Sorry I haven't written in a while. It's not you, it's me. Being a mommy means no more time for yourself- roughly speaking. You DO get some time off, after bed time. But for me, this means you work from 8-4:30 and during THAT time, you do your work, but also your HOME paperwork (coupon clipping, meal planning, sending thank you notes, arranging and planning events and vacations, etc. Along with any kind of church work, lesson planning, fundraisers, etc.)
After work you go get your son, which is really the highlight of the entire day. You stand and chat with your mom for a bit while your son finishes his "afternoon routine" with his Grandpa (riding around in his little car and swinging on the swing). And around the third time of, "We REALLY have to go!" You load 'em up and head 'em out.
You come home from work at 5:30, son in tow, and two nights a week you jump right back into working mode so you can teach violin for another few hours. Monday nights are your more advanced students, Wednesday nights are your...less advanced.
You starting thinking about supper. Sure, you got your meat out ahead of time, but to actually make it, baby on your hip, usually requires a trip to the store either on your way or on your husband's way home. But usually it's just easier to drop what you're doing and go than to listen to the grumbling on the other line. Have you ever tried to cook with a wee one with you? Everything takes twice as long.
Your husband comes in from work, and you try desperately to hand the baby off to him. "Please, honey, I JUST have to dump the potatoes in the strainer, please hold him." He mentions about how much he has to poop and goes off to take care of business. The baby gets placed on the floor. The baby screams. You try putting the baby in another room and then running away so that it takes JUST long enough for him to get to you that you can finish pouring out the potatoes, dumping the sauce, taking the veggies off the stove and plating everything before you feel his little vice grip on your pants.
We eat supper in front of the TV. So shoot me. Out table is usually too full of stuff to eat at it, and I sometimes like to have my feet up. Is it the way I'd like it? No. Will it be this way when Liam is older? No. But for now, it's how we do things. I will be taking no further questions.
Husband is done with his business and you hold out the baby to him, inquiring, "Daddy, my panties are dirty. Can you change them?" To which daddy replies, "Daddy's beat, Liam, have mommy change them for you."
Being the mom automatically makes you the responsible one. Instantly, you're the designated driver, the grocery shopper, the meal planner, the packer, the planner, the appointment maker. If it were not for you, literally NOTHING would get done. As soon as my husband's bottom hits his chair, his off switch is starting to engage. I bring him his food, most nights, and he has already started to scold Liam for getting into the DVD collection. I put Liam in his high chair and get him HIS food, and then I sit down to pick at my food. Of course it's disgusting because I just played in it for 30 minutes, and so I want nothing to do with it. Cereal looks better. I'll have that.
Supper dishes, wash, making beds, cleaning the cat box. Husband says he is woozy, he's going to go back to sitting down. Maybe he'll tackle the banking later.
Scrubbing the bathroom, picking up socks, watering the flowers I planted. Husband is snoring in his chair. What a long day he must have had.
Cleaning Liam up, new diaper, full bottle, clean onsie for night time, kiss daddy. Off to bed. Husband thinks he'll start banking in a little bit.
Pick up Kix off the floor, pick up Liam's toys, turn off the lights, sit on the sofa with my crocheting and check the time. Exhausted. Head up to bed. I think the husband really is going to start the banking now.
Play a few games on my phone, fall asleep, receive text that he's going to do the banking another night. Fall back to sleep again. Barely hear husband coming up the steps and getting into bed. No sex tonight, folks. That's the thing- if you want some lovin' you've got to come to bed. I can't be expected to stay up until you decide to mosey on in.
And THIS is why I haven't written. Too many irons in the fire, too many responsibilities, too much to do and no time to do it in. I just left out this extreme yawn as I was typing.
I had a doe-eyed, newly wedded, fitness trainer friend inquire how I was doing "Since having the baby." I knew what she was getting at. "I'm busy." I told her. "My life is non stop right now. I'm busy being a mommy and a wife and working and I'm exhausted." She cheerfully replied, "But, but what about exercise...?" But what about SHUT YOUR FACE? No, I didn't write that back- but I was tempted. But then I think I fell asleep.
Monday, June 24, 2013
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Stop the Mommy Bus, I want to get off
Not permanantly. Just for a day.
This weekend was Memorial Day Weekend, and the unofficial start to the Summer. Except it was chilly, and we spent the length of the parade wrapped up with the baby...who promptly fell asleep.
