The Mommy Wars Are Stupid

In many parenting situations, I'm a live and let live kinda mom. I try not to be the parental equivalent of a Bible thumper, but there are a few things that just bother me to the point I want to smack parents around.

Improper Car Seats
The recommendation is no longer that your kid stay rear facing until 12 months of age or 20 pounds. The recommendation is now 2 years of age, period. The reason is simple: INTERNAL DECAPITATION. There are bones not fully developed until age 2, and in the crazy physics of a car crash, a rear facing seat, properly installed, absorbs the impact instead of your child's neck. The AAP recommendation is everywhere, and the new car seats that my husband and I bought had the recommendation on the display tags, on stickers by the straps, and in the booklet teaching you how to install the damn things. The paperwork from our pediatrician says it, the pediatrician told us to wait until 2 years old to turn her around, and a quick google search will pull up the AAP recommendation and a whole bunch of articles about the change. So, when my Facebook feed is filled with people flipping their children that are less than a year old, I get pissy. (Here's the statement from the AAP, complete with a link to the technical specifics: http://www.aap.org/en-us/advocacy-and-policy/state-advocacy/Documents/Child_Passenger_Safety_SLR.pdf )

I also get pissy over the chest buckle being on the belly instead of the chest, and people putting their puffy coated children in the car seat. With something so critical to your child's safety, wouldn't you want to know how to use it properly?

Vaccinations
I chose to vaccinate my child. I did the research, I weighed the pros and cons, and I made an informed decision for my child. Personally, I don't understand why people choose not to vaccinate, but it is a choice that is made, so whatever. What gets me pissed off is when the anti-vaxers tell me I've given my child cancer, or Autism, or have caused her to be mentally retarded or otherwise abused her by choosing to vaccinate. I get really, really, really pissed off when the Sanctimommy berating me for vaccinating my daughter has a daughter with pierced ears. Apparently my medical needles are unacceptable but your "looking pretty" needles/piercing guns are fine? Bite me, bitch. (For the record, I don't care if you get your kid's ears pierced young. We've just decided to wait to see if she wants it done and I want to her care for them herself.)

Breastfeeding Vs. Formula
As long as I'm feeding my child appropriately and not putting Mt. Dew in her bottles, it's none of your business how she is nourished. You want to nurse in public? GO FOR IT! Wanna whip out a bottle of formula instead? GO FOR IT! Feed your child, let me feed mine, and let's move on. Instead of worrying about whether my boobs function properly (I worry about that enough for myself, thanks) why don't you worry about the lady over there who just dumped Mt. Dew in her toddler's bottle. I think  she deserves your rage a hell of a lot more than me.

While we all are told, countless times, that breast is best, it isn't the only option, and for some, it isn't best. Happy mommy who formula feeds is a hell of a lot better than the stressed out wreck. Make your choice, and be happy with it. What's important isn't that you breastfed for that first year (and if you did, I salute you because that shit is HARD.) What's important is that your child was nourished, happy, and healthy. And you didn't go crazy resenting him.


I just realized that I could go on and on and on over these Mommy Wars. They're FUCKING STUPID. Unless the debate in question is an actually dangerous debate (see: CAR SEATS AND THEIR PROPER USE) the rest is all opinion. Find the parenting style that works for you, and roll with it. Oh, and while you're memorizing Dr. Sears, find some time to respect those of us who decide to give it our own try. My kid seems pretty damn happy considering I've been winging the small stuff for the past 14.5 months.

How I Met Nater-Bater

Have I ever told you how I met Nate? No? Well, then, I suppose I should.

First, a bit of background information. Back in early 2008, I was working at a music store in a mall and still dating my college sweetheart, Leo. I should say up front that Leo was and is a great guy, but he and I had run our course, and ultimately, we were bad for each other. We influenced each other in very negative ways. While we were still officially a couple, the relationship had all but died at least six months before I met Nate.

One Friday night in February, I was working the closing shift as I usually did when two guys came in looking for a specific CD. We were extremely busy, so my part-timer was helping everyone else while I dealt with a very difficult customer. The two guys said they'd come back in a bit. I'll admit it, I checked out the tall, skinny, dark haired guy. I liked what I saw.

A little bit later, they came back. It turned out that the slightly shorter and much stockier of the two was looking for a specific Dropkick Murphys CD. While Rob was in the proper section looking for it, I walked over to the Staff Picks shelf and grabbed the CD from my music picks and handed it to him. Comments were exchanged about the quality of the picks on the Staff Picks shelves. So, as you see, the "in" of the dating world wasn't initially with Nate, it was with Rob. Luckily for me Rob wasn't remotely interested in me. That would've been just weird.

