mom, homeschooler, and writer — in that order.
There’s pregnant.
And then there’s very pregnant.
At around 36 weeks, a woman develops abilities that include carrying a significant amount of weight the whole day , washing her toes without actually seeing them, and growing a life inside her.
I may be biased here, but frankly, it’s comparable to being a superhuman.
Just don’t ask her to save the day, because if we’re being completely honest, all she would rather do is sleep, sleep, and sleep.
Good night.
Every night, I dream that our hours are spend bringing Pinterest to life. But yeah, she’s one and a half, so… reality.
… is that I overestimate myself. I’m a mommy, not a superhuman.
Rest is good. Sleep is good. Asking for help is ok.
I normally don’t approve of the F word, but I’ll make an exception this time since the wisdom of this philosophy is overpowering.
Presenting, the best parenting style I’ve ever encountered…
via Jezebel
I love my daughter down to the core, but sometimes she can really drive me nuts.
“I’m crying just so I can see how my mommy will react!”
Now that she’s a year old, I’ve noticed that my sweet little baby has been replaced with a real human being, complete with the ability to push other people’s buttons.
Although she’s still sweet 99 percent of the time, the remainder is spent testing her limits — throwing things on the floor then staring at me to see my reaction, touching things I specifically told her not to, and doing backbends when she does not want to get picked up. Fun.
When she gets into one of those moods, I approach the situation as calmly as possible.
“I want to tear my hair out!”
Other times, I just do a serene face to help my little darling calm down.
“Grrr.”
I think it’s safe to say that after a whole year of being a mom, I’m an expert at handling a fussy baby.
“Let’s just wait for daddy to come home.”
On those days, one thought keeps me going: I’m not here. I look forward to when I can finally step away from taking care of the baby and catch a break. Mothers, I am learning, need a breather from the emotional rollercoaster that comes with the territory of raising a person.
So, I take a break. Maybe I can even devote some time to blog. Frankly, these breaks don’t last very long. I come running back to my baby because even if she can drive me crazy, I’m just a mess without her.
“Waaaah. I miss my baby.”
Sometimes motherhood feels like,
As I mentioned before, the only things I took care of before were a tomato plant and a dog. I have no idea what to expect when it comes to raising a human being and that uncertainty can be very stressful.
Other times, I swear motherhood is like,
A lot has been said about motherhood being a balancing act. You have to find time to take care of the baby, be a wife, run the household, maintain a career. Plus there are so many articles about how you can look good while doing all of these things.
All I can say is that there is no balance, especially during the first couple of weeks. I’ve learned from experience (I accepted a writing assignment that was due two days after I gave birth. Duh.) that if you try to have it all, you just end up doing a shoddy job at all of them.
Motherhood entails sacrifice. In my case, it means giving up work assignments and time alone. As far as looking good? Lies. I consider it a lucky day if I get to completely rinse the shampoo off my hair before having to run out of the bathroom.
Another lie? That parenting is a private affair.
Nobody told me that there’s parenting pressure. It’s like peer pressure, only 10 million times worse. Other people will inevitably have a say in how you are dealing with your kid. It can range from the subtle — “Oh, you just let your baby go through the hiccups. Some parents give their babies milk.” — to swatting your hand away as you’re cleaning up your child because they think you’re doing it wrong (yes, this has happened to me).
There’s also a self-imposed kind of pressure. I find myself eyeing other parents, gauging myself against them. I think, are they doing a better job? Since I didn’t get the fancy, Scandinavian designed strollers like they did, will my kid’s development be stunted?
I even spent a morning calculating the percentage of Facebook likes a picture of my child received to make sure that others get how pretty she is. In case you’re curious, based on the ratio of responses to number of Facebook friends, we’re at 13.8%. Not bad compared to the others who were at 10.4% and even 5%. Still there’s room for improvement so I’m thinking I should be more active in social networking sites.
You say neurotic? I say, try being a parent. There’s so much love in your heart for this little one that you just want to make sure, be absolutely sure, that you’re giving her the best because she deserves it.
