dear new mom

dear new mom,

welcome to motherhood.  kind of awesome, isn't it?  it also kinda sucks at times.  and that's okay.  things are never going to be perfect - even if your little one is.  and, it's okay to say that mothering sucks.  it's okay to truly believe it.  because, at times, it does.  it sucks when you're exhausted.  it sucks when you don't know how to help your screaming little child -- 'what!? what do you want!?'  it's okay to need a break.  it's okay to walk away (as long as the child isn't in a bumbo seat on a counter).  it's okay cry. whenever and wherever you need to.  this shit is hard.  really hard. breastfeeding is hard. formula feeding is hard.

breast feed your baby.

formula feed your baby.

just feed your baby and you're doing the right thing.

so yes, this mothering thing is hard.  you're going to fight with your partner.  you're going to wonder if you'll ever shower again or brush your teeth more than once a day.  you might even wonder if you made the right choice.  you'll be praying for sleep and a break.  maybe even wishing you could just pop your babe back in your belly so you can take a nap.

yes, it'll be hard.  but, it's also amazing.

it's the most miraculous and amazing thing in the world.  i don't even care how cheesy that sounds because you know what? it's true.  you have just been given a life - a little precious and very dependent being to care for around the clock.  you are responsible for keeping this little life thriving - and while that's incredibly overwhelming - it's also incredibly awesome.  enjoy every snuggle, every cuddle, every inhale of sweet baby breath, every sniff and every kiss.  hold your baby as much as you damn well please.  ignore nay-sayers.  revel in these moments.  they are quick and fleeting even if you feel like you're drowning now.  hug your baby tight, close your eyes and breathe in their sweetness.  you deserve it.

love,

another tired mama

I'm a toddler and I'll tantrum if I want to.

Tantrum: (noun) a fit of bad temper. Also called regionally hissy, hissy fit.  That almost makes it sound tolerable, doesn't it?  Tantrums should actually be defined as this: tantrum (noun and verb)  expect any and or all of the following behavior: screaming, scratching, hitting, biting, crying, flailing, banging head against floor, crumpling onto the floor, becoming dead weight, throwing food, kicking, smacking, rolling around on ground, refusing to move, yelling "No!", etc., etc., etc.  Did I forget something?  I'm sure I did because toddlers are crazy.  Yes, CRAZY.  And each one is so different, yet they're all similar - who else can go from a sweet and cute little angel to a head spinning psycho in two seconds. TWO SECONDS. And, this happens without warning or even provoking.  "Look sweetheart, a birdie!" "NOOO!! I NO LIKE BIRDIES...(crumples to ground and punches the earth). 
"Are you thirsty? Would you like some milk?" "NOO!! YOU DRINK MILK! (scream.. bang head against back of highchair).  "Okay, time for a bath and bed." "NOO!! I DON'T WANT TO! NO TUBBY! NO! I WANT TO WATCH DOC MCSTUFFINS! NO MAMA!!!!(scratch, kick, scratch, kick)"  Other days it is the suggestion to wear pants when its zero degrees out.  Wait.  What? Pants!? How dare I?! PANTS! I must be the  next Hitler.. forcing all small children to wear pants in subzero temperatures.  How could I suggest PANTS in the winter?! "NOOOOO MAMAA!! I WEAR A SKIRT AND CROCS!"  Great, now her school will probably call social services on me.  At least she had on tights.

