A Mom I'd Like to Know.

Fellow mamas, here's a lady I hope that more and more of the population can be like. This story warmed my heart <3

Wednesday Nostalgia.

I've been on a serious cleaning and organization spree lately. Seriously, I've crossed more off my never-ending to do list in the past four days than the past four weeks or more! Wowsa.

While cleaning out and putting away Ava's baby clothes and toys earlier today, I came across a large peacock feather. Ok, no big deal, right? We've only been to the "Peacock Park" - aka Mayfield Park - many, many times. But it gave me a chill to see it. I remember the day that we found it and brought it home. Ava was only a couple of months old, and I had taken her to Mayfield for the first time and had both girls in tow. I was so touched that they found it and yet let Ava have it - it was so symbolic of their general nature towards her, and so I kept it.

In a little over seven and a half months, we'll be married in that park.

It makes me a bit emotional to think that before Ava was even thought of, and during my pregnancy with her, and than many times in her little life we've tread on the ground that will be the very place we say our vows to one another.

Peacocks really are magical.

Only-Child Families: Pros and Cons

It's no secret that I am seriously considering never procreating again. It's not that I had a terrible pregnancy, nor is it anything Ava has done. In fact, A's practically perfection (remind me of this when it bites me in the ass later). We went to a large playgroup yesterday, and compared to all the other kids there, she was the most well-behaved, happy, content little girl in the entire group. My heart swelled with pride at how good she was, and that's more of the norm for us than the opposite (if you feel like you might vom, though, given my sugary sweetness, rest assured she can be a crazy hellion when it's just the two of us sometimes. Nobody's perfect!).

Anyhow, the point is that it's not because her behavior has scarred me for life, making me want to sew my uterus (and accompanying parts) shut and calling it a day. It's just..well, I have so many conflicting emotions about adding to our family. And, if you feel so inclined (please do!), I'd love for you all to share your thoughts, whether you have an only child, are currently thinking of adding to your family, currently are surrounded by a plethora of your own offspring, or were raised an only child. All opinions welcome and needed!

Here are a handful of reasons why I feel about 80% that A should stay an only child:

-Ava is SO good, that I feel that with the law of averages, my next baby is almost guaranteed to be Satan's baby. Like full-fledged colicky, sleep-resistant, hates-life-and-mommy baby. Eek!

-If you can't afford to add to your family in a way that allows you to live comfortably and support them (which, to me, includes contributing to their college education), you shouldn't. As it stands right now, A has a comfortable life, but this is due in large part to the fact that I have a huge support group of mamas I've babysat for that have given us things for A.

-We live in a school district I...don't love. With the housing market what it is, we're not likely going to be able to get out of our house in the next few years before A starts Kindergarten, which could mean private school. Gulp.

-I love my current job, but this is it for me. I have no dream of having this corporate career where I work my way up the ladder and make tons and tons of money. Well, that last part is in my dreams, but not because I want to be in the workforce. To me, if I couldn't take A to work with me, I wouldn't work. That's my ultimate destination. So our income will shrink before it grows (D's currently working towards a career change, though it could be lengthy..).

-I love, love, love spending time just the two of us, or three of us with David. I can focus my full attention on her when we play, and can provide her with what she needs without the guilt that I'd have if I split my (already stretched pretty dang thing) self with another.

-There is the standard how-could-I-ever-love-anyone-as-much-as-Ava thought process. I know all moms do; that the heart is an organ without a capacity, but I'm not sure how much of me I have left to give.

-I have ZERO interest in ever being pregnant again.

Then there's the opposite side to consider:

-I grew up an only child. And while I am an intelligent, well-adjusted adult now, I had to work at that last part, spending the majority of my childhood feeling alone and isolated. My social skills in middle school and even into high school needed some work, as I wasn't used to having to accommodate others, or how to interact in certain situations. It was a huge shock when I went to college. Even now, some days I just want D to go the hell away and leave me in peace and quiet to be alone and do "me" stuff. Selfish, right? I don't want A to be lonely, nor do I want her to be social maladjusted.

-If we die, I don't want her to be alone. Even if it's later in life and not untimely, I want her to have the unique social support that are sibliings.

-I hate to even allow this thought to cross my mind, but if God forbid something ever happened to her, I would still want to be a mother. I hate hate hate having even written that, but to me it is a big consideration. To counter, though, please God do not ever let me find myself in a world where Ava is not in (physical) existence.

-You know who I bugged to play with me every second that I felt lonely growing up? The adults in my life, namely my mother. Some might say the sole purpose of having more than one child is to provide them with a playmate.

