The stay-at-home-mom: a quick look at the specimen

The stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) is a rather peculiar being.

First, I reserve my right to object to the title.

It's misleading.

It suggests you do nothing but stay ... at home.

Inactively.

Sure.

Being a SAHM doesn't have much to do with staying in one place.

You're running around a lot of the time. 

Doing the things that keep life rolling but which are not fancy or glamourous.

You know, the kind your mom did for years and years but you didn't notice much. 

Like picking things up. All. the. time.

Toys and more toys, clothes, crumbs, crackers, wrappings, banana peels...and God knows what unidentifiable things. 

Once you are done, you can start again. 

Then there's laundry and ironing and stain removing.

Cleaning, scrubbing and disinfecting. 

Cooking, grocery shopping...

There's...oh who cares?!

It's boring to write it all down, it's boring to talk about it and so it might seem it is not  a valuable thing. 

Except it is. 

Because if I ask someone over to vacuum, dust and scrub my toilet, I have to pay them good money. 

Not to mention having someone for childcare! Babysitter, daycare, nanny...

Before I got pregnant, I had a full-time job, I was tutoring a couple of kids and I was finishing up my Master's. 

I was busy. And hyper. And exhausted. 

I felt very productive.

Now?  

I am pretty hyper and exhausted and productive as a SAHM as well. 

In a completely different way.

It took some time to get used to it.

But most days, I am really enjoying it. 

I like to be there and see my kid blooming, learning and growing into herself. 

For many months I had this nagging thought that I wasn't doing enough.

That it was not enough to just be a mom.

I had to have a job. Bring home a paycheck. 

Be super-mom and super-employee or whatever. 

But then, one day at the library it was story time and I went with Loud Baby.

There were soo many kids.

Also, there were two dads, about 5 moms and a lot of nannies. 

Some nannies were sweet and enthusiastic.

Some were bored out of their wits as it happens to adults stuck in a kids' program. 

As for me, I was glad I was the one there with my daughter, having the chance of getting bored.

And I didn't.

I enjoyed all her babbling and reading the same book ten times and singing the same song 12 times. 

It's not always like that but I'd rather I were the person she can nag and annoy and drive crazy. 

Because then I also get to be the person she learns from and the one she delights with her silliness. 

Maybe one day there will be no choice, and I will have to get a job.

Maybe one day I will simply feel it is time for me to look for work. 

But it will be because I want to or need to, not because of the ingrained belief that a SAHM is inferior, not living up to her potential, not doing enough...you name it. 

Time to go read "Where is baby's belly button". Loud and proud :)

Mothersucking breastfeeding

Loud Baby is now almost 21 months old. Which equals 21 months of breastfeeding.

I know you are probably thinking "Give me a break. You can just wean her". 

I probably could. But I prefer to have working eardrums. And nursing actually helps me to be less the mom on the left of the picture. Or more? Not sure.

Anyway.

Breastfeeding is such a controversial subject. I didn't realize that until fairly recently. 

I was exposed only to the breast is best doctrine when pregnant. 

You know, the kind of teaching that will make you feel guilty for even thinking about giving your child formula. 

Not cool. 

And then there is the other group. The ones who will hit you with "Oh please, you and your nursing. Are you showing off or what? So many people grew up with formula when babies and they turned up just fine" and other similar comments. 

It seems that as a mom, you just can't get it right.

My relationship with breastfeeding is a love-and-hate one. 

I know that according to the dogma of lactation consultants you are supposed to enjoy every moment of it. Because it is so natural, and healthy, and helps with bonding....Plus I have milk and others don't so how dare I be anything but grateful and joyous. 

The truth is never black and white. So I will get down to that.

White (aka the good part):

Nursing calms my little one down even now when she is a toddler.

It's great when on a plane.

It puts her to sleep every evening and for every nap.

It is healthy and should help with her immunity. 

It helps with brain development.

It helps with bonding (most of the time).

Black (the not so fun parts): 

It hurts!! It hurts at the beginning and then it hurts when they get teeth and then it hurts when they get more teeth. Time and time again, you need to work on the latch, on the positions and on getting lanolin stains out of your clothes (which is a whole different kind of challenge).

You are very limited about what pills you can take when you are sick. 

Nyquil for horrible-I-want-to-die-now flu symptoms? Sorry, nope.

And even when quite sick, you still have to nurse.

For me, it felt like life was being sucked out of me in those moments.

It makes you feel that your body is still not your own. 

Nine months pregnancy when someone else is in charge and then this. Sigh.

Also, Loud Baby is very demanding when it comes to nursing.

I think she believes she owns ... the farm. 

And of course there were the worries at the beginning.

Do I have enough milk, is she getting enough, is she gaining weight, what can I do about this horrible oversupply that makes us both miserable but about which I cannot tell anyone because they will shame me about not simply being grateful for having milk? 

And last but not least, only you, the mom can do it. Even more so when you have a baby like mine who will not take a bottle. Total dependency. 

But here I am still doing it. I am probably as used to it by now as Loud Baby is. It simply has become part of my life, my days. Plus I always tell myself that if I really did have to wean her, I would but while I can still do this, I will. I also want to believe that Loud Baby knows what she needs and will let go on her own when she is done. I probably don't want to do it past 3 years old though. 

The good thing is that Loud Baby understands so much already and she really tries hard to latch on well. She says things like "Mommy no ouch. Nicely" which is, of course, extra cute. So even if she won't give up nursing on her own very soon, there will come a time when I can hopefully explain to her that we are done.

