Moms Gone Viral

We all know about videos going viral on the web (like this hot mess of a song)....the internet and its powers are far reaching, for sure.  And for good or bad (music).

But, moms who hang out on internet mom boards and blogs can take not just videos, but a toy recall, a new recommendation or a deal on Ergos and spread the word just as quickly as Rebecca Black became a household name.  The strength of mom board should not be underestimated, as I have seen boycotts of several products originate from a few scathing threads and re-posts.

Strangely though, I don't see this among my real life mom circle.  Occasionally, I'll receive the odd email forward about the drop side crib ban or something similar but not with the vigilance or frequency of some of the recent hot parent topics floating around the web.

Last week, the AAP released a new recommendation on the length of time a child should rear face in his or her carseat.

Extended rear facing (or, ERF) is a standard mom board debate (discussion? argument? DRAMA?) and has been for several years.  When this article came out last week, birth boards all over the web were posting the new recommendations.

On Facebook, the link kept being shared, over and over in my news feed....but curiously, the only moms posting it, were other internet mom friends.

None of my non-internet mom friends posted it...zero.

Now, this isn't a statement against my non-internet mom friends, who clearly, have better things to do with their time than waste away on the internet, as I do.  But, this is important information about a safety issue that clearly, isn't reaching them. (The other explanation would be that they don't care and I'm certain that's not the case.)

So, without spending time on mom boards, how does this information - ERF and other hot topics -  get to non-internet parents?  From a ped during a 15 minute well check?  I don't think so.

I don't have a grand solution to better disseminating this information to parents who aren't spending their online time on mom blogs and boards.  Starting a website for the non-internet parent?  The traffic would be close to zero.  Magazines are nearly dead (and the free Parenting mag we get after a newborn only comes a few times).  And if they aren't looking for the info, these parents may just never hear about these types of recommendations and other relevant kid topics.

At least I can say that all this time online has made me a more informed parent.  And hopefully, there are enough internet moms sharing this stuff on Facebook so their non-internet friends can learn too.

See, my kid DOES benefit from my internet addiction!  And yours can too.

One Ticket (and a "lapchild") to Paradise

We all know the problem with vacations is that...well...you have to come back from them.

I spent nearly the whole last week in Florida.  Sun.  Heat.  Warm.  Florida.

With my in-laws.

Normally, that would make most people cringe but I love my in-laws and we get along very well.

My son and I left a few days before my husband would join us and this meant two things.

My in-laws would be spending quality time with their grandson and I would be spending quality time alone.

Lounging on the dock.

Going for walks.

Reading books.

(Tiny white lie, I read two actual books and two books on my Kindle.  You can put the girl in paradise but you can't completely take away her technology.  I'm not primitive, people.)

Limited laptop.  Limited cell phone.  No TV.

And for a person addicted to her "mom boards" and Facebook, this was a big proverbial cord cutting, albeit a temporary one.

But man alive, coming back from a long vacation is brutal.  I feel completely out of touch.  I was so far gone into relaxation mode that my inspiration pool, my well of future blog ideas, was all but dried up.

I had such big plans to gaze over the river, have a glass of wine and let my conscious flow into a Hawaiian Tropic-scented haze of creativity.

Eh.  Not so much.

I think my brain may have actually shut off and didn't produce one thought that wasn't related to the book I was reading or whether I was starting to burn.

As much as this vacation was necessary to ctrl-alt-del my soul, I'm happy to be back in Delaware, where spring hasn't yet sprung but it certainly is trying. Back to routine and normal things, like doing laundry and stress.

Vacations are vacations for a reason.  I'm quite certain if I lived my life the way I did the past five days (with constant free childcare, at the drop of a hat), I wouldn't really do anything productive, other than burn calories from long walks and check books of my reading list.

So basically, I would be healthy, tan and well-read.

Psssh....who am I kidding?  That sounds fantastic.

   

just a bit of a break from the norm

Call 1-800....playgroup?

