Mama's Helper

Mama's helper? More like mama's savior! Twice a week, a 5'4" brown-haired, brown-eyed miracle walks through my door and transforms me from a frazzled, edgy, about-to-lose-my-mind mom into a calm, placid lifeforce who can tolerate the intolerable. Even though Brad endured a week from hell with the salmonella scare, it saved my life as a newly crowned stay-at-home mom. A few weeks ago I was desperate for something to do with the kids one night Brad had to work late and took them to Hernando Square's free summer concert. It was a great idea in theory, but I quickly learned that a feisty two year-old and an infant are quite different in terms of mobility. Layne was running across the Square faster than I could get my old bones off the ground and Harper, well, she couldn't exactly run with me. A family seated nearby took pity on me and soon distracted Layne with a Frisbee. If a light bulb could have gone off over my head it would have blinded the crowd - I had the best idea ever! What if the little girl playing with Layne could help me with the kids once I was at home full-time? I asked her how old she was: 11. I could work with that. I asked her if she babysat: Yes. I asked her what she charged: "Nothing really" was her answer. I knew I couldn't get away with that, but when her mother called me to set up her first gig we agreed on $5 an hour. What a deal! Today was the second day she came over to help. This girl is too good to be true. Not only is she polite, well-mannered and Layne's new hero, she cleans up after herself, has more patience than I've ever had with my own children, teaches them new things and loves to organize. She even ASKED me if she could organize Layne's closet. I'm tempted to call her "Mini Me" because I'm known to organize something that has just been organized. When I went upstairs to find the clothes in his closet color-coded by type of clothing and season, I knew then that she has therapy in her future (or a job hosting Clean House), but her OCD is working for me! So far the $24 I've spent on this God send has allowed me time to wash our comforter, mop floors, vacuum rugs (twice), organize Harper's clothes and hang new blinds in her room. I've also had the chance to get to know a pretty amazing girl who has a very bright, and well organized, future! See Brad, something good did come out of that contaminated lot.

Liquid Gold

Liquid gold. This is how I have come to view breastmilk and it shocks the hell out of me. I'm on the verge of weaning my youngest to formula and the idea of transitioning her from mama's milk to moo milk feels like trading in Victoria's Secret for a Wal-Mart $3.99 bra. I have become a total snob! I did not breastfeed our first child, and I felt liberated in my decision to go against La Leche's strong urging to give my child "nature's best food." I know plenty of women who have raised great children on formula (including my mother), and I have no problem with anyone who makes this choice. Six months ago I never would have imagined feeling this way about breastmilk, and six months ago I never thought I would be a nursing mother. When our daughter was born, I decided to try breastfeeding since it wasn't something I experienced with our first. However, the idea of anything touching my nipples almost convinced me to go with a bottle and after receiving no help from the nurses in the hospital, with the exception of Christena the first night, I thought it would be something I would give up sooner than later. I mean, a new mom who delivered via c-section can only take so much engorgement, cracked nipples and leaky breasts. I decided I'd take it one day at a time. Here I am, 150 days into it and still going strong. I actually have to close my eyes when I pour old milk down the drain because it pains me to see it go to waste. I'm sure there's a therapist out there who would love to tackle that issue! I find myself wanting to continue nursing as long as I can to ensure she receives the best food possible, even though running practically leaves bruises on my chin and I look like I should be working a pole. Maybe I feel this way because I want full credit? Since conception, every bit of growth and development has been fueled by my body. I take pride in those chubby cheeks and delight in her chunky thighs. Or maybe I feel this way because I know she is my last baby and every bit of transition with her will be difficult? I can safely say, though, that I don't want to be anything like that neurotic woman who breastfed her "babies" until grade school (www.youtube.com/watch?v=fxv6R9fUO74) and am glad I'm facing this struggle when she's 5 months old, not 5 years old. Whew, suddenly I feel much better knowing I could be crazier. Bottom's up!