So yes, if you're a parent you've most likely experienced the whirlwind that is a tantrum.  You've seen your perfect little baby flip out over nothing.  You've witnessed the tears.  You've heard the screaming.  You've felt the scratching.  If you kept your cool during this, then my hats off to you.  If you manage to always keep your cool then you deserve a damn medal.  A huge shiny gold star or trophy that's engraved with Most Patient Person on the the Planet.  (Please know though that I may also have you checked out by the government because I won't believe you to be human.)  But, if you're an imperfect human like me, you've raised your voice, attempted to reason with them, started off ignoring it but then caved and fell victim to the insanity.  You've also potentially cried yourself.  Maybe not in front of your kid, but quite possibly after.  And did you think you were the worst mother ever?  Did you feel guilty because you raised your voice?  Did you feel a failure because your child doesn't listen to you and instead attempted to scratch your eyeballs out?  Don't worry, you didn't birth a sociopath (even if it feels like it), you just have yourself a toddler.  A crazy, moody, screaming, smart and.. somehow through it all.. adorable toddler.  Yes, in the moment you want to fling yourself off the nearest trestle, but then they come out of their psychotic rant and say "Mama, hug?"  And you (although dumbfounded) kiss them and hug them and ask them to be a good listener to you always-because you love them-and understand that they get frustrated-but they need to use their words.  And they nod maybe and then ask for ice cream.  And you cave because although they drive you insane,  you love them more than life itself.  And, although the psychotic rage drives you insane, at the end of the day - they're really cute.  And that brain blocker my friends is why we keep having more.  Damn those tiny cute people. 

If your child sleeps, I hate you.

If your child sleeps, I hate you.   But, most of all I'm jealous.  Very jealous.  I don't really know how it all crumbled and fell apart.  There was a time when I could put my daughter to bed with a little kiss and cuddle and walk out.  She even slept through the night at one point.  However, that is such a distant memory I can't even recall how long it  actually lasted.  Part of me wonders if I made the whole thing up.  Currently bedtime is hell.  Yes, HELL.  It consists of Cora crying and saying she doesn't want to go in her cribby.. she wants to cuddle me... "Don't leave me, Mama!" "Save me, Mama!" Yes, the kid knows how to guilt you.  It also involves me laying on her floor.  Yes LAYING ON HER FLOOR.  And, to top it all off - I'm 22 weeks pregnant.  It's not even comfortable laying in a bed at 22 weeks pregnant, can you imagine a floor!?  So yeah, if your child sleeps, I hate you.

Now, don't get me wrong, she does (most nights) eventually fall asleep in her own room (without me caving and taking her into my bed..)  Sometimes I'm on her floor for an hour and then I give up and she cries for 10 minutes and falls asleep.  If my husband is home, I'll ask him to rescue me after an hour and usually his continuous singing of "Frere Jacques" lulls her to sleep.   So, once asleep you'd think that were it.  Like, how could it get worse?  How could I be punished even further after laying on a cold, hard floor for 1 hour?  Well, it can and it does.  She wakes up in the night. EVERY night. AT LEAST once.  Sometimes three times.  I was strong for a few nights and sat on her floor and waited until she laid back down in her crib and went to sleep.   I did this at 11:00pm.. 1:30am... 3:30am... yes, always a ridiculous ungodly hour to be sitting on your child's floor begging them to lay down and go to sleep.  But now, I'm pathetic and tired and cold.  I scoop her up and bring her in "mama's bed" and we cuddle and fall asleep.  Part of me doesn't mind her in my bed all that much, and part of me does.  Part of me loves to snuggle up against her, kiss her soft face, brush back her silky hair and feel her little hand on my cheek.  And part of me wants to be able to sleep in a space larger than six inches wide.  And even more of me is nervous about when BGB (baby girl Burke) the second arrives.  How am I going to nurse an infant and deal with an anti-sleeping toddler?  Anyone have the magic answer?  Anyone?. . .

So, for now I'll fantasize about a child who I can kiss and cuddle and help into her own bed.  I'll dream of a magic place where my little girl says "night night mama!" and lays down confidently and falls asleep.  I'll imagine this magical, mystical place that sure as hell doesn't exist in our home in New Hampshire.  And, I'll write about it here so you can all laugh at my expense, feel bad for me, or tell me the baby sleeping secret that works every time without tears.  In the meantime, I won't hold my breath for a magic answer.  I'll just wait to see what time Cora ends up waking up at tonight.