What do you all think? Where do you stand? How do you feel? Please feel free to share your thoughts. Clearly I need all the help I can get!

Did I Do the Right Thing?

This morning started out great. I had the best night's sleep I've had in a long, LONG time, and woke up feeling refreshed. I LOVE that feeling, and don't see it enough. A was also in a good mood, happy and ready to play and be silly, and our good moods just played on one another, until we finally couldn't contain our sunshine in the house anymore, and decided to hit the neighborhood streets for a nice walk. That's when things went South...

I'm ashamed to say I don't know my neighbors all that well. I was one of the first people to move in when the houses were built, and was the young, single girl to everyone's family status. That being said, I take Ava for walks on a semi-regular basis, and know or at least recognize some families in the area, trying to be friendly and saying hi when they're outside.

This morning, I passed by one such house, where an elderly gentleman and his wife live. As I waved and said good morning, I wondered briefly why he didn't respond, thinking that I really should get outside more and interact with these people. Then he fell.

The man, who I'd guess was about 65, fell face first down into the grass, where he'd been watering the flowers and tree in the front yard. His eyes were open, but he wasn't speaking or moving. His screen door was open, so I ran frantically over to him, checking for a pulse, and then ran to the screen door, praying his wife would be there. She wasn't. When I ran back over to him to check his breathing and dial 911, his eyes were closed (and I was convinced for a second he had died), but then he had started to make the smallest of movements, regaining consciousness. I put the phone down (I hadn't completed dialing yet) and went over to him, trying to help brace him and get him on his feet, and saw his arm was bleeding. I asked him if I could call anyone - his wife, a doctor, EMS - or help him bandage his arm, but it seemed clear he wasn't able to speak, with him only able to mumble initially. I also noticed his right arm was bleeding from the fall, and saw he was unable to move it. I'm not a doctor, but I was 99% certain he had suffered a stroke.

I also know that stroke victims can be both disoriented and aggressive, not to mention embarrassed, when they come to, and so when he shrugged me off and was finally able to get the words out that he was fine, I couldn't believe him. There was no conviction in his voice, and he seemed completely confused to why his arm was bleeding and what I was doing standing in front of him. So when he shooed me away - not literally, but he definitely wanted to go inside and be alone - I called 911.

I've been questioning myself ever since. I don't regret doing so, and the paramedics said I was right to call, but did I hurt more than I helped? Is he without insurance, and now going to be stuck with a huge bill for EMS services? Should I offer to pay it?

I'm really conflicted. But in the end, I felt so certain that he had a stroke, and the fact that it happened while I was standing directly in front of his house while attempting to say good morning to him just seemed like, for lack of a better word, fate. And my judgment - the judgment that could not live with allowing an elderly stroke victim go back into his house, bleeding and alone - superseded his in this case, in my opinion. If he did have a stroke, and there was damage, I know that there is a brief window to reverse it, and would never forgive myself if I stood by and allowed anything to happen to him.

What do you think? Did I do the right thing?

Grants & Scholarships & Loans, Oh My!

Baby Makin' Mama raised this issue on her blog the other day, and it really got me fired up, so I thought I'd raise the same issue with you today.

How do you plan to pay for your child's education?

These days, college is essential. Whereas a college degree used to make you stand out from the crowd, now it's as perfunctory as a high school diploma, and - thanks to our shocking economic downturn years back - it's not uncommon to compete with 500 other college grads for an administrative position. In short, the job market sucks.

As you know, I have been completely self-sufficient since the age of 16, and paying for my education was no exception. Though I received the occasional grant and scholarship, I was a first-generation college student whose parents had no idea what needed to be done in terms of applying for scholarships, and I graduated in December from high school, leaving me without the added bonus of a college guidance counselor. Where I should've had scholarship coming out the wazoo (I graduated fourth in my class at 16), I was lucky to get my application in and essays completed on my own.

My parents did not put even a dime towards my education. When I left for college I had 21-month-old and 3-month-old sisters, so a big part of it was an inability to afford it, but seeing as how I was once told that if they won the lottery, they still wouldn't buy me a car (in all seriousness!), I'm pretty sure that with their particular values, they wouldn't have contributed anyways.

D's parents were also not in a position to help, though for other reasons that irritate the crap out of me, so I'll abstain from writing about them here. In sum, though, he wasn't even planning to go to a big school so as not to have to incur much debt, but got into UT and couldn't pass the opportunity up. They carry a bit of his loan burden now, which we're thankful for, but between us, we have over $100K in school loans.

WTF.