I will just keep the lanolin on hand until then.

My mushy brain

After two months I now finally have the time, energy and mild inspiration to write.

That says a lot. Or at least, it does say something about the level of business in our lives.

I am the kind of person who is always busy. 

You know, the annoying  kind.

In the past week I've turned down 4 different invitations to different kind of activities.

"Sorry, 2 o'clock is nap time for us"

"Sorry, 7 is too late, we are having dinner then"

"Sorry, Loud Baby is teething and super cranky today, I really can't take her to multiple stores right now for a shopping spree". 

Well, actually I could, but the people in the stores would not appreciate it much. 

That being said, even if Loud Baby is napping or away with her dad for an hour, my mind never stops being busy. It thinks and thinks and thinks some more about the things that need to be done, cleaned, bought, organized and so on. 

"I must remember to..." is probably the phrase that crosses my mind most often on a daily basis. 

Shoes in the livingroom?

Must remember to put them back so we don't look for them when we are leaving (and always in a hurry, and always late).

Puzzle pieces in the hamper?

Must remember to take back to puzzle box.

And to write email to friend.

And to start dishwasher.

And to make grocery list.

And to...where's the cat?!

You get the idea.

Before we had a baby, I used to be pretty sharp. I knew where things were in my house, in the car, in the city. I could multitask calmly and efficiently and I would enjoy it.

Flash forward 19 months later and I have no idea what I'm doing.

Literally. 

I remember heading for the kitchen to load the dishwasher but I end up on the balcony to put the diaper pail out for some fresh air. 

I have no idea where my phone is most of the time. Or my sunglasses. Or my clothes.

Or my keys until recently. (I bought this awesome cheap hook that you hang on the door and that's where I put my keys. Way out of reach for tiny and not so tiny hands).

Things get lost in our house all the time. 

In the past month we've lost a baby hat, a toddler t-shirt, a key to the house, a laundry card, a pumpkin carving kit (!)...and I'm sure there will be more.

I would love to blame it all on Loud Baby but truth be told she can't be held responsible for all of this stuff. 

Nope. It's me. 

I have no idea where I put some of these prized possessions. 

And these are the things that have been swallowed up by Mother Earth but I spend every day looking for stuff. 

Stuff like shoes (usually one), loveys, crayons, wallet, building blocks etc. 

I regularly forget where I park the car and am hit by a panic attack when I exit Target with 7 bags and have no idea which way to go. 

My brain is mushy. Or, better yet, so tightly wound and in such a hurry that it just doesn't have the patience anymore to think a thought through cohesively enough for me to follow.

Example situation: we just got home and I have parked the car.

(The car is a unique ecosystem comprised of baby books, Lamaze toys, sweaters and blankets, crackers and baby puree remains, bits and scraps of paper, strollers, fresh and not so fresh sippy cups...).

Anyway. We are home now and need to get out of the car. That might not sound complicated at first but, trust me, it is. To my mind at least. 

Items that need to be removed from the car: 2 giant grocery bags, another bag full of library books, my diaper bag/purse, jacket, Husband's backpack; 2 adults and 1 toddler. 

My husbands gets the little one so I start removing things from the trunk. 

Suddenly, I remember I have no idea where my keys are. I check one of the pockets on my diaper bag and it's there. Whew!

Meanwhile, Loud Baby is out and she sees her doll stroller in the trunk.

"Stroller! Stroller!Stroller" x 134

I get the stroller out and remember I should really get the sippy cup out too this time before any nasty mold starts making its appearance.My husband is locking the door on his side and picks up the grocery bags while I do acrobatics as I try to fish out a sippy cup from under the seats of a two-door car. 

Success!

Loud Baby however is very eager with her stroller and makes a head start with great speed through the parking lot. Downhill. Where cars may come any time. 

I run to catch her and slow her down. She's not too happy about it and lets me know.

We get on the sidewalk, daddy joins us with the bags.

"I locked your side too", he says.

Right. I forgot all about that. (No automatic doors, in case you were wondering).

Two hours later after lunch, Loud Baby is in the mood for reading.

Oh goody. I'll read her one of the cute library books I got her.

Except, the bag with 6 library books is nowhere to be found.

Nobody remembers anything about it.

My husband goes down to the car to check.

It was on top of the car.

I think I'd better not get too attached to things.

 

Why it's hard

I was looking at the trailer for the movie "Moms' Night Out" the other day and a comment caught my eye.

The person was saying how much he/she is fed up with people in America making such a big deal out of motherhood.

So that got me thinking.

Are we moms making a big deal out of our momminess?

We write blogs.

Some of us publish our stuff in books. 

We vent and we rant and we talk on forums. 

And on average there is 1 movie/2 years that tries to address the subject of parenting beyond showing a funny scene of changing a poopy diaper  for the first time.

After that bam!- the kid's all grown up.

So I decided to write a post about why I personally think momminess is a subject one can talk about endlessly and with good reason.

I understand why many would think it's no big deal.

So many women are doing it, right?

Plus, it's been done since the beginning of time.

It's how life works, women have always been moms so stop being a martyr and stop complaining, right?

I believe that moms write about their days not because they want pity or a prize. 

It's letting off steam (there's a lot of that, for sure) and it's doing something creative for a change apart from laundry and scheduling doctor's appointments.

Just because so many of us are doing it, doesn't make it any easier.

