1+1=2, right? Ha.
Since my last post (years ago), I have learned quite a bit about mathematics. I’m no mathematician, but I believe my findings would confound even Einstein.
First lesson: the addition of a second child does not equal twice the time/effort/frustration/love/(and joy) of two children.
When I discovered that I was pregnant with my second little boy (shortly after our lake vacation – last post), I was overwhelmed but excited and confident. I thought “Hey, I’ve got this whole mothering thing down. I can easily handle another little rug rat.” I believed my “vast” parenting knowledge would translate into a stress-free infancy. I knew each baby was different and an individual. But really, how hard could it be… Well, 1+1=10 times the time/effort/frustration/love/(and, yes, joy) not to mention the chaos. It is this chaos, I believe, that plays a vital role in my next lesson.
Second lesson: Time is not linear.
You know how your parents/grandparents always say “time flies”. Well, I have lost an entire year of my life. For months I believed and even told friends that I’m 30, just to discover last week that I am in fact about to turn 32… Could it be that I’ve been overwhelmed with child-rearing/birthing and the chaos that entails or that I’ve blown off my birthdays as inconsequential (barely celebrating them) or maybe my IQ has dropped so dramatically that I can no longer count above 30? Not sure what the answer is.
All I can say is that time flies and 1+1(does NOT)=2
Merriam-Webster defines vacation as:
- a respite or a time of respite from something
- a: a scheduled period during which activity is suspended b: a period of exemption from work granted to an employee
- a period spent away from home or business in travel or recreation
I recently went on a family vacation to a lovely lake house in New Hampshire. It was perfect. The pefect house; perfect weather; great food; good friends. Perfect. It wasn’t until I arrived home that I realized what was missing: the VACATION.
As a full-time mom, my job is pretty much being a slave to my eight month old little boy. He’s hungry; I feed him. He’s tired; I rock him to sleep. He poops; I wipe his hiney. Over my week long vacation, I prepared 22 baby meals. Since I’m making my own baby food – this requires more than popping open a jar of Gerber. I put the baby down for 15 naps (my husband would have helped but unfortunately his nipples run dry). And changed 35 diapers (I’ll give my husband 15 or so). And this isn’t including the 8 (normally 5) hour drive with an eight month old – not exactly the same as say a 90 minute massage. So, my “vacation” wasn’t really a respite, at all.
Is there really such a thing as a family vacation? Or is it a misnomer? Maybe it should just be called a brief change of location.
**Don’t get me wrong. I had a wonderful time. It’s just amazing how different things are when you have a 20 pound ball of love and energy.
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