In the wake of the 847th tantrum before lunch, here I am contemplating what sort of reaction bystanders would have, if I were to throw a tantrum every time I didn't get my way or just plain didn't like something.
Stuck in traffic?
I will bang my head on the steering wheel. This is a two part success as it will also honk the horn while drawing attention to my obvious displeasure.
Coffee shop out of muffins?
Throw myself on the floor until I split my forehead open on a sharp corner. Surely, after I am arrested in the ER for acting a sheer fool in a public place, there will be some sort of free pastry and stale coffee at the police station.
When my trainer at the gym asks for another set, I'll just shake my head and say "no, no" over and over and over again.
Ok, so obviously, I would never do any of the above, even when frustrated or insanely tired. There is a difference between an 18 month old throwing a tantrum and an adult throwing one; granted, neither is cute but the former is expected and somewhat accepted.
I've heard that the tantrums and the colossal meltdowns won't get any easier as we enter the 2s and 3s so I am off to go pick the minds of the internet mommies on discipline, coping and what's the best DIY method for covering your whole home in foam.
Here's to hoping naptime lasts long enough to get some answers and finish the cup of coffee that I made two hours ago.
Or I'm totally going to go limp, arch my back and stage the biggest freakout known to man.
Watch out, little man. You're about to have some competition.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
The Internet Demands an Apology. To You.
Dear Buddy,
I feel like I owe you an apology.
Other moms that I have interacted with on the internet have expressed that I may have made one or many wrong decisions, basically from the moment you were conceived. For these decisions, I owe you an apology.
From the beginning, I apologize that I got an epidural during your birth. Though I didn't really want one, I was weak and caved. Not because of the pain, mind you, but that's a story for another day. Regardless, I apologize for any medication that may have crossed the placenta. I didn't mean to get you high.
I apologize for your circumcision. Daddy and I disagreed on this decision and I let him have the final say. The ladies on the internet think I shouldn't have backed down. I'll have to apologize to your dad later for being a weak woman. Or maybe, just make him dinner and acknowledge his superiority. Either way, I'm sorry I ruined your penis.
I apologize for not successfully breastfeeding you. Nursing was a disaster and I tried to get you the "liquid gold" but it seems that the combination of your sensitive tummy and my stress were antithetical to the situation. I'm sorry that you were deprived of bonding and vital nutrients and I hope by the time you read this, you aren't fat and stupid.
I apologize for letting you "cry it out" to sleep on occasion. You weren't/aren't exactly what I would call a "sleeper" and I did reach the end of my rope a few times. This method failed anyway so any neglect or possible long term psychological damage was avoided. I hope, by the time you read this, you won't be sleeping with Daddy and me anymore. Funny how I failed at doing the "wrong" thing on this one anyway. So, I'm sorry for not being able to follow through on the method as well.
I apologize for having to work for the first 14 months of your life. Though we loved the daycare girls (and you did too), according to the mommies on the internet, I shouldn't have had you if I was going to let someone else raise you. Now, I stay at home with you so hopefully, you have realized that I am your mother. I think you have.
I'm sorry you started watching Sesame Street at the age of 17 months. Coincidence or not, your vocabulary exploded the past few weeks. But, TV is bad. Very bad. I vow to make sure that you are active and eat healthy, because again, I hope you don't end up fat and stupid. I'd feel terrible.
I'm sorry for being hyperaware of every decision I make for you. I'm sorry I spend too much time worrying about what strangers on the internet think of my parenting.
I hope you know that for all the "mistakes" I've made, you are still perfect.
And happy.
And smart.
And I love you so much.
No matter what those mean ladies on the internet say I did wrong, there is NOTHING wrong with you.
Love,
Your Mama
PS - Get off your computer. Go get some fresh air. Read a book. I ain't raisin' no lazy bum.
cause you're amazing
just the way you are
I feel like I owe you an apology.
Other moms that I have interacted with on the internet have expressed that I may have made one or many wrong decisions, basically from the moment you were conceived. For these decisions, I owe you an apology.
From the beginning, I apologize that I got an epidural during your birth. Though I didn't really want one, I was weak and caved. Not because of the pain, mind you, but that's a story for another day. Regardless, I apologize for any medication that may have crossed the placenta. I didn't mean to get you high.
I apologize for your circumcision. Daddy and I disagreed on this decision and I let him have the final say. The ladies on the internet think I shouldn't have backed down. I'll have to apologize to your dad later for being a weak woman. Or maybe, just make him dinner and acknowledge his superiority. Either way, I'm sorry I ruined your penis.
I apologize for not successfully breastfeeding you. Nursing was a disaster and I tried to get you the "liquid gold" but it seems that the combination of your sensitive tummy and my stress were antithetical to the situation. I'm sorry that you were deprived of bonding and vital nutrients and I hope by the time you read this, you aren't fat and stupid.