I didn't get it either before I had my own baby.

People tell you everything changes after you have a child.

But what does that mean anyway?

I smiled and nodded politely when someone would tell me this and think: 

"Of course it will. And I am ready"

Now, 17 months later, I'll tell you this: I am not ready. 

I will never be ready.

I take one day at a time, sometimes 1 minute at a time. 

Why is it hard? What's changed?

Everything, of course. (how original)

Basically, everything you've done before - simple things- become massive projects.

The little routine you were used to when having lunch or driving to Target or getting groceries or washing your hair or checking your emails or cleaning your house or or or...is dead.

Dead as a doornail. 

Before a baby, you get up in the morning, brush your teeth, make breakfast, eat, get dressed, put on make-up etc.

After the baby?

You obviously need to take care of the little one, change her diaper, dress her, give her breakfast, play with her- all of this in addition to your previously obliviously easy routine.  

But you are dealing with another human being here not a docile little doll and she has... other plans pretty much all the time.

So here's how it goes.

Baby wakes Mommy in the morning. It can be at dawn or at 8 if you are lucky.

Mommy (me) drags herself out of bed and tries to think fresh thoughts.

I pick Loud Baby up and do a little cuddling.

Baby is in no mood for cuddles, she needs to get going and save the universe once again.

Mommy picks Baby up for diaper change.

Baby screams, becomes stiff as a board.

Mommy wrestles Baby onto changing table while trying to say reassuring and kind stuff at 6:03 AM .

Then Baby runs off and starts playing with some toys in the living room.

Mommy grabs whatever clothes are lying around and puts them on.

Mommy goes to bathroom.

Baby barges in and watches Mommy's every move. 

Yes, EVERY move.

Baby wants to brush Mommy's teeth but runs off with toothbrush while Mommy is foaming at the mouth...

Mommy retrieves toothbrush from screaming Baby.

Repeat with hairbrush.

Mommy washes her face but Baby is pulling her hand to go play and read and dance and...yawn.

Mommy reads to Baby.

Mommy takes Baby into the kitchen, gives her a couple of pots and pans hoping to keep Baby busy while she tries to make breakfast. 

Baby does not want pots and pans and pulls Mommy away from counter.

Mommy tries to find something else for Baby but she only wants to climb into the dishwasher/raid the fridge.

Finally, after being interrupted merely for 23.5 times, Mommy makes a couple of sandwiches (no time for eggs and fancy stuff). 

Mommy victoriously announces: "Breakfast. Time to eat"

Baby runs off to the other side of the house. 

Mommy takes a few bites before deciding to engage into this fun game.

If lucky, Mommy playfully retrieves Baby and puts her in high chair.

If not so lucky, screaming Loud Baby takes 4 minutes to be placed into high chair.

Mommy gives Baby bites of the sandwich while having some herself (it's the only way I can eat lately).

Baby takes two bites after which she refuses all food and wants to jump from high chair.

Mommy draws for Baby to make her sit back down.

Baby is caught. She takes two more bites.

And then she doesn't.

Baby opens mouth only to close it right before food reaches it and smiles playfully.

Mommy reads to Baby.

Three more bites.

Mommy eats and shows Baby how yummy it is but Baby is unimpressed.

Baby keeps saying her all-time favorite word: "No-no-no-no".

Baby throws crayons from high chair.

Mommy thinks: Fine, she's not hungry. Good enough.

Baby surprisingly asks for a few more bites.

Mommy feels like she could throw a party right now just for that.

Baby resumes playing with toys while Mommy quickly places stuff in the dishwasher.

Baby somehow hurts herself and screams the roof off.

Mommy comforts Baby, kisses boo-boo and detects diaper change is needed.

After diaper-change Mommy realizes Baby doesn't have any pants on.

Baby determinedly refuses pants. 

Mommy sits down to check email.

Baby wants to climb into her lap and clobber the laptop to death.

Mommy tries to distract Baby and give her toy laptop but Baby is not buying it.

Baby throws tantrum, wants to clobber Mommy now.

Mommy tries to remember what on earth she read about positive parenting in such situations and implements it until Baby is calm again.

Mommy is wondering what drugs she was on when she thought she was ready for a baby.

Mommy and Baby play, draw and sing.

Baby makes  cute noises, smiles, hugs Mommy and does funny stunts.

Mommy is wondering when she could have another little  one.

Mommy asks Baby to choose book to read hoping it won't be the annoying one.

Baby brings annoying book. 

Mommy is mentally doing countdown until naptime. 

In addition to making mental notes about the whats, whens and hows of shopping lists, cooking ingredients, bills to be paid, floors to be cleaned, emails to be written, calls to be made.

Mommy needs her own nap right now.

What's the time again?

8: 17. Right. 

So there. Momminess: the perfect mixture of ups and downs within a span of minutes; boredom, monotony and repetition taken to extremes; a test in physical and mental strength; overflowing joy, pride and pure love; resilience, adaptability, creativity; Momminess is when having done some dusting is an accomplishment, when you feel a great feeling of success because your kid did what you asked them to or because those stains came out fairly easily from your new dress/carpet/wall. 

There are no rewards, no employee of the month posters, no paychecks, no bonuses, no praises. 

There's Mommy and Baby throughout the day learning about being a Mommy and discovering the world for the first time and once again.

Complicated? Nope.

Hard? Yes.

Worth talking about? Yes!

.

Mrs. Belly

When I was pregnant with Loud Baby, I put on a few pounds.

