"Discipline" Success!

I mean, my kid is 22 months old, so there's really no such thing as discipline right now. I'm still figuring out how I feel about the whole "discipline" thing with a toddler. I've been reading up and I guess I fall somewhere in the middle: I don't think he "gets it" all of the time, but I do feel that in my home it's important for us to start laying the foundation of what is acceptable and what is not early.

I have a few friends that are all about the "redirection only" methods and to be honest, it just sounds like they live in households centered around their child and what he wants. For me, that feels like it would create a kid a few years down the road that would have a really tough time accepting rules and boundaries and other people's wishes.

So far, discipline has been frustratingly exhausting, mentally, physically, and emotionally. Jacob either doesn't realize he's being punished and sits in time out chattering to himself and playing with his shoes until I come over to have our "follow up", where he looks me in the eye and tells me what I want to hear so he can go play, or I get all-out tantrums complete with hitting, kicking, screaming and wailing. Neither is fun, or feels like we are getting anywhere.

But yesterday, I MIGHT have had a breakthrough!

Lately he wants us to carry him ALL.THE.TIME. He has begun refusing to walk on his own to/from daycare or anywhere, and just whines and tries to block our way until we cave. So I didn't cave. The process looked a little like this:

"Mama, hold again," while reaching up.
"No, we're going to hold hands and walk today," so I take his hand, and he instantly becomes a sack of potatoes, throwing himself to the ground and trying to wrench his shoulder out of socket. So I let go, let him tantrum, and say "I'm going to keep walking now".
"Bye," he screams at me through tears, until I get too far for comfort, then he runs towards me crying hysteerically as if I have just dropped him off at a baby insane asylum, never to return.
I stop, let him catch up, say, "are you ready to hold hands and walk now?"
"No, hold again," and lather, rinse, repeat.
This was our process all the way from his classroom to the front door. It took over 10 minutes.

I finally carried him outside and we sat on the bench. We had a nice chat while he was sitting in my lap about how I needed him to be a big boy and walk, and how I was never going to leave him behind, but I couldn't always carry him. And then I made a deal. "How about you hold my hand and we walk all the way across the parking lot, and if you can walk with me like a big boy, we'll go look at the bus up close?" THAT got his attention. And then we did...walk all the way across the parking lot. He was awesome, and I told him so.

And then I picked him up and carried him to the car. As a reward for both of us for staying calm (me) and listening to mommy (him).

Long Time Coming

I've needed a change. For a while, now. I mean, in most every area of my life. So, let me fill you in on what's been going on with me.

I'm fat. That's been established. I tried to start a "lifestyle change" in January, lost about 8 lbs, then gained 15. Three weeks ago, I was at my heaviest weight ever (not including pregnancy): 248lbs. So I joined myfitnesspal.com and hooked up with some amazingly motivating ladies from a message board I am on, and have lost 9 pounds in 3 weeks. My food diary is public, so the real motivating factor has been me knowing that other people can see what I'm eating. I do not like being judged on weight, especially not when I know it's utterly my fault for looking like this.

What I am even MORE proud of than the weight loss, though, is the fact that I have had fast food only once in the last three weeks, and had a Coke only twice. It's getting a craving, and still making the choice to eat something different when my mind is saying "Godiva chocolate cheesecake" that impresses me. I hate those diet articles in magazines that say crap like "when you want salty chips, eat veggies and hummus instead" or "choose a piece of fruit instead of a chocolate chip cookie". WTF? I don't want a freaking apple, and my body is smarter than that. If I give it nuts and an apple, it's going to cross it's arms and roll it's collective eyes and be all "this bitch HATES me". And then it will rebel.

But it hasn't. I feel more confident than ever that I can make the right choice 85% of the time, and forgive myself and let it go the other 15.

Also, in other news, I'm raising a toddler. And coming off the heels of the 18 months that I was most terrified of, I thought, this parenting thing is going to be so much easier than I expected. Pre-schoolers have always loved me, listened to me, and done whatever I asked them to. Um, yeah right. Schooled me. The last 6 months have been incredibly difficult as I have dealt with feelings of intense mommy guilt, not feeling like a good parent, not being patient enough, not giving my son enough credit for the great things he does, dwelling on the negative, and basically thinking that he would be better off with anyone besides me for a mom.

It's almost been like I caught post-partum depression, 18 months late.

So I started seeing a counselor. And while I won't go into detail, it has so far been so wonderfully freeing to listen to someone tell me that I'm normal, that I don't need to be embarrassed that I have more internet friends than real life friends, and that I should work on not worrying as much about what other people have going on and how it compares to me.

The only thing that has helped me get through this rough patch more than these appointments (other than a supportive husband who has definitely pulled more parenting duty lately to release some of my burden) are 22 of the most amazing women I have ever known. Every day they confirm for me that my child is not a hellion (or at least not the only 22-month old hellion out there) and that we will all get through this. So far it's been 3 years, give or take, that we've "known" each other, and I hope that it lasts a lifetime, whether we ever get to meet in person or not. And even though I tell them this on our page on occasion, I wanted some PUBLIC way to let them know how much they mean to me. You all know who you are, and I thank God every day for that fateful day when a handful of assorted women climbed into a "tub" together and let their guards down.

WMW: A Perfect Day.

Linking up with my fellow WM's over at Working Mommy Wednesday!

Days like today are the best thing ever about being a working mom.

My son is sick. He has an infection in his left eye and left ear. (Sidenote: last night in the tub I asked him to show me his left hand, right hand, left foot, right foot, and he KNEW them. CRAZY!) There is a possibility that it is viral, so he had to stay home from daycare today.

Now, I have been swamped at work, I'm already short an employee, and I have a duty at work that I really have to be there to do. I don't have the kind of job that I can ever "work at home". But, being a om comes first and always will, and Wednesday is the best possible day for me to skip if I must. My mother, who usually can watch Jacob on short notice, is in Philadelphia visiting my week old nephew, and my hubby will already be staying home with the baby on Friday when daycare is closed. So today, it's mommy.

I did have to get some things done, though, so after the doctor's appointment and picking up antibiotics, we drove into Raleigh to my office and my coworkers played with Jacob while I took care of some things. After that it was almost time for Daddy's lunch break, and we were passing his office on the way home anyway, so we swung by to show our greatest achievement off and then all had a family lunch date.

Now, the boy is getting some much needed rest while Mama is catching up on some much needed blogging (and online bra-shopping) time. I have been needing to purchase some new bras for ages. I weaned completely two months ago, and stopped nursing during the day when I would be wearing a bra LONG before that, so there is NO excuse for me to still be wearing nursing bras. Except that work has blocked my favorite bra website as inappropriate, so I can't even shop during my lunch break.