Finally, nobody mentioned that no matter how stressful, frustrating, or exhausting it is, there’s is no feeling greater than seeing your baby’s big belly, changing her diaper, or smelling her tiny toes. Wait, other mothers have said that?
Well, it bears repeating.
How do you know that you’re dealing with parents? They cheer over occasions that only a parent will celebrate.
Mundane occasions.
Gross occasions.
Even occasions when nothing really happens.
Hannah sighs and we fall into a trance. She coos, we burst at the seams with delight. All she has to do is exist and we’re done for. She’s the best, most amazing little lady in the whole universe.
Oh, and one more sign you’re dealing with a parent? We tend to speak in a very distinct way.
This week was a big week for us.
On Friday, I went to my first work meeting since giving birth. I was super excited to talk to another adult and converse over matters that were important enough to take notes on. Plus, I did all of that while wearing actual shoes. What a treat.
The meeting was quite interesting for the first 30 minutes or so. Then, it hit me.
I missed my daughter so badly. The meeting was an unbelievable waste of time compared to time spent with Hannah. With my notes in disarray and my shoes pinching my feet, I realized with utmost finality that my priorities have shifted. I just wanted to hold my baby.
By the 45 minute mark, I had all sorts of scenarios running through my head. What if the milk I packed for her spilled and she’s starving? What if she’s crying for me and I’m not there so she forgets me? Forever.
It’s funny how the brain works in situations like this.
Did I mention that I made arrangements for my mom to babysit Hannah and that they were about five minutes from where I was?
A mama’s heart is a strange thing indeed. Having Hannah has inspired me to work harder than ever before. I want her to have a good life and I never want to deprive her of anything she needs. More importantly, I want her to see me as a strong, accomplished woman so she can be better than I am and achieve greater things than what I even dream of now. But at the same time, I just want to spend every waking moment with her. Anything less feels like I’m letting her down.
Can I just clone myself please? Although I have a feeling that might not work either.
After months of being told that my emotions will probably get the better of me while I’m pregnant, it finally happened. I ended up having an uncontrollable bout of weeping last night.
My husband, looking so concerned, kept on asking me if there was anything I was upset about. I couldn’t really articulate what I was feeling. There was no emotion that stood out — it a jumble of mild insecurity, feeling left out or left behind, and anxiousness. Now, these are emotions that I pretty much live with on a daily basis, even before I got pregnant. I guess the hormonal changes magnified them? I’m not sure. Mostly, I was crying because I felt like crying. It was so weird, I could not stop. It was almost like I was leaking tears. My husband just held me while I simply dissolved.
After about five minutes of sobbing, the tears just stopped. Just like that, I felt okay. It was, to say the least, a baffling experience.
For all those who have gone through pregnancy, is this normal? With or without a baby, have you ever felt sad for no apparent reason?
Dear Little One,
We only have a few more weeks left before we get to meet you. I can’t even begin to say how excited we are. I feel like I’ve spent the past couple of months holding my breath and now, I’m ready to burst. Judging from your kicks and the premature contractions, I think you share our excitement. Our kisses are waiting for you.
In the meantime, I feel like there are some things that you should know about your daddy and I. That way, you would not be too surprised when you finally meet us.
First, your daddy likes to pace, especially when he is telling a story. The more exciting the story is, the faster he will go.
I shake my head whenever I think of something that I don’t want to remember. I imagine that the thoughts are flung right out of my brain.
Your daddy will have an explanation for everything. He loves information and will eat data for breakfast.
I never get a bad stomach, no matter what I eat. (I really hope you inherit my strong stomach. It is very convenient.)
A recurring joke between your daddy and I is that he is a monologuer and I am a dialoguer. He narrates his actions and I have the tendency to recreate previous conversations.
Little one, I can’t wait to find out what your quirks will be. We’ll have so much fun getting to know each other. I promise.
Love,
Mommy
Hit or Missus 