So when it comes to pondering Ava's future educational expenses, I feel strongly. I will NOT be allowing her to go into debt for her education. I also am not one who feels that a college education is optional (the life experience alone is irreplaceable), and so while we will more than prepare her with her applications for scholarships and grant and other federal aid, I also have a realistic view of our nation's (and therefore FAFSA's) financial future, and it's grim. As such, we put aside money into an account for her, and all monetary gifts and extra income we get (tax returns, etc) head straight into there. When it gets to a certain point, we'll put the money into a high-interest CD to help it to grow even more.

But could I live with her graduating from college in $40-50K of debt? Absolutely not. Do I want my grandchildren to someday be affected by my inability to save and plan ahead for Ava's inevitable education? Hell no.

Where do you stand? What are your plans for paying for your child's education?

(Note: I'm still away, enjoying my grandma and watching Ava get to know her nana, but I'm very interested in hearing your comments about this issue!)

Change is Good.

Five years ago (less, to be honest), you couldn't have paid me to stay home on a Saturday night. In fact, while we're being honest, chances are you could've found me out and about four or five nights a week. I was a wild child, y'all.

Tonight, though, as I poured my glass of wine and settled in to work on my business site (which was just updated, so you should go check it out and tell me your thoughts!), I thought of how things had changed. And while some changes aren't welcomed (like the new fence we had to commission once our former fence blew over last week), these changes? They most definitely are.

Tonight, my baby fell asleep in my arms, and her little locks of hair curled up as she sweat against my body. David kept telling me to go lay her down, but I just wanted to hold her and breathe her in while she's still little. Time, it is a-passin'.

Drinks and dancing into the wee morning hours? Fun while it lasts? But the sweet smell of your own baby and the sound of her teeny tiny snores last such a short time, and leave you wishing for them long after they're gone. I don't know many who grow up to say that about the bars and partying and debauchery of their youth, do you?

With that, I'm off to go snuggle my baby while I fall asleep, and to dream dreams made blissful by the sight I'll wake up to in the morning: my two favorite people, highly caffeinated coffee brewing and filling the house with the sweet smells of vanilla creme and hazelnut, and a day filled with little aside from the hope and possibility that only a new day with nothing on the agenda can bring.

Richard.

There is a park in Austin that we frequent usually twice a week. It's near S's school, so we either head there if we have time to kill before picking her up, or - if it's a rare day where we're not speeding off to meet P at the bus - we head there afterwards, eager to play out some of that midday energy and try like hell to offset the inevitable 3-5pm blahs.

It's a beautiful park and it has a pretty regular crowd, which I always like. It's nice to let S run off onto the playscape with a little girl her age we've come to know, and for me to sit down on the gravel with A to dig in the pebbles and recognize other mommies and babies. I love that about Austin. It's a major metropolitan city, and yet, it lives like a small-ish town.

Another regular at the park is a homeless man, who sits on the same spot of the same bench day in and day out. In fact, I've never not seen him there, even when just driving by to get S from her school. It doesn't matter the weather or how inclement it may be, the season, or anything else. He's always there.

Here's the part where I admit that, at first, I was put off by his presence. He sits facing away from the main playground towards the open field and basketball courts, but still, I can openly admit that there is something slightly menacing about a homeless man hanging about a place where children come and go, is there not? But just the same, he has never done anything to make me uncomfortable in the past few months since we've made our visits regular, and, with the onset of freezing weather in Austin, I feel terrible for him. Sure, he's bundled up in his coat (for which I am eternally thankful - no one should have to be outside and cold), but still, it's cold out there, and I can also admit to my concern for his well-being extending far beyond the confines of the park, and to the wee hours of the night or early morning, when I'm up for no particular reason and busying myself with worry.

It should be said that Austin has a large homeless population. It is one of the only complains (aside from traffic) that I heard lodged against Austin on a regular basis, and I can understand why. Aside from the panhandlers you come across at major intersections, homelessness is worrisome because it's scary. It can happen to anyone, given either a string of bad decisions or just plain an unfortunate turn of events. It makes people uncomfortable, and questions those basic luxuries we feel we have a right to. You'd think that having lived her for ten years, I'd be a cynic to the homeless population, more annoyed or used to their presence than anything. But thankfully, I have a man in my life who's a certified bleeding heart, and keeps me compassionate against all odds. D is the kind of guy who - when everyone else accuses them of asking for money for booze or whatever other vice they're naturally assumed to have had to land them in their position in the first place - assumes the best in people, and always gives them money or food or whatever he has to part with. I LOVE this about him. I'm also a bit of a bleeding heart, and always have been. I was that child who felt the pain of the world growing up, and I haven't outgrown it, so Ava stands no chance at becoming an unsympathetic a-hole of a human being. Thank God.

