December 12, 2009 at 12:33 am (Animals, Belle, Cats, Fort, Life, Max, Motherhood)
It’s mostly Kittymomma guilt today. I feel guilty for saying, “Damn you, Fort!” when he jumped in the crib as I was trying to put Max down for a nap. Not to mention the fact that I damned him last night when he was chasing Belle around the bathroom while I was trying to get ready for bed at 12:30.
I also feel guilty for saying, “Jesus, Max, that hurt!” when he pulled my hair whilst screaming, just as I tripped over the ottoman while attempting to put him in his carrier.
Yes, Mommy can be a potty mouth. But my dad was a potty mouth and I turned out ok. Except that I’m a potty mouth.
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December 4, 2009 at 11:58 pm (Babies, Holidays, Husbands, Life, Motherhood, Parenting, Thanksgiving, Travel)
Chris, Max, and I went to my parents’ house in Longview, TX, for Thanksgiving. It’s roughly a four and a half hour drive from our house in Austin, but it can easily balloon to five and a half or even six when traveling with a baby. Max is still eating every three hours, but luckily, we are able to give him bottles on the road. We usually manage to make the trip with only one stop for a feeding.
However, there was an unscheduled stop in Jacksonville, TX. Max had been fussy in the car, due to boredom and the sun getting in his eyes at times, despite my best efforts to shield them. I finally got him to sleep just as we got to Jacksonville, after many hummed renditions of Brahms’ “Lullaby”.
I was just about to tell Chris how Max had fallen asleep with one of his legs in the air when I noticed something protruding from his diaper. You see, lately, Max has started pooing only once a week. (We have told our doctor and it’s nothing to worry about.) While it is nice to have so few poopy diapers, there is usually a copious amount once the poop does land. Of course, he waited for his weekly poop until we were on the road in East Texas. Add to this the fact that we were not expecting another weekly poop, because he had just had one on Monday.
So, I took a closer look at the substance protruding from the diaper. It was getting dark out, but the light from the IPhone revealed that there was poo oozing from the diaper. Due to the fact that he had fallen asleep with his leg in the air, it had not soiled his outfit or the carrier. Also, I would not have seen it otherwise and I couldn’t smell it for some reason.
Horrified, I stage-whispered to my husband, “Hey, Chris, there’s poop coming out of his diaper!” Due to the semi-calm whispering tone of my voice, my husband at first was unsure about the urgency of the situation. We were soon in the parking lot of the post office, grossing out unsuspecting folks dropping off their holiday mail.
The only reason I can think of that my son would fall asleep in such an unprecedented position, thereby allowing us to save his outfit, his carrier, and our sanity on that long, cold drive is The Miracle of Thanksgiving. So, all ye citizens of Jacksonville, TX, take heart. When you smell that weird odor still lingering around the post office, you are actually getting a whiff of true holiday magic.
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November 22, 2009 at 3:09 pm (Animals, Babies, Cats, Health, Husbands, Life, Mental, Motherhood, Sleep)
Since my teens, I have had a touch of OCD. Well, maybe more than a touch, but fortunately, not the level of Jack Nicholson in As Good As It Gets. I am able to control it when I want to (while going crazy inside 
), but only to a certain extent.
It started in high school and escalated during my super-neurotic, overachiever state in college. I had to check all of the door locks every night in a certain order. Luckily, we had a small apartment with only two doors, which were in the same room. I hadn’t yet progressed to checking windows and the stove and oven yet. However, I spent an inordinate amount of time checking those two doors. No matter how long I stared I could not convince myself that the damn doors were as locked as they were going to get. Finally, I would convince myself that I could believe my eyes (I’m not really sure how long that took, but it was about the same amount of time every night.) and go to bed.
This continued even after I moved into an apartment of my own with chains and security bars on the door. (Hey, I lived in a college town. Those are candy stores for predators. I’d already caught a Peeping Tom at my bathroom window.) By then, I had started checking the windows. (Yes, Dad, this is what happens when you tell your children too many stories about how every stranger they see is a potential kidnapper. How even the seemingly harmless older couple across the street could be kidnappers and you should never, ever even make eye contact with anyone you don’t know, because you might disappear forever and meet some horrible fate.)