Nate, being the smart ass he is, was, and always will be, pointed to my DVD picks and complained that I was missing one of the best movies ever. Without missing a beat I told him that "Boondock Saints isn't on there because I sold the last copy yesterday."

His jaw dropped.

That was the movie he was thinking about.

We kept chatting to the point that I closed the store 10 minutes late. Fortunately Gina, my part-timer, was awesome and took care of her half of the closing procedures without me having to tell her what to do. Great employee, right there. Anyhow, as I was closing the gate, Nate asked me to join them for a late dinner once I was done closing the store. I declined as I hadn't been home for a few days at that point, but I told him to come back and see me as I practically lived at that damned store.

I assumed I'd never see him again. I was wrong. I saw him again a mere 24 hours later. That Saturday night I was having a party at my apartment. He showed up at the store to see if I wanted to get together, so I invited him to the party.

He was the last guest to arrive, and I told everyone beforehand that for that night, I didn't have a boyfriend. Honestly, I'm *really* glad that Jill, Leo's sister, had already moved out at this point. Anyhow, I ended up being a lousy host and ignored most of my friends for Nate. After everyone else called it a night, he was still there. We stayed up until the wee hours, and then slept (yes, just slept) in my bed until he had to leave for work at 7am. I'd given him my phone number, and he said he'd call.

Once again, I assumed I'd never see him again. 

I was wrong again.

He called me that Tuesday, and came over to my house that Wednesday. Since then, we've spent a total  of 6 nights apart. He pretty much just moved in with me at my apartment. We got married just shy of a year and a half later. Next month will be 5 years that we've been together. That thought baffles both of us considering that now we're married and have a kid and we haven't killed each other yet.

I guess Dr. Seuss was right:

“We are all a little weird and life’s a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”

Goal Update

Just a quick update about my quasi-diet: I'm currently on day 2 of a No Soda challenge. I bought some of those Crystal Light energy packets, so I get my caffeine in 10 calories and no sugar instead of 140 calories and a ton of sugar. I'm down 2 pounds since the first of January, so I feel like the little changes are helping.

I'm making it a point to try to get out of the house walking with the kid strapped to me at least once a week. Last week I hiked through the woods (on easy/moderate snowy trails) with her in the baby carrier. I seriously love the Columbus MetroPark system.

That's all I've got for now, but unlike past attempts at healthy, I'm nearly 2 weeks in and still feeling like this is something I can manage. If I keep improving my diet and losing weight at the rate I'm going, I'll have the 70 pounds gone by the end of the year. Fingers crossed for that one.

A Story and A Goal

Once upon a time, I was the epitome of the extrovert. I was confident, I loved people, and I was happiest when I was the center of attention. I had hope for the future, I liked where my life was headed, and I was surrounded by awesome people.

Somewhere along the road, something changed. I don't know what exactly, or really even when it happened. All I know for sure is that I changed, and it wasn't for the better. I started taking antidepressants, and things started getting better. My confidence started rebounding and life was awesome again for a while. Then it all slipped backwards again.

The only thing I can figure is that my outlook has shifted. I've gone from sported rose-colored hipster eyewear to being a hardcore cynic.

I hate that.

So here's my goal: I want to recapture at least a small percentage of that exuberance of youth. I'm 26, which is way too young to be grumpy and frumpy all of the time. I realize that I'll never be the optimistic, naive, endlessly energetic young girl I was at 18, but I can regain my confidence, my love of people, my love of life.

I have achieved part of this rebirth. I have the absolute best friends in the world. Friends who have been around longer than anyone else, have witnessed the changes, and are still around. We've all gone out and done our own things, but ultimately, we're better than family. Check off awesome people from the list, as I've got 'em.

I have a daughter now, who is turning into a pretty awesome little person. She's bright, she's funny, and she can already laugh so hard she can't breathe (and probably pees herself, but since she's still in diapers that isn't a big deal right now.) I have a husband who is Captain Awesome more often than not. Sometimes, I'll admit, I just want to junkpunch him, but I suspect that's part of us growing, changing, evolving, whatever together.

The goal & the challenge is the hardest part for me.

I want my confidence back.

I once considered myself a rock star, a goddess, a force of Awesome from the land of Kick-Ass. That is what I want to recapture the most.

Part of this problem is that I've really slacked on taking care of myself. I eat like crap, and I'm nowhere near as active as I should be. I've started changing that. I realized that I don't want to be 9 months pregnant, see 250 on the scale at the OB and start crying. I don't want to see 250 on a scale EVER again.