Anyhow, the point of the story is this: While all the other families at the park yesterday cautiously avoided making contact with him, I talked to the man at the park yesterday, albeit briefly. I asked him if he was hungry, which seemed to catch him off guard, and he said that he was "ok".

"Are you sure?" I asked. "I have plenty of snacks in my bag. I'd be glad to share."

What he said then, though, later made me cry.

"I wouldn't want to take anything away from your baby, ma'am."

I assured him that he wouldn't be taking anything from her, and that we were about to head home where she could have a snack if she was hungry. He finally accepted, and before we left the park, he had eaten all four snacks I had given him, clearly not as "ok" as he had stated.

I also managed to get his name. I wondered how long it had been since he had spoken with someone, or had someone even ask him for it, and it seems so much more humanizing to know someone's name, and have someone know yours, doesn't it?

I think next time we go we'll take him a hamburger :) And I sincerely hope, above all else, that Ava grows up to be the kind of person who will feed the hungry, and give back to those who aren't as fortunate.

What are ways that you instill in your children the values that are important to you?

Laughing in the Face of 13-Months-Ago B...

While I don't regret the way things are with Ava, I will say this: I *will* do some things different if we ever have a second child. Here's just a quick comparison of where we are, as opposed to what my babyless-self had in mind as to where we'd be. Contain your laughter, if you will :)

Sleep:
What I said: "My baby will sleep in her crib from day one!" and, the hilarious gem, "We would *never* even consider co-sleeping."

Ha! Haha! Excuse me a second as I double over laughing.

The reality: That crib we bought from Italian designer Pali (albeit secondhand, thank God!)? Yeah, never been slept in. Currently being used as storage. A is happily, sleepily curled up in our bed, where she sleeps for every nap and every night. And even more surprisingly to current me? This works for us, at least for the time being. I'm not saying I want to round out this, her second, year with her in our bed still, but she's still so little - toddler or not - that it works for us and we're happy.

The other reality: These may be related, but what's done is done and you know where I stand about CIO: Ava doesn't sleep straight through the night. Yeah, yeah, shame on me for not letting her cry, but 13 months in, I still cannot support crying herself to sleep in an act of learned helplessness as the best way to sleep train. I've never met a child who still continued to wake up and nurse through the night their entire lives, so rest assured, this too shall pass.

Breastfeeding:
What I said: "Just make it to 3 months..."

Reality: 12.5 months old, and the only two fluids she has ever received are water and breastmilk (yes, i'm anti-juice, but again, another story for another day).

What I said: "I'll never be one of those women nursing a toddler. If they're old enough to ask for it, they're too old."

Reality: Sometimes I just want to slap B-of-old. I stick to my guns about not being that mother at Kindermusik bra-less and letting her 18 month old nurse at will off and on throughout the class, but we still nurse 4+ times daily, at night and between meals, and both of us are still very happy with the arrangement, even if A says something that sounds suspiciously like "ma mil" (we've always asked her if she wants "mama milk") and signs milk.

TV:
What I said: "I'll never be one of those women whose children watch TV all day."

Reality: This one I've held up on bigtime, because I see so many children set in front of the TV so their parents can go about pretending like they're not parents and engage with their children. That being said, we permit A to watch a half hour of Dora on average twice per week, and I don't feel guilty about it. First and foremost, she's not passively watching, but rather engaged, pointing at Boots, Swiper, Dora, Backpack and being able to do so when asked. She makes the animal noises when animals are on screen, and then walks off to play with one of her toys. She's not in a TV daze. I grew up an only child and therefore watched a TON of TV growing up, since there wasn't anyone except adults for me to play with and - let's face it - adults tire of playing kid games. I'm also college educated with two degrees, would choose a book over TV any day of the week, and am a published writer, so things didn't go too downhill for me, did they?

How are things different for you than you imagined? In what ways did you change your thinking being a parent, and are you glad you did?

Happiness.

I had been planning this evening to post pictures and a little tidbit about Ava's first birthday party, which was today, but instead, I'd like to attempt the impossible and put down in words the utmost joy and happiness I feel today, so that I can always come back here to remember, if needed.

It hasn't happened for years and years now, but there was a time in my life where I thought for sure that there was no joy left in this world for me. I felt so desolate, and so alone, that I was sure that I would never feel happy again, and that there was nothing worthwhile up ahead.

