Meme time again

Christmas was astoundingly wonderful- for us at least. Others I know are not so lucky, but since I have no time to post about it right this second, I am using a Meme to get something up to remind me to post here more frequently!

Answer using the first letter of your name only!

What is your name? Rachael

Artist/Band/Musician: Red Hot Chili Peppers
4 letter word: Roll
Vehicle: Rolls Royce!
TV Show: Romper Room
City: Rochester, NY
Boy Name: Richard
Girl Name: Riley
Alcoholic drink: Rum
Occupation: Retail
Something you wear: Rubber boots
Celebrity: Reese Witherspoon
Food: Raddichio
One thing found in the kitchen: Refrigerator
Reason for Being Late: running late!
Cartoon Character: Rugrats
Something you shout:"Ridiculous!"

Getting in the swing

To try and get myself blogging more, as well as to get in a blog while working/trying to plan for our trip back home for Christmas....

Using only song names from ONE ARTIST, cleverly answer these questions. (Barenaked Ladies, of COURSE)

Are you Male or Female? I'll Be That Girl

Describe Yourself: It's Only Me

How Do You Feel? Some Fantastic

Where Do You Live? Home

If you could go anywhere, where would you go? Hello City

Favorite Form Of Transportation? In the Car

Your Best Friend? Beautiful

Describe The Weather: Baby It's Cold Outside

Favorite Time Of Day? When You Dream

If they made a TV show of your life, what would they call it? The Humour of the Situation

What is life to you? Fun & Games

Describe an ex-relationship: Too Little Too Late

Describe your current relationship: Rule the World With Love / One and Only / I Love You

Describe your job: Tonight is the Night I Fell Asleep At The Wheel

Your Fear? Spider In My Room / Never Do Anything

How would you like to die? Easy

What is the state of your soul right now? Wonderful Christmastime

Best Advice? Fight the Power

Thought Of The Day: I Can I Will I Do / Long Way Back Home

Motto: Who Needs Sleep?

Totally Cheating

It has been such a long time, and there is so much to tell... and yet I am going to cheat by doing a meme. I haven't been tagged (because honestly I don't think there is anyone out there reading these words), but what the heck. I just want to keep this blog active, and my New Year's resolution is to write at least once a week in 2010, and hopefully more. I love reading other "Mommy" blogs, even though I hate that label, and I would love to add to them, and possibly be a source of entertainment and solace for some other first-timer out there. Anyway. On to the meme!

What were you doing 10 years ago?

Ten years ago, I was 21 years old. I think that should probably answer that question! I was in college at SUNY Albany and at this time of year, I had just started dating someone who would turn out to be a huge mistake, but who did get me on the path to meeting my now-husband (who I met while celebrating the demise of my relationship with the Mistake!), so there you go.



Five Snacks You Enjoy:
1. Movie Theater Butter popcorn
2. Cheetos
3. Seasonally shaped Reese's peanut butter (trees, eggs, pumpkins, etc)
4. Ruffles Cheddar and Sour Cream potato chips
5. Peppermint stick ice cream

Five Songs That You Know All The Lyrics To:
1. What A Good Boy, Barenaked Ladies
2. Both Hands, Ani DiFranco
3. Don't Let's Start, They Might Be Giants
4. Dance Myself to Sleep, Ernie (Sesame Street!)
5. The Flag, Barenaked Ladies

Five Things You Would Do If You Were a Millionaire:
1. Pay off the cars and student loans
2. Buy a nice, 4-bedroom, 2-bathroom house with a big yard full of trees
3. Put away money for the Boy for college
4. Take my family on vacation
5. Hire a cleaning service!

Five bad habits:
1. Not exercising or eating as well as I should
2. Reading too many blogs
3. Picking at my fingernails
4. People magazine
5. Letting myself get irritated quickly

Five Things You Like To Do:
1. Sleep
2. Read
3. Watch the Real World & Amazing Race
4. Play trucks with the Boy
5. Plan/ make lists

Five Things You Would Never Wear Again:
1. A size 5
2. A fancy, heavy wedding dress
3. teeny tiny tank tops
4. Crushed velvet
5. guy's jeans

Five Favorite Toys:
1. The Boy's blocks
2. Computer
3. My camera
4. The cats
5. My husband

It's Been a While

A new job was started. New routines were learned. A terrible day care situation was remedied, with a dream day care situation, which then had to be changed yet again.