No surprise there. 

I loved loved loved eating.

Gorging myself on yummy food.

Glorious food!

Mongolian stir-fry, quesadillas, creamy soups and lots of ice-cream.

After all-day-sickness finally bid me farewell at 16 weeks (I refuse to call it morning-sickness), I thought I earned the right to fill my tummy with good and (most of the time) healthy food.

"It's for the baby".

Of course it was...

After living on buttered toast, grapes and chicken broth with rice noodles during the first trimester, I had zero regrets in satisfying my cravings as they came.

To be totally honest, I was quite skinny before I was pregnant.

Thank you, good genes, for that. 

Seeing myself get..um... a little big...was a very interesting thing for me. 

And, although I worried about practically everything, I did not worry about losing the baby weight.

Probably because I could simply not think past giving birth. 

Suffice to say, a couple of months after having Loud Baby, most of the weight was gone.

What remained made me look...normal as opposed to quite skinny.

Except.

My belly.

I call her Mrs. Belly.

Who keeps me from being able to wear quite a few of my pre-pregnancy pants.

(Secret note: I still use a belly band so I can wear my old stuff without having to pull up the zipper.)

I have also bought a couple of new pants because I got so frustrated with all the non-zipping and covering up.

But the worst worst part of Mrs. Belly is that she makes me look pregnant. 

End of first trimester but still.

A less careful and rushed wardrobe combination of top and bottom will surely bring on the: "Are you pregnant?" question.

(By less careful I mean using something else than the 2 items of clothing that I have which are good for camouflage.) 

So I have a lot of problems with this question.

Ok, two major problems, to be exact.

1. You do not ask this. Ever. It's none of your business. You always always risk calling someone a fatty with this question. When it's obvious it's obvious.And then you won't have to ask.

2. Most of the people who feel the need to know the reason for my little food bump are women. 

Don't they know from experience that you might have some ... leftovers? Especially if they have just become moms or grandmothers?

Their enthusiasm in asking if I am pregnant again is sweet.

Was. Was sweet.

Now it's just annoying to me.

I have gone through various answers from chuckling nervously and saying "No, no..." to "I am still planning my postpartum workout" to "I need a little extra while breastfeeding". 

Lately, I just say "This? This is the baby from my love-affair with chocolate" (usually not to the granmommies, I stick to the classics there).

On a side note: my own granma noticed Mrs. Belly one day and commented on her (although not pregnancy-wise).

Now, she tends to forget things so every now and then she'll notice it and comment on her. Again.

Fun fun.

Mrs. Belly is here to stay for awhile.

And that's ok.

With all the other side-effects of having been pregnant and given birth.

Mommies are the hottest chicks, anyway. 

Gotta go. My icecream is waiting. 

 

Moms vs. Non-Moms

When you are a mommy, you acquire a certain set of new ... abilities.

Supernatural spidey hearing, abnormal multitasking capacity, painfully sharp protective instincts.

Just to name a few.

And then, after a tiny bit of experience, you learn to distinguish between different categories of women.

You don't really care what their job is anymore or where they eat out. 

What kind of music they prefer. Yeah right.

You are focused on one thing and one thing only.

Are they or aren't they moms. 

And from a couple of kid-related sentences you immediately know not only whether they are but also if you can be friends or not. 

There are the older women. Who still are, of course, moms but who have long forgotten the crazy details of everyday crazy lives with a little one.

Sample sentences:

Older lady: "Oh she's so chubby."

Me: "Yes, she likes her milk"

Older lady: "She's still breastfeeding?? Well, after one year the milk has no nutritional value so it doesn't do her any good".

Right. That used to be the theory. 

Back in the stone age. 

They are also the ones who will warmly advise you to start working on number two. 

By number two they obviously mean a "sweet little brother".

It just has to be a brother. 

Lady...do you see the dark circles under my eyes? The kid might seem cute now on the playground but trust me, she can throw tantrums. 

She can't even talk yet. She's just starting to learn her words.

She knows "mama", "tata", "baba", "water" and "cat".

Given this vocabulary, how am I going to explain the "Mommy is puking because baby brother is growing in her tummy bit?". 

Or run after her with pregnancy fatigue while she climbs any vertical surface  in sight. 

Maybe you want a fact sheet with our financial state also, number of bedrooms and square feet so you can decide where we are going to put one more person.

I might send you the daycare bill as well. 

I know these ladies mean well but please let me enjoy my daughter without adding social pressure in having another one right now. 

And then there are non-mums.

These are the ladies who will invite you over for dinner, say something like "Oh, hi Loud Baby. You are so adorable" and then proceed to behave as if she were invisible but worse expect me to chat and make intelligent conversation as if a 16 month old can pull up a novel and read for an hour or two. 

Also, usually the place is a minefield. 

There are more choking hazards and breakable things combined than in a museum.

So I'm supposed to eat and praise the pot roast while trying to have meaningful conversation with the host while fighting my cranky kid who is yet again holding an earring from the fancy jewelry box while really needing to use the bathroom...while thinking "Abort mission.Need to leave".

And the lady, she doesn't even notice the crisis unfolding right in front of her and casually goes on talking about her stuff with a glass of wine in her hand, asking me if I've read John Green's latest novel.

I would like to tell her I don't read these days. 

Well, except when desperately searching google for parental advice on toddler hitting and biting. 

I don't think that counts.

So I go.."No, not yet. Heard it was great though. What's it about?".