Now that I am living in a house with my husband and child, my routine runs a bit more smoothly. I do check everything, but I only do it once (most of the time). However, I have added a few weird things. For instance, I always check my husband’s deodorant bottle and container of hair product every morning to make sure he has put the lids back on properly. (I don’t want the cats getting in and eating any of that stuff.) However, I am also a multi-tasking mommy these days. I attempted to check the deodorant a couple of mornings ago while also brushing my teeth and moving my compact. (All after about a month of not really sleeping.) Of course, on that one morning, the lid wasn’t on all the way. The deodorant fell, knocking the compact on to the floor, causing me to take both the Lord’s and his Son’s names very much in vain. Blasphemously in vain. Noting that my prayers might get through faster if I would stop insulting two out of the Big Three, I apologized and prayed that my son hadn’t woken up. He hadn’t. Thank God. (And I say that respectfully.)
You’d think I would have learned my lesson from that incident. Oh, no. Yesterday (Again while Max was napping. I get in to so much mischief when he naps.), I just had to make sure the top was securely on the Tupperware container containing the previous night’s brisket, which was now my lunch. I tested it once. Not good enough. Twice. Still not good enough. A third time. The top flies off and the bowl skitters toward the microwave. I meekly replace the lid and put it in the fridge. No more checking. No more blaspheming. My son stayed asleep. I guess I am learning to let go of my fears and neuroses after all. A few more accidents should cure me completely.
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October 20, 2009 at 9:36 pm (Life, Movies, Parenting)
to go to the movies and find yourself sympathizing with the parents in the film.
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October 4, 2009 at 11:36 pm (Babies, Family, Flu, Illness, Life, Motherhood)
by the flu bug. My son and I both have the flu. His is probably H1N1. However, that one is apparently not as dangerous as the regular flu, despite the hype. We were at Dell Children’s Hospital from midnight to 6 a.m. trying to find out what was wrong. Despite the horrible wait, the doctors and nurses were wonderful once we finally got some help. Their cheerful attitudes at 4 a.m., despite an ER packed with cranky patients, are an inspiration.
I hope some of that cheer rubs off on me, because I am feeling pretty pessimistic about the coming week right now. I am really not looking forward to being alone and sick with a sick baby. I know I will do what I have to do, but it will be hard. I already got a taste of it last week. Even though my husband works at home, he still has to actually work most of the time and lately that has included evenings and weekends. Please send good thoughts and prayers our way.
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September 27, 2009 at 5:49 pm (Babies, Family, Fathers, Husbands, Life, Motherhood, Parenting)
I am so, so grateful that my son has a wonderful father who will be there for him his whole life. My father left when I was 13 and was never really around after that. In fact, he was never really around before he left. He was usually on business trips and when he was home, he was either asleep or locked in the bathroom. Or we wished he was asleep or locked in the bathroom.
Due to those experiences, one of my goals in life was to make sure my children had a father they could depend on. I know children can do fine without a father. My mother is one of the best women on earth, maybe THE best, and I marvel more and more everyday (especially since I’ve had my own child) at the bravery and sheer guts she displayed in striking out on her own and taking care of us. Luckily, she was only on her own a few years before my stepdad showed up, but she sacrificed a great deal for us before and after her remarriage and I will be forever grateful. Due to that example, I knew children could be great with a single parent and I might have gone that route if I had had to wait much longer for my husband.
Fortunately, my Prince Charming came along and now I have my beautiful baby boy. I finally have everything I really wanted (except possibly more kids, but we’ll wait a couple of years at least before we do anything about that). My baby boy has a terrific daddy AND he gets to have my mom for a grandmother. And those two are not the only wonderful family members he has. I think my son is set. (No pun intended.)
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September 27, 2009 at 5:42 pm (Babies, Clothes, Life)
“Baby clothes keep falling out of my clothes.”
