling at my son is the absolute worst thing to do in this situation. I know it’s a power struggle. I know that I’m giving him issues. Every time I swear I’m going to handle it like I imagine all the other moms I know do. I’ll say “Oh, Honey, that’s OK, next time let’s try to make it to the potty in time.” In fact, I have uttered those very words only to fly into a blind rage moments later, completely annihilating any positive parenting effects of what I just said. I know all of this, and yet, I can’t help it.
I wasn’t born a mom. I was born just a regular person who thinks it’s really annoying if a perfectly capable person chooses to shit his pants instead of just going to the bathroom. I was born a person who thinks your poop smells bad, and I really don’t want to be near it. That’s the person I was for all my life, and now, suddenly, I’m supposed to just flip some secret, yet-to-be-discovered-in-myself-mom-switch and remain calm? Is that what everyone else does?

OK, back to my son who is in the bathroom crying. I go in and begin the disgusting process of cleaning him up. He’s such a gross mess that mere toilet paper will not do and I must use baby wipes. My son is catching his breath in big gulps and asks “Mommy, is it a messy one?” I want to tell him how absolutely gross it is. How bad it all smells. How I have his shit on my hand. How all I want to do is leave him there and go take a shower, (I wonder if I put wine in a sippy cup if I can take it into the shower?), but instead I tell him that yes, it’s a messy one. And next time let’s try to make it to the potty on time. I then put him in a clean pair of Spiderman underpants.

About Allison H.

I’m a stay at home mom of a 3 year old and a 7 month old. I never really pictured myself as a stay at home mom. I have a Master’s degree I don’t use and the student debt to prove it.

I was so in love with my infant son, my first, and was lucky enough to be able to stay home with him. Slowly, over the last 3 years the infatuation has worn off, and yet, here I am. Now that I have my baby daughter, I’m in love all over again. We’re all surviving. We have good days and bad, but most are a mix of the two. I have to laugh at it all in order to keep on going.

I look at parenting, my life and my children rather irreverently and I like to poke fun at it all. I hope you can laugh along with me as I trip my way along the road of motherhood. Visit my blog at www.motherhoodwtf.com for more.



MW Links: Priorities vs. Perfection

Meagan over at The Happiest Mom has a great post up today about Priorities vs. Perfection: Why Parenting Values Matter, in which she talks about the struggle to not feel guilty about parenting “slips”, while still holding ourselves accountable for our actions.

Who I Am Not

By Allison H.

Perhaps the best way to introduce myself is to tell you who I am not.
You know those women whose bodies are unchanged throughout pregnancy except for their cute emerging belly? The ones who keep their slender arms, legs, face etc? Well, that’s not me. I have full body pregnancies. Apparently, my babies need a great deal of maternal back fat while developing. They need thick arms, cankles and skin tags too.

You know those women who are in the best shape of their lives 3 months post partum? The ones who have to buy new clothes in a smaller size? The ones who look impossibly incongruous holding their tiny infant? Well, that’s not me. I’m the woman who tells you my 7 month old is really 5 months old so that I have a better reason to still be so fat. (And you are shocked at my 18 lb, very alert 5 month old.)

You know those women who cherish their time with their young children because “it all goes by so fast”? The ones who constantly engage their kids in enriching, creative and exciting activities that are fun for everyone? Well, that’s not me. It does not all go by so fast over here. In fact, I often look at the clock multiple times within the same minute, stunned that it’s still not naptime. I am annoyed that there are no new Curious George episodes because we have seen them all a billion times.

Finally, you know those women who have wonderful scrapbooks and baby books documenting every adorable smile, date of first teeth, lock of hair? Well, that’s not me. I have exactly one printed photo of my 7 month old and it is her birth announcement. I have a baby book, and it’s empty. I already don’t remember when she smiled for the first time, when she sat.

So, who am I? I’m the mom who makes you feel better about your parenting. If you’re not still a good 40-50 lbs overweight 7 months post partum, then you’re doing better than at least one other mom. If you decide that it actually is worth the trouble to wrestle your 3 year old into his snow gear to go out to play more often than not, then you’re a step ahead of me. And if you have a single photo of your not-first-born child, then you are, well you get the idea.

I am not proud of my mediocrity by any means, but I do think that I’m probably good enough. Yes, my poor daughter may one day lament that I don’t have a baby book for her, but I’ll explain that I was just too busy getting spit up out of my hair (on most days, I do bother with at least that much), keeping her from constantly scratching her full body eczema, all while trying to control her impossible to control 3 year old brother who has taken to opening doors and leaving the house. If, by the end of the day, I have not lost her brother, or ended up in the hospital with him, and she is not bleeding and infected from scratching, then I’ve done well enough. Add to that actually providing palatable, healthy(ish) meals and snacks, ensuring everyone has enough sleep, and reading a couple of books together then I think the day is a success. Even if at one time or another, I ignored both of my crying children and locked the bathroom door to pee in private. I don’t need to be a martyr. I am allowed to pee and shower on my own. I am allowed to sit and drink coffee. So, Baby, stop scratching that, and, Son, get down from there; Curious George is on.

 

About Allison H.

I’m a stay at home mom of a 3 year old and a 7 month old. I never really pictured myself as a stay at home mom. I have a Master’s degree I don’t use and the student debt to prove it.

I was so in love with my infant son, my first, and was lucky enough to be able to stay home with him. Slowly, over the last 3 years the infatuation has worn off, and yet, here I am. Now that I have my baby daughter, I’m in love all over again. We’re all surviving. We have good days and bad, but most are a mix of the two. I have to laugh at it all in order to keep on going.

I look at parenting, my life and my children rather irreverently and I like to poke fun at it all. I hope you can laugh along with me as I trip my way along the road of motherhood. Visit my blog at www.motherhoodwtf.com for more.