And yet I sit here tonight in my home, littered with baby toys and wine glasses and half-finished novels - the signs of a meaningful and joyous existence - and now the opposite is true. In this moment, I cannot imagine that life could possibly be unhappy, or fearful, or negative. I spent the day celebrating the life of the person I love most in this world, surrounded by a family of our own making, as only one family member was actually in attendance, and it was lovely. A beautiful, perfect day, filled with baby giggles and smeared frosting and cake in chubby little skin crevices.

And while I'm not too naive to realize that bad things still do happen and no one is exempt from them, today, life is beautiful.

Untitled.

I got a piece of jewelry for Christmas. Unfortunately, it wasn't the piece of jewelry I've been praying for.

Now, don't get me wrong. I adore my earrings. They match the necklace I've been wearing every single day for four years that I love. But, at the risk of sounding ungrateful, I am very disappointed.

And that's all I really feel like saying about that.

:(

Potentially Going to Dig Myself Into a Hole Here...

OK. I'm not trying to offend. Really, I'm not. But I keep seeing the same thing over and over and I just DON'T GET IT.

Women, all over everywhere, are all, "Wah, wah, wah. I had a c-section." And while if you have been reading along for a year or so now, you'll know that going into labor, I didn't want one. But I had one. And I have never felt the need to be all down about it.

I just really don't get the sentiment. Hence why I don't follow people like unnecessarean and such on twitter, who I sometimes feel have the sole purpose of making you feel guilty about your choice/circumstances/etc.

So you had a c-section. I get that some women feel disappointed that they didn't get the "labor experience", though I would say a shocking amount of women labor and then have c-sections, so all you're missing out on is the pushing and crowning...wow. Bummer. You were really gipped.

NOT.

Hmm...maybe I'm being incredibly insensitive? Maybe after not having had a period in going on close to two years, I have a RAGING case of pent-up PMS? I am definitely irritated about every little stupid thing, so that wouldn't surprise anyone. In which case, ignore me.

I just don't get it.

I'm about 90% sure we're not having another. I feel more certain about this on a weekly basis, and not because A isn't the best thing in the world. More accurately, because she is. I don't need another. BUT...if I flat out knocked a screw loose and had a second child, I would shut down the VBAC option at doctor's visit number one. I have no issues with having a successive c-section.

So please. Enlighten me. Why are so many women so bent out of shape about c-sections?

What Do You Do All Day?

I frequently visit the hilarious and informative Boston Baby Mama blog, and her post today about being a SAHM received a comment with a link to this article in The Washington Post. It's SO dead on and so validating and so perfect of a way to respond to the question that I just had to share. Too bad it isn't longer, to include everything else we do on top of raising children, like running the home, balancing the checkbook & cutting costs, exercise and health, ...

Carolyn:

Best friend has child. Her: exhausted, busy, no time for self, no time for me, etc. Me (no kids): Wow. Sorry. What'd you do today? Her: Park, play group . . .

Okay. I've done Internet searches, I've talked to parents. I don't get it. What do stay-at-home moms do all day? Please no lists of library, grocery store, dry cleaners . . . I do all those things, too, and I don't do them EVERY DAY. I guess what I'm asking is: What is a typical day and why don't moms have time for a call or e-mail? I work and am away from home nine hours a day (plus a few late work events) and I manage to get it all done. I'm feeling like the kid is an excuse to relax and enjoy -- not a bad thing at all -- but if so, why won't my friend tell me the truth? Is this a peeing contest ("My life is so much harder than yours")? What's the deal? I've got friends with and without kids and all us child-free folks get the same story and have the same questions.

Tacoma, Wash.

Relax and enjoy. You're funny.

Or you're lying about having friends with kids.

Or you're taking them at their word that they actually have kids, because you haven't personally been in the same room with them.

Internet searches?

I keep wavering between giving you a straight answer and giving my forehead some keyboard. To claim you want to understand, while in the same breath implying that the only logical conclusions are that your mom-friends are either lying or competing with you, is disingenuous indeed.

So, since it's validation you seem to want, the real answer is what you get. In list form. When you have young kids, your typical day is: constant attention, from getting them out of bed, fed, clean, dressed; to keeping them out of harm's way; to answering their coos, cries, questions; to having two arms and carrying one kid, one set of car keys, and supplies for even the quickest trips, including the latest-to-be-declared-essential piece of molded plastic gear; to keeping them from unshelving books at the library; to enforcing rest times; to staying one step ahead of them lest they get too hungry, tired or bored, any one of which produces the kind of checkout-line screaming that gets the checkout line shaking its head.

It's needing 45 minutes to do what takes others 15.