We went to a million garage sales and of course Liam got loaded up with a ton of stuff he TOTALLY needed. Like this car:
And this Diego pusher thingy:
Along with a Sesame Street train yard, some new clothing, two windbreaker jackets, a diaper genie for Nana's house, an umbrella stroller, a pack and play for camping, a rolling baseball backpack for trips to RI...not to mention all the things we actually got for ourselves. You end up looking like this:
...sitting three across in the back set of the van so everything fits. After this picture was taken, we actually ended up going to MORE garage sales. There was no portion of our van that wasn't just stuffed to the brim with paraphernalia. (Try spelling THAT word without spell check. I DARE you.)
My parents and my sister are both in the Donegal Alumni Band so they marched in all three parades on Saturday and Monday. My dad plays the sousaphone, and so we snapped a few pics of Liam with it:
Isn't he a little doll baby? So proud of my little boy. That's what he is now- a little boy. I don't tell people I have a baby anymore. Just a little boy. I think I watched him grow up before my very eyes this weekend. For a mommy who doesn't see her little boy except for in the evenings and on weekends, it was eye opening.
The thing about vacations, and I've heard this, but I'm only now coming to terms with it, is that mommy NEVER gets a vacation. Andy took a sleeping pill, which I encouraged him to do, and he didn't wake up until 11am on Sunday morning. Liam was up at 6:45. Mommy was up at 6:45. Mommy laid down for an afternoon nap. Daddy asked her what she was doing.
We went out for supper. I made sure Liam had something to eat first. "Where's your food?" Andy asked, "I'll get it as soon as you guys are fed." I replied. Liam ended up throwing a fit and Andy paid the bill and took him outside. I didn't even get to finish eating.
The other night we got home. Work was awful. I was glad to be home, and I had a list of things to do. "I'm exhausted," Andy declared, handing me the baby and promptly plopped on the recliner. "You get him for the rest of the night. Can you make sure the clean sheets are on the bed?" What was I to do? Liam is now WAY too big for the front carrier while I'm doing chores. I had to put him to sleep first, and then get all my chores done. He goes down between 9 and 9:30. Who wants to start doing chores at 9:30? So I changed the sheets and went to bed- the rebel that I am. "Are you in bed already??" Was the text I received. "Are you kidding me?" Was the text I shot back.
I've been trying to read "The Great Gatsby" for a week now. I paid real cash money for it- as in, I didn't download it for free. So I get all ready for bed. Brush my teeth. Get in between the sheets. Prop myself up. Adjust the lighting. Zzzzzzzz. Andy has removed it from my hands every night. I haven't even turned on the Kindle.
But I wouldn't trade it. I promise. For all the griping, it's my lot in life and I LOVE it. Look at that baby doll face!! I get to keep that! Look at that strapping husband! I get to sleep with him every night! I'm blessed. So unless the Mommy Bus is making stops at Nap-land or The Land of Peace and Quiet, you'll find me on it, rolling along. :)
This weekend was Memorial Day Weekend, and the unofficial start to the Summer. Except it was chilly, and we spent the length of the parade wrapped up with the baby...who promptly fell asleep.
We went to a million garage sales and of course Liam got loaded up with a ton of stuff he TOTALLY needed. Like this car:
And this Diego pusher thingy:
(oh, and that hat he's wearing...)
Along with a Sesame Street train yard, some new clothing, two windbreaker jackets, a diaper genie for Nana's house, an umbrella stroller, a pack and play for camping, a rolling baseball backpack for trips to RI...not to mention all the things we actually got for ourselves. You end up looking like this:
...sitting three across in the back set of the van so everything fits. After this picture was taken, we actually ended up going to MORE garage sales. There was no portion of our van that wasn't just stuffed to the brim with paraphernalia. (Try spelling THAT word without spell check. I DARE you.)
My parents and my sister are both in the Donegal Alumni Band so they marched in all three parades on Saturday and Monday. My dad plays the sousaphone, and so we snapped a few pics of Liam with it:
Isn't he a little doll baby? So proud of my little boy. That's what he is now- a little boy. I don't tell people I have a baby anymore. Just a little boy. I think I watched him grow up before my very eyes this weekend. For a mommy who doesn't see her little boy except for in the evenings and on weekends, it was eye opening.
The thing about vacations, and I've heard this, but I'm only now coming to terms with it, is that mommy NEVER gets a vacation. Andy took a sleeping pill, which I encouraged him to do, and he didn't wake up until 11am on Sunday morning. Liam was up at 6:45. Mommy was up at 6:45. Mommy laid down for an afternoon nap. Daddy asked her what she was doing.
We went out for supper. I made sure Liam had something to eat first. "Where's your food?" Andy asked, "I'll get it as soon as you guys are fed." I replied. Liam ended up throwing a fit and Andy paid the bill and took him outside. I didn't even get to finish eating.
