Who's a weepy mess?

I never considered myself a crier.  Sure, there are moments during certain movies, or when I'm so angry or frustrated or sad that I shed a tear or two.  Ok, so maybe I am a big cry-baby.  When I was super hormonal right after having the baby, I would watch him sleep and cry a bit because I didn't want anything bad to ever happen to him.  When I got this email forward from my MIL, I shed some more tears.  For someone who never considered motherhood a likely option, I am SO deep into it I want to give up my day job!  Oh, for the love of my baby.... :)

***

"We are sitting at lunch when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."  "We're taking a survey," she says, half-jokingly.  "Do you think I should have a baby?"

"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.  "I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations..."

But that is not what I meant at all.  I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her.  I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes.  I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but that becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable.  I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper without asking, "what if that had been MY child?"  That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her.   That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub.  That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop a souffle or her best crystal without a moment's hesitation.  I feel I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally drailed by motherhood.  She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell.  She will have to use every ounce of her discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that everyday decisions will no longer be routine.  That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemna.  That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom.  However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself.  That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child.  That she would give it up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years- not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish theirs.  I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.  My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks.  I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child.  I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would now find very unromantic.

I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice and drunk driving.  I hope she will understand why I can think rationally about most issues, but become temporarily insane when I discuss the threat of nuclear war to my children's future.  I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike.  I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or a cat for the first time.  I want her to taste the joy that is so real, it acutally hurts.

My daughter's quizzical looks makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.  "You'll never regret it," I finally say.  Then I reach across the table, squeeze my daughter's hand and offer a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all of the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of calling:  This blessed gift from God- that of Motherhood."

Judgey McJudgersteen

When you get pregnant or have a newborn, lots of people start asking questions about your plans.


Are you going to breastfeed?
When will you go back to work?
Are you going to use cloth or disposable diapers?
Will your kid be vaccinated?


Uh, yes, don't know, disposable, and YES!  Before Elijah came along, I used to judge other moms' choices because I thought I knew it all.  What I've found out is that I am a twit.  Who am I to judge?  I wasn't a mom yet so maybe what those other moms were doing was all fine and dandy.  So some moms plop their kids in front of the TV for hours at a time so that they can get some rest.  Maybe their kids were screaming for hours on end and they needed a break.  And those moms that breastfeed in public without a coverup?  Their kid was hungry and they forgot to bring a cover or don't care what others think and just want to feed their child.   Ok, I get it.  I wasn't on that side of the baby aisle - all I had were assumptions of what I myself would or wouldn't do in the same situation.


Fast forward to today.  I don't go so far as to breastfeed without a cover, but I have breastfed in public, which is something I never thought I would do.  And work?  I always thought I would just go back to work and let someone else (Jeff, my mom, babysitter) take care of the baby because I was NOT a stay-at-home type.  Now, I can't imagine going to work and missing out on Eli's first steps or seeing all the cute things he does every day.  My "green" sensibilities considered cloth diapers for a second, but it quickly passed.  I was not ready to put baby's poopie diapers in a bin and let it accumulate for a week until the diaper people came to pick it up, regardless of how much they tell me that there is no smell in their special bins.  Yeah right.  As for vaccines, I'm all for them.  I remember being blown away when I found out that kids these days don't have to get the chicken pox anymore because there's a vaccine for it.  I remember being a kid with itchy blotches all over my body and hating it.  Now my kid can be spared that yuckiness.  But for all those moms that choose not to vaccinate?  I say stay away from my kid.  I don't understand why you would want to risk your child's health by forgoing time- and science-tested shots.  But, people will have their reasons.


There are things out there that I haven't decided on and I know others will judge me based on my choices.  Will I keep Eli from watching TV until he's at least 2 (as recommended by "child experts") or will I find myself letting him veg out in front of Sesame Street?  Will I try to breastfeed until he's 1 years old or just stop at 6 months?  And here's something else - will I be those crazy moms who breastfeed their kid past 2 years and well into pre-K age?  At this point in time, I say if the kid can ask for your milk, he's too old to get it.  But who knows?  If you see me breastfeeding my 3 year old, just walk on by and cast your judge-y eyes somewhere else.  I've learned that every mom does what's best for her child and everyone else can just suck it.

P.I.M.P.

This has been such an awful week!

First, I found out that Raley's, which offers free knife sharpening, LOST my 2 knives that I dropped off last week.  What?!  Yep, my chef's knife and my santoku.  I kept getting the "We're so sorry, we've never lost any knives before" spiel.  The manager was on vacation last week and when he came back yesterday, he spoke to me and said he was going to get to the bottom of it.  Did I remember what the person looked like when I dropped off the knives?  No.  I had a baby in my cart and grocery shopping to do.  Ugh.  They're going to reimburse me for the knives if they can't find it.  Least of my worries.