Of course I have no idea who John Green is. Will probably google that too when surfing Aha!Parenting.com

Non-moms will also say stuff like:

"Oh, she's 11 months old? Can she talk yet?"

Umm...no...not quite yet. 

"So you stay at home with the baby? Nice. What else do you do?"

Perform surgery. On dead brain cells (my own)

"We're going away for three days next week. Wanna come? It's this great place with great sights and great food and great shops etc etc."

Sure. Let me ask my boss.

Sorry, she said no.

"Oh so you say there are hard moments. But it's worth it, right? You're tired? But surely it's worth it"

It seems to be some sort of a mantra, this "It's worth it".

I am not saying it is not true. 

But it's so overused. 

And annoying. 

Some moments when you are in the pit, you don't see that it's worth "it". 

"It" what? 

But I can't tell you that so I'll just smile and nod.

Like I know  it all.

Which I don't.

I was a non-mom once.

My momminess laughs her head off now at my theories from non-mommy days.

"You just need to be patient and loving with a child". 

Aha.

Tell me more, this is so funny.

"The first 2-3 months are hard, then it gets easier"

And then it doesn't.

Non-mom me talking to a mom, thinking: 

"Why is she saying she can't go to the bathroom alone? That is so weird."

Non-mommies are great too, bless them, we just don't have much in common unless we try really hard.

Here's the deal: I'll read your John Green book in the precious 2 hours I have/day and you'll clean up safety hazards when we come over next time and MAYBE we'll get 30 minutes of mildly interrupted conversation.

Because it's worth it ;)

"

There's always something

When you have a little one, there is always something to worry about.

Strike that.

Even before you have your little one, you will always find something to fret over.

Before I was pregnant, I was scared that I would not be able to become pregnant.

During the 9 months - which seemed really unfairly long to me- I worried about a zillion things.

Miscarriage, stillbirth, preeclampsia, gestational diabetes, premature birth, birth defects are just a few of them.

I also worried about the more materialistic part of bringing a baby into the world.

Crucial questions such as what wipes to get, do I need a diaper genie or not, do I have enough onesies were keeping me up at night. 

There were other matters that had to be settled: names had to be chosen and deliberated, cravings had to be identified and properly satisfied (Wendy's fries is not the same thing as McDonald's fries), crib mattresses had to be studied and decided upon, humidifiers had to be cleaned with vinegar, childbirth classes had to be taken, babymoon had to be planned (to spare you the suspense, we went to the next city and slept through the weekend); also babykicks had to be counted and recorded, craigslist had to be hunted for good deals and pictures had to be taken throughout the 40 (interminable) weeks.

Once Loud Baby was born and she was thankfully healthy and well, everything written above flew out the window and a new set of worries ensconced itself in our lives.

The question to be repeatedly heard was :WHY is she crying??

We worried about diaper contents, breastfeeding, oversupply, mastitis, not making it through another day due to exhaustion, rashes, colds, vaccines, weight (biiig baby), reaching milestones on time (I quickly cured myself of that one, to be honest), sleep habits and more sleep habits, carseat phobia, more cryptic crying, when/how/with what to start solids...it goes on and on.

Once they start walking and understanding things, you will worry about falls and bruises and meeting basic needs is not enough anymore (you can't really screw up in that chapter anyway-you feed tha baby, change the baby and do whatever works to comfort the

baby whether it's rocking, singing, driving, bouncing etc). 

But now...NOW...education begins. Muhaha.

Toddlers are like sponges. They see, hear and imitate pretty much everything

You have just become a model.

And also a superhero.

You have your own little fan club composed of exactly one tiny human.

Throw an object when you are angry? They'll watch. And copy. 

You will now worry about their behavior and habits and attitudes until ..um... pretty much forever.

So there is always something to worry about. And there will always will be. 

Mommies are so good at it too. 

And those 40 weeks? Seem like 4 days now. 

Mommy score

It  is a known fact that mothers compete.
They compete with one another a lot of the time.
On all subjects involving their child.
Why?
For some crazy sick reason probably.
They feel like better people if they have "the better" kid, whatever that means.
People always compete about everything so it comes naturally to compare and measure their greatest possession and accomplishment: the offspring.
Those who don't are keepers.
Those who leave you the heck alone to try and do your job as best as you can.
Who don't judge.
Who don't brag.
Who don't pour their useless crappy advice from 35 years ago on you like it's the Bible and will save your soul.

Examples, right:
We were at the mall with Loud Baby on a cold winter day when she was 11 months old.
She was crawling on the play area all happy and smiley.
Another mom asks me how old she is (You will get this question for the rest of your life when you have kids).
I tell her.
Usually, the reply is: Oh, she is so cute/chubby/pretty/fast/adorable.
You get it, something nice.
Instead, I get: 11 months old? My son was long walking when he was 11 months old.
Uhmmm...ok. Good for you. And your point is...?

Crap like this happens. Periodically. To different degrees. 
Some of this stuff comes from complete strangers, bless their tactless hearts.
And some comes from unrealizing friends. Ouch!

Like when Loud Baby had a very bad tummy and wouldn't eat anything.
I was worried. I was sad and upset and wondering what to do.
My friend asked what was wrong.
I told her we have a bad tummy, we are not eating anything at all.
Reply: Oh, my little one eats so well, I never have any problem with her. Never did.
Pam-pam.