The other night we got home. Work was awful. I was glad to be home, and I had a list of things to do. "I'm exhausted," Andy declared, handing me the baby and promptly plopped on the recliner. "You get him for the rest of the night. Can you make sure the clean sheets are on the bed?" What was I to do? Liam is now WAY too big for the front carrier while I'm doing chores. I had to put him to sleep first, and then get all my chores done. He goes down between 9 and 9:30. Who wants to start doing chores at 9:30? So I changed the sheets and went to bed- the rebel that I am. "Are you in bed already??" Was the text I received. "Are you kidding me?" Was the text I shot back.
I've been trying to read "The Great Gatsby" for a week now. I paid real cash money for it- as in, I didn't download it for free. So I get all ready for bed. Brush my teeth. Get in between the sheets. Prop myself up. Adjust the lighting. Zzzzzzzz. Andy has removed it from my hands every night. I haven't even turned on the Kindle.
But I wouldn't trade it. I promise. For all the griping, it's my lot in life and I LOVE it. Look at that baby doll face!! I get to keep that! Look at that strapping husband! I get to sleep with him every night! I'm blessed. So unless the Mommy Bus is making stops at Nap-land or The Land of Peace and Quiet, you'll find me on it, rolling along. :)
Friday, May 24, 2013
You can tune a piano...
But you can't tuna fish! HAHAHAH! That was hilarious, in my mind.
One women, who I knew from other things, whom a cannot stand, whose son I graduated with, when plays the cello, came up to me afterwards with eyes peering over her glasses. "Couldn't find a SITTER?" She said. I wanted to say, "Couldn't find a PERSONALITY?!" But instead I said- well, I had a sitter, and Liam didn't like them. So. I'm a mommy first." "My children never would have sat still for that." Well. Maybe you're a bad mother. OH I SHOULD HAVE SAID IT! Life is too short not to whip out comebacks.
--
So this weekend is Memorial Day Weekend and I may be the happiest girl in the world. My husband and I BOTH have off for possibly the first time EVER. And it's Liam's first. So we're doing parades and just having an all around great time. More pics to follow, I'm sure.
So I'm in love with this picture. Liam's grandpa, my dad, plays the tuba. When I saw one, just randomly sitting in the orchestra room at Etown Area High School, I knew we had to snap a pic.
So last night was a concert my student invited me to play in at EAHS. Teachers and family and friends were invited a few months back to play for this one selection- Mars from "The Planets" by Holtz, if you're keeping track.
My student's mom was supposed to watch Liam for me while we were practicing and playing in the concert. Well, she was late so Liam was just sitting on the floor at my feet while we rehearsed. I brought a little bag of toys for him and his sippy cup of water. He was happy and all the high schoolers were like- AWWW!! Because he had his little hat on, of course, so he was adorable.
Well Karen came and took him, which was fine, and she took him outside and he started SCREAMING. I didn't know this, so I'm practicing and then we're done, and then I go to find him and the poor kid is just hysterical. So 10 minutes later I finally get him calmed down, and he's sniffing and looking all sad, and I'm like, I can't put this woman or my son through this. And Karen and Mike are the best people, seriously. But Liam's just going through this phase!
So I went to the director and said- um...can my son sit on stage with us? And he's like, "Sure. As long as it's fine with you." And I'm like "No, I'm a guest on your stage" and he's like, "Sure, he can sit on the stage." So I brought him up and sat him at my feet with his water and toys, and he sat there THE WHOLE TIME and I'm told he was just bobbing his little head to the music. Right through the piece. When we were done, I picked Liam up, and his water and his toy bag, and we walked off the stage! LOL!
He sat through the rest of the concert in the audience in my lap, happy as a little clam. Munching on Kix and waving his arms around. And afterwards he was the talk of the town, oh my goodness, it was crazy. People told me they were taking video and pictures and were just staring at him the whole time! It was HILARIOUS! What a special little guy I have :) I need to get him a onsie that says, "All I want to do is direct."
One women, who I knew from other things, whom a cannot stand, whose son I graduated with, when plays the cello, came up to me afterwards with eyes peering over her glasses. "Couldn't find a SITTER?" She said. I wanted to say, "Couldn't find a PERSONALITY?!" But instead I said- well, I had a sitter, and Liam didn't like them. So. I'm a mommy first." "My children never would have sat still for that." Well. Maybe you're a bad mother. OH I SHOULD HAVE SAID IT! Life is too short not to whip out comebacks.
--
So this weekend is Memorial Day Weekend and I may be the happiest girl in the world. My husband and I BOTH have off for possibly the first time EVER. And it's Liam's first. So we're doing parades and just having an all around great time. More pics to follow, I'm sure.
