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.