Ultimately, everybody wants to prove they are the best of parents.
I am too tired for that crap.
So I put forth the "Mommy Score" bill.
It works like this:
There is a number of baby raising criteria: feeding, sleeping, playing, baby gear, baby behavior and you can add other stuff as you go along.
Baby is exclusively breastfed? Ka-ching: 3 points for you, mama.
Both breast and formula? 2 points
Just formula? Ts ts: 1 point

Baby slept through the night when she was 2 days old? 3 points
When she was 2 weeks-4months old? 2 points
Not sleeping even now? (this is us, I wonder what we get). 0 points, maybe -1?

Baby is eating organic home-made food? 3 points, super mama.
(Of course, if your blender is not BPA free, you might get penalized).
Home-made non-organic...hmm...2.5 maybe.
Store bought baby food- organic? 2 for the jars and 1.5 for the plastic containers
Store bought non-organic in jars? 1 point
Store bought non-organic in plastic? 0, sorry, you are poisoning your kid. Better call child protection services.

Baby walked when she was 2 months old? 3 points
Did he only wear clothes made from organic cotton from sheep that graze peacefully on organic grass and are petted 3 times a day by an Irish old lady who gives them water filtered with reverse-osmosis?One extra point just for you!
Also, when did she talk, roll over,smile, laugh, pull the cat's tail...etc all of which so obviously reflect on you, your parenting skills, your dedication, your Master's degree in childcare.

You can keep your score and recalculate and update every month. 
Then, take a white T-shirt (make that many white T-shirts) and print your score on it.
Wear it all the time.

This way, when you meet another mama and you have 36.5 and she has 42 on her t-shirt you can conclude she is the better mom, skip the (up to this point) inevitable bla-bla comparing and competing section of your playdate and enjoy the kids.

Childish?
You're just saying that because I have more posts on my blog.
Ha! 2 points for me right there!

Baby gear is for adults

I love baby gear.

The pretty colours.

The nice design.

The variety.

Swings and cribs and bouncers and jumperoos...

Carriers and travel systems.

Yum!

Those things are too cute.

Of course, the baby doesn't care a bit about the pictures on her infant seat.

Or about the pattern of her fitted sheets.

She couldn't care less if she 's dressed in blue or even black. If her hat matches her socks and sweater.

If her diapers have nice little Sesame Street characters on them

Me on the other hand?

My brain short-circuits at the sight of a decently priced playpen.

Not to mention when seeing a nice little outfit with flowers.

Flowers AND ribbons? Yes, please, now we are talking.

I  might not be able to choose my baby's temper.

How and when she sleeps.

If she'll be a good eater or not.

But I can sure as heck dress her in a cute outfit.

And nothing can stop me! (Except the terrible twos, probably).

I can make her room the way I want to with all the nice little stickers and toy boxes and organizers.

You just can't have enough organizers and baskets.

Most of the stuff we bought for Loud Baby is second-hand.

And most of it was a success.

Here's my top 5 also known as the life-savers during the first year:

1. Carriers (an Infantino and Moby Wrap to start with and graduating to an Ergo Baby which is still in use).

2. The jumperoo (Loud Baby loved it; we even took it on vacation with us).

3. The bouncer (it was both a napper and a place to play with Loud Baby).

4. The playpen (it has two wheels; good for practically everything).

5. A white noise machine (which is also a projector, a nightlight and a lullaby playing piece of machinery that is awesome in covering up any outside noises and turns into a great toy later on).

Plus 3 things that were a failure:

1. The Bumbo seat (Loud Baby was not a big fan of this one; bought it on craigslist, sold it on craigslist for the same price 2 months later)

2. A super awesome 3 direction cradle-swing with floating lambs and nature music and more bla bla.

The story behind this one is that at one point, I was having a lot of trouble  with getting Loud Baby to nap.

Once when we were on a playdate, I put her in the cradle-swing  which belonged to her little friend.

Within 5 minutes she was asleep.

"Must. Get. Swing" me thought.

So I did.

And she hated it. Fiercely.

Thank God for craigslist.

3. A playmat

It was ok, I guess. It just wasn't that much of a big deal. Loud Baby would probably use it for maybe 10 minutes a day.

So all this stuff for babies...they don't really need it.

They need mom and (occasionally) dad.

But it just might make a parent's life easier if the little one is entertained for a bit until you pay a bill or two.

Still, it really doesn't need to be all colour coordinated and brand new anyway.

One more thing.

Never ever buy something because of the picture on the box.

That scenario is not going to happen.

Baby playing peacefully in the playpen while dad is reading a book on the couch while wearing a clean white shirt and everything around is spotless.

Aha. Sure.

Try: baby plays in the playpen for a bit, the carpet is filled with toys and possibly puree stains, dad or, more likely-mom, in her pajamas is eating something from a frozen-food container while trying to pick up laundry from here and there.

Until: whaaa!

Next: improvise.

No baby gear will do that for you.

You can have the fanciest crib/co-sleeper/bassinet and the baby will most likely sleep on you for the first few months.

The more you spend on something, the more she'll hate it.

But you can still get the stuff just for fun. It does look nice in the photos :)

 

Annoying toys

Husband and I make a point of not buying Loud Baby too many toys.
When we do get her something, it is usually a toy that should last her a couple of years.
Like blocks. Legos. The learning-home. Stuff like that.

And then there are gift givers.
Well-meaning destructive people.
Actually, there are 3 categories of gift-givers.