I realize that the new year is when everyone makes these choices and changes, and most people don't stick with them. I'm trying this time, for real. I have 68 lbs to lose to be my personal version of ideal. I want to lose this weight by the end of the year. I want to be back down before I get pregnant again that way I start off a 2nd pregnancy at a healthier weight. I'm jumping ahead a bit since we haven't decided if we're even having a second kid yet, but I think it's a good thing to tell myself to keep myself motivated.

So, I've started adjusting my eating habits back to how they were when I was at my healthiest. Instead of a couple of big meals filled with calories, I'm spreading my calories out throughout the day. I'm limiting my soda/caffeine intake, and making sure the big calorie items I do eat also pack a nutritional punch. I'm grabbing healthier snacks. Instead of chowing down on a bunch of oreos, I've been grabbing veggies. Little things, yes, but I've been in rough shape for years, so baby steps are what I need first.

I'm also making it a point to be more active. Addy isn't walking around yet, but I'm still finding ways to use her to my advantage. I've started putting her in the baby carrier & walking around outside with her strapped to me. Today, we walked for a mile in the snowy woods. My body is a bit sore, but nothing I'll regret tomorrow. Plus, she snuggled up against me, which she never does anymore. Win for the Momma.

The steps I'm taking are small, but it's all I can handle right now. I figure if I work towards getting myself healthy that my confidence will soon follow.

A girl can dream, right?

A Letter to Addy: A First Year Recap

This was written back in November, about a week before Addy's birthday. Once again, I've randomly decided to share.

My Dear Addy,
    Right now you’re actually napping, which has already started to become a rarity. It’s the day before your first birthday, and I figured I should put together something to let you know how life is at this point for us. Because you sleep in the same room where my computer lives, I’m using a very old iBook to write this, which means I’m seeing a picture of you less than 24 hours old. I think that’s probably a good place to start, with your birth.

Your original due date was November 7. That day came and went, and even the doctors couldn’t believe I was still pregnant. It was very obvious that you were dropped low and ready to come out, you just weren’t. I had an appointment for a nonstress test on November 14, just to make sure all systems were still functioning properly since I was a week overdue. They checked your heartrate, my blood pressure, and did an ultrasound to make sure everything inside was still good. I was supposed to have that test that morning, go to my regular OB the next day, and we had an induction scheduled for that Friday night. If you’re keeping track, that would’ve made me nearly 42 weeks pregnant when you were finally born. Luckily, it didn’t go that way.

The ultrasound technician gave the all clear signal, and estrimated that your size was around 8.5 lbs. The problem was that they had to essentially scare you into moving around, and my blood pressure couldn’t make up it’s mind what it wanted to do. They decided to go ahead and check me in and start the induction that day instead of that Friday night.

The very long, very boring process started at noon. I’ll save you most of the boring details, and let you know that it involved lots of waiting, and lots of boredom. Every time they checked me, they could tell we were progressing, although slowly. Around 12:30am, my water broke all on its own. It was the strangest feeling I’d ever experienced. It still is, come to think of it. About 2 hours later, the contractions were coming so fast and furious that I needed the epidural just to be able to breathe. It was heaven to me. The worst part of all the pain was that because you were trying to get out, my hips were out of alignment. Every contraction sent a ripping pain through my hips. The epidural let me breathe again since that pain was gone. I got a few hours of sleep.

Around noon on November 15, they were getting concerned. Things had stalled out. We should’ve had a baby by then. I was really afraid of a c-section, so I begged for more time. They could tell you were engaged, but for some reason just couldn’t get out. At 3:30pm, they told me there was no other option, that I needed surgery. I signed the forms. At 4:28pm on Tuesday, November 15, 2011, you were born via cesarean section. It took 3 people to dislodge you. The first words the surgeon said to us was “There was no way she was being born naturally.” You weighed 9 pounds 14 ounces, and were 21.8 inches long, which, for the record, is the size of an average 2 month old.

You were extremely observant right from the start. You were always bright-eyed, watching the world around you. At one week old, the doctor even commented on it.

The first two weeks of your life were hell. You’d shriek from midnight to five am, no matter what we did. We’d try feeding you, changing you, rocking you...it didn’t matter. You’d just shriek. After that, though, it got better. You’d wake up after about 4 hours to eat, then go peacefully back to sleep. At six weeks old, you’d sleep 8 full hours! We were extremely blessed! Since that day, you’ve only woken up in the night a handful of times, and usually from teething pain. That is one thing we are very, very fortunate to experience. We never had to sleep train, and even if you were a nightmare of fussing and attitude during the day, you’d sleep at night.