They (there they are again) say that the internet and electronic communication are making us socially inept.  The "us", I assume, can't really be nailed down to one demographic but rather, is anyone with a Facebook account, anyone that prefers text message over phone call or email over mailing a letter.

Putting all the debates about this phenomenon aside, I would have to say that moms everywhere, with children of any age, are forever in debt to the internet and in fact, the internet is making us MORE social, not less.

My family and I recently located from Chicago to Delaware.  We know a few people here, one family in particular that we see somewhat regularly, but for the most part, we don't have a ton of friends with kids within a close proximity.

As a new stay at home mom, I figured it would only be a matter of time before I totally lost my mind from lack of adult interaction from the hours of 8AM to 5PM.

That time was last week.

It was a subtle breakdown...no dramatics of Hollywood nervous breakdowns but it happened.

First instinct?

Google.

(Not Dr. Google, the family practitioner, OB and pediatrician that we all know and hate, just Mr. Google, the friendly purveyor of finding anything you want on the web).

Search terms including variations of mom, playgroup, toddler, Delaware, etc.

I made my way onto one site and found a playgroup in my area. Bam.  Kid gets playtime, I get adult conversation.  Done and done.

Now, 20 years ago, my options would have included the following:

1. Church

We don't do church.  Not even a little bit enough to feign interest in joining any sort of congregation, only to infiltrate the circle of moms.

2. The Yellow Pages.

Nevermind.  Pretty sure that was never a Yellow Pages category.

3. Making conversation with moms in public places, like the gym, the park or the library.

I'm probably one of the most outgoing people you will ever meet but other moms intimidate the hell outta me. You must tread so lightly with other new mom friends anyway (avoiding the hot button mom topics just to build your mom-friend foundation) that trying to make something out of nothing in a public situation is just....frightening.   I don't want to do it, they don't want to do it, but secretly, while we stand with our arms crossed watching our kids, we want the conversation.  But no mom wants to strike first.

Now jump to present day and the internet has given us the more comfortable alternative to starting those scary, awkward first conversations.  A few clicks and you have "introduced" yourself to other moms and can easily show up to a playdate and hopefully mesh with the existing group.

It may not be a match made in heaven but the point is, you can find another group that easily.  

So, maybe I frequently prefer to email over making a phone call.  And my non-Facebooked husband does get irritated that I spend so much time online.  But now?

He's thanking the internet for getting me OUT of the house and meeting new people, instead of wearing yoga pants every day and "forgetting" to shower.  And my son is thanking me (well, not really, but maybe some day he will appreciate it) for getting him out to play with other kids, lest he be a weird, clingy mommy's boy into his adolescent years because he hung out with me 24/7 for too long.

So, as much as my life is online these days, the offline time that I needed so badly, is because of the internet anyway.  Funny how that works.

Just say.....no??

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.

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

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.

Super Bowl Sun Day

I'm pent up and need to write soon.

My 9 followers are waiting.

Ha.

"early pregnancy symptoms"

One seemingly innocuous Google search and I was sucked into a internet world I never knew existed.

I joined Babycenter (BBC, for those in the know) when I thought might have been pregnant.  I was googling for symptoms and stumbled onto the BBC message boards.  And from that moment, I was hooked.

And as fast as I got hooked, I was quickly initiated into a strange circle of mom drama and the infamous "Life Cycle of a Birth Board."  I learned a new language made up of a list of acronyms so lengthy that it give the United States Armed Forces a run for its money.

But I learned SO much.   I was schooled on everything from conception to childbirth, and on, and then everything in between.

I have also come to the realization that while women are inherently judgmental (oh, shush, we are), our biggest critics are other mothers.  In these in internet communities, every choice a mother makes is a side of a coin, so to speak.  And if you aren't on that side, by golly, will you hear (er, read) the wrath of those who disagree.

Women hiding behind keyboards with rude, belittling, downright bitchy commentary.  And instead of using the format to have civilized discussions where one might learn something, it turns into a catfight of womanly issues.

Paige Worthy, an acquaintance of mine, blogger and (internet)socialite, was recently the target of this type of mom drama as a result of a tweet about nursing in public.

