Every now and then, I find myself feeling guilty for not being constantly available to my son. It's been awhile since I've posted anything. Probably because, I work ridiculous hours and try to soak up every free second with my little guy. Just peering back at my last post, I think I was wrong...I am a superhero!
Sorry if that last remark seems egotistical, but it seems appropriate to deem working moms with this title. Somehow, I manage to get up at 6am, get ready, iron, help pack for my son's day, watch Sprout, make a coffee, hop in car, sit in traffic, hold a position that requires me to be in a million places at one time, juggling 50,000 things, grocery shop on my lunch break, sit in traffic, pick-up my child, hold a dance party, walk two miles, cook dinner, play with blocks, play with the dog, say prayers, and peacefully get him to sleep, do the laundry, wash dishes, other random chores each day, watch a sitcom, type a blog, then go to bed. That's pretty impressive.
Once those thoughts of guilt pop into my head, I have to give myself a reality check and remind myself that I am one heck of a role model. That my child will see first hand what hard work is. I have to remember how social he is and how independent he is becoming. Our time together is precious and fun. His smile gets me through the work day and gives me a purpose in life.
Working moms shouldn't feel like their child is missing out. It's not the truth. Whether you are a fortunate enough to have one parent at home during the day (my husband and I work opposite shifts), or have a relative or other qualified childcare professional, your child is going to be just fine. If anything, remind yourself how well rounded they are or will become. Think about the time your child has to play with others and how he/she will be challenged in unique ways. Every person your child is exposed to will give them new insight.
And for those of you who like going to work (me)...don't be ashamed. Even if I had all the money in the world, I would at least work part-time. It's healthy to get out and have an identity other than 'mom'. After all, you had a purpose prior to child birth, why should that go away after. Being 'mom' is my number one role, but I was Stephanie first and I'm not willing to let that go. Moms can have dreams and goals, hobbies and careers. So be proud that you go to work, put the bread on the table, and can rock a pencil skirt and oxford like it's nobody's business.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Sunday, February 27, 2011
I'm not a superhero...
It now seems clear to me that this blog will home the many mommy bloopers I encounter over the years. Just when I start to casually and confidently cruise through parenthood.....SMACK, something happens that will knock my ass right off my pedestal.
Yesterday, my little darling was here there and everywhere. We were like the traveling circus for the day, stopping to visit different friends, bopping around the store. All that craziness and some newly introduced carrots resulted in a not-so-happy, feverish, crabby, little man.
Today, I proceeded on as always, made a pot of coffee, did some dishes in between baby cries....poured myself a cup of coffee and realized, of course, I had no milk. If you know me, you know I am a caffeine junkie. It's my drug of choice and I begin to shake, sweat and hallucinate without it. But I need the freakin milk.
I bitched out loud, blaming this on my husband (who was at work), because of course it was his fault that I had no milk. I looked over at the baby, gazed out the window at the mild snow storm and six inches piled on the car and knew there was no chance I was going out to buy some. So I called my neighbor for assistance and ran out the door to meet her grandaughter at the end of my driveway (all while Ben was semi-content in his swing).
I took no more than two steps outside and felt a suffocating sensation take over me....I locked myself out and Ben in. I was half naked, at least for New England standards, wearing a tank top, pajama bottoms and thankfully a pair of granny boots. I bypassed the little girl at the end of the driveway and banged on my neighbor's door like a psychopath. "Give me the phone, I need the phone, phone, phone, phone, phone...". Finally she handed it over and I called my husband at work. "Ben, emergency, panic, run, now," was what managed to come out of my mouth.
Without discussion, I left my neighbor's house, and began to trudge through the 5 feet of snow left over from earlier storms. I couldn't open the gate in the backyard because snow was piled so high. I hopped the fence and tried for the windows...locked. Slider door, locked. I was soaked and could have cared less. I stumbled up a snow bank in the front of the house (without it the window would have been too high) and peered in at my little boy. He looked okay, but I knew at any moment the house could catch fire, or carbon monoxide would find its way in, or maybe the roof would collapse. All this worry led me to lose my balance and fall off the small mountain I had climbed up. Goodbye ankle.