1. The ones who just know what to give.
Because they have experience.
Or are just plain smart.

2. The ones who ask.
I love these guys.

My answer is usually books.
Loud Baby is a bookworm.

 3. And of course, there's the majority: people who buy the cutest, loudest, most useless thing.
I do appreciate the thoughtfulness.
Maybe some kids would love the super annoying colourful guitar that makes defeaning noise.
But what am I supposed to do with all this crap?
Loud Baby is interested in this kind of toy for maybe 5 minutes and that's it.
And the pile grows.
And grows.
And she still sticks with her blocks and the tea set.
So I'm just going to donate it all.

Here are some priceless pieces:

• A Jerry mouse with creepy big eyes that sings Yankee-Doodle in a high-pitched "I want to jump out the window" voice.
• A doll that laughs. Like it's possessed. Seriously, Chucky needs to take lessons. 
• The aforementioned guitar. So cheap, half the buttons don't work from the start. The written text on the box says: "Guitar Interesting. Child love will music playing. Look for products another colors". Wha? It plays timeless classics like "Happy Birthday" and other melodies which cannot be identified due to too much distortion. But heck it's loud, and that's the whole point, right?
• Rattles. Really? The child is 14 months old, not 4 weeks.
• Cuddly toys. I still have quite a few from my own childhood that I can pass on. We do not need any more cuddly ones. There is no space. And no point. Loud Baby has 2 favourites so far and she doesn't need more than 5. We are at 25 right now. Or feels like it.
• A wheel with four buttons. She pushed them a couple of times. That was it. They don't even do anything interesting except for indexing and making a short race car sound. Maybe if she was a boy?! I don't know.
• We did receive a set of cups. The colourful kind that fit into each other and on top of each other. Those are great. Except we already have a set. Which Loud Baby likes more. So this one is not getting played with all that much, poor thing. Its time will come, I am sure. 
• Big toys for riding. Some of which are nice in concept but the kid will ride it twice and be done with it and I just moved the sofa to make room for it. 

I can't stop thinking that instead of all this stuff, one could have given Loud Baby a present that she actually enjoys. (Again, I am grateful for all. I am just thinking practically here.)
Besides books there are puzzles, balls, sand toys, CD's with children's music, animal figurines, Little People, cars, wonderful wooden toys...or (gasp) gift cards.

Best gift ever so far?
The sentence: "I will watch her for an hour so you can sleep/eat/shower/take a walk".
Because there's no better gift for a child than a sane parent.
To anyone who has ever uttered this sentence or variation of it we say: Thank you!! :)

Ch-ch-changes

When you have a little one, certain topics that were pretty much tabu or gross before the baby, become part of everyday experience and conversation.

Stuff like poop, vomit, spit-up, drooling, boogers, chewed food, diarrhea...

As a Mommy, you simply become immune to it and you wonder why people give you the look when you smell your little one's tush in the park in order to detect poop or use saliva to wipe away dried-on cracker crumbs from their cheek

It's just the way it is.

Not glamorous.

But highly practical and quick.

And "practical" and "quick" is what you are aiming for 99% of the time with anything that involves resolving a problem with your toddler. 

In Mommy Land you're pretty much in charge of everything, including the yucky things.

You deal with poop multiple times a day, for example, and if you didn't get any on yourself, that's something to be happy about.

In fact, diaper changing evolves as baby grows.

Luckily, Loud Baby has always loved her changing table.

(Except for a brief period of time after she just learned to roll over. I had to improvise and change her while she was on her tummy. Challenging at first, easy after 2-3 attempts).

Back then the whole process seemed simple.

Put baby on table.

Open lower buttons of sleeper (she was in sleepers most of the time. Love those things).

Remove diaper.

Wipe ... area.

Put on new diaper.

Close buttons.

Done.

Nowadays, it's a different story.

First, when I know a diaper change is coming up I check the table to see if I have sufficient entertaining supplies at hand.

A simple plastic mouse is not enough.

That stuff needs to be interesting and distractive.

Preferably interactive.

And it also has to be restocked with new things periodically.

Like every 2 days.

Right now I am armed with:

a small board book;

a thermometer with two buttons that beep and colours light up on the screen;

a huge red pen with a cap;

an empty baby food pouch with a cap;

another simple thermometer that has a transparent box with a cap;

(yes, we are in the cap-phase)

a clean make-up brush;

a watch that doesn't work.

So after I make sure the selection of entertaining products is abundant, I go pick up baby.

This usually results in loud protests.

After all, I am interrupting.

So I give her the speech:

"I know you were having fun and I interrupted you. You are upset now. But we need to change diapey. After that Mommy will take you back to your toys".

I place her on the changing table and quickly give her one of the super-objects.

She might take that and  get busy.

Or she might throw it away.

Or she may point at another object from the basket of goodies.

And another one.

This might take awhile.

Still, most of the time she will settle on one or two.

This is my chance.

Operation quick-diapey-change begins:

remove pants;

open onesie;

remove diaper;

wipe;

wipe again;

provide new distraction object in between so as to...;

...make sure Loud Baby keeps her hands out of problem-zone;

(maybe sing a song to show Loud Baby how ...um...casual I am);

put on new diaper, preferably not backwards;

close onesie (if she begins stirring at this point I will settle with buttoning 2 out of 3 buttons).

Around this time Loud Baby is done.

She wants down.

If I am lucky, the diaper is in place.

So I put her down and toddle after her with the pants in my hands waiting for the right moment to put them on.