So, that's what this mama is doing today, and it's glorious. Now I shall retire downstairs to inventory and put away everything that arrived in our Produce Box today and do some cooking.

MOM-Demonium!!!

I am spending a chunk of my week shopping/working our local kid's consignment sale. I know that in a lot of areas around the US, these sales can be hit or miss, but the one I'm talking about is Ginormous. Seriously. It takes up two buildings of our State Farigrounds, and is 150,000 square feet. Hundred thousand, you read that right.


As in, an eyebgall estimate puts the amount of play kitchens selling b/t $5-55 around 140. As in, I checked out a family of 4 yesterday buying their entire summer wardrobe. It was 78 pieces of clothing, they probably spent around $200 total. As in, 36 aisles of clothing for children ages preemie through 9th grade.


I love some consignment shopping, and when I'm there I always want to kick myself for buying something at a store, like "why would have ever paid full-price for a lifejacket, when I can come here and find one with tags for $7?" My other finds? A very clean and solidly built toybox for $25, a Kelty hardframe backpack carrier for $30, an Aquadoodle that looked like it had been used 3 times for $2, lots of books and CD's for just a few dollars.


And my favorite: the super-cool and retro Fisher Price cassette player that was just like the ones my husband and I had as kids.



The best deal I saw all day from checking others out? A beautiful vintage Strasburg ivory chiffon overlay dress for $2.


Another reason I love going to these sales are to see the "serious" moms. Now, I'm still pretty much a novice at these events myself...I've only been to three or four. I know enough to go for the big items first, pay and have them reserved, then hit the other rooms. I brought two of my own shopping bags to carry things in, but made the mistake of hitting the books/media room first. No biggie, I needed the exercise of lugging 20 books and DVDs around. It was after I found the Aquadoodle and adorable purple butterfly baby doll stroller that folded up just like a Maclaren that I started to struggle. Specifically, trying to keep track of all of that while shifting through a table of cloth diapers for my sister. Luckily, just when I hit my breaking point I found the Kelty and all was good.


Some of the veterans amaze me, while I secretly judge them for feeling so superior with their fancy home-rigged set-ups. Lots have clothing racks that they wheel around, often with bins duck-taped to the bottom and/or top to put toys. Most have strollers (sans baby) or at least the big plastic Step 2 wagons. My favorite are the ones with rolling trash bins.

And as I contemplate the clutter in my own home and why I feel the need to buy this child even MORE clothes and books, I often wonder if any of the shoppers there are hoarders. I wonder if their children have more stuff than they know what to do with because mom just can't pass up a $1 Gap t-shirt for no other reason than "it's so cheap".


But unlike me, they are probably not so lazy that they don't weed through their own stuff and purge for the sale beforehand, pretty much breaking even.


Sigh. I could get more organized if I didn't sign up to work these events, right?

Let's Be Positive!!!

We spend a lot of time as moms being critical. Critical of ourselves, critical of other moms, critical of people who are critical of us...let's take a moment and reflect on something we do right.

For me, I am willing to admit that I probably got an easy baby. Especially when it comes to sleeping. He began sleeping 5-6 hour stretches right around 6 weeks and it steadily went longer from there. I can count on one hand the nights I have been up more than 4 times a night, and this is from a child who got nothing but breastmilk his first 4 or 5 months. Sure, there are regressions when he's sick or teething, but they only last a night or two and he's right back to normal.

Now, while I lucked out with this kid who likes to sleep as much as a teenager, I am also willing to say that some of that "luck" is because my husband and I worked so hard the first few months of our sons life. The first year, really. I don't have any great secrets or think I have the key to parenting: trust me, I've had my shares of parental FAIL. But this post is about doing it right and giving myself credit for that.

We never had to Ferberize or use Cry it Out, although we did set a rule once he hit a few months old that we would let him fuss for a few minutes to see if he would settle himself back down. I knew if he got to full-blown crying I could go rescue him and stick him on the boob, but we found that most of the time he made a few peeps and whimpers and then fell back asleep. Trust me, as a mom, it took my dear husband putting a hand on my arm many nights and saying "just let him go a few minutes and see what happens". And sometimes, it was me and my mom instinct telling him "I know that's a hungry cry...let me go!"

We kept the bedtime routine consistent, and introduce changes gradually and with little fanfare (such as the very popular teeth-brushing part of the evening's festivities). Over time, following our son's cues has given us a bedtime routine that works for everyone. Where we use to rock and hold and love, we now turn on the fan together and turn off the light. It's bittersweet, those last moments where I can smell his lingering baby smell as he's struggling to get away, reaching and looking towards his crib the way I look at my bed after a long day.

But it's certainly a happy moment when I close the door and know he will be just fine.

Honest Confessions of Motherhood

After my "time off" from my blog, I am so excited to rejoin my friend Julia at Work Wife Mom Life. (I can call her my friend now because we email and she knows where I work, isn't that enough?) Her Working Mommy Wednesday blog hop provides the exact kind of support and camraderie that I strive for in this blog. Before I continue with my post, I would humbly like to request that if you enjoy my blog, please click that little pretty Picket Fence button on the right and vote for me today. The moderators just did a reset and this is my chance to move up in the world and achieve Picket Fence Mom-Blog Domination!

As for my confessions about Motherhood, I only have one today, but it's a doozy. I get really stressed out by being the parent of a toddler. I snap at my husband, get frustrated at my son for, well, acting like a typical 14-month old who likes to bring me a new diaper when he knows he has pooped but then squirms away when I actually lie him down to change him. Dinnertime is never easy, and while some days, like Monday evening, I can remind myself to just take life as it is and enjoy every moment (instead of trying to rush into dinner when we got home, I spent a good 10 minutes on the kitchen floor with a nearly naked child who was laughing with nothing other than glee because he was putting a bowl on my head), most of the time I spend my whole weekday evening just tapping my foot impatiently at my husband while thinking of the next ten things I must do in an hour.

Halloween night was a fine example of how I get: dinner took longer than expected to cook, even though I was lucky enough to have my mom over to occupy Jacob while we got everything ready. The baby didn't eat well, I couldn't get everyone to sit down and start eating so we could get going, I barely ate my own food because I was anxious that there were already Trick or Treaters coming to our door and for some reason I had it in my head that we would be one of the first, I kept thinking about how we needed to hurry up and get Jacob re-dressed so we could go. The whole time, I swear my husband moved as swiftly as a moped on a superhighway, and before we even got out of the driveway I was yelling at him and rolling my eyes at my mom and saying ridiculous things like "How many times can I give him the same instructions?" or "How slow can HE MOVE?" I eventually calmed down, held my husband's hand, apologized for my frantic behavior, and enjoyed the event the way a family should.