Mike got to house in record time, even with the crappy road conditions; it was the longest ten minutes of my life. When the door opened, I sent Mike upstairs and I sat in the basement and sobbed. It was awful, I just cried and cried.
Once I calmed down, I thought about what happened. This is just one blooper among many to come. I'm a mom, not a superhero. Each day I'm learning along with my son. I may feed him rice krispies, accidentally hit his head on a cabinet while dancing, or lock him in my home. But...I am one heck of a mom, and my little boy thinks I'm awesome. Not to mention, he won't remember any of this...thankfully.
Yesterday, my little darling was here there and everywhere. We were like the traveling circus for the day, stopping to visit different friends, bopping around the store. All that craziness and some newly introduced carrots resulted in a not-so-happy, feverish, crabby, little man.
Today, I proceeded on as always, made a pot of coffee, did some dishes in between baby cries....poured myself a cup of coffee and realized, of course, I had no milk. If you know me, you know I am a caffeine junkie. It's my drug of choice and I begin to shake, sweat and hallucinate without it. But I need the freakin milk.
I bitched out loud, blaming this on my husband (who was at work), because of course it was his fault that I had no milk. I looked over at the baby, gazed out the window at the mild snow storm and six inches piled on the car and knew there was no chance I was going out to buy some. So I called my neighbor for assistance and ran out the door to meet her grandaughter at the end of my driveway (all while Ben was semi-content in his swing).
I took no more than two steps outside and felt a suffocating sensation take over me....I locked myself out and Ben in. I was half naked, at least for New England standards, wearing a tank top, pajama bottoms and thankfully a pair of granny boots. I bypassed the little girl at the end of the driveway and banged on my neighbor's door like a psychopath. "Give me the phone, I need the phone, phone, phone, phone, phone...". Finally she handed it over and I called my husband at work. "Ben, emergency, panic, run, now," was what managed to come out of my mouth.
Without discussion, I left my neighbor's house, and began to trudge through the 5 feet of snow left over from earlier storms. I couldn't open the gate in the backyard because snow was piled so high. I hopped the fence and tried for the windows...locked. Slider door, locked. I was soaked and could have cared less. I stumbled up a snow bank in the front of the house (without it the window would have been too high) and peered in at my little boy. He looked okay, but I knew at any moment the house could catch fire, or carbon monoxide would find its way in, or maybe the roof would collapse. All this worry led me to lose my balance and fall off the small mountain I had climbed up. Goodbye ankle.
Mike got to house in record time, even with the crappy road conditions; it was the longest ten minutes of my life. When the door opened, I sent Mike upstairs and I sat in the basement and sobbed. It was awful, I just cried and cried.
Once I calmed down, I thought about what happened. This is just one blooper among many to come. I'm a mom, not a superhero. Each day I'm learning along with my son. I may feed him rice krispies, accidentally hit his head on a cabinet while dancing, or lock him in my home. But...I am one heck of a mom, and my little boy thinks I'm awesome. Not to mention, he won't remember any of this...thankfully.
Saturday, January 29, 2011
Yea...we dig cereal.
Being a new mom has been quite the adventure. I find myself blocking the crazy advice of peers, instead trying to go with my instincts. So far, so good...well, I guess. My little man has for the most part been healthy. He's a whopping 19lbs at just 18 weeks of age. He smiles, hysterically laughs, rolls over, loves his swing and play mat...a perfect little boy.
Well, at his three month doctor's appointment, the pediatrician informed me that as he approached four months of age, I could begin giving him rice cereal. I was thrilled at the idea of giving him 'real' food. He was extra fussy one night, so I decided to give it a shot. I went to my cabinet and grabbed the box of Rice Krispies...rice cereal, right? I did think this out a bit. I waited until the cereal was extra soggy. He LOVED it!!! For about two weeks, Benji and I bonded over rice cereal. I ate my bowl, he ate the breast milk version. Things were great...until I informed a friend of this milestone. I instantly, blurted "my pediatrician told me it was fine", knowing I somehow goofed.
My husband and I laughed for a good hour after the discovery of powder cereal. I guess no one is perfect and moments like this will make for great stories when Ben is older. I've discovered that babies are pretty resilient and I love learning with him.