(Disclaimer: I'm not commenting on the topic of nursing in public -NIP, there's the acronym- but rather the phenomenon of mom and parenting social media and internet communication.)

Without even a bat of an eyelash, Paige tweeted (because Twitter is a conduit for every snap judgment and random thought, no?) about NIP, tagged it #gross and the rest is history.  The discussion that followed was less than positive with breastfeeding advocates coming to throw down.

Now, the comment was ignorant with respect to Paige's lack of knowledge of the feminist aspect of breastfeeding (I realize that description doesn't scratch the surface of the breastfeeding debate but again, I'm not here to comment on that).  But it doesn't change the fact that we learn new things every day. 

IRL (in real life, duh), when someone makes a casual comment that has varying levels of interpretation and possible inaccuracies, we don't attack them on sight. "Soy is for treehuggers!"  Eh...no, not really.  Not a very nice comment.  Possibly a misled comment.  Not nice, pretty judgmental and generally, not true.  But, that person would not likely be the target of a mass attack of faceless screennames on a soapbox.

So....why is it ok?  Why is it ok to "teach" with stinging typing fingers?  All the words that are posted online are read by someone.  Why does the Mom community in particular find it necessary to divide itself? Further, why alienate someone who hasn't even joined the community yet?

It is a Kumbaya notion but we need to be teaching women about women's issues - issues and topics that go further than child support and birth control and go way deeper into the nuances of the American maternity system (bing! hot button issue) and everything pregnancy and child related.  That is where the internet became an invaluable tool for me - talking to women who were knowledgeable and positive, giving me resources and providing advice.

All this to say, Paige, I could have predicted that outcome to your Tweet.  Sad but true, but I have read enough "drama threads" on Babycenter to know exactly what types of responses you would receive.  I'm sorry you had to learn about that issue in the way that you did, but I am glad, ultimately and hopefully, that you did learn something.


Welcome to BBC. 

I'm so excited! I'm so scared!

You know, nothing is official until it is on Facebook.

So, it is Facebook official.  We're moving.

Seven years in Chicago (minus an 11 month stint in DC)....it still hasn't sunk in.

Our relationship was built here.  We had only been dating 11 months and embarked on a crazy adventure, an adventure that was supposed to be temporary.  An 18 month project and we would get to move back home.

Not so much. 

But it was ok...we grew up and grew together here.  We came here young, we started running. We partied like the post grads we were and we went to many happy hours.  Our jobs got more serious and so did we.  We got married, bought a condo, got pregnant and had a baby, all while calling Chicago "home".

Chicago has defined our relationship and while I am so excited to get back to our family and friends, I'd be lying if I said that I wasn't a tiny bit nervous that this move, this new town, this new lifestyle didn't scare me a little.

Our life isn't about just the two of us now though.  It is about the three of us, the smallest iteration of "us" being the most important. 

So, we trade our condo with the luxury finishes for a 3 bedroom "old lady" house.

We trade our bustling downtown and eclectic neighborhood for quaint suburbia.

We trade late night fights and sirens on Clark Street for a quiet street that - oh my! - is dark at night!

I trade a high paying corporate job for the all together different lifestyle of a stay-at-home mom.

But, we also trade the island of separation for a new closeness (literally - proximity) to family. 

We know this is the right decision.  We know we will be happy.  We know that leaving Chicago doesn't change us.

Chicago is still a home because it created "us" - all of us.  And while I never could call it "home" while we lived here, I'm happy (and sad...) to call it home now because I never realized, until the past few weeks, how one city could be so important to all the things that mean everything to me.

Now I'm coming home again...
         ...maybe we can start again.

Top Secret

.....but as soon as I can talk about, I will.

I'm going to have a LOT to say.

But right now...ssssh.







And no, I am NOT pregnant.

A hobby.

I really like my camera.  And I really like taking pictures.

But, I really don't know how to work my camera.  And, I don't claim to have any talent whatsoever.

But like writing, it is about perspective...a good angle.  A good photo is like a good sentence; not painstakingly thought out but spontaneous with not too much editing.