It's a terrible state of affairs in the economy when a wonderful, may I say PERFECT, day care provider is forced to take a different job because there aren't enough kids in her day care? Our Boy was the only child in her day care. A licensed psychologist and play therapist, she spent all day loving, nurturing, and teaching our little guy, but she got no other takers on her wonderful, affordable day care. She was offered a job with the state, paying more than my husband and I make together. She had no choice but to take it or there was fear that she and her husband would actually lose their home. I can't fault her for that. I think it hurt her as much as it hurt us to end the situation. Fortunately, she has a friend who is a licensed provider and the transition was handled as well as it could possibly have been handled. The Boy has been there for two days now- today is his third. He has cried each morning (although he stops as soon as his parent leaves!) It breaks my heart to hear him cry, and I feel so badly that it has to be this way. But I know he is there, with a kind caregiver and other kids near his age, playing trucks and blocks and going for walks.

I can't even speak of our first caregiver. I'm glad he is out of that home, that's all I want to say about it.

The Boy grows every day. Learns every day. His vocabulary grows by 4 or 5 words per week, and he runs headlong into every new experience. He has discovered the joy of Hot Wheels and goes everywhere with a toy school bus given to him by friends of ours. When we are driving in the car, he identifies every vehicle we pass. "Truck! Car! BUS!" He runs to us and hugs us, sending such a wave of joy to me that I find it difficult to stand up.

Three of our friends have had babies since last I wrote. Snuggling these teeny little girls (yes, girls, all of them!) makes me ovulate, I swear. And yet, despite the fact that I want and know we will have one more child someday, it doesn't fail to make me SO GLAD that we are past the baby stage with our Boy. I can completely understand where people who have their children close together are coming from. It seems like such a good plan to get all those diapers out of the way. But in our family, the right thing for us is to have this time as a new family. For it just to be the three of us for a while. To revel in our new parent status, to lavish our time and affection on our firstborn son and to give him all that we can possibly give him before introducing a sibling into his life. If we were to have another child now, we wouldn't have the money or time to be the parents to our Boy that we want to be. I am thankful that we have the option to choose when our next child will be born (barring some catastrophic failure with the Pill, of course). Clearly the Pill has worked for us- when I went off it for the first time in ten years, I was pregnant with the Boy within three months.

Instead, I can live vicariously through these teeny girls, help out their exhausted parents, listen with sympathy to their up-all-night stories. Then I can return home with my husband and our Boy, give him his dinner (which he can eat with a fork), his bath (which he loves to play in), watch some Baby Einstein or read him a story, and tuck him into bed (where he can put himself to sleep and stay asleep all night long). It's a happy time.

Again! Again!

When the Boy was first born, and little and wee and tiny, and waking up every three hours, and having GERD, and I was in the throes of PPD, and crying, and sweating, and having panic attacks, I JUST. KNEW. I could never, ever, ever do it again. I could not for the life of me figure out how those poor Mamas could care for two little ones at the same.time.

I wanted the Boy to have time with just his Mama and Daddy, special time, three-of-us-time. I honestly could not see myself parenting two under the age of like, 10. I knew, in the farthest reaches of my brain, that I would want to get pregnant again before the age of 35, due to the rapid decline in fertility after that and the higher risk of birth defects, not to mention being called "advanced maternal age". This is a woman who had a weeping nervous breakdown in the middle of the street because her husband would not eat a bagel at the same time the 8-months-preggers woman wanted to eat a bagel, and then proceeded to cry for an hour. And then laughed about it. Please do not call me "advanced maternal age." Or I might bite off your nose and spit it out. Or eat it on a bagel.

But I honestly did not think I could do it. I didn't think I would WANT to do it.

The Boy is 14 months old now. Husband and I had a discussion this past weekend about the fact that neither of us could see me running around after two kids under the age of say, 3.5. I definitely could not see that, and don't want to see that.

But I am starting to see how it's possible that I could want to have another baby someday. I WANT to. I am thinking longingly about pregnancy- the kicks, the ultrasounds, the knowing I am creating life and how it's the most awesome thing ever. Despite all the barfing.

We did it so well the first time, I'm excited to see what the second time will bring.

In about three years. Please.

No time no time no time!

I am so envious of all the blogs I read, whose authors seem to be able to find the time to post daily or even weekly!

This summer has been so busy, the days flashing by us like minnows in a stream. Our nights and weekends are taken up with soaking up as much Boy time as we can, before Monday morning comes and it's back to work and the sitter's house. The Boy is doing well at the sitter's; Mondays are always a little rough, but I can hear him stop crying as soon as I'm out of sight.