It's constant vigilance, constant touch, constant use of your voice, constant relegation of your needs to the second tier.

It's constant scrutiny and second-guessing from family and friends, well-meaning and otherwise. It's resisting constant temptation to seek short-term relief at everyone's long-term expense.

It's doing all this while concurrently teaching virtually everything -- language, manners, safety, resourcefulness, discipline, curiosity, creativity. Empathy. Everything.

It's also a choice, yes. And a joy. But if you spent all day, every day, with this brand of joy, and then, when you got your first 10 minutes to yourself, wanted to be alone with your thoughts instead of calling a good friend, a good friend wouldn't judge you, complain about you to mutual friends, or marvel how much more productively she uses her time. Either make a sincere effort to understand or keep your snit to yourself.

Say What?!

Thursday, as you may have noticed from the picture post here, was our Christmas photo shoot. It was also supposed to be Ava's first year pictures, but we didn't get past the first outfit/background because *someone* was being a little hellion....

Anywho.

I have a bit of beef with the photographer. Sure, she was decent enough at trying to contain my shrieking, running ball of energy, but she made one cardinal mistake. As I grew increasingly exasperated with chasing little A around the entire studio, she said, "Welcome to life with a toddler!"

Uhh...say what?! I'm sorry, but that's my BABY you're talking about. I mean, sure she's babbling her life away in a tone that makes you think she might be talking back, and she can make it from one side of the studio to the other in seconds flat, but can't you spot an 11.5-month-old when you see one? Sheeeeeeeeeesh.

She's my BABY, damn it.

:(

Ladies! When did our babies become..gulp...toddlers? WAH!!!

Y'all Ready For This?

So...there's been a bit of interest in hearing about my former life as a NYC nanny, and as such, I thought I'd appease you all, and start confessing.

Catch all the dirty gossip here :) Care to follow along?

On Being a Mom...

I saw this over on my friend Jenn's blog, and just had to share. So beautiful, and so true:

On Being a Mom:

We are sitting at lunch one day when my daughter casually mentions that she and her husband are thinking of "starting a family."
"We're taking a survey," she says half-joking. "Do you think I should have a baby?"
"It will change your life," I say, carefully keeping my tone neutral.
"I know," she says, "no more sleeping in on weekends, no more spontaneous vacations."
But that is not what I meant at all.

I look at my daughter, trying to decide what to tell her. I want her to know what she will never learn in childbirth classes. I want to tell her that the physical wounds of child bearing will heal, but becoming a mother will leave her with an emotional wound so raw that she will forever be vulnerable. I consider warning her that she will never again read a newspaper ; without asking, "What if that had been MY child?" That every plane crash, every house fire will haunt her. That when she sees pictures of starving children, she will wonder if anything could be worse than watching your child die.

I look at her carefully manicured nails and stylish suit and think that no matter how sophisticated she is, becoming a mother will reduce her to the primitive level of a bear protecting her cub. That an urgent call of "Mom!" will cause her to drop her best crystal without a moment's hesitation. I feel that I should warn her that no matter how many years she has invested in her career, she will be professionally derailed by motherhood. She might arrange for childcare, but one day she will be going into an important business meeting and she will think of her baby's sweet smell. She will have to use every ounce of discipline to keep from running home, just to make sure her baby is all right.

I want my daughter to know that every day decisions will no longer be routine. That a five year old boy's desire to go to the men's room rather than the women's at McDonald's will become a major dilemma. That right there, in the midst of clattering trays and screaming children, issues of independence and gender identity will be weighed against the prospect that a child molester may be lurking in that restroom. However decisive she may be at the office, she will second-guess herself constantly as a mother.

Looking at my attractive daughter, I want to assure her that eventually she will shed the pounds of pregnancy, but she will never feel the same about herself. That her life, now so important, will be of less value to her once she has a child. That she would give herself up in a moment to save her offspring, but will also begin to hope for more years, not to accomplish her own dreams, but to watch her child accomplish his or hers. I want her to know that a cesarean scar or shiny stretch marks will become badges of honor.

My daughter's relationship with her husband will change, but not in the way she thinks. I wish she could understand how much more you can love a man who is careful to powder the baby or who never hesitates to play with his child. I think she should know that she will fall in love with him again for reasons she would not now find very romantic. I wish my daughter could sense the bond she will feel with women throughout history who have tried to stop war, prejudice, and drunk driving. I want to describe to my daughter the exhilaration of seeing your child learn to ride a bike. I want to capture for her the belly laugh of a baby who is touching the soft fur of a dog or cat for the first time. I want her to taste the joy that is so real it actually hurts.