I took some photos of a good friend and her new baby girl, as a learning experience.  I still have nary a clue about my camera but I think, in my humble amateur opinion, they aren't half bad. 

So, are there rules on hobbies? Am I obligated to get better?  I run as a hobby but I'm not good at that either.  I guess that is the nice thing about hobbies though - no pressure.

I like that.

Cause down the shore, everything's all right.

I left my brain in Ocean City.

This month has...sucked.

Nothing bad happened.  But, nothing good either.

I need something good to happen.  Something fresh and exciting.

In the meantime, my brain is on the beach and my butt is in this chair and I am not too thrilled about.

Keep on keeping on.

Bully.

My baby is a bully.

Ok, so maybe he is a baby and just doesn't know any better.

So far his misdemeanors include:
- grabbing a little girl by the neck, tossing her to the ground and stealing her bottle;

- numerous counts of biting, hitting and hair pulling; and

- yelling in the face of a little boy who was already crying, resulting in the little boy crying harder and Buddy shouting back louder.

For a little person who seems to have no use for "real" words or learning where his goddamn nose is, he is an aggressive little fellow. Not to mention, he is harder to keep clean than a white suede sofa.

So, I have the dirty, little bully. Awesome.

Hard to believe it's this kid, huh?

reminisce, talk some shit, forever young is in your mind

leave a mark that can't erase neither space nor time

Email Hall of Fame

From: Leigh
To: stefanie
Sent: Tuesday, March 3, 2009 1:41:59 PM
Subject: RE: you are a phantom

i cant believe you are going to a yankees game. is he gonna make you like baseball? or even worse, omg, is he gonna make you a yankees fan? for the love of god, please say no.


Date: Tue, 3 Mar 2009 10:54:54 -0800
From: stefanie
Subject: Re: you are a phantom
To: leigh


He's going to make me like baseball but it won't be easy but NO, I made it very clear that as a child, when I actually really liked baseball I was a Mets fan so there's no f'ing way I would just cross over.


From: Leigh
Sent: Tue 3/03/09 3:16 PM
To: stefanie


ok...we'd really have a challenge. the yankees are the anti-christ and i don't even believe in that.

Waiting. And not on tables.

This summer has been defined by waiting.

Waiting for news.

Waiting for opportunities.

I'm always an advocate of being an active participant in creating your destiny, but what do you do when everything you can do has been done and the outcome is out of your hands?

You wait.

I don't like feeling as though I am not living in this moment. I feel like I am missing so much RIGHT NOW because we are consumed with thinking about the future.

But, we still we wait. And time keeps ticking and life keeps happening. It seems like days drag now but when we look back, it will seem like moved so fast. We will realize that we missed little things happening and didn't appreciate other tiny moments.

So, until the other shoe drops, we pass time. And try our best to appreciate the moment we are in rather than focus too much on an undetermined future.

Easier said than done, isn't it?

I haz smart.

There's nothing more condescending than have someone look at you, like he had a grand realization about all the unfounded assumptions he's made about your intelligence, and say "Oh, so you're....smart."

(...that's a true story.)

At a previous firm, where title was everything and entitlement ran rampant, it was widely assumed that I was just your average, unmotivated, married 20-something who needed an income. Obviously, the opportunity to mention that I never exactly aspired to be a "Senior Administrative Assistant" didn't come up often. Nor was it appropriate, given I personally have no problem with anyone who does aspire to that rank. But really - I didn't go to college to do expense reports, ifyouknowwhatI'msaying.

My career path has been a twisty, nebulous string of growing responsibility and little clear direction. A lot of shades of gray and an equal amount of praise for being flexible. Versatile. Smart. While personally frustrating, I know that my bosses value me and respect me so I am luckier than most professionals in that regard.

Unfortunately, while it is clear that I am "more than an admin", I am still not entirely sure what kind of job is right for me. I mean, I know I'm smart. Right now, my title is "Analyst" though, truth be told, my analytical skills leave something to be desired. My peers have degrees in all things number-y and a far cry from journalism.