I think the most pathetic part of this mom-freak-out mode is knowing that my grandmothers, mother-in-law, and mom had many, many more responsibilities and shouldered even more of the child-care burden than I ever will because the times have changed and my husband is expected to step in and parent right along with me. The guilt that hits me after one of my anxiety "episodes" is almost worse than the stress itself. I know this is a recurring theme in my blog, but I keep coming back to "how can I think this is so hard and let it get to me when I have it ten times easier than any of them did?"

That is my confession. I need a reminder that this is normal, that this phase passes just like clusterfeeding passed and just like 2AM wakings passed (well, for now, I know the molars are coming eventually), and that something that seems so stressful right now will seem small and insignificant in a few months. And I need a swift kick in the behind and someone telling me now and then "get it together girlfriend".

My mom did that last week. We were cleaning up after dinner at their house and I yelled at my dog to get out of the kitchen for the 14th time and muttered "I'm gonna blow a gasket."

Mom's reply? "I think you already did." Moms know just what to say at the right time, don't they?

The Inevitable Halloween Post

Well, after a 1 week + hiatus, I am back and blogging again.

I suppose I've had some combination of writer's block and well, real life, pulling me away from the computer screen and focusing more on work and home. It used to be that something funny would happen or I would make a wry observation and immediately think "oh, I have to remember this for my blog later". Now, I think I'm just trying to live more presently and not think so much about what I should be sharing with "outsiders" but what I should be sharing with my family! Not that I don't love this blogging community, just that I still need to find that balance.

Without further adieu...some observations from Halloween weekend:

1) Our daycare expected us to follow a "theme" when we dressed our little tyke up on Friday. Um, no, we've been planning his costume for over a month, we're poor, and we give you nearly half of my salary, so he will be a Cowboy, and not anything related to Peter Pan, thankyouverymuch.

2) Surprisingly, more of my Dollar Tree candy was swiped last night instead of the pricey Snickers/KitKat/3 Musketeers. I guess the novelty of candy sticks (what we used to call Candy Cigarettes before America got a conscience) trumped chocolate for once.

3) I am way more high-strung than I ever thought. We were running 14 minutes behind my Trick or Treating "schedule" and I was literally about to explode. I yelled at my husband, along with serveral eye-rolling episodes, before I finally calmed down enough to enjoy the evening. Luckily, he forgave me.

4) My son makes the cutest Cowboy EVER. (Pictures later, I promise I'll update the post.)

5) In this politically correct society, it is impossible to find a toy gun anymore.

6) I love Fun Dip. Enough that I was internally disappointed when one of our kind neighbors took the pack my son swiped from her bowl and exchanged it for toddler-friendly pretzels.

7) Old people are great. We have one older couple in our neighborhood we've spoken with once or twice, and Jacob walked right into their house. The lady thought he was the sweetest thing and wanted to take pictures with him. She also didn't just have a bowl of treats, she made treat bags with lots of little items in them.

8) My kid, lying on the floor with his mouth stained by M&M drool, acting like a crazy guy, is a really fun sight.

9) Jacob can now identify his first Sesame Street character: El-bow.

10) The expression on a Target employee's face when your husband asks "don't you have any guns for kids?" is absolutely priceless!

Our First Toddler Tantrum!

First things first, enter my giveaway! And don't forget, you can get an extra entry every time you vote for me on Picket Fence and leave a comment!


Ah, the bliss of parenthood before you reach certain "stages". I love how I should now be able to fit not only my foot, but my entire right leg in mouth with all the times I've said "when Jacob does ________, I will respond by doing _______". And then he does that thing that you weren't expecting to have to react to for at least another few months (biting, throwing food, hitting the dog, not listening the fifteenth time I've taken his hand out of the water bowl) and it just kind of takes you completely by surprise.

Last night, he had his first meltdown. And while my husband and I always said we were going to be Perfect McPerfectsons who handled the situation exactly as we should (ignore it until he was finished), instead we bursted into completely unexpected laughter. And then spent the next 120 seconds or so trying to hide our laughter from our poor son, who was just all out of sorts.

The reason? Because Da-da wanted to give him his medicine, instead of Ma-ma. Bad move, parents! I have never seen a more asinine request be met with a more ridiculous emotional response, but hey, we're dealing with a 13 month old here. Daddy and I were sitting side by side on the recliner (I, the rule breaker, was sitting on the arm of the recliner) and Jacob was standing beside us in the floor, being a crankypants and wanting me to pick him up. He loves medicine, so this should have been uncomplicated, but when I said "go sit in Daddy's lap" he threw his little fists in the air, turned in the opposite direction of us, and threw himself on the floor, complete with banging fists and crying.

Oh, we tried so hard to hold it in, but it was seriously the funniest thing I have ever seen. Imagine a tiny toddler (barely 18 pounds and all of 28 1/2 inches tall to put it in perspective) in his cutesy pajamas throwing a full blown temper tantrum, red faced, blonde hair standing up on end, runny nose. He did it three more times: get up, reach for me, I told him calmly to sit in daddy's lap, turn, fall, tantrum, rinse, repeat. HILARIOUSNESS! I thought I was going to feel upset, frustrated, anxious, angry, guilty, whatever: I felt NONE OF THAT! I just felt sheer joy at the fact that A) this was seriously funny and B) that I could recognize this is normal behaviour for his age and that the best thing to do was just remain calm and firm.

What's the point of this story? I don't know, I'll be honest. I just wanted to share that maybe things you are dreading won't be as bad as you are expecting. After 4 or 5 times of the tantrum cycle, it ended just as quickly as it began, and he walked right over to my husband, reached up, and happily sat in Daddy's lap as I gave him his antibiotics.

I'm not even going to say what I will do next time, but I can tell you that I do not yet know if I would have the same reaction if my kid was face-to-face with a dirty grocery store floor. I may just end up being one of those moms that do the kid-snatch and leave a half-full grocery cart right in the aisle. Just goes to show...the best made plans are often laid to waste!

Working Mommy Wednesday: Pushups? FML...