My daughter's quizzical look makes me realize that tears have formed in my eyes.
"You'll never regret it," I finally say.
Then I reached across the table, squeezed my daughter's hand and offered a silent prayer for her, and for me, and for all the mere mortal women who stumble their way into this most wonderful of callings.

A Little Reminder.

Some days, I feel a bit disillusioned with my career path. I mean, I'm sitting on a BIG ol' stack of student loans, and I'm a nanny. A NANNY. Don't get me wrong - I adore my job. The thought of S, the youngest, going to Kindergarten in two years makes me tear up already. I LOVE LOVE LOVE my job. But with the student loans I'm buried under, it's frustrating to think that I'm *just* a nanny. Sigh.

Enter storytime this past Wednesday, and an oh-so-welcome reminder of something.

I take A to this great storytime that I love. In fact, I'm concerned what it says about my social life that I look forward to it all week long. This past Wednesday, I walked in, holding my passed out baby in my arms (she's just this week started staying asleep when I take her out of her big girl carseat - thank you Jesus!). I was welcomed by the usual gang of moms, who I've gone to know and like, and know their little one's names and ages and developmental landmarks of note these days. I love that about Wednesdays. Anyhow, there was also a group of college-aged guys and gals in chairs in the back. The woman who leads the storytime, Elizabeth, pointed them out, letting us know that they were HDFS students (one of my own degree plans: Human Development & Family Sciences) that were going to be sitting in on our time and taking notes.

I used to be one of those students. I diligently attended storytimes, shadowed the Master Teachers at the lab school in the 3- & 4-year-old classes, compiled research on attachment, you name it. And you know what all I wanted out of life even then? To be one of the mommies with an adoring baby, getting to really experience life with their child.

Maybe it's my sap mom emotions, but I got a little teary for a second. Lately, A has been a bit of a handful. She's going through a phase where she wants to be held and have your full attention constantly, and it can be exhausting. Furthermore, it leaves me questioning what I'm doing as a parent, as I *thought* I was on the right path to not raising a child with an attitude problem. But despite the emergent tantrum throwing, the frustration of doing tasks either one-handed or to the soundtrack of a crying baby, the total lack of personal space and time, one thing has been resounding to me since then:

What did I do so right in my life to get absolutely everything I ever wanted?

Mama Bear.

I may be small, but I'm a ferocious beast when you mess with my baby or my baby's health and welfare. Take this for example:

I have a stomach ulcer. OK, whatevs, no big. Aside from the fact that having a stomach ulcer makes me feel somewhere along the lines of 80 trillion years old, like I may as well have osteoporosis or something. Anyways...

So I saw my doctor a month ago. He gave me samples for 10 days of a medication to help make it go away. It worked, but after I went through the 10 days, symptoms came back after a week or so. So I called to see if I could have a longer course of treatment. Being a super nice guy, he had his office call me in something so I wouldn't have to drag my little one to the doctor with me and pay a stupid co-pay. Cool. Thanks, doc. You're the best.

Except he's not. I still hold that he's a super nice guy and I really like him, but he made a huge oversight. While samples notoriously do not feature all the product information, prescriptions, of course, do. And there was a HUGE warning, stating specifically that this medication cannot be taken by a breastfeeding mother. HUH?

So I call the pharmacy, thinking they're probably erring on the side of caution. Nope. As it turns out, studies in rats have shown a tendency for baby rats to form tumors. EXCUSEMEWHAT?!?!?!?

I am so pissed. I called the office, forgot it was lunch break, and left a message. Quite a message. My doctor then called me back, letting me know that those medications tend to have those warnings since it's unethical to test medications on breastfeeding women, so they put them on there in order to err on the side of caution. Except, that's NOT true. So I filled him in. And you know what he said?!

"Hmm. Well, I would recommend not continuing it."

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHhhhhh.

asdf;alkfja;kdjf;asdkljfadkj.

Stupid doctors.

I'm totally suing the pants off him if she has any sort of repercussions from this, either now or EVER. Watch yourself, doc.

Never Grow Up.

Your little hands wrapped around my finger
And it's so quiet in the world tonight
Your little eyelids flutter cause you're dreaming
So I tuck you in and turn on your favorite nightlight

To you, everything's funny
You got nothing to regret
I'd give all I have honey
If you could stay like that

(Chorus:)
Oh darling don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
Just stay this little
Oh darling don't you ever grow up, don't you ever grow up
It could stay this simple
I won't let nobody hurt you
Wont let no one break your heart
No one will desert you
Just try to never grow up
Never grow up
-Taylor Swift

Can someone please tell me how a childless nineteen-year-old can capture how I feel these days so well???