MILF

I'm not saying I am one. I'm just now recognizing that I'm at the age where I could be CONSIDERED one. This was never more evident than at the pool today. My good friend, Courtney, and I were being splashed in the faces by our busy boys and I looked at her and said, "We're old." We're both in our mid-30's and we're now the moms who wear one-pieces, regulate our rule-breaking children and serve up peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch. The music was blaring overhead and an 80's classic by Poison came on the radio. I looked at her and said, "I bet the lifeguard wasn't even born yet when this song was popular and here we are singing it word-for-word." So, to humor myself, the next time I floated by him I casually asked his age. 19 was his answer. I had that "I feel old" thought again and not so much because of the actual age difference but because he gave me the pitiful "but you still look 19" line. Yeah right. I'd give him 25, but 19 is a stretch. So, being the mom that I am, I told this young, strapping lifeguard to enjoy life, not grow up too fast and don't settle down too quickly. I even thought to tell him to always wear a condom (don't worry, I didn't). He was personable and chatty and made me feel like my sage advice was not falling on deaf ears. His mama obviously taught him to respect his elders. Today really showed me that age is a state of mind. I don't feel 34 but I know I'm starting to look the role. Don't get me wrong, I know for a fact I would not want to be 19 again unless I could take with me all that I learned in my 20's. That was a hard decade. I'm just learning that "lady" and "ma'am" are titles that now apply to me and that if you blink too long life will pass you by. I love my life and love where I am on this journey. I wouldn't want anything to be different. However, every woman wants to know she's still got "it". So, when I exited the pool, I sucked in my stomach and hid my cellulite behind my two year-old. I'd like to think I caught the eye of the lifeguard............or maybe he was just stretching his neck? Sigh.

Black and Blue

Full-time motherhood is kicking my ass. I thought the hardest job I ever had, or would have, would be working three (in a row) 12-hour shifts as an RN in a Level 1 trauma center. Wrong. It's caring for an almost three year-old and an infant, simultaneously. One wants this, the other wants that and usually their "wants" are at the same time. If I could be in two places at once with four arms instead of two and two eyes (of course) in the back of my head, I may be able to keep up with their needs. Maybe. But, since I'm a simple human, I've resigned to doing the best I can. We'll keep it at that. In my mind, and I'm sure in the mind of many others, the image of a stay-at-home mother is a luxurious one.....lounging around drinking in the love and goodness of your children while watching your favorite soap opera as you take a break from the glorious, sunny poolside where you've been perched all day. Wrong again. Those of us on the inside know the ugly (or beautiful?) truth and know the misperceptions that plague our profession all too well. As full-time moms, we feel like we have to be superwomen, never complaining about anything, even a hangnail, for fear that we will appear unappreciative of our "elevated" status (insert sarcasm here). A good friend pointed out to me that I should imagine where our family would be if my salaried husband didn't toil away for 60+ hours a week outside of the home and then imagine where our family would be if I didn't spend the same amount of time (or more) working (for free) within the home. It would be a disaster. Words could not EVEN begin to describe the maheim! That is where I find my value. But, valued or not, nothing could prepare me for the day-to-day and moment-to-moment challenges that have manifested in the last 48 hours. More on that tomorrow. This superwoman needs her superhero's rest. Goodnight!

Into the Abyss

As of Friday, I officially made the leap and become a stay-at-home mom. Wow. Me? On the eve of this magnificent and daunting change, I was in my kitchen cooking up some zucchini bread (grown in our backyard garden) using my new Kitchen Aid mixer while donning my striped apron made in 9th grade HomeEc class. It was like a dress rehearsal for the role of ultimate homemaker, which I am about to become. I guess I'm ready, but do you really ever know for sure if you are? I feel like I'm perched on the edge of a great abyss, cluelessly staring into the unknown future of what it will be like to raise my children on "my own" and wondering if I can do it. In other words, I took on the role of motherhood with all the responsibility it requires yet still feel like a kid myself sometimes. And now I have two lives depending on me! I have a renewed appreciation for my mother and the questions and battles she faced in raising me and my brother as a stay-at-home mom. I blame her less and less for the emotional scars I bear now. She was doing the best job she knew how to do! And, I must admit, in hindsight she did a damn good job. So, as I head into this new chapter of my life (and one that everyone bets will be the best), I'm hoping for patience, tolerance, creativity, love and a willingness to let go. Dirty floors can wait, fun with my kids cannot. And, if you hear a loud squeaking sound coming from my wallet, it's me making my dollars stretch as far as they can since financial sacrifices will have to be made to make this possible. I've already cut the toilet paper use in half and have found there is no change in absorbency (Charmin really is the best!). I turn off lights in rooms that don't need to be lit, I recycle, and I'm busy researching all of the free morning activities available to my kids on weekday mornings. Oh, and I'm imagining a buff new bod, because you know stay-at-home moms have all the time in the world for workouts, right? Right? Ok, that was a joke. I'll consider myself lucky to shower.....once a week. In all seriousness, I am very fortunate and eternally thankful to my husband for having to retire a few years later so I can be present in our childrens' lives now. As they say, these are the most formative years of their lives and I need to be around to screw it all up!