(*Disclaimer: I know that what FML stands for is not befitting of the Christian example I am trying to set and follow, but I just discovered the phrase and you know what? It fits. Jesus is the only perfect one, the rest of us are just trying.*)

I open Julia's prompt today and see a post about PUSHUPS. Really? I'll have to admit, I was pissed. First of because I used to be able to do pushups, the strong-man kind, back when I could also do a split and call myself a dancer, but now I must resort to the wall-kind or the knee-kind, if I am even attempting them at all. Which makes me feel like a fat cow. Second, because even with my newfound discovery of SparkPeople, my commitment to eating better, taking in more water, and trying to be less sedentary, the last thing I want to do is turn my blog into diet central. Luckily, her reasons why and how to do push-ups provided me with a goal: 20 a day for the rest of the month. This is great because I can't commit to walking every day, but I can commit to 20 pushups and walking at least 3 days a week. And small, attainable goals are good.

And then I continued reading and noticed that today's prompt is actually just a Top 10 list. Man, I LOVE me a Top 10 list, from David Letterman all the way to my blog friend Kelley, Top 10 lists are AWESOME. And I wish that mine was going to be just that awesome, but I guess since I have free reign and I don't want this to be about being healthy, I will take this moment to return to the roots of this blog and make a list of my Top 10 Favorite Things About My Son.

10) He is a genius. I mean, I know every mom says that about their kid, but what 13-month old do you know that can say "go-gurt" to his daycare teacher every day at 4:30 because he knows it's snack time and he's about to get his favorite. thing. ever. Or how about how yesterday he was "reading" his Maisy's Favorite Toys book in the car and turned to the page with the Tractor and Train on it (vehicles with wheels) and shouted "CAR"? Can your baby do that?

9) He chooses edamame over grilled cheese. Now I KNOW he nees to fatten up, but you have to appreciate a child who learns early to love his veggies. (This will come back to bite me in about 3 months when he suddenly starts to refuse to eat anything green.)

8) He still is an open-mouth kisser. Even though we're starting to get just the teensy-weensiest bit self-conscious about this in public, there's nothing cuter than when you say "can I get a kiss?" and his little toddler mouth comes towards you wide open and raring to go and plants a big smacker on your lips.

7) Except maybe sitting on the floor next to each other while brushing your teeth. We got the grins and giggles toothbrush not long ago and his little fingers wrapped around that fat little toothbrush is so adorable I want to die.

6) He is totally fearless (and reckless). This guy loves to climb anything, and his favorite game is getting on the couch or bed and throwing himself against the pillows. Sometimes I swear he's going to fly right off.

5) He already knows to look up to older kids. He follows his nearly 3-year old niece around like she is the best thing in the world (I mean, I can't blame him) and has so much fun playing with older kids.

4) But he'd still rather play with Mama or Daddy any day. His new favorite thing is to bring us a book, yell "BUH", and let us read about 2 1/2 sentences before grabbing it, and closing it while saying "ALL Done."

3) The kid loves to be naked. After his bath, he will play "catch me if you can" as long as possible, and there is nothing I love more than chasing a naked toddler around the upstairs part of the house, especially if he leaves the hooded towel on like a superhero cape.

2) He makes me better. I want to be more patient, I want to cook more nutritious meals, I want to exercise more, and I want to spend more time with my family (immediate and extended) because of him. He led me back to God and Christ. What could be better?

1) His laugh can change whatever I'm feeling into pure joy. Seriously, when that little sweet blondie smiles at me with love, what do I have to be angry/stressed/upset about? Absolutely NOTHING!

Thanks to anyone who joined up from Working Mommy Wednesday, and feel free to join us today or any time!

I'm Not Much For Country Music

You wouldn't believe it by hearing me speak, knowing my family, or seeing the farmland that lies within a mile of my neighborhood, but I didn't even listen to country music at all (well, other than the Charlie Pride 8-track that I used to catch in my Mema's car when I was little) until well into high school. And only then because a boy I liked was a fan.

Even now, my "love" for country music ebbs and flows like the tide. Some days I like it and it gets me jazzed, some days I think it sounds like a bunch of redneck trash and I just want to hear David Gray or Pearl Jam. But yesterday, country music saved me. Not from anything big, just from a little despondentness. (If that's not a word, it should be.)

I don't know if it's my monthly friend, my breastfeeding hormones continuing to wane, or just being worn down from the daily grind, but I was feeling really down Sunday night. Like, bordering on depression down. It was a long weekend; I got to see family, sleep in, hang out with my baby, spend some quality time with my hubby, and I should have been feeling good and rested and loose Sunday evening, knowing I had a whole other day off work. But instead, I felt like I was still working. I was tired, worn down, emotionally drained, and just feeling like I hadn't really gotten a rest yet.

The worst part of feeling this way for me is the guilt that accompanies those feelings. I have friends with children with major health and developmental issues, who have suffered debilitating PPD, who live 1000 miles from any family or friends that could help out and give them a much-needed break now and then, whose marriages are suffering, who have been searching fruitlessly for a job for over a year and who may have to sell their home, and the list goes on and on (this is not one friend but several, just in case you were confused by my misuse of possesive and tenses). I have a home, a little piece of land, a stable (if sometimes a little too volatile, I mean, passionate) marriage, a supportive family, two incomes, and an amazingly healthy child. I am lucky. I have NO RIGHT to complain.

But sometimes, y'all, the loss of control I feel over my life gets to be a little more than I can handle. And I try to rely on good friends and my husband to bring me through that, but occasionally it takes a little more to escape that drowning feeling. And yesterday, driving along with Jacob babbling in the backseat, I happened to flip to the country station and Trace Adkins "You're Gonna Miss This" started playing. And I lost it. It was just what I needed to break out of the slump I've been in this past week and get. over. myself. Life is hard, right? Some days I need to suck it up and just be thankful for what I've got. Even if that means I have too much laundry to sort, too much paperwork in the office that needs to be filed, and a lack of focus on the details of my life (like where Jacob's shoes may be).

So here's to shrugging off the shadows and focusing on the bright lights in my life. Because if it were not for those dark moments, I wouldn't be able to realize how much joy I get when that little boy grins at me. Or how amazingly successful and together I felt when the first shopping trip with my new Ergo was pure fun, even if people were looking at me like a crazyhippie mama while I talked to my son the whole time I was picking out veggies. I can DO this, y'all!

The Hardest Part of Hump Day

Thought that title might get me a few google-link views.

Just kidding...It's Working Mommy Wednesday!

And since I'm all reciped out (although I may let the hubby guest blog his INFAMOUS baked bean recipe sometime soon) I guess I am going with topic number 2, the hardest part about being a mom. Wow. When I've managed to escape what I feel the real tough tests of parenting are (sleepless nights, PPD, developmental issues, major illnesses) it feels like of asinine for me to complain about any part of parenting. After all, I signed up for it. I knew going in what to expect.