Monday, May 20, 2013
SHAMELESS POST! VOTE FOR LIAM!
So I entered my son in this little competition, and because I am a proud mommy, I'm shamelessly promoting my son through my blog. So if you read, and if you want to, please vote.
http://www.parents.com/photos/
Thanks!
http://www.parents.com/photos/
Thanks!
Baby Yoga
I'm proud to announce that my son now continues to sleep through the night. Not only does he STILL sleep through the night, he also will put himself BACK to sleep after he wakes up in bed. Something, huh? I'm not boasting. I know it may change at any moment, but for now, I will rest in the fact that even though I may not be sleeping through the night, it's not because of my son.
---
Andy worked on Saturday morning, so Liam and I had the whole day to ourselves. It was like a dream. No painting, no plans to be anywhere. Just. Us. So I decided to take him to Mommy and Baby Yoga at a studio in Camp Hill (about 35 minutes away, for those who care). So I dressed him in a little comfy outfit, put on my yoga gear, grabbed my mat (never been to a yoga class, yet I own a mat. Go fig.) and out the door we went.
When I was imagining baby yoga, I was expecting a few twenty-something moms, driving in their Volvos and other five-star safety test rated cars, toting immaculate GAP-wearing babes with perfectly organized Coach diaper bags. I pictured perfect bodies and perfect pony tails and perfect nails. Essentially just a photoshoot for Fit Pregnancy Magazine.
When we got there, we were early and they weren't open yet. The teacher wasn't even there. Liam and I sat and watched the cars until a VW mini bus pulled up, the bumper sticker on the side pondering, "Got Autoharp?" Since I had forgotten my autoharp, I was interested to see who was getting out of the hippy van, and if she in fact had remembered hers.
If I had to make a guess, I'd say the girl was younger than me, her name was Katie and her baby's name was Rose. She was about four months old. (Liam immediately tried to rip off her face. I intervened with a quiet "gentle, Liam" and he decided to hold her hand instead.) We started talking about breastfeeding and I proudly announced that I had made it to five months (just about) and Liam was healthy and happy. She had plans to breast feed until Rose was graduating high school. Oops. But she was friendly and I liked her.
The teach arrived and opened the class room, and we went in. The teacher was a low talker and slightly vague about where we should sit and what we should do. In the front of the yoga area there was a little boutique which was filled with organic products, baby wearing apparatus, and breast feeding paraphernalia. A huge sign stated, "We welcome breast feeding here." Katie immediately whipped one of hers out and Rose obliged.
A third mom came in toting a PJ wearing baby named Zade who was a few weeks older than Liam. He had curly hair and his skin was like milk chocolate. He was busy chewing on his fingers, which lead me to believe he too was getting teeth. HE was no where as active Liam, but I've often noticed that Liam is far more active than other babies.
Which is probably why he wouldn't lay still when we were doing yoga over him, and why every time I tried to do the baby stretches and massages that Low Talker was instructing us to do, he would laugh and flip over and try to crawl away. Zade ended up falling asleep. Rose was breast fed again and changed. Her brightly colored cloth diapers intrigued me, but not enough to go out and buy a bunch.
Liam was enjoying it for the most part, mostly gawking to see exactly what Rose was doing, but he enjoyed the ups and downs and he giggled with all the massages we were instructed to do. He wanted to stand and flip over and crawl and basically just take Low Talker's place at the head of the class. I finally popped in a pacifier so he'd calm down a little. Every mother gasped.
She didn't just put that dreaded piece of plastic in her child's mouth...did she?
Oh yes, she did.
At the end of the class, the teacher turned out the lights and we were supposed to fold our children's hands in ours and repeat this mantra type thing and then say three "oms" and say "Namaste" to our babies. Yeah, as you can imagine, Liam was like, "You said we'd go for breakfast." And wanted nothing to do with the class finale.
So much to Low Talker's chagrin, we will not be going back to Baby Yoga. As much as I had high hopes, it just wasn't a good fit. I don't think I was the kind of mother they were looking for there. Katie and Rose bought the punch card, and then started an in depth discussion on cloth diapering. We snuck out. She had mentioned starting a baby dance class, which is more up Liam's alley, but we will start baby swim class in July and try that.
And then we went for breakfast. And Liam got a pancake in the shape of Mickey, and he was in heaven.
---
Andy worked on Saturday morning, so Liam and I had the whole day to ourselves. It was like a dream. No painting, no plans to be anywhere. Just. Us. So I decided to take him to Mommy and Baby Yoga at a studio in Camp Hill (about 35 minutes away, for those who care). So I dressed him in a little comfy outfit, put on my yoga gear, grabbed my mat (never been to a yoga class, yet I own a mat. Go fig.) and out the door we went.
