Wednesday, November 28, 2012

When It Comes To Birthing Styles, Can We All Just Get Along?

Motherhood has humbled me in a million ways. All jump-started by the day my son was born – the most humbling experience of all.
I definitely had a plan for his birth. I had seen all the documentaries and read all of the literature. I believed it all. I knew that New York City had a pretty high c-section rate.  I was prepared to go into battle and fight for my right to a natural birth.
In the months leading up to son’s birth, I became a self-proclaimed natural birth advocate. I tried to impart my knowledge on any pregnant woman who would listen. I believed that women everywhere were being duped into not having the births of their choice, and I wanted to do my part to turn the tides. I preached endlessly about refusing an epidural, delayed cord-cutting, the negative effects of pitocin. I longed for a home birth. If I hadn’t happened to live above a really loud bar on a main street in Brooklyn – I probably would have planned for one.
I thought the women who expressed no desire to go for the natural birth experience were selfish and uninformed. Don’t you know this is best for your baby? If you’re not willing to experience some pain for the benefit of your child, what kind of mother will you be? Those were real thoughts that were actually swimming around my head. I wasn’t even a mother yet, I hadn’t even experienced giving birth — yet I was still so comfortable judging everyone around me.
Continue to Mommyish for the rest of the post.

Wednesday, November 21, 2012

I'm not fat and lazy, I'm pregnant and tired

If you subscribe to this blog, or are a regular reader in any way, you have probably noticed the frequency of the posts has slowed down a bit in the past couple weeks. I'm working on that. I feel an upswing coming.

You see, I have spent the last few months in a constant state of crazy fatigue and mind-numbing nausea. I'm pregnant, and my body is handling it a little differently this time around.

With my last pregnancy, I was a little turned off by things in the first trimester, but I wasn't all, "holy shit get that disgusting (fill in the name of any food with taste or flavor here) out of my face before I puke. Gross." I work in a mother f-ing Mediterranean restaurant. It has become my own personal torture chamber. All the fantastic smells I once loved so much are making me want to cry and vomit. 

In addition to being that pregnant woman, I got a new job. Along with the personal essay I write for Mommyish every Thursday, I also cover news for them on the weekends. To the tune of ten stories in two days. 

This is a job that I love. It is right up my alley. I basically find news stories that I think readers of Mommyish would be interested in and give my take on the whole situation. I get to be opinionated and use my writing voice. It's kinda perfect. It was just a little overwhelming doing that amount of writing in the beginning. Come Monday - I don't want to write anything. I want to paint my toenails while I still can and take a nap. 

I'm now in my second trimester and starting to feel much better. I'm getting into a groove with my new gig and starting to feel a lot less creatively drained. So - I just have to find a few more hours in my day and the regular blog writing will begin again. 

See, I'm not a total flake. 

In the meantime, if you find yourself looking for time to kill on the weekends - be sure to head over to Mommyish and check out my stuff. It would be nice to have some of my readers commenting - as opposed to the average Mommyish commenter who seems to think I am really "judgemental." Where the heck would they get that idea?


Tuesday, November 13, 2012

Don't Let Your Child Use Your Phone. Ever.

Seriously. I need to establish some boundaries.

You know how your mom refuses to use the ATM because she doesn't "trust it?" All you can think is jeez woman, come on over to technology-land. It's nice over here. Well, I'm convinced my son will definitely be saying the same things about me some day. Do you know how I know this? He already knows how to operate my damn iPhone better than I do. It's unbelievable.

Did you know that you can swipe your home screen to the side and this nifty search screen comes up? I didn't. I also didn't know that I had Stevie B's Party Your Body accessible and playable. My son does though. He also knows how to favorite tweets, take voice memos, and photograph himself. Here's my favorite of his self-portraits:

I will figure out everything about you, peasant phone. I am your evil overlord.

Yesterday, I got an email from myself that said, "Hola." How in the hell? Apparently my phone has predictive scripts in other languages, too. Maybe Lucien will show me how to use that someday.

Last week, I attempted to call my husband from my "favorites" screen. His name is always in the same place - at the bottom of the list. I sort of pressed in that general area without looking, and all of the sudden I am making a face-time call to a real estate lawyer I used three years ago. I'm sure she didn't find that creepy at all.

My husband thinks he's got it figured out by setting a password to his phone. A couple days ago Lucien  disabled it for 60 minutes.

Moral of the story - don't let your child use your phone. Ever. Once it starts, you can't stop the insanity.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

My Toddler Doesn't Listen To a Damn Thing I Say

I've always been kind of a bad ass. I'm not trying to brag, but people don't generally mess with me.