But what I could NEVER understand, despite the millions of warnings, are how fast time would fly. It's been a week since his first birthday and I have a walking, pointing, sort-of talking toddler (to brag for a moment, his pediatrician told us that his language skills are well past a typical 12-month old's). It seems like just yet=sterday that we had a snow day in February where we all sat around in our pajamas until 3PM and the baby took a 1 1/2 hour nap on my shoulder.

The most difficult thing about this time-flying-phenomenon is how as soon as I get used to the "normal" of one stage, it seems we are on to the next, and our whole parenting philosophy, routine, and feeding style changes all at once. Like, when I was home on maternity leave and I wished for just one nap a day where I could put the baby in his crip instead of holding him. When I finally got to the point where I relished soaking up all his loving cuddles, he decided that he would rather put himself to sleep alone in his crib after all. All those months I spent wishing for a self-soother, and just like that I had one, with no more mid-morning naps in my bed. And now I would give anything to hold my two month old for a day and smell his sweet smell and just do nothing but love on him.

For now, I have learned my lesson. Despite the difficulties, I will enjoy each stage we're in at the time, because I now know that as soon as I get used to the independent distance and tantrums, he will flip the switch and be climbing into my lap and saying "I love you mama," and it will be even sweeter

Year Number Two...Aaannnd Go!

So. I have a toddler. A friend asked me today what it feels like to have a 1 year old, and at the time I wasn't quite sure what to answer, but now that I've had all afternoon to reflect, it feels...strangely anti-climactic.

I was pretty emotional last Wednesday, but not any more than usual. Since having a child, it's as though the pregnancy hormones have never quite left my body, and I can get weepy just at the image of my son stopping halfway across the living room to laugh at himself, for who knows what reason. Everything makes me cry. Especially being in church.

It's hard to explain, but, while I feel like I have far exceeded my own expectations of myself as a mother, I have been a big fat FAIL at being a better wife, homemaker, and caretaker of my family. I do not vacuum enough. I have not mopped the kitchen floor in way too long. I have dropped my 1st 6-months of mommyhood habit of doing a load of laundry each night (including folding and putting away) and now have two or three piles of unfolded laundry in the bonus room upstairs. I still have not unpacked the big suitcase from our beach trip a MONTH ago and just last night put the beach bags back in the closet upstairs.

I have paid bills late because I forgot about them, kept a constant pile of random stuff on the side table downstairs, and completely neglected my herbs this summer. My dog is not current on her heartworm medicine or flea and tick, and hasn't had a bath in over a month. (She did jump in the pool yesterday...that counts, right?) I can't find anything in my house or office because I don't have any kind of organizational system anymore...I am barely treading water when it comes to housework.

The worst is that I constantly nag my husband about every little thing. And I tend to do it quite passive agressively, like this exchange: "I'm going upstairs, can you let Sidney out?" "Well, no, I was going to go up first and take my contacts out." I paused and answered, "oh, that's right, I'm the mom so it's my responsibility." I'm mean to him. And that's just not right. I know he forgets to take his stuff upstairs sometimes and opens the packaging to any new electronic "toy" like a 12 year old at Christmas, leaving the box and instructions just lying on the table or floor. But he also cuts the grass every week and cooks just as much as I do. And I need to give him more credit.

So, given these realizations, instead of making New Year's Resolutions, I'm treating my son's birthday like a new year: things I want to be better at as a mom. Part of being a mom is taking on the extra task of caring for another family member without letting the rest of my life go to pot, and I need to be reminded of the women of the sixties and seventies and eighties, the original working moms who did it all. That doesn't mean I'm not going to stand up for myself when I need my husband's help, but lets face it: he does a lot more than men did back then, and a lot more than the weight I see some men pull. I need to learn to live my life without complaining.

And I'm going to try to start tonight, right after my Fantasy Football draft.

And Still So Much to Learn

I'm feeling inspired today by some drama on my favorite drama-seeking message board. Last week I checked in for the first time in weeks and saw that everyone was all in an outrage over a post made by the woman who writes this blog: http://1000reasonsimabadmom.com/ . I think her blog is cheeky, self-deprecating, and full of life's lessons to those of us travelling down the new motherhood path virtually unprepared for the stones that will be thrown at us. I doubt she is a bad mom, or even considers herself a bad mom. But, writing this blog has given her an outlet to vent those frustrations that we all come across from time to time when we turn our back and life surprises us.

Unfortunately, many members of "The Bump" did not feel this way, and therein ensued a riotous thread of threats to call CPS and wishes that she would give her beautiful son away for adoption because she obviously didn't deserve to be a mom. Really? Loosen up a little, ladies! We all have our moments, and we all need a way to get out the emotions that we can't wear on our sleeve daily for fear of actually having Child Protective Services called. She is not abusing or neglecting or even failing to celebrate her child. She is just pointing at the things in life that make it worth getting up, dusting ourselves off, and trying again.

Now, the one thing that has surprised me most about parenting thus far is how easy it has been for me. Easy is a relative term. My life is still much more hectic and stressful than before, but the rewards I've received for my hard work in the last 356 days has far outweighed the emotional and physical stress I've been through. I'm also lucky: my kid has had relatively consistent sleep patterns most of his life, is amazingly loving, smart, and independent, has remained very healthy with only an occasional bout of croup, and I escaped without a hint of the dreaded PPD (other than crying at the Pampers commercials and when he peed on the living room wall once, I have held it together somewhat).

But this morning, we had a mishap. A mishap of Bad-Mom proportions.

Jacob can climb stairs. He's pretty much been able to do this for about 3 1/2 months now, yet my husband and I have been extremely lazy about installing the gates and while there is one at the top of our staircase, the gate for the bottom is still sitting in a box in the garage. I'm not pointing fingers, but the "bad mom" in me (or is it bad wife) has a habit of sighing and rolling my eyes at my husband any time something is not done on time, like he's the only one responsible for baby-proofing, mowing the lawn, and car maintenance. I use the "but I do so much already" excuse a lot in our household.

So imagine the ice-cold grip in fear on my heart this morning as I was standing at the kitchen counter mixing formula bottles, half-listening to what my husband was talking about and too half-asleep to notice that the living room no longer contained the babbling and banging sounds of Jacob playing. Then the questioning "uunnnhhhh?" that is usually how baby boy tries to get our attention when he's unsure about something, coming from way too distant a place to be anywhere close by. My husband bolted, while I was frozen to the spot. The next thing I hear is heavy clomping up the stairs and "hey, buddy," before breathing a big sigh of relief.

