A Working Mom’s Guilt

Before I get started, I just wanted to let you know that Squidge is MUCH better and feeling like his old self again and hanging out with all his buds. 🙂

And now, the topic of the post – a working mom’s guilt. I have it, and it’s most certainly compounded by 1000 because I’m Catholic and my guilt level is high anyway. Here’s the situation.

I have a good job. I don’t mind working for a living – I’m by no means lazy. Plus, with my student loans (hello private undergrad and grad school immediately after!), my car loan, our mortgage, and now a little Squidge, there’s no way I can afford not to work. Mike and I are aggressively trying to pay stuff off and we’re making some serious headway.

But my working means Squidge goes to daycare. And I know there are tons of benefits to daycare:  a stronger immune system (eventually), socializing skills, interaction with different people, etc. My problem, and the source of my guilt, arises when I think about the fact that Squidge is spending 8-9 hours a day with people who aren’t Mike and me. Then, when I pick him up at 5:15pm, I only get him for about three hours before he goes to sleep for the night. I get 1/3 of what daycare gets.

Then my stupid mom brain starts asking questions. Will he know that it’s ME that’s the mom and not the nice ladies at daycare? Will he learn from ME? Will he get enough quality time in those stupid three hours I get to squeeze him and feed him and love him? I find myself waking up at 5am just to see him more, even though I could probably get away with getting a little more sleep.

I just remember the years that my mom stayed home to raise my brother Jason and me so fondly that I wish I could give that to Squidge. She played with us all day, taught us things before preschool, took us to play with our cousins at my grandparents’ house. And then I realize that I don’t know any babies around here. Squidge’s cousins are all over an hour away and go to daycare, as well. He really wouldn’t have any kid interaction, and that’s when I see daycare as a blessing.

My mom tells me that this is a good thing. She says that if he just had me, he’d ultimately get bored not having anyone his own age to play with. I understand this and I agree. I know he’s going to want little buddies. My cousins were my best friends, but I just don’t have access to family/kids like that around here. It’s just hard, ya know? SUPER hard.

Think my boss would pay off my student loans and my car loan and let me stay home until both my kids (NO I’M NOT PREGNANT) are in school full-time? I’ll sign up for 20 years of service after that. I promise. 🙂

 

 

And Then They Smile…

Here’s another thing I’ve learned about having a baby. When things get really hard (you’re having to wake every hour and a half to force feed your baby medicine, and then to force feed him real food because you’re afraid he’ll get dehydrated, and dealing with scary side effects from the medicine and so on and so on), you sometimes wonder if you’re strong enough to handle it.

And I felt so guilty feeling that way until I talked to other moms. If you know me at all, you know I think of myself as kind of a hard ass. Even in childbirth, I refused to get too scared or to act too hurt. But I felt helpless and weak this whole past week. I broke down multiple times in Mike’s arms and said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

And then I thought about all the people who have it worse than I do. I thought about the challenges that parents face that are so much bigger than mine. But at the same time, any time there’s something wrong, no matter how big or how small, it’s always 200 times worse when it’s your child. It puts a lot of stuff into perspective. Let’s just say that.

All the weakness melts away, however, when your baby finally climbs out of the flu cloud to give you one of these:

 

 

Rutabaker

Hi everyone!

Mike (husband) pointed out that the majority of my most recent posts are kind of angry…and biatchy…and so on and so on. 🙂  So I thought I’d post about something fun and nice and wonderful–Rutabaker.

What the hell is a Rutabaker, you ask? “Rutabaker” is the nickname that we’ve given to our little nugget.  I think Mike started calling it Rutabaga and then my mother cleverly added our last name to it and it became Rutabaker.

So here are some things about Rutabaker:

We are 18 weeks and 6 days along. We’ll be halfway there on June 20th! Kinda crazy.

We had an ultrasound on Monday and everything is on par!  Rutabaker weighs about 8 ounces and is roughly the size of a mango.

Rutabaker DOES have a gender, but we aren’t finding out what it is. I did clear it with the ultrasound tech, though, and she said that it’s definitely one or the other. 🙂  We chose not to find out because we believe that adulthood doesn’t hold very many “good” surprises. It’s usually a bad surprise–like, “You owe us $1093!” or “That mole looks suspicious…let’s get that checked out.”  I think it’ll be exciting as hell to be in the delivery room and to hear someone yell, “It’s a boy!” or “It’s a girl!”

Rutabaker also has a name, whether it’s a boy or a girl. The names have been picked out for over two years and I would post them here, but I feel like that would just provoke people to steal them and then I’d get really angry that these names got popular right before I used them. They are our names, and no, you cannot have them. You will learn the name on November 8.