When I was imagining baby yoga, I was expecting a few twenty-something moms, driving in their Volvos and other five-star safety test rated cars, toting immaculate GAP-wearing babes with perfectly organized Coach diaper bags. I pictured perfect bodies and perfect pony tails and perfect nails. Essentially just a photoshoot for Fit Pregnancy Magazine.
When we got there, we were early and they weren't open yet. The teacher wasn't even there. Liam and I sat and watched the cars until a VW mini bus pulled up, the bumper sticker on the side pondering, "Got Autoharp?" Since I had forgotten my autoharp, I was interested to see who was getting out of the hippy van, and if she in fact had remembered hers.
If I had to make a guess, I'd say the girl was younger than me, her name was Katie and her baby's name was Rose. She was about four months old. (Liam immediately tried to rip off her face. I intervened with a quiet "gentle, Liam" and he decided to hold her hand instead.) We started talking about breastfeeding and I proudly announced that I had made it to five months (just about) and Liam was healthy and happy. She had plans to breast feed until Rose was graduating high school. Oops. But she was friendly and I liked her.
The teach arrived and opened the class room, and we went in. The teacher was a low talker and slightly vague about where we should sit and what we should do. In the front of the yoga area there was a little boutique which was filled with organic products, baby wearing apparatus, and breast feeding paraphernalia. A huge sign stated, "We welcome breast feeding here." Katie immediately whipped one of hers out and Rose obliged.
A third mom came in toting a PJ wearing baby named Zade who was a few weeks older than Liam. He had curly hair and his skin was like milk chocolate. He was busy chewing on his fingers, which lead me to believe he too was getting teeth. HE was no where as active Liam, but I've often noticed that Liam is far more active than other babies.
Which is probably why he wouldn't lay still when we were doing yoga over him, and why every time I tried to do the baby stretches and massages that Low Talker was instructing us to do, he would laugh and flip over and try to crawl away. Zade ended up falling asleep. Rose was breast fed again and changed. Her brightly colored cloth diapers intrigued me, but not enough to go out and buy a bunch.
Liam was enjoying it for the most part, mostly gawking to see exactly what Rose was doing, but he enjoyed the ups and downs and he giggled with all the massages we were instructed to do. He wanted to stand and flip over and crawl and basically just take Low Talker's place at the head of the class. I finally popped in a pacifier so he'd calm down a little. Every mother gasped.
She didn't just put that dreaded piece of plastic in her child's mouth...did she?
Oh yes, she did.
At the end of the class, the teacher turned out the lights and we were supposed to fold our children's hands in ours and repeat this mantra type thing and then say three "oms" and say "Namaste" to our babies. Yeah, as you can imagine, Liam was like, "You said we'd go for breakfast." And wanted nothing to do with the class finale.
So much to Low Talker's chagrin, we will not be going back to Baby Yoga. As much as I had high hopes, it just wasn't a good fit. I don't think I was the kind of mother they were looking for there. Katie and Rose bought the punch card, and then started an in depth discussion on cloth diapering. We snuck out. She had mentioned starting a baby dance class, which is more up Liam's alley, but we will start baby swim class in July and try that.
And then we went for breakfast. And Liam got a pancake in the shape of Mickey, and he was in heaven.
Friday, May 17, 2013
When a Man loves a Woman.
Liam does this thing where he roots ALL his toys out of his toy box. So now that he's mobile, for the most part, he sits there and pulls the box over on himself and just starts taking out every toy. And then when there are no more toys in the box, he cries until I come and put them ALL back in again. Then repeat.
There's so much to learn when you're a parent. Most of it is trial and error, but that child never stops loving you because you're the provider of their basic needs. Without you, their diapers won't get changed, their tummys won't be filled, and they'll be naked. Their love is unconditional in that respect- and so in turn we should be learning from THEM.
--
Everything changes after a baby is born, and for men it's just as tough. Even though they don't have any physical changes like we do, emotionally it's all different. So much more is expected of them. We live in a society that is so quick to express their feelings on equal rights and the liberation of the sexes, but when we find a woman pregnant there is a push to know who the father is. It takes two to tango. If the pregnancy is unplanned, we want to know if the father is going to "do the right thing" and stick around. Entire companies base their earnings on finding out "who's the daddy." It's obvious who mom is, but who is that masked man anyway?
When we got to the hospital, Andy looked in my eyes and said to me, "This is your night. Whatever you need I will provide you. You call the shots." He's never said that to me before. But looking back I realize it's because he had NO idea what to do and he was looking to me for guidance. Even after the classes and the practicing and the reading, when the moment hit- he was clueless.