Second, the Honda broke down.  It needs a new radiator, if not more work.  The car is 13 years old.  Jeff says that if it needs more work than just the radiator, we'll have to get a new car.  A) a new car sounds awesome, as I've been thinking about getting a new one to fit our growing family.  The Honda is so old that it doesn't have the safety features for our car seat to fit it.  New regulations came out in all cars in 2002, so we've only been able to fit the car seat in the Toyota truck, which isn't really a family car.  B) we can't really afford a new car.  I haven't worked all year (6 months) and money is tight.  What to do, what to do?  I'm thinking of going back to work, but not really in the same capacity as before.  I think I might have to go work for someone else.  Being on my own has been great, but with a baby, I can't really go out and meet clients, much less hustle to get new clients.  Plus, daycare is expensive, but the grandparents don't live close enough to provide the kind of babysitting necessary for me to work like I did before.  So, I am going to send out an email to colleagues and see if anyone is hiring.  It's kind of a crap dilemma too because I have LOVED being at home with Eli.  He's such a sweet baby.  I never thought I would enjoy being a stay-at-home mom, but it's been really cool!

In the midst of stressing about work and money and knives, my sweet baby provided a reality check.  He was sitting on my lap while I was typing away on my computer when all of a sudden, I hear the loudest, wettest fart imaginable.  Crap, I thought.  As I lifted him up to take him to the changing table, I saw the free flow of poop dripping down his leg, ooze onto my jeans, and down to the dining room chair.  Gross times 10!  

Instead of being mad, I started laughing hysterically.  What a freakin' reality check!  When Eli started laughing too, I was reminded that he was what was important in my life.  I needed to put aside all of my worries and just concentrate on him.  And that at this moment, it was the P.I.M.P. that needed my help - Poopies In My Pants.*

*P.I.M.P. is from a shirt my cousin bought her niece in Vegas.

Parenthood

Eli and I went to the grocery store today. I love going out with him. It beats the humdrum of staying at home all day with a newborn. But, I've been trying to combine errand trips out so that we don't have to leave the house every single day. For the most part, this works fine and I get things done and Eli is either asleep the whole time we're out or he's cute and gurgly and passersby fawn all over him. A couple of times, though, I've made the mistake of being out too long and not a) bringing a diaper bag, or b) being conscience of his feeding time. Ugh, it was miserable. Let's just say that I have fed him in a Macy's lounge/bathroom and in an Old Navy dressing room. Like Jeff says, it's apparent that I'm a parent.

Today was an errand day and I was determined to time everything so that we would leave the house after a feeding and get back in time for the next feeding. That gave me 3 hours. After dropping off the dry cleaning and filling up the gas tank, we end up at Raley's. A lady came up to our cart and declared, "Oh, she's so cute! How many months is she?"

"HE'S about three months." I was a little put-off. Did my little boy really look like a little girl? What is it about his features that look feminine? It's not like I curled his long-ass eyelashes or anything, although I had a dream that I did just that.

We wandered over to the bakery and I immediately felt a wave of lust and guilt. I try not to make a habit of going to the grocery store when I'm hungry because then everything looks delicious and I veer from my list. Yes, I make a list for the grocery store. I plan what I want to feed my husband for the week and I shop accordingly. Actually, our process is this: I hand him a cookbook, tell him to pick out a few things that sound good, then I experiment with the recipe and make it for him. It works for us and lucky for me, he eats everything I make (save that one time I made dandelion greens - he was not a happy camper and immediately spit it out on our porch).

So yes, I was lured to the bakery/deli and what did I end up buying? Four mini-desserts and fried chicken. Oh, the heart attack horror. Did we need those items? Hell no. Was it delicious? Hell yeah!

I love shopping for food. I actually miss the Whole Foods in Mill Valley and I heard that the second Whole Foods in MV is opening this week. Sigh. I can't wait to explore the farmer's markets in the area. In the meantime, Eli and I are regulars at Raley's. I wandered the aisles, trying to find inspiration. I spoke to the produce guy and got some good looking zucchini. I stopped by the meat department and dropped off a couple of knives (they sharpen them for free). I went through check-out and only after I paid did I realize that I forgot to pick up milk for Jeff. It was the first item on my list. As I went back through the store, Eli started getting fussy and I checked my watch. I had lost track of time. Again. Time to go home.

A few seconds later, an older lady approached and asked, "Where can I pick up one of these?" while pointing to Eli.

I smiled at her, then at Eli, who changed his scowl to a smile for the lady, and replied, "Over in Aisle 4. There's a sale today."

Parenthood. It's awesome.