What's In A Mom?

There are just those days...

There are days where I rail at being home.  The days where I am worried that this is what my kids will see, the laundry lady, the cleaner, and the cook.  Where I fear they won't see me, but rather this temporary version of myself I have become.  The one who can't always get in to take a shower until night-time, because Rose refuses to take a nap that day.  Who doesn't have the energy to bother with makeup and contacts. They won't realize that there's a writer in there, an educated woman, someone who loves deeply and takes chances by trusting people that don't always deserve it, by believing in people who are destined to fail, by giving my heart not in hopes that it won't be crushed but in the certainty that it will be fulfilled.

They won't see the optimist, only the suck-at-home mom.  They won't remember the woman who got up every day and worked hard at her job as a childcare administrator, but only the one who they come home to, who worked equally hard but doesn't have the pen and fingerpaint stains and folded up latex gloves with tissues from the playground in it (because I don't use gloves to wipe Rose's nose, and most times we don't even get to the playground) to prove it.

Then there are days like today, when I think about my childhood.  Before my parents divorced, my mother didn't work--my father never wanted her to.  (No it wasn't Macchiavellian...it was that old fashioned mentality that a man is a man because he provides.) So my mom stayed home.  Some of my greatest memories are going to Woolworth's with Ma.  Visiting Grandma and Grampa with her.  Sitting under the table at her feet while she played cards on Sundays.  The pretty dresses she loved to put me in (though they were damned itchy, back then, with those puffy, scratchy petticoats.)  My mother was the cook, the cleaner, the laundry-woman.  She was the nurse and the teacher.  I never thought of her as any of those things, but only as my mom.  When my parents divorced, she worked long hard hours, and I missed her, but I was still closer to no one.  

I think about those days, and I think I have it pretty great--I have the chance to make my kids look at me the way I always looked at my mom.  And I can live with that.

The Scent of Success

So this month I decided to participate in a diaper study.  It's a study where you get 16 days worth of diapers, you try them out, record data each day, and hand the diapers (which you put inside heavy ziplock bags and then inside a construction-weight trash bag) back in with your paperwork a couple of times per week.  At the end you get $190 for your time, effort, and baby poop.  Sweet deal, right?  I have to change Rose's diapers anyway, so now I'll just get PAID to do it.  Plus, 16 days' worth of free diapers, yo.

       Rose thinks that's pretty cool.

I'm going to digress here and tell you that if you are a SAHM or hold a part-time job, go find the nearest focus group company around you.  I get emails from a group called Focus on Boston, and while I don't qualify for many of their studies (food allergies, or I'm not diabetic or the right age, etc), the ones I have done pay really well.  Like this one, they take up a small amount of your time, and you get paid the day it's complete.  

Back to my original story.  The first week I turned in my bag of diapers & paperwork and thought, "PIECE OF CAKE!!" This is going to be soooo easy!  Everything was organized by the company, plus they sent email reminders on which diaper to use on which week.  It was making me feel pretty successful, and like I was making a contribution to the household bank account (and also a little bit to my own personal wallet, since I feel like, in doing this work, I've earned it.)  

Then came this week.  Now, I worked in early education for 17 years.  I changed diarrhea poops and cleaned up vomit, even got pooped on once and had to go home and (shower and) change.  I'm no stranger to the yuck that comes with children.  That is until I realized that, even though the instructions told me this already, I was going to actually have to "shake the BM into the toilet."  Now, if Rose had perfect little formed BMs this wouldn't be a problem, but for whatever reason that kid has the mushiest poop in the universe.  It's impossible to get it all off.  Couple that with the fact that I have to keep the diaper, and this week is the longest one during the trial (you go from Tuesday to Tuesday before turning it in) and you have a recipe for stench.  I've bagged the plastic Baggie inside the construction bag INSIDE A SCENTED TRASH BAG and the smell is still over-powering.  I'm convinced if I left it on the porch it would scare away neighboring coyote, but I can't take the chance that a skunk might think he's found a new lover in that bag.  No, who am I kidding, even a skunk would be afraid.  

I've got two more days before I can turn this bag in, and I now have a "stick-up/glade" on my grocery list for today,  but you can bet that since they open at 7:30 a.m. I'll be out the door in record time on Tuesday.  I can't wait to get rid of the smell of success.

Cup Painting

Cup Painting

Did you know you can paint with ANYTHING?  Really.  Rose & I decided to use cups today to make some pretty 

circles.

Materials:

Plastic or paper cups (even better if you have varying sizes)

Paper

Washable Tempera Paint

Dish Soap (yes, even though the tempera is washable, add it to the paint)

Paper plate (or any flat plate that you don't mind having paint on.)

Place the paint on the paper plate, adding some dish soap to make it super easy to clean up.

Put the cups on the paint, show your child how to lift the cup and put it on the paper.  

Let your child create!