Well, at his three month doctor's appointment, the pediatrician informed me that as he approached four months of age, I could begin giving him rice cereal. I was thrilled at the idea of giving him 'real' food. He was extra fussy one night, so I decided to give it a shot. I went to my cabinet and grabbed the box of Rice Krispies...rice cereal, right? I did think this out a bit. I waited until the cereal was extra soggy. He LOVED it!!! For about two weeks, Benji and I bonded over rice cereal. I ate my bowl, he ate the breast milk version. Things were great...until I informed a friend of this milestone. I instantly, blurted "my pediatrician told me it was fine", knowing I somehow goofed.
My husband and I laughed for a good hour after the discovery of powder cereal. I guess no one is perfect and moments like this will make for great stories when Ben is older. I've discovered that babies are pretty resilient and I love learning with him.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
So in love...
It has been awhile since I've had an opportunity to post something. I started to write a blog about childbirth, but after three attempts to complete it, I simply gave up. Now, it's all a blur. I vaguely remember telling people the day after Ben was born how horrifying and painful it was. Now, I shrug it off an say "yea, it wasn't so bad." Today I am a firm believer in 'mommy amnesia.'
Mommyhood has been amazing. The first month was insane. This little creature just popped into our lives...it was crazy. I've never been much of a 'baby person.' Even now, I wouldn't go out of my way to stop a mom and ask questions about her child. But I can tell you, I am head over heels insanely in love with this little boy. Despite the initial lack of sleep, non-stop diaper changes, chapped nursing nipples, and at one point, never ending cries, this child is the best thing that has ever happened to us.
I'm back at work now; I have been for a little over a month. It was tough, but not nearly as difficult as I thought it would be. I'm not thrilled with my job, but it is nice to have something else to do during the day. The fact that he's with my husband during the day is also comforting...Mike is super dad.
Finally, I can say we're at a point where we are back in control of our lives and sort of know what we are doing. Ben's on a sleep schedule and for the most part sleeping through the night. I differentiate between his cries and know when he's suffering from gas, annoyed, over tired, or bored. I find enjoyment and happiness in the funniest things now. When he farts, I feel relieved knowing all that gas is going somewhere. When he sits there with a string of drool hanging from his face, it cracks me up. I'm amazed at how quickly he is growing (4 months and already 19lbs!), and by every new skill he learns. The first time he belted out a full blown chuckle, my heart melted and we sat there laughing together.
My little boy is the greatest gift God has ever given me and I never imagined how much better my life would be. I joked during pregnancy that all I wanted was to hit up the bar and drink a margarita. Now, I could really care less. I can't promise I will be posting blogs regularly, but I'll make an effort. The swing usually buys me 20 minutes, and nap times are typically used for dishes and laundry.
Sunday, September 5, 2010
"It can't hurt to TRY..."
After the endless hours of psychotically cleaning, crying then coping with the concept of the "c-section pooch", reading anything I could get my hands on, packing my bag, and making my home 'surgery friendly', Ben is not here. Although I was frustrated at the time, and looked at the doctor like she had two heads, I know this is for the best.
I was told I was absolutely going to need a c-section- not by one, but at least three different doctors. I was informed that after 34 weeks, if the placenta hadn’t moved away from the cervix, it wasn’t going anywhere...WRONG! Right before my amnio to confirm that his lungs were developed enough for delivery, we decided to do one last ultrasound...primarily to make me feel better. A doctor and a tech confirmed that my placenta is still low lying, but has shifted off to the side leaving JUST enough room for this baby to squeeze on by, or so I hope.
In the words of the glorious doctor whom I had met for the first time- "It can't hurt to try a vaginal delivery." Who the hell is she kidding? Now I know after watching thousands of birthing videos on you tube, after spending two nights in the hospital listening to the screams of women in labor, and after the gazillion stories I have heard from total strangers waiting in line at Walgreens that it hurts...A LOT! Episiotomies, tears, blood, stretching...yeah, I think I'll be a little pissed if they tell me I still need a c-section after an attempt at a traditional labor.
My doctor is on vacation this week, and when I asked the dink who is covering for him exactly how far my placenta had moved, she said "They won't attempt unless it is greater than 2 cm away". Ok, so I ask how far mine is "greater than 2cm away." Ok, are we talking 2.1 cm, 4 cm..."It doesn't specify". My Lord, do they know how to calm down an irrational pregnant woman.