My skills and strengths don't fit my role, at least, not at this point in time. In this industry, project management and roles that are heavy in communication and presentation are the benefits of working your ass off for the better part of your post-graduate years. Those roles are not for the admin-turned-analyst-now-working-mom-who-hasn't-put-in-her time-like-we-all-did, no matter if those skills are her strong suit and ultimately, the type of work she should be doing. And you know, she's smart too.

I truly didn't ever think that I would be eight years out of college and still not have a clear vision about a career. Except...well...I feel like I should be able to figure this out.

You know.

Cause I'm smart.

Email Hall of Fame

From: Leigh A.
Sent: Friday, June 23, 2006 10:03 AM
To: Everyone
Subject: Missing

If someone borrowed the Aveeno lotion that was on my desk, please return it when you are satisfactorily moisturized.



Thanks much!

Leigh

Words and Music by Robbie Hart

I've never been one for conflict.

Usually, when I get upset or angry, I spout off at the mouth. Mostly shouting - anyone who knows me well knows that I am loud to begin with - and the confrontation will usually result in tears, either right then or behind closed doors.

During these confrontations, words are all over my brain, struggling to come out in a cohesive thought because the emotions are turning them all around. Like a weird confrontational verbal dyslexia. Over the years, I've realized that I have to walk away from the conversation and collect my thoughts because I don't want to have my points and arguments be lost in my red-faced wild gestures.

By writing down my thoughts and emotions, I have the opportunity to craft each and every thought because they never, ever, come out that perfectly in the heat of the moment. In my head, I have so many perfect fights, conversations, witty comebacks. Hell, I'm wittier on GChat than I am in real life and that IS real time. Something about seeing the words on a screen. A well placed "fuck" in writing packs so much more punch than in the middle of a knockdown, drag out fight.

I think my savior is paper. Or, just a word processing program. The place where I can get everything down, in order. I need a repository for the bits of wild streaming statements, questions and exclamations that fly through my brain like ticker tape. The thought that immediately follows these brief moments of clarity is "Wow. I should write that down."

So, now I am going to write them down. As many as I can, as often as I can. I could spout mumbo jumbo about writing being my therapy. Maybe it will be. Maybe I'll end up writing something meaningful. Maybe I'll be the only one to ever read it. Maybe one day I'll actually re-read what I have written and it will help me through a tough situation. Or just remind me I've been there, done that.

Even though some of these thoughts should be shared with the people who have inspired (or rather, provoked) them, at least I'll have some peace in getting my feelings down in writing. I don't know if the act of documenting these thoughts will legitimize them or make me sounds like a madwoman. I'm not sure it matters.

My husband runs to clear his head. I think I'll clear mine out by writing down years of internal dialogue that has been collecting in every corner of my brain.

Hopefully, it will make room for a revelation.

I need one of those.

Preg-nesia.

I did not enjoy being pregnant.

This was common knowledge. I shared it with pretty much everyone that inquired about my sperminated state.

All the food rules. No booze. Giving up my body to a being that I have never met.

Flashforward to six months into the being's current life and....funny....I miss being pregnant?

No. That can't be it.

I know in my rational mind and from my own memories and opinions - I did NOT like being pregnant.

Maybe its not that I miss being pregnant. Maybe its an appreciation of the process that created this cool little flirty dude that lives with us now. Maybe its a hokey notion and acknowledgment of the completely unequaled experience of his birth.

Whatever it is....I've got the fever.

Pregnancy fever.

And I don't think Tylenol helps.



sometimes you see him walk up in the club, he's a flirt

Email Hall of Fame

Here's a little gem from the olden days...

From: Stefanie Sent: Wed 10/18/2006 3:14 PM To: Leigh Subject: RE: True Life - I'm from staten island I like to imagine you working in this huge white room with a white desk, white chair and a white imac laptop. I imagine that your chair is backless and is shaped like a butt and when you go to work you wear your hair bob style but flipped up. I also imagine that you have a framed pictured of the cast of Everybody Loves Raymond on your desk.