We've had such a wonderful summer so far, despite weather that seriously made me think my car was going to float away on several occasions. We've gone to museums, zoos, parks, playgrounds, and the county fair. We had a visit from Grandma and Grandpa. The Boy has learned how to run, say "tuck" and "tanks" and how to point, eat people food, and climb. He is an amazing little Dude and we constantly marvel at him.

Seriously, how do other people find time to post so frequently? Between catching up on movies through Netflix, work, Boy time, errands, and Family Fun (notice I didn't mention cleaning. I loathe cleaning and do it only when necessary/my mother is coming into town) there is no time left over...

Life is grand.

Kind

He hugs. He flirts. He shares whatever piece of food he currently has mashed up in his hand. He brings a book to you and plops down on your lap to flip the pages faster than you could ever read them. He hands you a toy, a wet washcloth, a crumb off the floor, a rock, a bug, a handful of sand.

He stomps up and down in a tantrum. He marches in place and waves his arms to dance. He has dimples in his cheeks and at the base of his fingers. He smiles and the world smiles. He says, "hi kitty" and "dada" and "mama" and "bbbrrrrrrmmmmm" (truck noise). He chatters in his own language.

He is learning to run, and often falls down. His armpits are ticklish. He loves plums and yogurt melts and chicken and corn. He loves trucks and bugs and sand and splashing.

He's the world to me. His strawberry blond hair, his blue eyes, his chubby knees and tushy butt and niblet toes. He, and his father who assisted in his making, are my world. My family. My guys.

I am seriously the luckiest.

Pardon?

The Boy walks around the house, saying,
"Nine nine nine nine nine."

I mean, he's German (nein?) and all. But come on.

The Contents of My Purse

Because I have been struck down with the virus of DEEAATTTHHHH that the Boy had last week, have no energy to think up something original, and feel guilty about not having posted in a while. Despite the fact that I think no one reads this but me.

1) Burt's Bees (3 tubes)
2) Contact rewetting solution
3) Work ID
4) One binky
5) Travel size tube of baby sunscreen
6) Vera Bradley wallet- from the pre-baby days when I could "afford" VB
7) Index card with our insurance policy number on it
8) Coupon for organic milk
9) Orbit citrusmint gum
10) Nail file, with pictures of jalepenos on it (on a stick??)
11) Cell phone
12) Hairbrush
13) AND comb
14) One pen. Which I can never find when I need it.

And No....

It's not getting any easier for me to leave the Boy at his sitter's house. He cries when I leave, and even though I know it will end about a minute later, it still breaks my heart, each and every morning. Is there going to be a morning when he doesn't cry when I leave?

And dear God, is it going to come soon?

Getting Better All the Time

This morning, I cried on my way to work.

I took the Boy to his sitter and had a bag with a gallon of organic milk in it to leave at her house for the week. I took the Boy in and he was a little clingy, but I would expect that on only his second Monday at the sitter's. Then I went back outside to get the milk.

And he cried. Screamed. Wailed. Pushed his little face up against the glass door, scrunched his eyes shut, and cried for me. His Mommy. Who is supposed to always be there. And who had just turned around and left him. My heart broke in a million pieces. I went back in and held him, kissed him over and over again, and told him it was going to be okay, that he would have fun with the sitter and her little girl, and Daddy would come to get him at the end of the afternoon. Then I committed a cardinal sin of parenting, that which the books and websites tell you you shouldn't do ever ever ever. I snuck out while he was distracted by a toy.

And proceeded to sob in the car through most of my ten minute drive to work.

And the Boy proceeded to have his best day yet with the sitter.

New Life

Thus ends my first week back at work. It's been hectic, it's been fun, it's been a learning experience. I've been fortunate enough that, for the first year of Alex's life, I was either home with him during the day before going to work, or home with him in general. But all good things must come to an end (especially when you have student loans and also want to buy your Boy all the books in the Target's childrens' book aisle) and I went back to work (albeit at a new job, with normal hours and an actual supportive environment).



Monday was rough. Every day is rough, really. I want to be with my little Boy, caring for him and playing with him. Originally we had arranged that my Husband would drop off the Boy and I would pick him up, but logisitics led us to change that. Monday went fine, as Husband took a half day from work and picked up our Boy around 1:00 pm. I worried about our Boy until I knew he was back at home, but his day went well and he had fun playing. The rest of the week was not so good. Our Boy periodically remembers that he misses us, and cries.