10 Things A Sleepless Mom Doesn't Want To Hear

Rose is a tough sleeper.  Some nights, if I'm super, super lucky, she gives me a five hour stretch of sleep.  Most nights she wakes every two to three hours.  Some nights she just.won't.sleep.

I've tried soothing baths, feeding late, feeding early, changing her foods, letting her cry, not letting her cry, physical exercise, a soothing routine...and pretty much nothing has worked.  I have been without a good night's sleep for about a year and a half (including the last 3 months of pregnancy, which were pretty uncomfortable for sleep.) 

Keeping in mind that I'm short on sleep, exhausted mentally and physically, and frankly, cranky as hell, there are a few things that are JUST not helpful to hear!  Oh, you can say them if you want my steely glare or perhaps the silent treatment, but otherwise, please, friends and relatives, keep them to yourselves!

Here are my top ten things that a sleepless momma doesn't want to hear:

1.  You look tired.

You know, I know I'm tired, and I'm sure I'm looking harsh, but my self esteem is already suffering (why can't I get this baby to sleep? What am I doing wrong??), so pointing out the baggage I'm carrying under my eyes or the drool on the corner of my mouth certainly doesn't help that.

2.  Oh, Was the baby awake last night?

The baby is awake EVERY NIGHT.  If you know me at all, you know my baby is awake every night (as evidenced by the aforementioned bags and drool.)  Pointing out that you slept right through the night is only going to fuel my feelings of jealousy for all you sleep-through-the-nighters.  

3.  You know she'll sleep better if you...(insert random advice.)

Please know that after 15 months of her not sleeping, I have researched the Internet, talked to the doctor, talked to other moms, and tried it all.  Yes, EVEN THAT (insert random weird internet sleep fad here.)

4.  It's a short span of time in your life, and she'll eventually sleep through the night.  

I'm here to tell you, it's not a short span of time.  It's eons, eternity, and the less I sleep the longer it seems.

Salvador Dali, The Persistence Of Memory

5.  Enjoy it while it lasts.  You get to enjoy that time you have alone together.  👀 ??

I get to have alone time all day long with her if I want.  I'd like to have some alone time with my pillow, tyvm.

6.  I read that breastfed babies sleep less.  What if you switch to formula?  

Yeah, because I've endured 15 months of sleeplessness, mastitis, and niplash because formula is an option for me.  Don't get me wrong--I don't have a problem with mom's using formula---I used it with my first two---but Rose is allergic to dairy (and soy formula is very expensive and smells gross.)

7.  Why don't you want to GO somewhere?! (This is from Punkgirl & Happyboy, who want to get up at the crack of dawn on the weekend and GOOOO somewhere.)

8.  I think she sleeps worse when "we" do THIS.  This is obviously Coffeeguy.  I don't wake Coffeeguy in the middle of the night, because he has to get up and go out to work every morning, and at least my baggy eyes and drool are mostly confined to home, so I take on the task of getting up with Rose. While I appreciate that he's only trying to help, most of the time when I get back into bed he's snoring, so this negates any right of his to tell me when she sleeps worse or better.

10.  Yeah.  I know...I skipped 9.  Didn't I just tell you I'm sleep deprived?  

10.  (Again) Why don't you take a nap during the day?

I.  I just.  Are you..?  She takes a two hour nap at 12.  It's just enough time to get a cup of HOT tea, load the dishwasher, MAYBE take a shower, and upload these pithy writings to my blog.  

Fine Motor Fun

I gave Rose a fine motor activity today that seemed like a wonderful way to re-use and recycle.  I had an old Huggies wipes container and a set of old poker chips that my husband never used.  The chips are very thick, so they weren't too small for Rose's chubby little fingers.  I encouraged her to slip the chips into the hole where the wipes come out...this builds hand-eye coordination as well as fine motor development of the hand.  Added bonus, she can shake the box when it's full, making it a sensory and rhythm experience as well!

 

It did occur to me afterward that the poker chips gave it a gambling feel, and maybe I was setting her up for a slot machine addiction!  But you can also use old milk jug covers, or if your child puts toys in his/her mouth, use the metal ends that come off of frozen juice concentrate cans!  It's cheap, easy, and it keeps Rose busy for at least 10 minutes!  Just enough time for me to write this post!

St Patty's Day Sticky Paper Art

Rose is officially a toddler, so I've been trying to give her constructive activities to keep her from climbing up the walls.  Today we did one of my all-time favorite activities, sticky paper art.  It is cheap, easy to set up, easy to clean up, and depending on what you use to stick to it, it can keep a toddler occupied for a really long time, and this give Momma a window in which to have a cup of tea, check her email, maybe even go pee!

"Sticky Paper", as I call it, is simply contact paper.  Tape it, sticky side out, to the table, or for real entertainment, to the wall.  Give your little one cut up colored tissue paper, feathers, cut up greeting cards, construction paper, qtips, cotton balls, pretty much any lightweight material you can think of, and show them how to stick them to the paper!

We made a piece of St. Patty's Day themed sticky paper art.