Every day, you change. You learn something new. By 3 months old you could hold your head up off the floor while laying on your tummy. At 5 months old, you were able to sit unassisted. Shortly after that, you started rolling and crawling. Now, at (almost) a year old, you can stand up on your own, but as of today you still aren’t walking without holding on to the couch. You’re faster while crawling, and that seems to make you happy for now.

Your first tooth popped in just before you turned 6 months old, with the 2nd one joining less than 2 weeks later. The top 4 central teeth all came through at the same time somewhere around 8 months old. Just last week your 7th tooth came in, and it looks like number 8 won’t be far behind.

You were born with copper red hair and bright blue eyes. So far, both are sticking. You looked like my clone at first, and even now you look more like me than your daddy.

You smiled for the first time at 6 weeks old, and you haven’t really stopped. You have this great facial expression that looks like you’re imitating Benito Moussolini. You like to scrunch your nose and snort a little bit when you’re excited. I taught you how to throw both arms up in the air when someone says “Touchdown!” and you have been clapping your hands all by yourself for months. You get excited, and you just clap your hands and snort. You dance, by either bouncing to the rhythm or by waving your arms, sometimes both. You prefer regular music to kids music. The first time you ever actually watched something on TV, it was Sesame Street. You stared at the TV for 10 minutes. You also watched almost half of Beauty and the Beast, and nearly the entire movie of The Nightmare Before Christmas. You are your momma’s girl. Whenever the theme song for M*A*S*H comes on, you freeze, whip your head to the TV, and stare.

For the longest time, you’d only pull the fur of the cat and dogs. Now, you pat them while giggling. You like to grab Patches, Granny’s dog, by the face so she’ll lick you. You’ve tried to lick her back more than once.

Your version of baby kisses has been to essentially bite our noses for most of your life. Once you got teeth and hurt us, you stopped doing it. Now, you’re doing it again without actually biting us. You give hugs now. You love to hug anyone that you’ve met before. You’ve started learning how to lounge, to feed yourself, and you can even climb into your own high chair while I’m getting your lunch ready.

You have an attitude already. You know what things you aren’t supposed to do, and you’ll do them anyway just to see how we’ll react.

But you’re helpful, too. You can put your arms up so we can change your shirts easier, you help put on your coat. You’ll try to wipe up the table after you eat. You put your toys away, although not always in the correct place. You like to put EVERYTHING in the ball popper. I’ve found blocks, pacifiers, magnetic rods, balls to other toys, fake eggs...anything you had that would fit.

Every single day, you become more of your own little person, and for me it’s bittersweet. I want to remember every single moment, even though I know it’s completely silly. I’m hoping by writing these letters, that I’ll remember more and you’ll be able to see what it was like from my point of view. There is one thing that will never change, no matter how much you do: I love you. You are my baby, and you always will be, even if you have a baby of your own. I never fully understood the feelings behind that before I had you, but now I do. You’ve always got me and Daddy, kiddo.

I love you!
Mommy

December 1, 2006: The Day my Grandma died

This is copied & pasted from the rambling I wrote back in November, about a month before the anniversary of my Grandma's death. In case the iBook croaks, I want to have this somewhere else.

The iBook that this is written on once belonged to my Grandma, so you can imagine that nearly six years after her death, it’s a rather old laptop. It was originally given to my dad, who had zero interest in it. I ended up with it. The case and the laptop still smell like Grandma’s house. I know this, but for some reason today when I opened up the machine and the smell hit me I started crying.

I think part of it is that I realize my own daughter will be a year old in a week, and that she’ll never know the awesome woman that was my Grandma. Part of it is that the Holidays always make me miss the family I used to have.

I have pictures, and stories, but somehow I wish I had more to share with Addy. To let her know just how great of a woman she’s named after. I mean, Emoline has popped up as a name throughout our family for generations, but the most recent before my own lovely daughter was my Grandma.

December First will mark six years since my Grandma died. I’m pretty sure that day is burned into my memory for eternity. I was sitting in my living room in my very first apartment at 2353 1/2 N. High Street, just north of the OSU campus. I was waiting for my mom to show up, as we were heading down to the hospital to visit Grandma. She’d had a nasty stroke but had started to recover. I remember answering the door for mom, and telling her I still had to get my shoes on because I’d gotten sucked into something on TV.  She sat down on the futon that was our couch, and told me we weren’t going to the hospital because Grandma had died that morning. She’d gotten the phone call shortly before heading up to get me.