I know it was only the first week, and there will be adjustment issues for all involved. But the thought of my Boy wanting me or his Daddy, and us not being there, is enough to shatter my heart into tiny pieces. I always want to be there for him, and I know I can't. Somewhere deep down in my rational mind, I know this is good for him. He will learn and grow and have fun. I also did enjoy being out of the house, learning new things and meeting new people- having conversations that don't include poop or Cheerios! I can't even begin to describe how horribly guilty I feel for actually liking my new job, but I know very well that all the working Mommies out there probably feel the same way.

It does help that our sitter only watches our Boy, in addition to her own two-year-old. She has lots of age-appropriate toys, as well as a small dog and a cat, which the Boy adores. She is a nice person who I can tell takes good care of our guy. But she isn't us. And we're not there.

The time in between when I get home from work and when the Boy goes to bed is so small. Too brief. I feel cheated. I'm no longer the one giving him his lunch, putting him down from his naps, and giving him his bottles- at least on weekdays. I hate it. Hate it, hate it, hate it. And yet I like the job. People tell me it gets better- but does it?

And Then He Was One

My boy is one year old.



He turned one yesterday. We gave him his presents, since he will be so inundated at his party that we didn't want to overwhelm him any more than we had to. A bubble mower, a couple small trucks, a Fisher Price Push-and-Go alligator, and a book called Things That Go. Despite his father and I being mildly disappointed by the mower (the Boy can't push it fast enough yet to get the bubbles going on his own), he LOVES it and quite happily pushed it all over the back yard for a long time. Walking. On his own two feet, feet on which there are little niblet toes that I still love to nom. Thank goodness he still lets me nom his toes.

I sit with him, smelling the top of his head, which has been the most intoxicating scent in the world to me for the past 365 days. I would know my Boy anywhere just by the smell of his strawberry blond hair. I admire his chubby hands and reminisce over the teeny hands that wrapped around my finger so long ago- and yet five minutes ago, wasn't it? Of course, now the Boy has ME totally wrapped around his finger, but that's besides the point.

He's a year old.

I gave myself a moment to look back on the last year of my life. His birth, his milestones, his smiles and silliness, his illnesses and accomplishments. How every single day he has touched my heart. How every stage, every age, was my favorite. How he is my favorite age right now. How I wanted to slow down his growing up. How I am so excited to see our future.

And that's where we are now. Looking forward to the future.

Things I Cannot Live Without

Things I Cannot Live Without:

• Coffee
• Coffeemate Cinnamon Vanilla Creme (fancy way of spelling CREAM)
• Burt's Bees Beeswax Lip Balm
• Cover Girl CG Smoothers
• Old Navy or J. Crew flip flops
• Coca-Cola (was going to just write Coke, but didn't want to come off as drug addict)
• Oreo Double Stuff Mint
• Pizza
• Alex's penguin finger puppet
• Cell phone
• Digital camera
• Birth control pills (prefer not to have another baby til this one can use the potty, KTHX)
• Spray bottle for to spray MEOWING COMPLAINING cats with water
• Miche Bag (www.michebags.com)
• My friends and family
• Hershey bars with almonds
• Hand lotion (Suave or Avon)
• Owning every season of ER on DVD
• Consignment sales
• Properly aligned blankets on the bed (Yes!)
• Naptime

Mean

The cat is stymied by the baby gate. Heeheeheehee.

Things I Hate, Volume 1

When shirts or other random pieces-of-easily-wrinkled-clothing get all wound up in the sheets and therefore are all wrinkled when they come out of the dryer and since I do not own an ironing board and accidentally murdered the surface of my $200 Boscov's kitchen table while ironing on it, I have to run things under the kitchen faucet and throw them back in the dryer, and no I don't separate my sheets from the rest of the clothes, because that whole separating thing is for sissies.

Sissies!

Oh Dear With the Doctor's Appointment and Everything

Today was a great, happy, baby day. And I felt horribly guilty all day because I knew I had to take the boy to the doctor in the afternoon for his twelve month checkup. Husband came home to help, because it requires four hands to wrangle the boy at any given moment ANYWAY, and I knew the shot-giving was going to be a barrel of fun. Yeah.

We gave the boy Tylenol an hour before the appointment, which confused him, because he was fine, and so he carried the bottle around and shook it a lot. When we got to the doctor and were called in, he was all happy because Nurses! To flirt with! And show off for! With the walking! Then the kind nurse, who the boy had been flirting with nonstop, got out the Shot Tray. The boy recognized the Shot Tray. I don't know how he did it, since he hadn't had any shots in six months, but he did. And as I wrangled him onto my lap and held his hands in front of him, I tensed because I knew what was coming. And the boy tensed, because so did he.