Circle of Life

It was his spot. The vantage point from where he observed the comings and goings of the house was a worn corner of a throw rug in the living room nestled up against the couch. Sitting there, he watched meals being made in the kitchen and greeted visitors with a wag cut short by his tail hitting the floor in rhythm. It was the only carpeted area in the center of the house large enough to accommodate his oversized Golden Retriever frame. Once spry and agile, in his final days Beau had come to experience life mostly from his spot and had adapted his life to fit his physical limitations. He could no longer get up when prompted to wrestle, so instead he would leave his hindquarters planted and pivot on his front legs much like an army tank rotates its gun in combat. He would bark and play bite during these WWF-like sessions as if he were 12 weeks old, not 12 years old. He was a guard dog to a fault, warning his masters of impending visitors with his raspy bark. But, seeing that there aren't many dangers to protect against in the country, Beau's warnings were mostly met with "Shut up, Beau!" from those tired of listening to incessent barking. I have a feeling his barks will be missed. Beau died today. It was a humane end to a life filled with long walks, swims in Arkabutla lake, racoon chasing and countless rubs down his long, golden coat. His masters, my in-laws, had their vet put him down in a peaceful manner. Beau knew right up until the end how much he was loved. And, what a loyal dog! Beau and I bonded when I lived with my in-laws for a short period right before getting married and moving to St. Louis. Beau felt it was his protective duty to come sit in front of my bedroom door despite the fact that it was upstairs at the other end of the house. Even if I was going upstairs to quickly grab something I needed, Beau was right behind me making the climb. I'm convinced his will to protect others and serve as constant companion overrode any age-related pain he experienced. Beau wanted you to know he was there in case you needed anything. His house was his domain and one in which he was King. From the well-worn spot on his favorite rug, to the dog hair that will linger for months, Beau will be impossible to forget. The feel of his curly blonde hair and hot breath on your leg (which was sometimes stinky too) and having to say "Excuse me, Beau" anytime you tried to sit on the couch are all Beau-isms that we'll remember and cherish forever. May he rest in peace knowing he'll live on in our hearts.

Mother Nature's Urgency

Yesterday in my 14 week-old daughter I witnessed her first true frustration with forward progress. She had been running a fever all day (second illness in as many weeks as she has been in daycare) and before my eyes, she was morphing from a happy baby to one whose sensitivity skyrocketed! The bottom lip had made several protrusions by mid-day! When I would set her down on a blanket between feedings, changings, burpings, etc., she would roll up on her left side almost insticintively, like her body was betraying her desire to do what we do best when we're sick - lay around and do nothing! As soon as she rolled, I could interpret her grunts and moans (as all good mothers can do) to mean, "Mom, what is happening to me? Why am I rolled over on my face? I don't wanna be!" However, Mother Nature and forward progress, in terms of physical development, have a more important agenda than feeling lousy from the latest exposure at a germy daycare (even though we LOVE that germy daycare!). The lesson? We must meet our milestones if we're going to be successful and thrive despite our current condition. We all experience such challenges, even as adults. There are many times when we find ourselves in situations that we don't desire, and maybe consider uncomfortable, but are otherwise necessary for forward progress and continued development. If we can get through these times, even if help is needed to reposition ourselves, then we have to take that guidance and march on (or maybe just simply roll over)!