Maybe it's due to my line of work, which has given me a thick skin and above average people management skills. I've been a bartender for over 20 years. Behind that bar, I've always been known as the woman to send the difficult customers to. For some reason, even the most ornery jerks don't abuse me.

It's not that I'm mean -- quite the contrary, actually. I just possess an air of "I'm not going to take your shit." And it works. On everyone but my toddler. Mom's a bad ass - but apparently he hasn't gotten the memo.

Having mastered the nuance of dealing with the general public, I was sure that when I had a child I would have no problems with discipline. I imagined myself as one of those mothers who could administer "the look" and have her child fall into line. You know "the look" I'm talking about - the one that makes your child stop whatever he's doing, apologize profusely, and go make you an omelet?

Yeah, right.

I used to hate it when people would say, "you have no idea how hard it is until you become a mother." But you know what? Whatever images you have in your mind about the mother you will be, whatever fantasies you have about the way your children will act -- you might as well abandon them right now.

You have no hard it is until you become a mother. . .

Read the rest of the post on Mommyish.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

First Response and Rolos

Jesus, I gotta pee. I can't do this in Target, though - can I?

I glance down at my toddler, squeezed into his crappy umbrella stroller. He looks tired and fed up with his shopping experience. Then I eye the three shopping bags I have and imagine squeezing all of us into a bathroom stall. I look down into one of the bags and catch a glimpse of the First Response box.

No way am I doing this here.

I start to rush home as fast as I can, but the umbrella stroller sucks big-time and the trip takes me longer than I'd like. Seriously I'm about to pee myself. I've almost made it to 40 without experiencing this. I'd like to maintain this small victory.

We get to the base of the brownstone steps. I take Lucien out of his stroller and fold it up, hoist him on my hip, and somehow manage to hang three heavy shopping bags from my free shoulder. I grab the stroller and start the climb.  Destination - third floor.

I fucking hate New York.

I'm sweating profusely but finally inside the house. I sit on the toilet fumbling to open the package of pregnancy tests with one hand, and firmly gripping the Rolos I had just purchased with the other.  I guess this action alone should provide a hint to what the result will be.

I get the wrapper off the stick in record time. Years of trying to conceive our first child had made me very prolific with these little things.  I had gone through damn near 20 of them before I got my first, very faint line.  I remember holding it under the lamp on my nightstand trying to convince my husband it was there.  I don't see anything.  I'm pretty sure I only convinced him that I was slightly obsessed and a little crazy.

Anyway, back to the peeing.  I set the Rolos on the sink, remove the pregnancy test from the package, and commence with the testing.  A very dark line begins to appear.

One line.  There's only one line.  Phew.  I sit down on the toilet, take a deep breath and grab the Rolos. At that moment, my toddler comes walking into the bathroom, dismantling his potty.  I get up to help him with that, turn back around, and two lines are staring me in the face.

Oh shit.  I'm pregnant.  I grab my toddler and walk him to the kitchen to unpack all of the groceries I just bought.  I crumble up my receipt and glance at the coupons I earned from my day's trip.  Buy one get one free Coffee-Mate and two dollars off Tampax Gentle Glide tampons.

Very funny, universe.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012

It's Election Day And I Don't Want To Hear Your Stupid Excuses For Not Voting.

The day has finally arrived.  It's election day and I'm getting ready to go stand in what will no doubt be a ridiculously long line. I waited three hours to vote in the last presidential election. Three hours!

Our government is far from perfect. Our two-party system sucks. There are so many reasons that many convince themselves not to get out and vote today.

No matter how disenchanted I get with our government - I just can't be one of those people. Assuming that our government is as corrupt as some people think it is - there may only be one purpose to my standing in line to cast a vote today; to honor the men and women who fought their asses off to get the right that so many of us take for granted. To think about all the places in the world where people would die for the right to take the action that I am about to take today. If my vote means nothing in the grand scheme of things - it means something to me for this reason.

Today, I'm casting a vote for a man that I know isn't perfect - but that I am proud to call my President.

As one of my brilliant friends said, "The lesser of two evils means something. It means less evil."

Also, Mitt Romney is a total dick.

Happy Voting! Oh - and a gentle reminder:


Thursday, November 1, 2012

Happy Two Years, Little One

What everyone says is right - it does go by fast.  Motherhood is a real pain in the ass sometimes, but I wouldn't change a thing.  Soaking up all of the time that I have with this little boy is the best thing in the world.  I always knew I wanted to be a mom.  I was right.  I love it.  Thanks for changing my life little one.  You definitely made it harder - but infinitely better.