I usually succeed fairly quickly, while she is standing and looking at something.

All done.

Easy as
               1

               2

Where am I?

Since Loud Baby's decided to join our family of two, we have had quite a few sleeping arrangements.

In short, we went from co-sleeping to Loud Baby having her own bedroom and sleeping in her own crib.

With an extra bed/ugly mattress on the floor for night wakings where I can nurse her. 

We have also moved to a different state at a certain point.

And then traveled again to Loud Baby's grandparents to a different country where we are spending a couple of months.

That's a lot of different beds and mattresses and futons and couches. 

We have, however, religiously followed the bedtime routine we have worked so hard to establish over the months which involves dinner, story (optional), bath and nursing. Followed by placing Loud Baby in her crib.

When she wakes up during the night, I go to her.

Take her out of her crib.

Place her on the bed/mattress and nurse her back to sleep.

Return baby to crib.

Return zombie Mommy to her bedroom.

Or not.

Sometimes we both continue sleeping on the bed/mattress.

There are even times when I lie down with her for nursing and I wake up 45 minutes later and she's sleeping soundly. Still latched on. Great.

But more often than not, I wake up in my own bed thinking:

"Where am I again? Which bedroom? Which apartment? Which country?".

"Where's the baby?"

My eyes pop awake after realizing I don't remember if I returned her to her crib.

"Did I leave her on the bed and just walk out??"

"Is she right here all pancake-y because I have rolled over her?"

And then I focus and specifically recall picking her up horizontally as I always do and putting her down in her bed.

Ironically, the hardest part for me is returning to my own room.

There are no steps to climb.

No long corridors.

But everything is so complicated at night.

You need to turn around and then open the door.

And then close it.

Walk 6 steps.

Repeat thing with the door.

Crash into bed.

Pull on covers.

Resume sleep.

All the while fragments of the previous dream flash through my head.

I am awake but in a different way.

I begin a thought and finish with a different half of another idea.

Mutant thoughts, I call them.

Still, some ideas are quite good. 

Discussion worthy.

Of course, I remember nothing in the morning.

Except the exact number of times Loud Baby summoned me. 

Unless it's more than 3. Then it just seems like the whole process was an all-nighter and I probably ended up on the ugly mattress in the morning anyway.  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Parenting hallucinations

When I was pregnant with Loud Baby I was all bubbly.
Yes, one of those really annoying future-moms who is happy to be pregnant.
Who waddles all proud and smiley and enjoys the attention.
Who reads tons of pregnancy books. Blogs. Articles.
Takes childbirth classes.
Childcare classes. (There was one to be exact. Where you get the feeling that if you know how to swaddle an ugly plastic doll you have all the skills you need as a new parent).
Breastfeeding classes.
Who knows so much about birth, she could probably be a doula herself.
Ask me anytime about spinning babies, birth plans, the pros and cons of drugs during labor, pushing positions, vitamins and fish-oil, ways to speed up labor or induce it naturally, fetal monitoring, Penny Simkin, birth balls, delayed cord-clamping, skin-to-skin, signs of a good latch...I could go on and on.
I had it all figured out.
I was confident.
I knew what I wanted.
I was dellusional.

Here are some of my plans. And what actually happened (WAH).
Plan: Giving birth with zero drugs, all naturally, without interventions.
WAH: Sweet epidural. Worked perfectly. No bad consequences. (I did get it fairly late during the birth as recommended by some sources and I will always think that for me, it was the right thing.)

Plan: Having a skin-to-skin with the baby the moment she is born.
WAH: She came out all covered in poop. Screaming all the way. She needed a serious clean-up.

Plan: Focus on baby after birth. Start bonding.
WAH: I was hungry. Food first please, then baby. (Ok, we did cuddle a bit and I ate while she was given a bath but seriously, I was famished after all those hours.)

Plan: Keeping her in the room with me all the time (the Big Book says both mother and baby sleep better this way. To that I say: Hah!).
WAH: I did keep her with me. I couldn't sleep. Kept staring at her. Nice doctor lady said I should send her to the nursery and it would not make me a bad mother.
So I did.
Once. For two hours.
Probably the most sleep I got that first month.
Lesson learned.

Plan: Breastfeed exclusively.
WAH: Yep, that happened. Because she refused anything else later.

Plan: Do not use pacifier.
WAH: Yep, this happened too. But because Loud Baby has never accepted one, even when we tried for quite a long time. It's a good teether now, though.

Plan: At home, baby will sleep in her crib right next to us
(Haha, that's a good one!)
WAH: She slept with me. Daddy got stranded in the living room on a very bad futon. With the cat.

Plan: I will make my own baby food from organic ingredients.
WAH: Thank God for Gerber, Ella's Kitchen, Sprout and Earth's Best. I did make a couple of portions when I had the time and energy. A rare combination.

Plan: I will use cloth diapers after the first month or so.
WAH: I have exactly four cloth diapers. Taking down the laundry to the basement turned out to be a bigger inconvenience than what it seemed at first. Actually, going down with the hamper was pretty much my only break from momminess in the first months. A luxury.

Plan: I will be loving, patient and calm. (Oh gee).
WAH: I was exhausted, anxious, scared, crazy, confused and constantly thinking "This can't be right.".  

Now that the first year is over and done and Loud Baby is a toddler everything is different.
And I have a new set of plans.
In short, it consist of these two things: love the baby and do what it takes to enjoy the good moment and get through the bad one.

It's all measured in moments.