My son, my not quite year old, 28" tall peanut, was standing at the top of 14 steps, trying to figure out why he couldn't open the gate and go into his room.

Sometimes, you just have to take your lumps and count your lucky stars that someone is stronger than you give them credit for. Thank God for this kid's balance and agility, because my Monday could have turned out far, far worse because of my own laziness.

I thank God for a lot of things every day, but today especially, I am humbled. And greatful.

Travelling...With Children

I guess I've been reflecting a lot lately on before and after mom-dom because I'm nearing that one year mark ever so quickly, and since little man is now starting to talk, walk, and be generally more self-sufficient than I think I'm ready for, I have more time to reflect on just how different reality versus my expectations of parenthood are.

I think I feel the opposite way of what I heard before having a kid. I heard a lot of "you will never sleep/eat/have a romantic date again" and while I get that for some people looking back at their child's first year, that may be what it feels like. But I feel so much more fulfilled, settled, and just right. I'm pretty sure I underestimated my own abilities as a mother before my son was bored. I had a lot of "wow, is this really going to work" moments during pregnancy. Don't get me wrong, I enjoyed it and I basked in the attention, the coddling, the thought of those last few months to be a family of two and a dog, but I also wondered what would happen when my monthly "free" nights to have a bath, order Indian takeout, and watch a chick flick alone in my house disappeared. I feared that I would be resentful to my son for this loss of freedom and personal space.

While on vacation at the beach last summer, I watched other mothers as they chased their kids around, making sure they had sunscreen on and/or didn't poop in the sand. They couldn't kick back and read a book while catching some rays. They had to drag so much more crap down to the beach...umbrellas and cabanas and cooler bags and extra towels and beach toys and a hat and a rash guard and...it was never ending. At night, I took as much time reading in the recliner as possible because I just knew it would be the last vacation where I would be free to do that all I wanted. I thought I would dread this year's vacation because I would finally realize how much my mom's "vacations" had really been harder work than she did at home all these years.

But, as we're getting ready to take one of these beach trips soon, I find that I am in a totally different place than expected. The thought of 9 days with my son, husband, parents, and sister's family sounds amazing. I may be more excited for this vacation than any other. My son is going to hang on the boat with Pops. I will have built in babysitters for the evening that my husband and I choose to go out for a nice dinner and walk on the pier. I get to take my baby to Cape Lookout and show him the fun I enjoyed growing up. We can play in the sand (which I've always secretly loved to do anyway, even after I was kind of too old to do it alone). I don't care that I have to load a pack n play, high chair, and other assorted baby junk into the trunk of our sedan.

And, after he goes to bed exhausted at 8:30 each night, I can spend all the time I want in that same recliner, reading a new book.

More About How Experienced I Am...

Last night, a younger friend dropped by to pick up some baby stuff for her sister that is visiting. We are loaning our infant carseat, stroller frame, bouncer seat, etc. to her so that she doesn't have to try to navigate the airport with her 4 1/2 month old son and assorted crap that comes with having a 4 1/2 month old. This, combined with the fact that her little sis is planning her wedding, made me think about how obssessed I have been over certain things in the past. We talked about all the wedding magazines and shows and bridal salons she has checked out, and it brought me back to that time when NOTHING WAS MOE IMPORTANT THAN ME PLANNING MY WEDDING! But that is a different story. Let me tell you about some baby things I no longer need to obsess over.

Baby food. Remember my tiny Sprout giveaway? Well, I became a fan of Sprout on facebook and they sent me a box of 6 assorted pouches. "Cool," I thought, and then immediately followed that up with, "what the hell can I do with this?" Too little, too late, for my child who ate baby food for about 2.7 weeks until we switched to a modified baby-led weaning plan. "Well, maybe I'll do another blog giveaway?" Then I remembered that out of everyone who reads my blog, only about 3 of them have babies eating baby food still, and I know two of them in real life. So lucky them! They each get 3 pouches of Sprout!

Baby legs. Thank GAWD I never gave in to this obsession. I got my baby steals email today and nearly shuddered at the thought. Why was I so concerned with these? Seriously? Leg warmers for babies? I do give myself credit...it was winter, and diaper changes were tough enough as he started wriggling and squirming. Now it's summertime, 90+ degrees every day, and the most laughable thing I can imagine to put on my son are freaking leg warmers.

Baby toys. Because once we hit standing/cruising status, I realized it doesn't matter. I could fill his toybox (okay, he doesn't have a toybox, which is something I should put on his birthday list) with empty water bottles, old pans, toilet paper, the dog's tennis balls, and anything he can "drive" across the floor like a car and he would never know that those huge exersaucer/jumper/sports center monstrosities even existed. Come to think of it, if I just emptied out our large cooler that would make a perfect toybox, because that's his favorite household item at the moment.

Assorted diaper bag crap. I forget to pack a bib half the time. I forget to pack diapers sometimes. My kid only has one sippy cup and it's usually dirty (after hummus and baked beans dinner last night I get the heebie-jeebies to think about it's status right now...and I'm kinda worried it's where the dog can get to it, so he may have 0 sippy cups when we get home tonight). I think his burp clothes and receiving blankets are long gone. He only poops once a day in the AM, so I rarely have more than 3 wipes on hand. Honestly, I don't even know what else we used to keep in that thing.

What have I replaced these things to obsess over with? Well, you know there is always something!

Baby shoes! He got his first 2 pairs about a month ago, and it was love at first sight for all of us. So far he's a Robeez baby, but we are expecting these in the mail any day (thanks again babysteals.com). Now, I was following the hippie standards with the "barefoot is best" mantra for a while. But then I got tired of having the dirty-little-feet baby out in public. And Jacob got really tired of not being able to get down and boogie in public. And my husband got tired of me letting our son crawl on the dirty floor in public. So we have shoes!

Birthday parties. Now, anyone on any mom website with any child between the ages of 6-12 months knows that this is the hottest. topic. ever. I'm not that mom. This will not be a debutante ball, coming out party, or showcase for mom. My kid will not have a separate "smash cake outfit" or $25 cowboy hat to wear in pictures. In fact, he will only have a smash cake because Harris Teeter will give him one free. He will likely be naked or mostly naked when we put the cake in front of him. I am making his real cake/cupcakes. I am ordering his invites online for cheap. (I need to get on that, actually). I will buy paper plates and silverware at Wal-Mart or Target. Despite how much I love what some of these Etsy sellers are doing, I'm just not paying a ridiculous amount of money for all this specialized paper crap that I will have to set up and tear down anyway. Just grilling hamburgers and hot dogs in a local park with a playground. But that doesn't mean I'm not getting excited about the "theme".

