The hardest part of parenting isn’t…
the sleepless nights (and days)
the soar (I mean sore) nipples
the changing of very dirty diapers
or even the thought of what it will cost to send them to college
It’s cutting their tiny little nails while they try to wiggle away from you.
Tomorrow is the big day. I’m going to feed my little 17 pounder his first tastes of food. I’ve had all these grandious ideas about what his first solid food experience should be. I’m thinking pureed organic sweet potatoes cut with the freshest of mom’s milk or maybe it should be sweet peas or there’s always applesauce. But, after much talk and consideration, I have decided to go down the heavily trodden path of rice cereal. I know it taste like cardboard and could constipate him – but my pediatrician recommended it (as did all family members). In my defense, I did spring the extra dollar for the organic whole grain rice cereal… poor little guy. It will only be for a few days and then we’ll be on to bigger and much better things.
Tomorrow is a momentous day for so many reasons. First, my little boy is growing up. Second and even more emotional, this is the first step towards weaning. Even the mention of the W word makes me choke up. Also, this is HIS first experience with eating, something that is near and dear to me. And finally, it’s going to be so damn cute.
Wish us luck!
Filed under baby, food, mom
Last week was a pivotal week in my household. My baby didn’t crawl, walk, talk, or get his driver’s license. No, he discovered his male anatomy.
It was a normal night. Exactly like every night. Play time until 6:00ish and then bath time until 7:00. (Yes, I milk bath time for all it’s worth. My husband travels all week and I need all the help I can get at night.) So, after our usual rolling around on the rug naked, we moved on to the bath. Everything appeared normal. There was splashing and the initial urination (warm water does it for him every time). And then he suddenly went quiet… I wondered “What’s going on?” And then I saw it. My little innocent baby boy was pinching and pulling on his little frank and beans. Awch! Anyone who has a baby knows they have a heck of a grip. But, he didn’t seem to mind. In fact I think it fascinated him. Since then it has become a nightly ritual.
Is it terrible that I find this absolutely adorable?
This is a call to all mothers** who have sacrificed their careers, resumes, paychecks, and a tiny bit of their soul. The next time you are asked to list your occupation mark “other” and write in Super Hero*.
Frankly, I’m tired of feeling judged because I have chosen to stay at home and raise my children. When I say judged, it varies from “Oh, poor un-liberated woman” to “Is there any other way to properly raise your children?” We each make the decision that is right for us and our family. Period.
But, I must admit that when donating money to Barak Obama last week, I hesitated when asked about my occupation. Was I a “housewife” or a “homemaker”? Are those really my options? GAG. I’m a full time mom**, right now. And it’s the toughest job I’ve ever had. If you’ve never tried it, you have no idea how all consuming and absolutely exhausting it is. I love “Pop goes the weasel” as much as anyone, but seriously 27 times in a row… And I’ve only been a mom for 5.5 months. So, when filling out Obama’s form I decided to declare myself a “Super Hero”. And it felt pretty darn good.
To all you stay-at-home mothers** out there, let’s start a revolution. We ARE Super Heroes!
It’s a small step for mothers**, one giant leap for mother**-kind.
*I must give credit to my husband who truly started this revolution with our taxes this year. According to the IRS my occupation is Super Hero. Who would dare to audit a super hero?
**I should say PARENTS