The! Injustice! He screamed and cried, and this was only made worse by the finger stick, which was Horrible! And the Pain! Mommy! I had to keep repeating to myself that this was a good thing, and modern medicine, and blah blah blah YOU HURT MY BABY AND NOW YOU MUST DIE, BITCH. And then I felt sorry for the poor nurse because it must really suck to give babies shots all day long.

The boy survived, and fell asleep in the car on the way home, doing the little hitching-breath-sobby thing in his sleep which totally broke my heart. Then he took an hour and a half long nap, woke up, and started chasing the cats around the house again like nothing bad had ever happened to him ever. A teeny fever is the only lingering sign. I am so grateful for the short memory span of a toddler.

Also, my boy weighs almost 25 pounds. :)

Crazy Train

OMG the cuteness of Walking Boy toddling all over the house, inexplicably carrying one little Airwalk sneaker with him, ALMOST makes up for the fact that while I was putting (his) laundry in the washer, he managed to dump an entire glass of water in the nightstand drawer.

Baby gate: SO going up this weekend.

Confetti

The boy has just discovered that he can RIP a napkin.

Anyone need some confetti?

Knocked Up: The Story

Husband and I got married in 2005, and I was 27. (Husband was 24, but what. Ever. Young whippersnapper.) Having properly done my reading, in a ticking-TICKING-biological clock kind of way, I hoped to have at least a year of married couple-ness with my husband and then be pregnant by the time I was 30. I knew how hard it could be to get pregnant, especially when one is coming off of the pill, and when one was not so much in their early 20s anymore.





We debated and debated about when I should go off the pill, and the decision was basically made for us when we discovered I would run out during our annual trip to my parents' cabin in the middle-of-literally-NOWHERE, NY. (Or as I like to refer to it, "sort of Southern Western New York". Surely it was fate (and not just poor planning on my part. No.) So as of the middle of July, 2007, I was officially Off The Pill. I was hoping to be pregnant by the time I turned 30, the following April.





For some reason, I was completely convinced that I was going to have a hard time conceiving, and that it would take forever, and there would be loooonnnggg months that ended with sadness. Added to this was the fact that, given where Husband and I were working at the time, I got home at 10:30 pm and Husband had to be at work at a godawful, like 5am or something. I would come cheerfully home from work and proceed to WAKE HUSBAND UP because it was time to make a baby.





It worked.





In October, for our two year wedding anniversary, we went to visit my parents in their winter home in North Carolina. We were attempting to save money for the somewhere-in-the-future baby, so going to a different state and having a nice (FREE!) place to stay while sightseeing was key. The first night we were there, I woke up in the middle of the night feeling like a.s.s. I immediately attributed it to all the lovely McDonald's etc. airport food we had consumed that day, and turned on the light to read until I felt better.





On a side note, if I wake up in the middle of the night feeling like a.s.s., I have to do the whole distracting myself thing, otherwise I just lie there and convince myself I feel worse and worse and what if I puke? I don't want to puke.... so being the huge dork I am, I just read until I forget about it/feel better/fall asleep reading and wake up with a drool-soaked book.



Anyway. So the next day we went to the zoo. Halfway through I was so tired I had to sit down, which isn't like me at all, and I dragged ass through the rest of the day. I could not figure out what was wrong with me. I'd brought pregnancy tests with me, because of COURSE I had to test every month regardless of how sure I was that I would get my period. The next morning my period was due, so I ran into the bathroom first thing when I woke up to pee on the stick, despite the fact that I KNEW it would take longer than a couple months to get pregnant.



Before I could even put the cap back on the pee-soaked stick, there they were. TWO. PINK. LINES. And immediately my hand started shaking because OMG, I wanted this more than anything but who knew it would happen so fast and I am knocked up and I am the only one in the whole world who knows it and GOOD LORD THERE IS A HUMAN BEING INSIDE OF ME. Husband was still completely unaware of the drama going down in my parents' guest bathroom, snuggled under the covers in bed. Until I staggered in, clutching the aforementioned pee-soaked stick in my quaking hand, yelling Husband's naaaaaammmmeeeee at him in the most drawn-out, terrified way possible. "I'm pregnant......"

Last First Holiday

As we were on our way to a barbeque this afternoon, Husband helpfully pointed out that this Memorial Day is the boy's Last First Holiday. Being born on June 9th, he came just in time for Father's Day last year. I can't believe we've already reached this point!

While you're pregnant, everyone tells you that the time flies by so quickly. Yet there's no way to truly know this, to understand the insane quickness of it all, until it happens to you. Wasn't it only a couple weeks ago that my feet were so swollen that people were horrified at the sight of them and I was basically reduced to sitting on the couch, drinking lemon water, because EVEN MY FLIP FLOPS DIDN'T FIT ANYMORE?

