I'm the Mama!
I sometimes wonder how some parents keep that fresh, youthful, energized look about them. I, unfortunately, do not. I wear every tired moment of motherhood on my face, in my posture, and in between my eyebrows.
So, as some of you may remember, Ayla had gotten into the bad habit of hitting, kicking, slapping, and even an incident where she once clapped my face.
Lucky for us, that bad habit has been taken down a notch. I'm by no means saying that she is a flower-wearing, peace-loving hippie these days. I'm just saying she picks and chooses the moments to show that lovely side of herself.
Out with the old, in with the new. Ayla has recently become very verbal (read: screaming) when she doesn't get her way. Additionally, when she has something she should (most likely breakable or dangerous), she decides that rather than give it to us upon request, she instead would much prefer to launch it at the nearest hard surface. This is why I can't have an IPhone or any of those other gadgets. That and the outrageous monthly fees, but I digress.
The loveliest of her newfound habits is her foaming-at-the-mouth spitting and spewing. It all started one day when she was crying hysterically about life not going her way (wouldn't it be fun to do that sometimes?) and she began to cough from the amount of exertion involved in her crying. This resulted in her upchucking something fun she'd just eaten. Which then led to her spitting to get the puke taste out of her mouth. This, of course, was all on ME. So now when she gets mad and cries (and sometimes when she isn't even crying) she spits. She spits on me. She spits on the floor. She spits on herself (which makes me laugh evilly). It drives me bat-shit crazy! It is so ridiculous...but I suppose this too shall pass in exchange for something even more exciting.
The badge of motherhood is one I wear with both reluctance and pride. I mean, if I had kept a blog of my first year of motherhood, the tales my readers would have to laugh at. And perhaps reconsider their own desires to enter this allegiance of parents. Being a mom isn't a fluffy job. There ain't nothing fluffy about it, people. Some folks are of the mindset that stay at home moms (SAHMs) are soooo lucky and have the 'best job ever.' I won't lie, there are times that I'd like to stay at home too.
But I know the truth. I would shower probably even less than I already do. I would live in my awful excuse of pajamas. I would graze through the kitchen about 16 times a day. I would probably also lose my mind. I don't know that I could do it all day every day. In my perfect world, I would have a job that I could go to sometimes, but not have to go to every waking moment of my life. SAHMs are some tough-as-nails chicks, that's all I have to say.
For those who didn't have the pleasure of going down the bumpy road of motherhood with me for that first VERY LONG year, here are some highlights of the challenges. No fluff here folks!
I might look tired, I might have random toddler-ness smeared on my work clothes, and I might not be able to talk about anything intelligent outside of my latest mama research ranging from car seat safety (I've been called the car seat nazi by my own sister! So proud, is that weird?!) to chemicals in plastics to healthier eating to the argument against CIO (cry it out) sleep training.
I'm full of opinions, but I'm entitled to every last one. After all, I'm the Mama!
So, as some of you may remember, Ayla had gotten into the bad habit of hitting, kicking, slapping, and even an incident where she once clapped my face.
Lucky for us, that bad habit has been taken down a notch. I'm by no means saying that she is a flower-wearing, peace-loving hippie these days. I'm just saying she picks and chooses the moments to show that lovely side of herself.
Out with the old, in with the new. Ayla has recently become very verbal (read: screaming) when she doesn't get her way. Additionally, when she has something she should (most likely breakable or dangerous), she decides that rather than give it to us upon request, she instead would much prefer to launch it at the nearest hard surface. This is why I can't have an IPhone or any of those other gadgets. That and the outrageous monthly fees, but I digress.
The loveliest of her newfound habits is her foaming-at-the-mouth spitting and spewing. It all started one day when she was crying hysterically about life not going her way (wouldn't it be fun to do that sometimes?) and she began to cough from the amount of exertion involved in her crying. This resulted in her upchucking something fun she'd just eaten. Which then led to her spitting to get the puke taste out of her mouth. This, of course, was all on ME. So now when she gets mad and cries (and sometimes when she isn't even crying) she spits. She spits on me. She spits on the floor. She spits on herself (which makes me laugh evilly). It drives me bat-shit crazy! It is so ridiculous...but I suppose this too shall pass in exchange for something even more exciting.
The badge of motherhood is one I wear with both reluctance and pride. I mean, if I had kept a blog of my first year of motherhood, the tales my readers would have to laugh at. And perhaps reconsider their own desires to enter this allegiance of parents. Being a mom isn't a fluffy job. There ain't nothing fluffy about it, people. Some folks are of the mindset that stay at home moms (SAHMs) are soooo lucky and have the 'best job ever.' I won't lie, there are times that I'd like to stay at home too.
But I know the truth. I would shower probably even less than I already do. I would live in my awful excuse of pajamas. I would graze through the kitchen about 16 times a day. I would probably also lose my mind. I don't know that I could do it all day every day. In my perfect world, I would have a job that I could go to sometimes, but not have to go to every waking moment of my life. SAHMs are some tough-as-nails chicks, that's all I have to say.
For those who didn't have the pleasure of going down the bumpy road of motherhood with me for that first VERY LONG year, here are some highlights of the challenges. No fluff here folks!
- I birthed an 8 lb. 10 oz. baby that ripped me from one end of China to the other and cracked my tailbone in the process.
- Ayla wouldn't latch, she got jaundice, and I had to sleep (cracked tailbone and all). Enter: formula feeding.
- Spent forever trying to get the breastfeeding down, failed. Got mastitis, didn't know it, lost my supply. Cried and pumped like crazy for the next month. Cried even more when I fed Ayla the last of the milk I'd been able to siphon out of my body.
- Felt like I was going crazy, worried constantly about little bitty
- Dealt with a baby that wouldn't sleep through the night until she was one and when she did actually sleep, I was up checking her breathing.
- Struggled with a baby that couldn't and wouldn't poop due to the formula she had to drink since I had no boob juice to give her
- That horrid cheesy, smelly neck thing that babies get
- Baby acne along with bald man baby hair loss (seriously, she had a bald man hairdo, just hair around the back of the head and above the ears)
- Baby's first case of RSV (thankful for the motherly instincts that told me the cough just wasn't "right" so I caught it early)
- Majorly lacking sex life. That's right, I said it. Congrats to the parents that manage to make it work during that first sleepless year.
- Total change in social life and change in personal interests in general
I might look tired, I might have random toddler-ness smeared on my work clothes, and I might not be able to talk about anything intelligent outside of my latest mama research ranging from car seat safety (I've been called the car seat nazi by my own sister! So proud, is that weird?!) to chemicals in plastics to healthier eating to the argument against CIO (cry it out) sleep training.
I'm full of opinions, but I'm entitled to every last one. After all, I'm the Mama!
And I love you Mama. Great blog. I want to be able to write like you.
ReplyDeletemeaning as well as you do. You have a flair for language. Bravo!
ReplyDelete