Yogurt. Seriously, do you know how hard it is to find full-fat Greek yogurt?

Big boy pajamas. He wore his first pair last night, and when I went to get him at 6:45 AM, my "baby" was leaning nonchalantly in the corner of his crib, smiling at me with his elbow propped on the rail. How have we gotten here so soon? He is now the oldest kid in his baby daycare room. He's going to move up any day now, we're only waiting for a space at this point. His teacher told me this morning that she's started taking him over to "visit" because he gets bored in the little baby room. Sigh...no more onesies, no more footie pajamas. Walking will come any day now.

And I will have to start saying "I have a toddler".

You Can Only Please Yourself

I think I finally feel like I'm not a "new mom" anymore, like I've got this thing called parenthood mastered and I'm in the advanced level instead of the beginner one. Of course, I am well aware that whenever that happens, God or Jacob or fate or whoever is in charge of this cruise ship will roll a stumbling block my way, put me in check, and say "not so fast there girlie". Like, this morning (and the last few weeks if I'm being honest) I can tell that the breastfeeding is an instant soother. It is such a big part of our wake-up and bedtime routines that I am really unprepared for the moment in the next 6 or so months when we all realize that is no longer an option and I have to figure out a different plan for those occasional 2AM nightmares. But we're not there yet, so...

Here is some advice for my new mom friends, or those trying to start down that journey.

Basically, it boils down to: people suck, and YOU are the mommy.

That's right, no matter how you look at it, and how hard other people try to stay out yo biz-nass, there will always be SOMEONE telling you what you should or shouldn't be doing, or at the very least giving you the side-eye when you give your 10 month old a breadstick at Pizza Hut. The most important thing to remember is this: people have advice, opinions, and experience, and it's ok to lean on that sometimes when you feel lost and overwhelmed. But when you got it, you got it. Mama instinct is a pretty powerful thing, and sometimes I just KNOW that what I'm doing is what works for me and my baby at that time, and I'm doing more good than harm.

Every now and then when I'm out in public, I think people are looking at us strangely because we're the parents who forget to bring bibs, baby spoons, and sippy cups all the time. We are the parents who are feeding our child from our own forks, giving him a piece of bread from the breadbasket or some crackers to keep him occupied while we eat, and letting him drink his water from a regular cup and straw (okay, we do hold it for him, the other would be disastrous). I personally think it's easier this way, and sometimes realize I'm just as bad for rolling my eyes at the two year old whose parents come packed with an army of his own special food from home, a special sippy cup full of chocolate milk b/c he doesn't drink water, and plenty of activities to keep him from getting unhappy at dinner. Then I realize I'm being just as judgy as they may or may not be towards me, and I stop. Because if that's what works for their outing, so be it.

Family is the same way. I am lucky to be blessed with a wonderful family relatively free of Judgy McJudgersons, but now and then there still moments where I can tell someone thinks I'm coddling my son too much. For every one of those instances, there's probably someone else at the family gathering who thinks I'm a cold, cruel mama for ignoring Jacob when he crawls over and whines for me to pick him up for no other reason than he just wants to throw a fit. I do it, too, though...the way I shoot my husband a look when I overhear another mama being overprotective. This has got to stop, but it's just human nature. We all feel that our way is the right way, and forget sometimes that it's just the right way for us, but maybe not for everyone.

Breastfeeding is a big one where women do this. I'll admit it: I have judged formula feeders in the past. I have a hard time understanding why a woman wouldn't even try to breastfeed her baby given all of the info out there that says it's obviously better for the child. But then again, I also understand that if a woman tries and hates it, then obviously that's not going to create a rewarding bond anymore than holding a bottle will. And I've had both sides of judging for my breastfeeding decisions as well: my sister practically sneered at me when I told her my first goal was to breastfeed while home with the baby on maternity leave, but I really hoped to make it to six months. "Why would you only go six months when you know a year is better?" ("well, I don't know, maybe because neither of us has a kid yet and we don't really KNOW what's better") And now at 10 1/2 months I get strange looks and comments for still pumping at work and still breastfeeding in public.

So, my point is, new moms and moms to be, trust your instincts. When the time comes, you will know what feels right. And everyone else can shove it. There will always be detracters, but if you stay strong, do your research, rely on your "experienced" friends, and when in doubt use your gut, it will be much easier to smile and say, "thank you for the suggestion. If this stops working for me, I just may try that," then you will have this motherhood thing in the bag.

Like I do. Wink, wink...

A Mother's Letter

Dear Jacob,

I am writing this letter to you tonight on my blog because I can't find your baby journal that I've been keeping since before your birth, and you have just created a wave of emotions in me so huge that I need to let it all out to keep from bursting. I am crying and smiling and at the same time, aching that I can't go crawl into your crib and curl up around your little turtle body as you fall asleep. For I have just had an amazing Mommy Moment.

For me, it's the smallest things that bring me joy. Today, and for the whole weekend really, you have been a little down, clingy yet distant, and nonchalant about Mama. When I picked you up from daycare today you were happy to see me, but then you turned and reached for your teacher. At my parent's house, when I picked you up you would turn and cry at Nonni, wanting her to hold you instead. I have to admit, I felt a little jealous, a little jaded. Little babies are supposed to want their mommies above anyone, and I was rejected. When it comes to you, though, I know I can never hold on to that jealousy long because you are a fickle creature, and sometimes you just don't know what you want.

Tonight, you happened to just want home. Your dog, your toys, your room, and your parents all to yourself. Despite being tired, you played and smiled and danced and cruised all around the living room, reaching for me and daddy from time to time, happy to have our undivided attention. And when I got ready to put you to bed, something happened to erase all of my rejection anxiety. Lately, I've been holding you a little before bed, and you've allowed yourself to doze in my arms. I really lucked out to get such a good sleeper: for a long stretch, you would actually cry to be put in your crib at bedtime and it's only recently that you will let me hold you after nursing. I usually stand by the window and stare at your precious face, whispering to you how beautiful you are and how much I love you. Then I lay you gently in your crib and you flip right over and curl into a ball.

But tonight, you stretched out on your back, opened your eyes, and grinned up at me. Full open mouth, teeth bared grin. And then in the light of your seahorse, you sucked a little air in while smiling, like a teeny little gasp-giggle, what I've come to know as your contentedly happy noise. I smiled down at you and whispered "I love you soooo much" and then crouched, putting my face next to your crib. You stared at me, smiling, and stretched your hand out through the slats of your crib and touched my mouth. The look in your face as I kissed your fingers is something that I will cherish as long as I live, son. Such trust, and love, and joy at seeing your mom smile and whisper good night. I couldn't help but start crying, which seemed to get you even more excited. I didn't want to leave, but I knew the longer I stayed the more awake you would become.