It was seriously not all that long ago that I was sitting at work, noticing that my stomach felt all weird and tight- which sent me to the doctor with false labor for the FIRST of TWO times? (When my water broke, I celebrated- they had to let me stay and give birth this time!)

And really, it was like FIVE. minutes.ago that we came home with this wee, tiny little guy who refused to be swaddled and would kick and kick and kick until he escaped his burrito, at which point he would fall asleep in various entertaining positions and be totally content.

I definitely intend to write about these things at a later date. I know they are totally less than interesting to non-Mommys out there, but I also think that very few non-Mommys would bother to click on "Big Trubs BABY" anyway. Yeah? So.

I have watched this little guy as he learned to smile (seven weeks), sleep through the night (fifteen weeks), eat solid (i.e. baby) food (four months), roll over (five months), sit up (six months), stand up (nine months), take his first steps (ten months), and WALK (eleven months). We have delighted in each and every brand new, totally amazing thing he's done. TODAY he learned to put a lid back on a container, and I know many people will find that ridiculous, but I see it that he is clearly gifted. So there. And now we've come to the end of his first holidays.

I'm not silly to be a little sad, right?

Another Thing I've Learned

While I still believe I am firmly within my right to keep the boy out of the cats' water dishes, despite the arched-back tantrums he throws when I tell him no, I have totally ceded to him in the I-am-going-to-take-everything-out-of-my-diaper-bag-and-scatter-it-around-the-living-room fight.

Because in this mommyhood thing, if there is one thing I have totally learned, it is to PICK YOUR BATTLES.

I Go Out Walking

And lo, the boy is walking. And walking and walking and walking.

And the Mama is learning firsthand that when the boy is quiet, it means he is Up. To. No. Good. Unrolling the toilet paper. Trying to eat kitty food. Playing in the kitty water, or with the toilet lid.

We didn't want to go crazy babyproofing, since I know the boy will have to be in homes where no babyproofing has been done. I also firmly believe that he can and should learn the meaning of the word no, as well as what can be played with and what can't. Don't worry, I put latches on the cabinet doors and socket thingies in the electrical sockets. I have my eye on him at all times and when I am not in the same room with him (despite the fact that we have a small, square apartment where I can basically peer into every room from one of the other rooms), he is in his exersaucer or his pack and play. (And what do you do once they outgrow the saucer? I shudder at the thought!)

So he is learning...slowly... and in the meantime I spend all my days running after him.. and loving it!

Back to Work

I have been at home with Little Dude for over two months now, since I left my old job. Before that, I worked nights and so was home with him during the day.





That's all about to end next month. I have to go back to work. I wish so much, with all my heart, that I didn't have to. That I could continue to wake up when he does, to spend the day playing with him, chasing him around, taking him to the park, putting him down for his naps. That he could stay where I, or his father, can keep an eye on him. But we need to be a two-income family.



The hardest thing for me is to come to terms with the fact that this will be good for him. He loves people, going places, other kids, and the bird at his new sitter's house. He is good with other people, happy and easygoing, and loves to check out new things. He will benefit from time away from us, from learning from and about other people, from socializing (as much as any one-year-old can socialize, that is).



But I am having a hard time reconciling myself to the fact that he's growing up and isn't a little baby anymore. It seems like the months, especially since my PPD has been addressed, are slipping through my fingers in a blur of happiness and joy.

It's so hard to be a Mom who has to go back to work. Honestly, being a Mom was all I ever really wanted to be in my life. But I know I'm doing this for my son, and for the good of my family as a whole.

I just can't seem to convince my heart of that.

Argh.

I just so love it when my husband comes home on Fridays, grumpy because he's worn out from the week, and takes out his grumpiness on me. Um, hello, I've been here all week with the poosplosions, the laundry, the learning-to-walk-11-month-old who likes to drop his binkies in the cats' water dish, and very little adult contact or conversation, and yet I still manage to be happy and pleasant to you, don't I??

Not to mention he has had some kind of cold/allergies going on FOR. EVER. and yet refuses to ever take any medication or see a doctor for it, except when it got bad enough to be called a sinus infection and he had to go get some antibiotics. He probably has swine flu and he's going to infect me and the little dude. All he does is sit there and SNIFF HIS SNOT BACK INTO HIS THROAT and then cough and go spit in the sink. It makes me want to throttle him.

Can you tell I have PMS?