To further enhance my frustration, the statistics were so, so in my favor. I knew that I would be having this baby on August 31. I was still in the comfort zone of weight, right around 30lbs. So what did I decide to do? Well, after months of watching what I ate, bypassing cravings, walking a few miles a day (until I was bed-rested)? I hit up every Mickey D's on the east coast for that snack size, heavenly, scrumptious, Reese's McFlurry. Let me tell you...my second chin will confirm this.
So now I sit here bouncing on a medicine ball, a bottle of hot sauce in my lap, praying to Jesus that Benjamin will grace this world prior to my due date. Although I know nothing about a traditional labor, I am confident that I can and will successfully push this child out of me. Even though the internal ultrasound penis like probe, condom and all hurt like a bitch the other day, I know I can push out a watermelon, lol. AHHHHHHHH! Life is not very predictable.
I was told I was absolutely going to need a c-section- not by one, but at least three different doctors. I was informed that after 34 weeks, if the placenta hadn’t moved away from the cervix, it wasn’t going anywhere...WRONG! Right before my amnio to confirm that his lungs were developed enough for delivery, we decided to do one last ultrasound...primarily to make me feel better. A doctor and a tech confirmed that my placenta is still low lying, but has shifted off to the side leaving JUST enough room for this baby to squeeze on by, or so I hope.
In the words of the glorious doctor whom I had met for the first time- "It can't hurt to try a vaginal delivery." Who the hell is she kidding? Now I know after watching thousands of birthing videos on you tube, after spending two nights in the hospital listening to the screams of women in labor, and after the gazillion stories I have heard from total strangers waiting in line at Walgreens that it hurts...A LOT! Episiotomies, tears, blood, stretching...yeah, I think I'll be a little pissed if they tell me I still need a c-section after an attempt at a traditional labor.
My doctor is on vacation this week, and when I asked the dink who is covering for him exactly how far my placenta had moved, she said "They won't attempt unless it is greater than 2 cm away". Ok, so I ask how far mine is "greater than 2cm away." Ok, are we talking 2.1 cm, 4 cm..."It doesn't specify". My Lord, do they know how to calm down an irrational pregnant woman.
To further enhance my frustration, the statistics were so, so in my favor. I knew that I would be having this baby on August 31. I was still in the comfort zone of weight, right around 30lbs. So what did I decide to do? Well, after months of watching what I ate, bypassing cravings, walking a few miles a day (until I was bed-rested)? I hit up every Mickey D's on the east coast for that snack size, heavenly, scrumptious, Reese's McFlurry. Let me tell you...my second chin will confirm this.
So now I sit here bouncing on a medicine ball, a bottle of hot sauce in my lap, praying to Jesus that Benjamin will grace this world prior to my due date. Although I know nothing about a traditional labor, I am confident that I can and will successfully push this child out of me. Even though the internal ultrasound penis like probe, condom and all hurt like a bitch the other day, I know I can push out a watermelon, lol. AHHHHHHHH! Life is not very predictable.
Monday, August 23, 2010
Here's to hoping...
In just about one week I will 'officially' be a mother...that is assuming nothing changes. I was admitted into the hospital for a second time due to light bleeding. Nothing alarming, especially since everything went well after the first bleed. To be honest, we almost didn't go into the emergency room, but we opted to be safe...just in case.
When the on-call doctor returned my call, I explained the situation and that I have a previa. I told her that I wasn't particularly concerned, she didn't seem too alarmed either. I was told to just come in for an hour or so to monitor the baby. Well..they didn't let me leave. It actually had nothing to do with bleeding. Apparently, I had a contraction and the baby didn't respond well to it. I don't recall having a contraction, but I guess it happened. I would like to give a shout out to my son for messing with the monitor ten minutes before I was to be released. Thank you Benjamin.
For the rest of the glorious evening, I was attached to a monitor by some nipple like device gouging into my stomach. Every hour a nurse had to come in and readjust it for me...wonderful for beauty sleep. Eventually, the next morning they did free me. THANK GOODNESS!!! I cannot imagine being on hospital bed rest; the idea of playing in traffic seems much more appealing. I told the nurse that if they came to the 'bed rest' conclusion they might as well send me to the psych ward over at the medical school. At least they'd let me color over there.