I apologize for letting you "cry it out" to sleep on occasion. You weren't/aren't exactly what I would call a "sleeper" and I did reach the end of my rope a few times. This method failed anyway so any neglect or possible long term psychological damage was avoided. I hope, by the time you read this, you won't be sleeping with Daddy and me anymore. Funny how I failed at doing the "wrong" thing on this one anyway. So, I'm sorry for not being able to follow through on the method as well.
I apologize for having to work for the first 14 months of your life. Though we loved the daycare girls (and you did too), according to the mommies on the internet, I shouldn't have had you if I was going to let someone else raise you. Now, I stay at home with you so hopefully, you have realized that I am your mother. I think you have.
I'm sorry you started watching Sesame Street at the age of 17 months. Coincidence or not, your vocabulary exploded the past few weeks. But, TV is bad. Very bad. I vow to make sure that you are active and eat healthy, because again, I hope you don't end up fat and stupid. I'd feel terrible.
I'm sorry for being hyperaware of every decision I make for you. I'm sorry I spend too much time worrying about what strangers on the internet think of my parenting.
I hope you know that for all the "mistakes" I've made, you are still perfect.
And happy.
And smart.
And I love you so much.
No matter what those mean ladies on the internet say I did wrong, there is NOTHING wrong with you.
Love,
Your Mama
PS - Get off your computer. Go get some fresh air. Read a book. I ain't raisin' no lazy bum.
cause you're amazing
just the way you are
Friday, February 11, 2011
two pink lines.
(Warning....not a happy post. Kinda a downer but in a reflective kind of way.)
They say (you know, they) that once you become a parent, you worry about everything.
But, what they don't tell you is that the worries don't start when the baby is born. The worrying starts when you see two pink lines.
The first worry is "is this REAL? is "it" going to stick?" and you keep testing to see those lines. Then you worry about hearing a heartbeat, prenatal testing, feeling the baby move, so on. So forth. The worry.
This past week has been terrible for unborn babies and their worrying moms. In 7 days, four women I know, have suffered losses, all at different stages of pregnancy.
On the same day that one woman (ahem) announced her "BFP" to her online mommies group, another expecting mom lost her baby at 6 weeks, after a year of trying and a medical diagnosis indicating, that yes, indeed, conceiving would be a challenge.
Three days later, the newly pregnant women (ahem) had to announce that it was a "chemical pregnancy" - a very early miscarriage. Semantics, terminology and the biological stage of pregnancy try to take away from the fact that for three days, that woman was indeed pregnant.
Several days later, yet another mom announced her loss to this group and days later, one more loss announcement. One mom with a history of miscarriages and the other, a surrogate mom (and very very close friend of mine) to two expectant daddies.
Seven days. Four babies. And nothing in common except for the hope of a healthy life and the worry that you will lose it. "It" being hope.
Or the baby.
Or both.
Politically, this is the hot button, "let's not go there at a dinner party" debate.
But, for a mother wanting a baby (or a surrogate giving up her body for another family), the question of when life - and the worry - begins is never doubted.
may your dreams stay big
and your worries stay small.
They say (you know, they) that once you become a parent, you worry about everything.
But, what they don't tell you is that the worries don't start when the baby is born. The worrying starts when you see two pink lines.
The first worry is "is this REAL? is "it" going to stick?" and you keep testing to see those lines. Then you worry about hearing a heartbeat, prenatal testing, feeling the baby move, so on. So forth. The worry.
This past week has been terrible for unborn babies and their worrying moms. In 7 days, four women I know, have suffered losses, all at different stages of pregnancy.
On the same day that one woman (ahem) announced her "BFP" to her online mommies group, another expecting mom lost her baby at 6 weeks, after a year of trying and a medical diagnosis indicating, that yes, indeed, conceiving would be a challenge.
Three days later, the newly pregnant women (ahem) had to announce that it was a "chemical pregnancy" - a very early miscarriage. Semantics, terminology and the biological stage of pregnancy try to take away from the fact that for three days, that woman was indeed pregnant.
Several days later, yet another mom announced her loss to this group and days later, one more loss announcement. One mom with a history of miscarriages and the other, a surrogate mom (and very very close friend of mine) to two expectant daddies.
Seven days. Four babies. And nothing in common except for the hope of a healthy life and the worry that you will lose it. "It" being hope.
Or the baby.
Or both.
Politically, this is the hot button, "let's not go there at a dinner party" debate.
But, for a mother wanting a baby (or a surrogate giving up her body for another family), the question of when life - and the worry - begins is never doubted.
may your dreams stay big
and your worries stay small.
Sunday, February 06, 2011
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