The good news is that Alex, who I really once thought I was going to be feeding applesauce to at his wedding, is voluntarily eating those Gerber puffs and yogurt melts! Seriously, one time we put a Cheerio on his tongue and he gagged so hard he threw up. Thanks to the introduction of Baby Mum-Mums (rice rusks), he has moved slowly from those, to Crunchies, cheese, pickles, french fries, and now the aforementioned snacks. He also gnaws on bananas and plums! I'm so relieved that now I'll have actual foods to relate to the doctor at his one-year checkup.

Well, I might not tell her about the french fries.

Bad Mama

Things I Have Let My Son Play With:
(in order to get just one more second of peace)

My car keys

His father's car keys

My cell phone

The (paper) CVS bag his acid reflux medication came in

The top of the printer (open, shut. open, shut)

The lid to the garbage can (see above)

The cat toys

Unopened package of baby wipes

Clean diaper

Tube of Aveeno diaper rash cream

Roll of toilet paper

Wonder Mama

I wanted to be able to do everything. I could. I could do it all.



When my son was born, I was working at a job which required me to work Sunday through Thursday, from 4:00 pm until midnight. This job was located 35 minutes away from my home... in good weather. During the winter, a winter in which every. single. snowstorm. took place at, around, or shortly after midnight, it could take me an hour or more to reach home.



But. We wouldn't have to put our tiny little guy in day care. He would be cared for by Mama during the day, and Daddy at night. Which is what I repeated to anyone who dared to ask me how I could do it, over and over and over again, from the time I went back to work when Alex was three months old until I finally gave up when he was nine months old.



And in between. Oohhhhh, in between.



I was a miserable, crying, shaking, horrific wreck. But only at home. Constantly calling my poor husband at work, demanding that he come home, screaming at him. I didn't know what the hell I was doing, and should something earth-shattering and unendurable happen, like Alex not finishing his bottle or not wanting to take a nap, I fell apart even more. I couldn't get it together enough to leave the house with him, and if I did manage to get him to his doctor's appointments on my own I was worn out for the rest of the week. Forget taking him anywhere else. Add this to the fact that it was fall and winter and he was too little to get any entertainment out of being outside.



But the only person who knew about this was my husband. I was completely ashamed to tell anyone else how I was feeling. Real moms don't feel this way, right? I must be so completely screwed up. What am I doing wrong and how can I fix it?

Finally, it got to a point where I literally could not imagine my life going on the way it was. Even after I left the job-of-horrific-hours, since there would be no way for me to get an earlier shift...for at least a year...no joke. My husband made me an appointment with my OB/GYN and met me there to wrangle Alex while I talked with her. And I told her the truth. Told her how overwhelmed I was, and how miserable, and how alone. And she listened, and she gave me a prescription.

And things are so much better now. I am not ashamed that I needed a little help with this mothering thing. Now that I have gotten and accepted help, I am finding that this is not nearly as uncommon as I thought. Reading the blogs of people who have gone through the same thing, and talking to my Mama Friends has made me feel so much better, so much less alone. I am finally the Mama I always wanted to be, always knew I could be.

Don't let anyone fool you. For most of us, making the transition from childless to Mama is extremely difficult. In one day, you stop being the most important thing. Into the world comes this tiny little person who BECOMES your world. It can be lonely. It can make you cry. It can be the hardest thing you've ever done. It WILL be the hardest thing you've ever done. But it's totally worth every second. And if you should need help with the whole becoming a Mama thing, that doesn't make you a terrible Mama. You are doing the right thing by getting help. You are allowing yourself to be the best Mama you can be for your child.

I never in a million years imagined that this would be me, that I would be the one writing about going on medication in order to save my sanity and become the best Mama I could be. But you know what- life with the boy is so much better and more fun. For both of us, and for Daddy too.

Lesson Learned

No matter how badly you want coffee after the kid goes down for his nap, never.

Ever.

Ever.

Shake the Coffeemate bottle until after you have ensured the cap is closed.

Pickle.

I have been seeing lately that my boy, who looked exactly like my nephew at birth and looks very much like me on many occasions, with his father's big grin, is more like me than I had even imagined possible.

When he gets angry or frustrated with something, he throws a LOUD but mercifully BRIEF hissy fit. (Me: COME HELP ME WITH THIS F***** JAR LID IT WON'T OPEN.....never mind, got it)

He loves goats. (Me: Can we feed the goats, can we, do you have a quarter? Come here, goat!)

He loves chasing the ducks at the park. (Me: Ooh baby ducks! Look at the fuzzy wee babies! Can I go see the baby ducks? Babbbeeeeeee duckieeeeeesss!)