I think women realize this, and so they start to feel like the mother to the baby AND the husband. For instance, I always used to pick out Andy's clothing on a Sunday morning. I didn't think about it. I just matched up the tie with the shirt and pants, and that was that. Now on Sunday mornings I've got Liam and myself to dress, and I just want Andy to dress himself. But that was always the ROUTINE before, and it was comfortable and he got used to it. I have to make sure everyone is fed. I have to make sure everyone has something clean to wear. General things we took for granted before are now issues because they are breaking routine. Men get a HUGE bad rep for this. They wanted to know when and why things changed. Routine- if you had one before, do what you can to find out which portions of it are important to your husband. Fit them in- it's not going to kill you.
It's no secret that men are visual animals. It's no secret that women love yoga pants. It's no secret that men like sex. It's no secret that women like to sleep. If you have a husband who is very in tune with his sexual needs, this might be a point of contention ESPECIALLY because men are smart enough to know what just happened to your body. If their mother's raised them to respect women, they will not speak of sex after you've birthed their child. However it doesn't mean that they don't want it. It may become that proverbial "white elephant" in the room as everyone is waiting for the perfect time to get back into the bed, so to speak. Women may be thinking- how can you think of sex at a time like this?! Do you see what I look like? Do you know what I've just been through? While then men are asking- how can you NOT think of sex at a time like this? I just watched you do the most amazing, strong and powerful thing in the WORLD and I'm attracted to you!
Hear that? Your husband is attracted to you after pregnancy. You married him for a reason, remember? He gets that your body is different now. He doesn't want to hurt you. Men- you've got a woman who feels desperately unattractive. Her body has been through roughly a year of transformation. There is not ONE THING on her body that has not changed- from her hair to her eyes to her bellybutton to her feet. She looks in the mirror and she hates what she sees. Be sensitive to this. It's not going to go back to normal over night. The sex will come. Work at it.
And about that "normal" thing. I want to reiterate that there is no such thing. Quit looking back to get yourself "back" to normal. Look ahead and make plans for the future. You'll get back into your jeans, don't worry. But everything will change, and you need to be okay with that. No matter how strong your marriage is, there are going to be bumps. If there are no bumps, check your husband's pulse, and while you're at it, check your own.
--
A baby's love is unconditional because they can't meet their own needs. Take a lesson from this. Remember husbands are a gift to us to help meet the needs we can't meet on our own. Model your love for your husband after your love your child has for you. Give each other second chances. Realize we're imperfect. Practice kindness. Give lots of kisses. Remember your manners. Never stop talking.
There's so much to learn when you're a parent. Most of it is trial and error, but that child never stops loving you because you're the provider of their basic needs. Without you, their diapers won't get changed, their tummys won't be filled, and they'll be naked. Their love is unconditional in that respect- and so in turn we should be learning from THEM.
--
Everything changes after a baby is born, and for men it's just as tough. Even though they don't have any physical changes like we do, emotionally it's all different. So much more is expected of them. We live in a society that is so quick to express their feelings on equal rights and the liberation of the sexes, but when we find a woman pregnant there is a push to know who the father is. It takes two to tango. If the pregnancy is unplanned, we want to know if the father is going to "do the right thing" and stick around. Entire companies base their earnings on finding out "who's the daddy." It's obvious who mom is, but who is that masked man anyway?
When we got to the hospital, Andy looked in my eyes and said to me, "This is your night. Whatever you need I will provide you. You call the shots." He's never said that to me before. But looking back I realize it's because he had NO idea what to do and he was looking to me for guidance. Even after the classes and the practicing and the reading, when the moment hit- he was clueless.
I think women realize this, and so they start to feel like the mother to the baby AND the husband. For instance, I always used to pick out Andy's clothing on a Sunday morning. I didn't think about it. I just matched up the tie with the shirt and pants, and that was that. Now on Sunday mornings I've got Liam and myself to dress, and I just want Andy to dress himself. But that was always the ROUTINE before, and it was comfortable and he got used to it. I have to make sure everyone is fed. I have to make sure everyone has something clean to wear. General things we took for granted before are now issues because they are breaking routine. Men get a HUGE bad rep for this. They wanted to know when and why things changed. Routine- if you had one before, do what you can to find out which portions of it are important to your husband. Fit them in- it's not going to kill you.