Rose likes to stand up while using sticky paper. 

Sometimes she likes to change her point of view.

Sometimes she likes to pick lint off the rug and use that, too.

If you put an equal sized piece of sticky paper on top (sticky sides together), you have a lovely piece of "stained glass art." If you're feeling super energetic or crafty, you can put the outline of a shape in construction paper, then trim around the shape.  That way, when your little one is done, you have a cute piece of themed art (for instance, if I weren't a suck at home mom, I could have made today's art in the shape of a shamrock.  Since I didn't, I'll mention the benefits of letting your child be creative instead of making them restrict their artistic talent inside a pre-determined shape!)

Wean On Me

     Rose has been up a lot this week.  By a lot, I mean she just won't sleep.  The lack of sleep is making it impossible for me to concentrate, impossible for me to get anything done, and impossible for me to produce any real quantity of breast milk.  Now, I've always had oversupply issues, so not producing that much right now doesn't worry me, really...but since she refuses to take her rice cereal with anything BUT breast milk it is a bit of an inconvenience.  The result of this inconvenience is that I'm cranky, disheveled, and always running behind.

     She has also come up with a new breastfeeding position.  I call it downward facing nipple.  It's a little inconvenient, too.

     Normally I would chalk this up to a growth spurt, a developmental stage, a funny quirk, but I have to tell you, this week I'm just done.  I want breastfeeding to be all over--even if it means giving up that breastfeeding crack hormone.  I've made it to (almost) 9 months, haven't I? I've gone through the cracked nipples, the mastitis, the cabbage leaves, and the forever-ruined tank tops.  I'm in an F-cup, for God's sake, and if you think that's sexy you haven't seen the way it translates into "uniboob" under clothing.  I'm ready to go back to my own life, where I am not the only one responsible for Rose's drinks, where I fit into my pretty lacy bras, and where I can where a non-accessible shirt if I damn well want to.  

     But Rose isn't ready.  When I try to pat her gently back to sleep she jumps out of the crib towards my boob.  She reaches for it when she's crying.  She pulls at my tank when she's tired.  It could be the breastfeeding crack hormone talking.  I could, like any addict, just be making excuses.  But it feels true.  I know this is a short span of my life...but it feels like eternity.  Any of you suck-at-home moms ready to wean? Or feel like you suck because you want to wean?

Boston Comic Con and Other Adventures

     This was Adventure Week, and boy, was it ever.  I gave Punkgirl and Happyboy the life skill challenge of navigating the bus system, and we made it to our destination (a local crafts store) after a somewhat rocky start (Happyboy had read the wrong bus schedule.)  Rose demanded to be breastfed in the middle of said store, so I had the dubious honor of taking my boob out in a back aisle to placate her.  It was an experience, and the trip itself made me realize that we needed to spend more time on the local T.

     My favorite challenge was the spy training, though.  I wove a web of red yarn back and forth through the hallway to make "laser beams", and had them start from opposite ends, forcing them to cooperate to get by one another.  Then we did a few campy pictures for our Camp Awesome scrapbook.  At the end of the day they made Coffeeguy make a hilarious attempt at maneuvering the overs and unders and small spaces.  I'm fairly certain it was a favorite challenge for everyone.  

     Although the spy challenge was a fave, my favorite reward was a trip to Boston Comic Con.  I am a geek's geek, and I love the things you can see and do at Comic Con.  My brother and I collected comics for years, into our adulthood, and just the sight of those characters coming to life brings a warmth to my heart.  Although it is hot, and packed, and often difficult to maneuver (more so with Rose's giant dino-carriage), people are so happy to be there, amongst their own kind--geekdom--that it's a pretty friendly crowd.  The kids love it too--it has a way of letting them feel their individuality, and it leaves me with that feeling of "ok, I'm raising them right!" (rare for me, so it's a bonus!)

     The one thing that did make it difficult was that, as a Mom, it's tough to go in costume.  I did--throwing together a hasty Scarlet Witch (Avengers) look, but I felt kind of foolish, with my three kids in tow.  As a younger woman I frequented many a convention in costume, without a bit (well, ok, maybe a teensy bit) of embarrassment or hesitation.  As a Mom, you suddenly feel like you should be more grown-up, and that you don't have time to do the silly, fun, extraordinary things you once did.  You don't have a lot of time to put the effort in either, so while you may feel a little brave for putting the costume on, you also have this overwhelming sense that the real costumers are snickering--I can assure you, they are not,

but it doesn't stop the feeling.  My cardboard headpiece looked sad and pathetic next to another SW, who had a little hand-crafted leather piece.  Ahhh, I digress into geekdom again.  But I'll tell you, the guy who stopped me to take my picture made my day--thank you, guy. (But no thank you, guy who wanted to take it while I was breastfeeding Rose!!)

     Bottom line, great week!  But now Rose is fussing (for the tenth time--not sure if this is a growth spurt or what!) Suck at home moms, how do you fit in the things that made you you?  Or do you?