She had been recovering from the strokes she’d had. One nasty and a couple of mini strokes. She was mentally there if not there fully physically. From my uinderstanding, she had several massive strokes one after the other that finally took her out. I’m not gonna lie, I hope I have half of her resiliency. Seriously, it took MULTIPLE MASSIVE STROKES to take that little Irishwoman out.

My mommy held me as I cried my eyes out, and she barely shed a tear. Her own mommy had just died, yet she paused her mourning to comfort me. I guess that’s what you do as a mommy, you take care of your kids first and yourself later. She stayed with me until she absolutely had to leave to get back to work. I went upstairs and curled up in my bed, crying. I set an alarm for when I had to get up and get myself put together for work as I worked the short shift at FYE that evening. I left my bed to pee, to grab a snack and drink, and to feed my gecko, Henry. Other than that I didn’t leave that bed until my alarm went off and I had to get myself presentable and head off to work.

Apparently the fact that I was going in to work after a major trauma was too much for the powers that be. Heading down I-71, a tire on my trusty Dodge Intrepid blew. Yup, tire blowout on the highway. It gets better. My jack broke. Mom came to rescue me, and her jack broke. Stupid Intrepid. Fortunately an ODOT first responder found me, and he had a heavy duty floor jack so we were able to get my spare put on the car. It gets better still. As if my Grandma dying and my tire blowing out wasn’t enough to ruin my day, my spare was flat. At this point, fortunately, I’d already called work crying and trying to explain that I would be late. Lucky for me I had a great boss and she told me to just take the night off, get myself and my car together, and to call if I wouldn’t be in for my shift the next day.

I ended up in my mom’s car, leaving mine on the side of the highway, and going to my parents’ house. Luckily, I drove my own car home that evening after my dad rescued it and fixed my flat tire. 

Overdue Babbling

This particular update is being brought to you from a very old, very outdated Apple iBook. The teeny little 12" one at that.

You see, several years ago, my technologically capable Grandma decided she wanted a laptop and this is what she bought. she loved it, she used it all the time to play games online, to email family, or to just browse the web. When my Grandma died in 2006, the little iBook started out with my dad but ultimately came to me. It sat in a closet for several years, and then my tried and true HP was stolen from my apartment on campus. Fortunately I had a desktop by then so all that was lost was pictures. Lots of great pictures, yes, but it could've been worse. The iBook came out briefly, but ultimately ended up back in the closet.

Anyhow, when I had Addy in 2011 (see, I can't say "last year" anymore), I dug out the iBook to take to the hospital with me. It's a good thing I did considering I had an unplanned c-section and therefore was in the hospital for the better part of a week. This little iBook saved my sanity. There's nothing quite like being stuck in the hospital recovering from major surgery and being restricted in your movement thanks to tons of IVs. After we got home, the iBook went back into storage. We didn't have wifi hooked up at the house until recently.

Our dear friend Jimmy bought us a wireless router for the house as a Christmas present so I could cut down my data usage on my phone and indulge my kindle habit without having to tether myself to the desktop.

Of course, I broke out the little iBook. And that is when it hit me. This iBook has been in and out of storage for the last six years, and yet it still smells like my Grandma's house. Let that sink in for a bit.

Perspective: A closet at my parents' house, a closet at my campus apartment, a closet at my first place with Nate, several hotel rooms, a hospital, and my closet at my current home. And it still smells like Grandma's house.

I, of course, immediately started sobbing. Hardcore ugly crying to be more precise. I think part of the punch was that I pulled it out just before the 6 year anniversary of my Grandma's death.

As a result, I wrote out a rather long journal entry just remembering her. I'm debating sharing it.

If I decide to share it, it'll pop up within the next few days.

365 Project

I've seen a lot of 365 project ideas running around the internet. I've always thought they were pretty fun and creative, but I lack creativity, photography skills, and follow-through.

I've decided "Screw it, I'm going for it!" the other day. So, I'm going to take at least 1 photo a day of something involving our lives. I'm not doing any fancy theme. Honestly, I just want to capture some of the moments in our lives. I've started and have actually taken pictures for the whole 2 days of 2013 so far! Better than most other projects.

I may or may not blog them all, but we'll see what happens. Unfortunately the ancient iBook is a bit too old to pull things from my camera, but that doesn't make it impossible to blog from this computer, just inconvenient for spur-of-the-moment thoughts.

So there you have it. I'm attempting a 365 project. If this time next year I've managed to actually have the pictures I want/need to take, then hot damn!!