Thank you, Jacob, for giving me such an overflowing feeling of love tonight. And keep up those good sleep habits so that in a couple of years, every now and then at least, I really can climb into your little toddler bed, curl myself around you, and stroke your hair until you are deep into sleep.

I love you more than life itself.

Love,
Mama

How I Picked a Fight With My Husband Because the Baby Spit Up.

So, I met a friend for lunch today. A new friend, as in, a blogger friend from online that I was meeting for the first time in "real life". I was very excited for said meeting, as we have "known" each other online for some time and well, to be honest, from the moment I "met" her I just knew we'd have a lot in common.

And we did: we both had to pull our hair into ponytails to eat, we both like cheese on our burgers, and she let the first "f"-bomb fly about 4 1/2 minutes into our conversation, which put me totally at ease. In any case, the point of my story is first impressions are important and I actually cared how I presented myself, so I decided against the still-in-use maternity top even though I am now 7 pounds lighter than when I got pregnant and put on what I consider a nicer top and shrug.

And then my husband woke up late. So, at 7:12, with exactly 3 minutes left before we had to pack into the car, I was holding Jacob and preparing his bottles (after I had already nursed him, changed him, dressed him, and kept him from sticking anything sharp or poisonous in his mouth all morning) while my husband was STILL GETTING HIMSELF READY OVER 40 MINUTES LATER, and the kid puked. All down the front of my shirt, all over his own outfit. What the what? Seriously, he hasn't spit up in months, and this is the moment he picks to let it all out? So unfair, right? So what did I do?

I yelled at my husband. Poor guy happened to make it to the kitchen within seconds of the incident and said, "do you need any help?" I looked him with sharp, sharp daggers instead of eyes and said, "yeah, like RIGHT NOW, and five minutes ago too, by the way." He had to take Jacob upstairs to change him while I frantically "washed" my shirt in the sink. And I'll admit it now, it was totally mean and uncalled for, and not at all the kind of wife I want to be, but we all have those moments. In the car he said (this is him apologizing for not helping) "I don't know how I wasn't ready on time today. I got up at the same time yesterday and had 15 extra minutes to fix the bottles."

What can I say? I've always been a beast in the morning anyway. I am not a gal that wakes up smiling and waiting for the birds to come and visit. I need a pee, a shower, and a good iced coffee before I'm really up and at it, and he is well aware of that. I have a friend that always says to her husband, "you knew what you were getting when you married me, so you shouldn't be surprised by it." I guess that's how I feel. Hopefully tomorrow will be a better commute.

I Used to Be a Night Owl.

Before baby, I was such a late night person. I used to work in retail management, and had a wonky schedule with nice time off during the work week, shifts that started at 1PM sometimes, and being at work before 9:30 was considered early.

I switched to my current career around a year and a half before Jacob's birth, with "banker's hours" and although it took a while, I eventually got used to it. However, I was still terrified of what would happen once I gave birth. Seriously, I could easily stay up until 2AM, sleep until 10AM, and my husband and I never seemed to be able to make it out of the house on the weekends until noon or later. The thought of waking before 7AM was reserved for plane flights, nightmares, and Easter Sunrise Service. How was I going to adjust to having to get myself and a baby ready, take him to daycare, and still be at work by 8 or 8:30?

Part of the solution was to find a daycare that only made my one-way commute 7.1 miles. Mission accomplished, until a recent promotion that puts my one-way commute at over 30 miles. I have to leave home nearly an hour before I'm scheduled to be at work. How has that worked? Surprisingly, exceedingly well. I am usually the first one to my office in the morning. My husband and I will soon begin carpooling three days a week. I go to bed between 10-11PM, wake up between 6 and 6:30, and I actually enjoy it.

This morning, before 8:15, I took a shower, got dressed, put bandages on my heels to prevent new-shoe blister syndrome, nursed Jacob and changed his diaper, played and flirted with him for 15 minutes, took him to daycare, took the dog to the vet/groomer on the way to work, and swung by Starbucks for an Iced Caramel Macchiatto. It felt GREAT! Next up, waking up at 5:30 to have half an hour of "me" time? I used to think that would be impossible, but now I think it can be done. We'll see...

"Your life will change, you know."

Man, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that while pregnant with this child, I could have quit my job and been a Stay at Home Mom. And I totally agree.

But what people don't tell you (or maybe they forget because life gets busier along the way) is that it changes in such amazingly good ways that you cannot fathom until your child is born. Or maybe you can't even fathom it until your baby is a little older and a little less needy. When he crawls over to your husband, pulls up to stand in front of him, and opens his little mouth like a bird waiting for Daddy to share his breakfast.

I am one of the lucky moms: I have tons of trustworthy family in the area that practically are begging to babysit, yet my husband and I feel like we get so little time with Little Man due to two full time jobs that our problem is letting him out of our sight enough to satisfy said family. People ask me all the time when they will get to babysit, and I think about the Strawberry Festival I want to take him to that weekend before giving an answer. Still, every now and then I get a surge of "rat-race" emotions and I just wish I could have a night off (this usually comes on a Tuesday afternoon when there is no one volunteering to babysit).

Twice since he has been born (nearly nine months ago) I have thought about life without baby in a somewhat rosy way. The most recent was when a co-worker bought lunch and mentioned that her husband was out of town, so she would be going home to leftover take-out, her lapdog, and a bottle of wine. What freedom, I thought. I forget what it's like to go home and have the house to yourself, enjoying Indian food (which my hubby can't stand) and a chick flick all by myself. Staying up until 2AM because I had no intention of waking up until after 9. When I was pregnant, I was afraid of what would happen when I didn't have any of those nights to myself anymore. Could I live like that? I tend to be a person who likes to have some "alone time" at least twice a week. My husband and I already fought about the times when he wanted me with him and I wanted to be selfish, soaking in the tub for an hour or two with a book.

Well, I drove home from work slightly jealous until I got to daycare. And my little boy beamed at me with such joy and pride that any feelings of "me time" just slipped away and I instantly slipped back into full-on MOM mode. As I played with him for the tiny hour I could, fed him his dinner, and nursed him to sleep around 8:30, I couldn't help but feel as though I was the luckiest woman on earth. And I laughed a little at myself. Because, honestly, a glass of wine and take-out could never compare to the feeling I get when I'm rocking quietly with a little being that likes to reach back and stroke my hand where it's cupping his little body next to mine.