I'm a Mom.

I was just about to start this blog off by saying that here I sit; a mom. A real, actual mom. About to share that Cora was having, for the first time, a friend sleep over. I was going to share that I can't believe that I'm at the point in my Mom-hood that kids will be sleeping over. And then, and then, my Momly-ness was challenged. The little girl started to get upset and ask if she could have the sleepover a different time. "Of course" I said and she ran upstairs, gathered her pillow and belongings and came back downstairs. I quickly explained to Cora that her friend wouldn't be sleeping over - that she wasn't ready and that she was going home (she literally lives next door).

That was it.
It was officially the end of the world in Cora's eyes.
Cora started screaming and crying. She was angry. She was hurt.
She was disappointed.

Her friend quickly escaped and I was left here to console Cora. To try to remind her of the time she wasn't ready for a sleepover at Auntie's and she herself got upset and had to come home. To tell her that it's okay to feel disappointed, but that she can't really be mad at her friend. I was here to just sit and hold her.

As a Mom, this is really what we do, right? We hold. We console. We kiss. We hug. We reassure and we love. Yes, we love with our entire beings. Because when we see our babies hurt, it hurts us. When they cry, we hold back tears. When we see their sadness, a piece of our heart starts to ache.

It's hard to explain to your children things that just don't seem fair. It's not easy to walk with them through life's disappointments. We do the best we can with what we have where we are. And the "best we can" may not always be the right thing. It may not always be the right choice or the best choice. We may reflect later and say to ourselves 'what the hell was I thinking?" but in that moment, we just were.

Life is hard. Things don't always come easy. What's that quote, anyway? Something about "Nothing worth having comes easy." I don't know that I fully believe that. I mean sometimes, I'd love for things to come easy. I'd love for the choice to be obvious, a blinking neon sign "make this choice and everything will work out perfectly!" But, that's not reality. And so, we strive. We stumble. We fall. We get back up and we do. Because, I can guarantee that although we may not always do the right thing, or always be able to solve our children's problems, I know that our choices are made with love. I know that when I'm acting like an apache helicopter (thanks, Matt) that I am that way because of the intense love I feel for my children. That I can't bear the thought of them hurt, and so that's why I hover protectively (and, honestly, I don't think I'm that bad!)

So what's my point? Well, that I'm a Mom. And that being a Mom is not clearly defined. And being a Mom isn't a breeze. And being a Mom isn't impossible. And that being a Mom means there are ups, downs and in-betweens. And that being a Mom is a job where there are thankless moments and thankless days. But, no matter what, you really wouldn't change a thing. You wouldn't erase your Mom-ness.

And so, to all the Moms out there reading this, it's okay.
It's okay to screw up.
It's okay to celebrate the small victories.
It's okay to cry.
It's okay to laugh.
Its okay to want to run away sometimes (we know you never really will).
And, its okay to sit in the struggle and just be. Just doing what you can where you are with what you have each day. Because we know what you're doing is driven by love. And so, it's all okay. It's even okay to hover like an apache helicopter sometimes. So, hover on, Mama. Kiss on. Cry on. Love on. Console on. And do you. Do the best that you can.

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.

I give my kid ice cream.