He is amused by the cat's craziness. (Me: LOOK AT THE CAT. Lookatherlookatherlookather. That cat is nuts.) (I will also admit that once, we put tape on Nutmeg's feet. It was mean and we should never do it again. But we probably will.)

And today, yet another way my little guy is like me. I was trying to feed him lunch and he wouldn't eat more than a bite of anything. Until I gave him a kosher dill pickle. Which he proceeded to maul and gnaw until it was an unrecognizable, soggy lump on his tray. (Me: Deep fried pickles! Pickle on a stick! Ooh, can we get a pickle on a stick? Mmmmmm.)

That's my boy!

Mama's Day

My first real Mother's Day was awesome.



We took the little Dude to a local festival, where he discovered the joy of a goat nibbling on his wee little finger, and chuckled each and every time. I was given a surprise birthday party by my wonderful husband, who presumably looked into my brain to find out what would be the best thing for me, to cheer me up and make me feel loved and special. Watching my little guy run around and play with the daughter of our friends totally made my day, not to mention my friends who surrounded me with love. Then the boy spent the night at Nana's, and my husband and I went home to watch a movie at WHATEVER! VOLUME! WE! WANTED! Not to mention we finished! it!



I slept til 8:30 am.... there was a time in my life when I would have thrown a large hissy fit at having to get up at that hour, and now I call it sleeping in. Does that officially make me a Mama or what?



My husband also showed that he has immense faith in me by giving me a miniature rosebush for Mother's Day. I am what is known as Death to Plants and can surely have been forgiven for saying in disbelief, "You got me a PLANT?"



Today I spent my day being led around the house by the guy, with the ribbon to a leftover party balloon clenched in one chubby fist and my finger clenched in the other. Round and round we went, through the living room into the kitchen and back again. His little legs going and going and going. And I just let him lead me, and took a moment to look at the world through his eyes. Because in a month I go back to work, and it will break my heart. He will love getting to be with other kids during the day, and I know it will be good for him. But these days with him have been the sweetest, funniest, hardest, and most rewarding of my life.

Oh help!

I meant to post later that day, I truly did.



The boy has learned to walk. And so I have spent the last few days rescuing the humidifier, the garbage can, the toilet paper, and the cats from those chubby little fingers. At the same time, he has given up his morning nap OH GOD NO. Unfortunately, he still gets just as tired and cranky- he just doesn't go to sleep to make himself OR MOMMY WHO NEEDS HER COFFEE feel any better.

Thus he has been spending Mommy's coffee time playing with his crib toys.

Anyway! I'll start off with me. I'm 31, from a small town in Western New York. I decamped WNY.... for eastern New York... and there I stay. I've always gone just a little bit off the beaten path and I like it that way. I love purses, sneakers, cats, and my family. One of the highlights of my year is when we take our annual trip to visit my parents' home for half the year- a cabin in the literal middle of nowhere in WNY.

I met my husband, B, in 2003. I was introduced to him by my high school sweetheart, who I remained good friends with. The night I met B I was "celebrating" with friends and do not remember meeting him. The next day B came back, presumably to ensure that I was still alive. I went home thinking I had met a really nice guy. One year later we moved in together. Two months later we were engaged. One year and three months later, we were married. Two years to the day after our wedding, we found out we were having a baby. And there my descent into this crazy land called Motherhood began.

I intend to get into way more (probably too many more) details about all of this as we go on. This is what's known as the severely abridged version that I am able to handle before bed on a Friday night!

In other news, the boy will walk to Daddy and a stroller (suitable for pushing) but hardly ever to boring old Mommy who he sees day in and day out. Sigh. The boy wants only to push the stroller, not to ride in it NO NEVER KTHX. My attempts to have him ride in his stroller instead of push it himself, for example when we are trying to cross the street and cannot, say, sit down in the middle to examine a twig, are met with howls. HOWLS I SAY! MOM IS MEAN!

I love this kid. He is just like me.

Trix

The baby is finally asleep.

The past few days, he has been trying to give up his morning nap, but I successfully got him to sleep with an extra helping of Sesame Street. To celebrate, I ate two bowls of Trix.

Why I am starting this blog? Because becoming a Mommy was harder than I thought. Because over the nine months of my pregnancy and the subsequent almost-eleven-months of Alex's life, reading the so-called "Mommy blogs" sustained me, taught me, and made me feel that I wasn't alone. If I can do that for someone else, this blog will be totally worth the time away from housecleaning (snort).

But first, as the little man is asleep, I am going to sit on the couch and drink coffee. Later: introductions!