It's no secret that men are visual animals. It's no secret that women love yoga pants. It's no secret that men like sex. It's no secret that women like to sleep. If you have a husband who is very in tune with his sexual needs, this might be a point of contention ESPECIALLY because men are smart enough to know what just happened to your body. If their mother's raised them to respect women, they will not speak of sex after you've birthed their child. However it doesn't mean that they don't want it. It may become that proverbial "white elephant" in the room as everyone is waiting for the perfect time to get back into the bed, so to speak. Women may be thinking- how can you think of sex at a time like this?! Do you see what I look like? Do you know what I've just been through? While then men are asking- how can you NOT think of sex at a time like this? I just watched you do the most amazing, strong and powerful thing in the WORLD and I'm attracted to you!
Hear that? Your husband is attracted to you after pregnancy. You married him for a reason, remember? He gets that your body is different now. He doesn't want to hurt you. Men- you've got a woman who feels desperately unattractive. Her body has been through roughly a year of transformation. There is not ONE THING on her body that has not changed- from her hair to her eyes to her bellybutton to her feet. She looks in the mirror and she hates what she sees. Be sensitive to this. It's not going to go back to normal over night. The sex will come. Work at it.
And about that "normal" thing. I want to reiterate that there is no such thing. Quit looking back to get yourself "back" to normal. Look ahead and make plans for the future. You'll get back into your jeans, don't worry. But everything will change, and you need to be okay with that. No matter how strong your marriage is, there are going to be bumps. If there are no bumps, check your husband's pulse, and while you're at it, check your own.
--
A baby's love is unconditional because they can't meet their own needs. Take a lesson from this. Remember husbands are a gift to us to help meet the needs we can't meet on our own. Model your love for your husband after your love your child has for you. Give each other second chances. Realize we're imperfect. Practice kindness. Give lots of kisses. Remember your manners. Never stop talking.
Thursday, May 16, 2013
The New Normal
I haven't been writing as much lately, because I'm not sure there's much more to write about. Sometimes I feel like my posts are mundane- uneventful, even. But a friend and reader was asking me, "What happens when this is all over?" And I thought it a very good question, and worthy of an entry. I'll finish my post on baby-lead weening later.
--
Last night I went to see Start Trek with my husband at midnight. When I told my friends this, they thought I was insane. And maybe I was. I knew he wanted to go, and in my attempt to be "one of the guys," I ordered up the tickets for the midnight showing, and off we went. During the movie we cuddled and I fed him M&M's and we split popcorn and it was this amazing time that felt like we were dating again. Except we both had wedding rings on and we came home and had sex...but other than that, it was like we were 18 again.
This has been a long time coming. This is a huge step for us.
A few weeks ago he was slamming the door, threatening to leave. A few weeks ago I was sitting in my car with the baby, counting my cash and texting a friend that we were just leaving. Just driving until we ran out of gas with nothing but the clothing on our backs. This was happening consistently for a solid month. He left us twice, I left once. There's still a mark on the wall where he kicked it with all his might. I remember clearly the look on Liam's face when he grabbed his wallet, walked out of the house and said "I'm done." I distinctly remember how I felt as I was counting the cash in my purse from my last painting job, texting Alison, "I'm doing it. I'm leaving him."
After that baby comes out, you have half a million feelings all balled up, and you're emotional and your body is vastly different. Your hips are considerably larger, for a start. Your chest cavity expands, as do your boobs- even after you're done nursing. Shirts that used to fit now span you. There is extra skin around your midsection and it won't go away. You sit down and it all piles up under your boobs. Your feet are wider than you remembered them. Your hair and nails begin to fall out and break off. What was once luscious and sexy is now just coming out in your hands every shower. And all along, all you can think is, "My goodness I'm hideous."
But I need to tell you something. It DOES get better, but it will never go back to where it once was. You will eventually fit into your old jeans, but they won't fit the same as before. Eventually your chest will shrink back, but you're not going to fill your bras the same way. Your feet will come back down to size, but your shoes may stay stretched out. Do not expect the high school you to suddenly make a come back. It's not supposed to. You are a mother now- life has changed.
It's going to take work. Andy and I said it out loud, and it's like our world just stopped. We were hiking up this huge hill, and we had just had yet another blow out (a very, very public blow out) before we started our trek. I just was looking at the ground, panting, chugging up this hill like a train, and I said it out loud- "Andy. What's happening to us." It was the saying out loud thing that really changed us, I feel. "We're falling apart."
We started a marriage Renaissance, and the first thing we had to come to terms with was that we are NOT the people we were last year this time. And we both needed to start with kindness. I heard someone bashing their body as I was bashing mine, and I realized how unattractive it was. I stopped immediately. We started saying things like "please" and "thank you" and being acutely aware when the other person was going out of their way to make something happen. And we started dating again. Every Thursday night I meet him at the local pizza joint, without Liam, and we just sit in each other's presence for 30 minutes.