Yes, I give my kid (toddler at that) ice cream.  I also let her eat frozen yogurt.  She's had cookies and french fries.  But, she also eats home cooked meals - (Dada legit makes her mussels and pasta for lunch!)  I made her baby food and currently make her popsicles (greek yogurt and berries).  She's eaten take out pizza, but our norm is homemade pizza (dough and all) from scratch every Friday.  She drinks whole milk - not organic - and water daily, but she has tasted juice.  She knows who Mickey Mouse is, but is clueless about the Disney princesses.  At times she chooses her own clothes to wear and her outfit usually consists of some sort of dress with crocs.  Fake crocs. Imitations that I got for $4.97 at KMart's going-out-out-of-business sale.  She owns Adidas high tops and Toms, but 75% of her clothes have been hand-me-downs.  Her play kitchen is a hand-me-down and her little tikes baby cradle was found for $2.00 at a thrift store.  She still uses a pacifier or a "taci" as she calls it, but I try to limit it to sleep and car rides.  She drives me crazy, but I love her more.  Sometimes I lose my cool.  She goes in time out.  I've said that her behaviors are "naughty".  Hell, I've flat out called her naughty.  But, I don't like to use the word "fresh".  Sometimes she screams and cries and throws herself around on the ground after she's done something naughty, and sometimes she apologizes immediately (of her own doing) or says "mama, kiss!" or "mama, hug!"  Sometimes I argue with her about things.  For example, tonight I tried to wait it out until she'd cleaned up all her toys before we moved on to the next thing- but I ended up caving and doing it myself.  Sometimes she's in bed by 7:00pm, and sometimes we're visiting family and it results in a nearly 10:00pm bedtime.  Sometimes she falls right to sleep in her crib with zero fussing, other nights she cries for nearly 15 minutes.  My heart breaks during those minutes, but sometimes she needs to be in her space and me in mine.  And, some nights she wakes up at 1:00am and calls "Mama, mama.." from her crib and I walk in without question, scoop her up, and snuggle to sleep with her in my bed.  Through all of this I at times wonder: Am I teaching her the wrong thing?  Maybe.  But, as I reflect on all this and try not to compare myself to others or what is "supposed to be best", I realize that, if nothing else, we have a relationship of moderation.  And love.  Lots of love. 

You may scoff at half of what I wrote.  Or, you may think that I'm terrible because my daughter can sing along with The Backyardigans, or turn on my iphone or say "Mama.. text dada"  But, I just like to think of her as wicked smart.  She can follow along with dances, she can sing along with Taylor Swift's "We are never ever getting back together" and she legit tries to do the "cup song" (youtube cimorelli - cups  .. it's Cora's favorite).  She likes mama's ipad, but she also loves to run around outside.  She can slide an iphone on like nobody's business - but then she puts it on her shoulder and uses her imagination and talks.  She may ask to watch "Mickey Mouse!" but she also loves to search for horsies outside (yeah, we live in NH).  She's inventive in her play kitchen, using a pot holder to open the oven door and she sneaks kisses on her baby doll's head at random.  She's full of love and kind words. She always says please and thank you (well, almost always) and tonight, when she was "do mama's hair!" she randomly turned my face toward her and said "Beautiful, Mama!"  So yes, she may be full of song lyrics and can spot Mickey Mouse a mile away, but she's also full of love.  Lots of love.  And hey, I'll take a dancing, hair-doing, cup-attempting, dress wearing, iphone holding little angel who calls me beautiful any day.

Being a Mom is no joke - but it kind of is, right?

It's Mother's Day, and therefore, I was inspired/guilted (by myself) into blogging.  It's been a while kids.  How are you?  Life over here in Mama-ville is to be as expected: crazy.  Cora is like a mini-teenager.  She screams at me.  She tries to smack me.  She'll occasionally grab me.  Well, maybe not a mini-teenager, but what then?  Oh I know, worse.  Much worse. She's a toddler.  Just hearing the word toddler can make me cringe.  When I hear toddler, I hear tantrums.  I hear independence ("No!" "Mine!").  I see dead weight.  Yes, holding a child who was just walking by one hand and suddenly turns into a sack of potatoes as you try not to drag them in front of on-lookers while you walk through the mall or a parking lot.  Yes, you know you can see it now.  You're thinking - "Am I going to break her wrist?  Is her arm going to pull out of her socket?  These people must think I have no control over my child.  ....Can I get away with dragging her across the pavement?"..... and so on.

Yes, being  a Mom is no joke.  But, it kind of is, right?  I mean where else are you expected to keep your cool around a screaming 3 foot midget?  (Well, and not get paid for doing it by MTV)  Where else do you have to turn your head to hide your laughter as your child scrunches their eyebrows to give you the evil eye because they don't want you disciplining them.  Where else do you pick boogers on a consistent basis and actually enjoy it?  C'mon, you know you do.  There's nothing like picking your kid's nose.  Or am I alone on this...?  Where else do you wipe someone's bum (again, without pay) and then examine their poop. 