OH! November 8 is Rutabaker’s due date.

And here are my views on pregnancy stuff:

So far, most of my pants still fit. I haven’t “popped” as they say, but I do feel like a cow standing on two feet. 🙂 I’m waiting for that belly to blow out so I can look and feel pregnant.

I haven’t felt sick since the third month ended. I feel pretty amazing.

I might have felt a baby flutter once or twice, but who knows? That’s so hard to determine.

I have not posted any baby bump pictures on social media (and I do not intend to). If you’d like to see me pregnant, please make a live, in-person appointment. 😛  I actually haven’t taken any baby bump pictures at all. 1) Because I don’t have much of a bump. 2) Because I honestly don’t see the point. I get it, you want to look back and see those bump pictures and think, “Man! I was huge!” or “Aw, I was pregnant with _______ in this picture.” I feel like there will be enough candid shots of me that I don’t need to schedule week by week bump pictures.  PLEASE NOTE:  This does not mean that I think poorly of any of you that have done/are doing bump pictures! Yay for you! Yay for excitement! Yay for cute chalkboard drawings and notes and just YAY! Bump pictures just aren’t for me. 🙂

Finally, I have a little something to say about complaining while you’re pregnant. I know that pregnancy can be uncomfortable and that you can’t drink or you can’t always eat the foods that you want. I get that. And I get that sometimes pregnant chicks feel like trucks walking down hallways.  I will just say this–if you wanted this baby, then think twice before you complain. It’s a freaking blessing. There are tons of people out there wishing and trying and hoping. Don’t put them down by complaining about the miracle inside you.  Additionally, it’s only 9 months out of your life. Not even a year. If you live to be 75 years old, that’s 900 months and each pregnancy is a mere 1% of that. I think you’ll be okay.  1% of your life being slightly uncomfortable is totally worth that baby.

________________

Okay, while my post was not 100% bitch free, it was better than the last few. 🙂

 

 

My Ovaries Finally Glowed to Perfection: I’M PREGNANT!

…what do you do when you finally get what you’ve wanted all along?  SMILE AND BE HAPPY AND SAY YOUR PRAYERS AND SAY THANK YOU, DAMNIT! 🙂

I’m pregnant!  It’s true. Mike and I found out two days after our friend’s parents gave us a KICK ASS fertility statue.  See?  Sorry it’s blurry. I took it on the drive home (with a sober driver) and we made sure we strapped her in.

 

Want proof?

We are STUPID excited!  According to our ultrasound, we’re due November 10th.  That may change periodically, but that’s the date I’m sticking with! Want more proof? How about a video?

 

 

On Raising Nuggets

The other day, Mike and I were walking around Lake Medina and he said, “Do you know what you’re supposed to do if a baby drops a pacifier?”

I thought back to what my parents did.  Immediately, I said, “Probably stick it in my own mouth and then give it back to the baby.”  I felt gross for saying it, but Mike laughed a little.  Earlier in the day, he’d read this study about what to do if a pacifier falls onto the ground.  It turns out that my answer, mouth cleaning it, is best for baby.

Why?

It reduces a baby’s risk of developing allergies–among other benefits.  Immediately, I thought, “Well, I’m sure it helps build immunity.”  And then I began to think about my conspiracy theories about hand sanitizer and sunscreen–oddly enough which I’ve never wrote about here.

I am an avid disbeliever in hand sanitizer.  We got along just fine for a lot of years without putting an alcohol mixture on our hands every 15 minutes.  I think it, like a super clean paci, weakens the immune system.  If your body is never exposed to germs, it can’t learn to fight against them.  There’s nothing wrong with soap…once in awhile…not compulsively.  And there’s nothing wrong with eating a little dirt.  I ate dirt up into my 20s when I sat at the Fremont Speedway eating track dust.  Not trying to curse myself, but I don’t get flu shots, and I haven’t been sick in years.

Powerhouse immune system.

And sunscreen?  Who thought it was a good idea to block sunlight and the production of Vitamin D–necessities for the human body?  Sure, you should limit your exposure to the sun, but not block it out completely!  My grandparents were farmers that worked in the fields for hours a day and never wore sunscreen, and I rarely hear of any older person having skin cancer.  It’s because they built up a tolerance to it.