- Spoken to my husband as I attempted to get ready for postnatal yoga this morning
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September 22, 2009 at 11:52 pm (Babies, Breastfeeding, Cats, Food, Life, Motherhood)
1. Tried to eat some Smart Ones fettucine alfredo too fast (in order to finish before the baby’s next feeding) and flipped the fork out of my hand, hitting CC in the leg.
2. Knocked over a bottle of breast milk and spilled it all over the floor and a tote bag.
3. Stepped on Earl Grey’s paw.
What will happen next? More specifically, what will happen to Fudgie? He’s the only cat I haven’t managed to inadvertently injure this week. (Actually, they’re fine, thank goodness.)
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September 19, 2009 at 2:44 pm (Babies, Breastfeeding, Etiquette, Life, Motherhood, Parenting, Uncategorized)
My son and I finally made it to our first postnatal yoga class today. I didn’t actually end up doing much yoga because my son, like most almost-two-month-olds, needs to eat every three hours. Also, he takes about 40 minutes to nurse. I admit, this has kept me from attending the class before, because I didn’t want to spend most of it nursing instead of doing yoga. However, the writing is on the wall. I’m not going to be able to do anything unless I am willing to feed him during some part of it. So I went, but I took a bottle of breast milk with me, since he usually bottle-feeds quicker than he nurses.
My son has taken a bottle from me several times and he usually gets at least one a day from my husband, so that I can have a break. However, he wouldn’t take it today. So, since several other women were nursing their babies, I decided to go ahead and nurse him.
At first, I felt self-conscious nursing without a cover in public. However, I soon became completely comfortable with it. In fact, I felt liberated. Before I had a child, I was fine with women breast-feeding in public, although I assumed it would be best for them to cover themselves up, to avoid catching flack from people. I thought it must be easy to just toss a cover over yourself and the baby. I was wrong. I have a nursing cover. It is very difficult to get the child in and out of the cover without exposing yourself somehow anyway. You either have to flash people or place the child under there and then fumble with your clothes, blind and one-handed. Also, it is sweltering under there (I can only imagine what it feels like for my son.) and trying to get him latched back on five thousand times while I can’t see him makes me want to pull my hair out.
Everyone says “breast is best.” They want all of the moms to breast-feed because it is better for the babies, but most people would prefer you stay trapped in the house for three months doing it. I’m sorry, but that is just not realistic. If people are going to get judgmental about a mom not breast-feeding, then they shouldn’t be judgmental about a mom doing it in public. A mom still has to have a life while breast-feeding, especially if she has other kids and/or a job. Plus, it’s better for both mom and baby if they aren’t trapped in the house 24/7. For the first time today, I didn’t feel limited by breast-feeding. I didn’t feel trapped. I actually felt like I was breast-feeding and living at the same time. I didn’t feel like I had to drop everything to feed my child. I didn’t have to stop my life. I was sharing my life with him.
Honestly, I think most moms probably aren’t self-conscious about nursing without a cover. At least, like me, they would find out they weren’t once they tried it. I think it is other people’s attitudes that make a mom self-conscious, rather than her own feelings. It’s not what the mom or baby is doing, but other people’s thoughts about breasts that are the problem. The fact is, I had to look really closely at the moms in class today to tell if they were nursing, even without covers. They were very discreet about it. They weren’t flashing their breasts around or letting them hang out when a child wasn’t latched to them. The fact is, our society is prudish and many think of breasts purely as sexual objects. Come on, people. It’s breast-feeding, not flashing your boobs to get Mardi Gras beads. And yet, some of the same people who probably pay money for those Girls Gone Wild DVDs, give nursing mothers dirty looks in public.
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September 16, 2009 at 9:31 pm (Babies, Life, Motherhood, Parenting)
I never thought it would be possible for me to take longer to leave the house than I did before my son was born. I was wrong. Before, I took too long because I would oversleep or meander around, giving in to my obsessive-compulsive tendencies and checking everything over and over. Now I get up two or three hours early, rush around madly, and am STILL sometimes late or miss whatever event I am trying to attend entirely.
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