I'm also making time for myself to go to the gym. I'm getting active again. We bought a bike trailer and a helmet for Liam. I get the pack out and walk with him if I can't make it to the gym. Andy is realizing that for me, going to the gym is therapy. I've set goals for my self- attainable goals- about how I look. In my heart, I believe it's getting better.
I started reading through a book called "The Power of a Praying Wife" and day by day, I'm noticing changes in my husband. It's a powerful book. I highly recommend it. I read it every day, pray the prayers in the book, and then pray for our marriage. I believe it works.
So last night, as we're canoodling in a theatre, it was a little bit like we needed to get back to the beginning to start again. Like two teenagers, wrapped in each other, because we knew when the lights came up in the theatre, the moment would be over. Today I feel like trash...but a good trash. When I get home, there should be a little package from Fredrick's of Hollywood waiting for me. Another sign of the new normal.
More on this in the next few days.
--
Last night I went to see Start Trek with my husband at midnight. When I told my friends this, they thought I was insane. And maybe I was. I knew he wanted to go, and in my attempt to be "one of the guys," I ordered up the tickets for the midnight showing, and off we went. During the movie we cuddled and I fed him M&M's and we split popcorn and it was this amazing time that felt like we were dating again. Except we both had wedding rings on and we came home and had sex...but other than that, it was like we were 18 again.
This has been a long time coming. This is a huge step for us.
A few weeks ago he was slamming the door, threatening to leave. A few weeks ago I was sitting in my car with the baby, counting my cash and texting a friend that we were just leaving. Just driving until we ran out of gas with nothing but the clothing on our backs. This was happening consistently for a solid month. He left us twice, I left once. There's still a mark on the wall where he kicked it with all his might. I remember clearly the look on Liam's face when he grabbed his wallet, walked out of the house and said "I'm done." I distinctly remember how I felt as I was counting the cash in my purse from my last painting job, texting Alison, "I'm doing it. I'm leaving him."
After that baby comes out, you have half a million feelings all balled up, and you're emotional and your body is vastly different. Your hips are considerably larger, for a start. Your chest cavity expands, as do your boobs- even after you're done nursing. Shirts that used to fit now span you. There is extra skin around your midsection and it won't go away. You sit down and it all piles up under your boobs. Your feet are wider than you remembered them. Your hair and nails begin to fall out and break off. What was once luscious and sexy is now just coming out in your hands every shower. And all along, all you can think is, "My goodness I'm hideous."
But I need to tell you something. It DOES get better, but it will never go back to where it once was. You will eventually fit into your old jeans, but they won't fit the same as before. Eventually your chest will shrink back, but you're not going to fill your bras the same way. Your feet will come back down to size, but your shoes may stay stretched out. Do not expect the high school you to suddenly make a come back. It's not supposed to. You are a mother now- life has changed.
It's going to take work. Andy and I said it out loud, and it's like our world just stopped. We were hiking up this huge hill, and we had just had yet another blow out (a very, very public blow out) before we started our trek. I just was looking at the ground, panting, chugging up this hill like a train, and I said it out loud- "Andy. What's happening to us." It was the saying out loud thing that really changed us, I feel. "We're falling apart."
We started a marriage Renaissance, and the first thing we had to come to terms with was that we are NOT the people we were last year this time. And we both needed to start with kindness. I heard someone bashing their body as I was bashing mine, and I realized how unattractive it was. I stopped immediately. We started saying things like "please" and "thank you" and being acutely aware when the other person was going out of their way to make something happen. And we started dating again. Every Thursday night I meet him at the local pizza joint, without Liam, and we just sit in each other's presence for 30 minutes.
I'm also making time for myself to go to the gym. I'm getting active again. We bought a bike trailer and a helmet for Liam. I get the pack out and walk with him if I can't make it to the gym. Andy is realizing that for me, going to the gym is therapy. I've set goals for my self- attainable goals- about how I look. In my heart, I believe it's getting better.
I started reading through a book called "The Power of a Praying Wife" and day by day, I'm noticing changes in my husband. It's a powerful book. I highly recommend it. I read it every day, pray the prayers in the book, and then pray for our marriage. I believe it works.
So last night, as we're canoodling in a theatre, it was a little bit like we needed to get back to the beginning to start again. Like two teenagers, wrapped in each other, because we knew when the lights came up in the theatre, the moment would be over. Today I feel like trash...but a good trash. When I get home, there should be a little package from Fredrick's of Hollywood waiting for me. Another sign of the new normal.
More on this in the next few days.
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