Perspective.

Earlier today, as I was driving and relishing in my bad day, I was creating a post in my head, complaining about how things had gone wrong all day thus far. Complaining about breaking a wine glass at 8AM and then stepping on a shard of glass. Complaining about my lost, broken and forgotten sunglasses (respectively) and the bright morning sun in the car. Complaining about how I got Ava's bright orange antibiotics all over my favorite shirt. How I can't find a pediatric allergist that takes our insurance. I could practically *feel* my blood pressure rising with every passing mile. And then, something changed.

Now I'm not one to get all in your face religious. You all know I've been on my own spiritual journey, but believe to each their own. What I take comfort in may not work for you, and so why push it on you? Not my style. That being said, I'm gonna drop the G word in this post, so watch yourself!

I decided that, much like an addict facing temptation, it would be helpful to say the serenity prayer. And from that, I decided, why not continue to say a little prayer of thanks. And it went something like this:

Thank you, God, for my beautiful family. My daughter, who is my world. My job, for which I am eternally grateful in this economy. My extended family, my "in-laws", my car and home and all of the things that I've been blessed with and use to provide for my family. Thank you, thank you, thank you, for that one May day where I made the most important decision of my life. I can never thank you enough for my sweet, sweet baby girl. I am so abundantly blessed to just be in her presence, not to mention the ways in which she's changed me, made me - and us - stronger and better. Thank you God for the strength you gave me that day, to know the right thing to do, to put me on the path to where I am now. Thank you for my baby. For all the decisions I ever made in the past 26 years that somehow landed me hear. I am so, amazingly blessed. Please help me to be strong, and courageous, and to always remember that despite the little things that go wrong, that they shall pass, and I will continue to be surrounded by the overwhelmingly amazing things. In the name of Jesus Christ, thank you, thank you, THANK YOU. Amen."

My day took such a nice turn for the better after that :)

So thank you, God.

It Gets Better.

I know that technically yesterday was Spirit Day, but we were out and about rocking our purple all over town, so this post is coming at ya a day late. Either way, the message still matters.

When I was very young (6), I was moved up a grade while at a small school, and much like a small town, everybody knew your business. I went from Kindergarten to second grade, and while it sounds like a small enough leap, it was big enough to label me an outcast. From that point forward, all the kids knew that I "didn't belong", and I was labeled throughout elementary, middle, and, unfortunately, high school, as "too smart", or "too small", or "too flat-chested" - you get the drift. Being a year younger doesn't sound like much, particularly now, but when you're in the throes of puberty, it's a big difference, and as we all know, even the smallest difference in school can make you a target for name-calling, bullying, and loner status.

Though twenty years have passed, the ridicule I experienced during my school years has stayed with me, and most likely will remain forever. I second-guess myself in certain situations, I feel nervous and unlikable in groups with new people, and only as a college student did I really come into my own and figure out who I was and where I belonged. Man, I loved college.

To this day, I am proud of myself for joining not one but TWO mom's groups. I have showed up places where I knew no one, Ava in tow, to make friends for both of us and hope that I'll be accepted for who I am. Again I feel I'm at a disadvantage, now due to my marital status as opposed to my age, though sometimes I am the youngest and I instantly feel panicked.

I fight back anxiety at times that can only be attributed to what I went through as a child. And once children decided that I should be the target of their hatred, they found lots of things about me they didn't like. I didn't have much money growing up, so my clothes were also off-brand and behind the trends. My hair was naturally curly, and went every which way, particularly in our humid climate. My parents didn't bother to put me in braces, which I needed. Children teased me and humiliated me and said hurtful, hateful things to me. And now, I am an adult who is always put together in clothing that is expensive, or brand-name, or trendy, and who has perfectly straight (I corrected this myself, to the tune of $6,000 at 19 - it was THAT important to me) teeth and straight, smooth hair that I fight with my Chi on a regular basis. It may look like the wounds have healed, but clearly, they have not.

In light of all the recent teen suicides due to bullying, whether it's due to sexual orientation, financial circumstances, racial or ethnic identity, physical or mental handicap, or whatever little thing people can pick away at you for, I implore you to put an end to bullying and inequality in our world. As a mother, I am afraid of many things, but little is as sickening to me as the thought that children will damage Ava the way that they damaged me. While I can do my best to prepare her, to make her strong and resilient, and to do as much as humanly possible to ensure she's not an obvious target, it is up to ALL of us to teach our children to be loving, tolerant, accepting human beings. Won't you join me?