At about 8 am today, I heard a scream. The type of scream you imagine can only be projected when you have been picked up by a serial killer who is about to mutilate you, as you step on an underground hornet nest, and see Ron Jeremy naked in the distance. My doctor just so happened to walk in at that moment. Now my doctor is not a 'talker' nor does he show any interest in you other than the desire to safely deliver your child and move on with his life...I'm okay with that. I looked over at him, cringing, and said "is she in labor?". He obviously responded yes. I looked over at my husband and geeked out. "Holy shit," I said, "It really sounds like that?". The doctor sort of laughed. "Are you messing with me doc? Is someone blasting an episode of ER on the tv somewhere?" He really laughed and then closed the door to block the sound. Mike said it was to prevent scaring me, I know it was out of fear of the woman hearing my sickening laughter. I glanced over to the doctor one more time and said "Well....here's to c-sections."
So as it stands, I am volunteering to go on home bed rest as of Thursday. Every time I'm admitted into the hospital I hallucinate dollar signs...my insurance isn't as great as i'd like. That leaves me with just a few days until the c-section...woo hoo. Am I scared? ABSOLUTELY. Has the the concept of parenthood hit me yet? NOT AT ALL. I know it's all going to work out though.
I have one more ultrasound to see if anything has changed with the placenta. I've finally accepted the complications and the plan. I honestly cannot take any more changes.So here's to hoping! Not to mention the woman in the hospital scared the crap out of me. I told Mike that if surgery wasn't already scheduled, I would have been sitting in a puddle on the bed.
When the on-call doctor returned my call, I explained the situation and that I have a previa. I told her that I wasn't particularly concerned, she didn't seem too alarmed either. I was told to just come in for an hour or so to monitor the baby. Well..they didn't let me leave. It actually had nothing to do with bleeding. Apparently, I had a contraction and the baby didn't respond well to it. I don't recall having a contraction, but I guess it happened. I would like to give a shout out to my son for messing with the monitor ten minutes before I was to be released. Thank you Benjamin.
For the rest of the glorious evening, I was attached to a monitor by some nipple like device gouging into my stomach. Every hour a nurse had to come in and readjust it for me...wonderful for beauty sleep. Eventually, the next morning they did free me. THANK GOODNESS!!! I cannot imagine being on hospital bed rest; the idea of playing in traffic seems much more appealing. I told the nurse that if they came to the 'bed rest' conclusion they might as well send me to the psych ward over at the medical school. At least they'd let me color over there.
At about 8 am today, I heard a scream. The type of scream you imagine can only be projected when you have been picked up by a serial killer who is about to mutilate you, as you step on an underground hornet nest, and see Ron Jeremy naked in the distance. My doctor just so happened to walk in at that moment. Now my doctor is not a 'talker' nor does he show any interest in you other than the desire to safely deliver your child and move on with his life...I'm okay with that. I looked over at him, cringing, and said "is she in labor?". He obviously responded yes. I looked over at my husband and geeked out. "Holy shit," I said, "It really sounds like that?". The doctor sort of laughed. "Are you messing with me doc? Is someone blasting an episode of ER on the tv somewhere?" He really laughed and then closed the door to block the sound. Mike said it was to prevent scaring me, I know it was out of fear of the woman hearing my sickening laughter. I glanced over to the doctor one more time and said "Well....here's to c-sections."
So as it stands, I am volunteering to go on home bed rest as of Thursday. Every time I'm admitted into the hospital I hallucinate dollar signs...my insurance isn't as great as i'd like. That leaves me with just a few days until the c-section...woo hoo. Am I scared? ABSOLUTELY. Has the the concept of parenthood hit me yet? NOT AT ALL. I know it's all going to work out though.
I have one more ultrasound to see if anything has changed with the placenta. I've finally accepted the complications and the plan. I honestly cannot take any more changes.So here's to hoping! Not to mention the woman in the hospital scared the crap out of me. I told Mike that if surgery wasn't already scheduled, I would have been sitting in a puddle on the bed.