Yes, being a Mom is a dirty job.  But, it's also kinda awesome.  Because with boogers also comes boo-boos.  Boo-boos are no fun, but kissing boo-boos and making them better is.  There's no feeling like when Cora comes running to me saying "Mama, mama!" with her fake cry (yes folks, she has a fake cry when she's not really hurt) and I can gush over her saying "Oh no.. my poor baby!" and squeeze and hug her for about 7 seconds (because that's about as long as she'll stay still for).  It's an even greater feeling  when she says to me "Mama hug!"  Although the best may have been when she said to me today "Mama, cuddle!"  Like you even had to ask.

Yes, being a Mom is a dirty job.  It's a tough job.  Who're we kidding - it's a freaking hard job.  It's deep breaths, exhaustion, praying (dear-god-help-me-before-I-lose-my-mind).  It's booger-picking, poop-wiping, and boo-boo kissing.  It's puking, fevers, teething and tylenol.  It's waking up in the night, diaper changing, story telling, sing-songing and cuddling.  It's patience upon patience and more patience.  It's hair-pulling, screaming, laughing, crying crazyness.  It's the hardest job in the world and we do it voluntarily.  Because, if we weren't Moms we don't know what else we'd do.  Sure, we still dress up in office clothes and commute and listen to talk radio and type emails to colleagues.  But, now we rush home at the end of the work day - not to meet a friend for drinks, or to catch a tv show (well, only if it's a good tv night).  We rush home because we get to snuggle and cuddle and kiss our babies.  We're exhausted around them, but we miss them when we're away.  We're incomplete without them and it's challenging to remember life before this little life existed.  Did I really used to blow dry my hair every day?  Was there ever a time when I wasn't washing sippy cups?  Was I ever really able to just sleep in?  Or, better yet, lay in bed all day and be lazy?  That life no longer exists.  And, although I miss my well-styled dry hair.  I wouldn't give this job up for anything in the world.

Happy Mother's Day, Mamas.  You deserve all the smiles, laughter and joy from your wonderful little angels.  And just remember, although they may be writhing around on the floor screaming now, one day they'll be too big to do that, and you'll long for when they were small enough to scoop up.  Yes, one day they'll be too big to lay on the floor and scream in full tantrum.  And instead, they'll be standing up screaming and slamming doors.  Just you wait, Mom.  It's gonna be awesome.

Raise your hand if you've held your child's puke. My hand is up.

You know you love your kid when you hold their puke in your hand.  Yes, moms and dads, I've done it.  The unimaginable.  The unthinkable.  I held Cora's puke in my hand.  No, not for fun.  Cora was getting sick and I put my hand out for her to puke in it.  If that's not love, I don't know what is.

Or, maybe it's crazy.  It's crazy because I didn't even think twice about it.  It's crazy because I'd do it again.  My purpose in life is to care for this little being now.  She comes before everything else.  My purpose is to comfort her.  To love her.  To care for her.  And if that means holding her puke in my hand, then I'd do it again. 

If you're a Mom or a Dad then you know what I'm talking about.  When you have a kid, suddenly your entire world shifts.  Suddenly, not much else matters.  You're consumed with this tiny little creature and, at times, it can be pretty damn overwhelming.  Now, I don't want to get all mushy on you, because in reality, holding Cora's puke didn't do much else except ignite my own gag reflex.  But, as much as I gagged, and as gross as it kinda was,  I'd do it again. 

I'll always take her temperature, I'll always cuddle her, I'll hug her and kiss her and hold her and snuggle her.  I'll exhibit as much patience as possible while she screams because she's feeling like crap, but she can't just tell me.  I'll hold her until she falls asleep and place her gently in her cribby.  And, I'll let her come into my bed if she fusses.  Because I'm a Mom and I love her.  And that's what parents do.  We hold puke, we measure tylenol, we wipe poop, we examine poop, we pick boogers and use our spit to wipe our kids' faces.  That's love, because, really, if you can open a diaper and look for "seeds" or digested fruit, it's either love or insanity.  Or maybe, it's a little bit of both.