According to Natural News, deficiency or insufficiency of natural sunlight and vitamin D has been associated with the following conditions:

• * adrenal insufficiency
• * Alzheimer’s
• * allergies
• * autoimmune disorders including multiple sclerosis and rheumatoid arthritis
• * cancers of the colon, breast, skin and prostate
• * depression, seasonal affective disorder (SAD)
• * diabetes, Type 1 and 2
• * gluten intolerance, lectin intolerance
• * heart disease, hypertension, Syndrome X
• * infertility, sexual dysfunction
• * learning and behavior disorders
• * misaligned teeth and cavities
• * obesity
• * osteopenia, osteoporosis, osteomalacia (adult rickets)
• * Parkinson’s
• * PMS
• * psoriasis

Now, I’m not some damn hippie who believes in all natural remedies.  I think scientific medicine is fantastic and I use it–not overuse it, but use it–but come on!  Get your asses in the sun.  Maybe it’ll make people less asshole-y.

 

Rules Kids Won’t Learn in School

From my good friend, Greg.  Check it out:

Rules Kids Won’t Learn in School

 

Stupidest Baby Products I’ve Ever Seen

I was going to start this post with an apology to any parents who use these things…but it wouldn’t be sincere.

These are the stupidest items I’ve ever seen.  Quit coddling your kids into weakness!

(All photos courtesy of Amazon.com)

1)  Kneekers:  knee pads for your nuggets.  Seriously? Kids are meant to crawl around, and their knee caps are squishy specifically for that purpose.  OMG they got a callus!  Shut up.

2)  Thudguard Protective Helmet:  Um…  What?  Kids bump their heads.  Get over it.

3)  The Juppy Baby Walker:  Really parents?  Are you that lazy?  Bend the fuck over and teach your kids to walk.

You people sicken me.

 

HOW TERRIFYING (read: Stupid Alarmists)

Hello to all the Alarmist Helicopter parents out there.  How are you?  Oh, you’re stressed out?  What happened?  Let me guess–your kid got some mud under her fingernails…or she played on a playground without something soft for her to land on should she take a tumble.

I feel like Sue Sylvester would have a lot to say about this.

KIDS ARE KIDS!  Not porcelain.  Unless you’re “Kurt” from Glee, and let’s be honest–he’s pretty amazingly tough.  Kids are tough, and they’re bouncy and bendable and they do not need to be coddled 100% of the time.

I came across this article today containing photos of kids doing what kids should be doing.  Games that are considered–by today’s standards–dangerous and terrifying!  All photos are property of Getty Images as published on the Daily Mail’s website.  

Helicopter Mom: "Basketball on roller skates? You'll crack your head open!"

Only two on the teeter-totter at once? What fun is that?

This looks like a fark of a lot of fun.

I don't know what this thing is...but I feel like I would have had a lot of fun on it.

Fighting is a part of life. Builds character, and makes you much less of a wimp.

What if she falls? She'll laugh, get up, and do it again.

I don't know what this is...but I'm buying my kids one.

Cool parents actually get on and ride along.

I recall the jungle gym/monkey bars. My favorite part of recess.

Remember, parents.  Kids are bendy.  They’re not going to break.  And if they do, God forbid they get to wear a super cool cast on their right forearm for a few months and have all their little friends sign it and be the envy of the entire school.

 

TOLD YOU SO: DIRT is Good For You!

Thanks to my friends over at The Social Silo for bringing this to my attention:  playing in the dirt is actually good for you!  

According to a study by Oregon State University, “Little girls growing up in western society are expected to be neat and tidy – “all ribbon and curls” – and one researcher who studies science and gender differences thinks that emphasis may contribute to higher rates of certain diseases in adult women.”

Photo Property of The Social Silo

It’s a pretty entertaining read.  Plus, if I remember correctly, I told you to let your kids play in the dirt long ago.

 

Literary Names for Nuggets

I know I know–I’m really digging this baby-naming thing into the ground.  And no, for all of you who like to insinuate–I’m not knocked up.  But everyone around me is and my ovaries are glowing and damnit I want to name something!

And being that I studied literature for 7 years in college (including grad school, assholes), I think that I have to address the fad of naming nuggets after literary characters.  And I can only assume that authors put a lot of thought into naming their characters.  This is one of those instances that I’m sure they look at the meanings of names and base their characters actions off of them.  It’s a good theory.

I always wrote nonfiction, so I never really got to name anything (except unfortunate barn cats)…but I assume that this is how it goes.

There are obvious problems with this–but also obvious advantages.  I mean, people LOVE characters from books, but rules #1:  THEY MUST BE CLASSIC TITLES!  None of this Stephenie Meyers bullshit.  Pick a classic book, like The Great Gatsby or something by Shakespeare.  Or you can name them after the authors themselves…  A little boy named Tennyson would be adorable.  Heck, a little girl named Tennyson would be adorable.  Dylan?  YEAH!

But if you’re going to go literary–author or character–please just don’t make it after a fad.  Make sure that the book is respected, and that it’s going to be around for awhile.  And who cares if it’s controversial–Twain’s a pretty sweet name.

CHEERS!