Monday, August 9, 2010
Baby-Q
After weeks of planning, Mike and I finally had our Baby-Q. It may seem semi-tacky to plan you own anti-shower, but I think it was appropriate in our situation. If you know anything about me, you understand that I have an incredibly small family and spent most of my time hanging out with guys. This is never an ideal for a 'traditional shower'. Furthermore, I hate pastels, the concept of snicker diapers makes me want to gag, and no one, absolutely no one is going near me with string in an effort to guess my waist size.
We opted for the baby-q, our way of including the men and women in our life, all ages. I had a lot of help from family and friends...there is no way I could have pulled this off completely on my own. We rented a sportsmen club, set up tents outside, a volley ball net, and Mike's band played. Inside there was a bar and we set up for a pot-luck. We covered the meat, but everyone else brought sides and desserts...it worked out beautifully.
Now as I mentioned, this was my version of an 'anti-shower'. It enabled all of our friends and family members to join us in celebrating the upcoming birth of Benjamin, while relaxing and chilling out. My only request was to NOT open the presents in advance. To me, this is the WORST part of the baby shower. Ohhhhing and awwwwing over diapers and breast pumps. Watching an uncomfortable and often humiliated pregnant woman cooo, when all she really wants to do is find the nearest bathroom and then hit up Mickey D's for a McFlurry. Absolutely torturous.
My plan was going accordingly, until someone made the announcement to 90 guests..."Steph is going to open the gifts inside, if anyone cares to watch." I instantly turned red, mortified at the turn of events. I tried to run but was attacked from multiple angles. A herd of women marched into the hall...I knew I had no chance. A chair was moved into the front of the room, and all eyes were on me. I looked at the table, knowing this would take forever...and it did...2 hours!!!
While the men sat outside, enjoying the amazing 70 degree day, sipping beers and listening to music, I was inside trying to figure out what the heck half of this stuff was. I appreciate every item and understand that we are tremendously fortunate to have such generous and loving people in our life..it was just EXHAUSTING. To the next woman, oddly planning her baby-q...explain in advance that you would like to take home the items to really look them over and enjoy opening them with your husband. This will spare you a lot of grief and stress.
All in all, I'm thrilled with how things turned out. The alternative to our idea was the foofy, all female shower...I know I would have looked like a sulking four year old had I been forced into that. OR no shower, and I think every child deserves to be celebrated. Our friends and family...even the men enjoyed themselves. The feedback we received after made all the planning worth it.
We opted for the baby-q, our way of including the men and women in our life, all ages. I had a lot of help from family and friends...there is no way I could have pulled this off completely on my own. We rented a sportsmen club, set up tents outside, a volley ball net, and Mike's band played. Inside there was a bar and we set up for a pot-luck. We covered the meat, but everyone else brought sides and desserts...it worked out beautifully.
Now as I mentioned, this was my version of an 'anti-shower'. It enabled all of our friends and family members to join us in celebrating the upcoming birth of Benjamin, while relaxing and chilling out. My only request was to NOT open the presents in advance. To me, this is the WORST part of the baby shower. Ohhhhing and awwwwing over diapers and breast pumps. Watching an uncomfortable and often humiliated pregnant woman cooo, when all she really wants to do is find the nearest bathroom and then hit up Mickey D's for a McFlurry. Absolutely torturous.
My plan was going accordingly, until someone made the announcement to 90 guests..."Steph is going to open the gifts inside, if anyone cares to watch." I instantly turned red, mortified at the turn of events. I tried to run but was attacked from multiple angles. A herd of women marched into the hall...I knew I had no chance. A chair was moved into the front of the room, and all eyes were on me. I looked at the table, knowing this would take forever...and it did...2 hours!!!
While the men sat outside, enjoying the amazing 70 degree day, sipping beers and listening to music, I was inside trying to figure out what the heck half of this stuff was. I appreciate every item and understand that we are tremendously fortunate to have such generous and loving people in our life..it was just EXHAUSTING. To the next woman, oddly planning her baby-q...explain in advance that you would like to take home the items to really look them over and enjoy opening them with your husband. This will spare you a lot of grief and stress.
All in all, I'm thrilled with how things turned out. The alternative to our idea was the foofy, all female shower...I know I would have looked like a sulking four year old had I been forced into that. OR no shower, and I think every child deserves to be celebrated. Our friends and family...even the men enjoyed themselves. The feedback we received after made all the planning worth it.
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