Thinking Outside of the Crib

Hats off to my sister in law who spent an hour and a half in a parked car while my niece took a nap. Why you ask? Because of the aforementioned mantra- you do what you gotta do. The baby falls asleep on the way to the grocery store and waking her up will mean a miserable time will be had by all, as well as the demise of any further attempts at an afternoon nap. So my brilliant sister in law kicks back with a couple of mags, makes a few calls and relishes in the quiet sounds of sweet slumber. Again, brilliant. This is what motherhood should teach us, learning to go with the flow, improvise, work with the tools available to you in the present moment. Having been on the other side of this nap conundrum, I've made other choices which have resulted in an afternoon of replaying the same old tape of "I am trapped by this baby and cannot do anything because his needs are more important than mine". Not a fun place to be really. But it happens, all too often because we get stuck in a rut, unable to navigate the twist and turns of the daily rituals of child rearing. Through hearing about Lisa's experience I've discovered an incredible opportunity. In a pinch, a well stocked car makes a fabulous makeshift nursery AND sacred space for mom. Let's face it- if I am home while the baby naps I just want to do the dishes or sweep up the weeks worth of dog hair that has formed a blanket over everything in the house. Now all it takes is a mini road trip and a vacant parking place and an afternoon of relaxation is mine. Who knew? Apparently Lisa....

Fantasy Mothers

I recently read a book of short stories in which one of them the main female character accidentally enters an alternate reality where her husband and six month old daughter do not exist. The story included the woman's struggles with transitioning to motherhood which included some symptoms of Post Partum Depression or PPD to those of us who are familiar with the illness. The rights to this story have been sold for a movie deal where the author explains, regretfully, that the character is no longer a mother because the production company did not feel it was appropriate for the woman to essentially "wish" away her child's existence. My thought is this- there must not be any mothers working for that movie studio. Because if there were, I would assume the thoughts and feelings that go along with the enormity of caring for a new baby would obviously and painfully resonate with them. This sort of glorification (without any real sense of support for us, I might add) of mothers that society imposes on us is nothing short of absurd. The responsibility of raising a child is so overwhelming, there are no words to describe it, let alone communicate it to anyone who has not been there herself. It is only NATURAL, albeit scary, to have visions of packing a suitcase and leaving in the middle of the night sans family. Women carry an extraordinary burden in this life. From the moment of conception, our lives are forever changed and a piece of who we perceived ourselves to be is lost. Now this is not to suggest that we do not gain something incredible in the process, but that takes some time to find in the midst of hormones, nursing sessions, diaper changes and the restructuring of our entire existence. I think a little time to grieve our childless selves is not to much to ask for. So, when you are feeling like the day is never going to end and there is no relief in sight, call a friend who is also a mom. Ask her where her fantasy escape destination is. You may be surprised to learn how similar the locations are for the two of you. We are not alone.

Functional Tissues

My family and I have had a recent debate over the severity of grossness that is wiping your baby's nose with your shirtsleeve or whatever other article of clothing is handy. My childless sister claims that nothing could be more disgusting and you should always be prepared, especially if your child has a pre-exisitng condition which would warrant said preparedness. I came to my brother's defense,(whose act of questionable hygiene sparked this heated discussion), citing my most recent validation mantra "you do what you've gotta do", simultaneously acknowledging the situation's gross factor. My sister spent many years in daycare prior to her career as an elementary school teacher, so she does have some experience with snotty noses and other less than pleasant tasks of caring for children. I had to trump that with the previously hated but now embraced mantra of "it's different when it is your own". Now prior to becoming a mother, I felt nothing could be more insulting than to advise an otherwise educated, self sufficient person that they couldn't possibly understand or empathize with what it is like to care for or tend to another human being. Well, it turns out you can't- at least when that human being is your own child and their nose has been running like a drippy faucet all morning and although you have tissues in every room in the house, snot is milliseconds from getting into their mouth and what is available as a functional resource? Your shirtsleeve. Now don't get me wrong- this is coming from a person who cannot clean up dog vomit without gagging and I absolutely HATE to have anything sticky or slimey on my hands. Becoming a mother has taught me to surrender to the grossness of it all. I mean changing diapers is not a pretty job and somtimes, I get stuff on my hands- eww! But, you do what you've gottta do- because you know that you are the vessel by which your baby's well being travels. Even if it is through a river of snot.

TGIF

Remember the old times- when the week's end would come and 5 o'clock would roll around? The sensation of letting go and tossing the weight the last five day's worth of responsibility and daily grind off of your tired, weary shoulders welcoming you to the weekend. Yeah- kiss that good-buy. Here's the thing, babies do not give you time off. For some reason, they do not realize that Friday nights are for celebratory dinners chased with a cold beer. They do not comprehend that Saturday mornings are for sleeping in followed by leisurely breakfasts of pancakes and coffee, WHILE you look at the paper. But somehow, you believe you can still retain portions of your old life- a baby cannot present that much of a barrier, right?

Cut to scene at local bar and grill:

Carry baby and all of needed gear to table. Try to place beer order while waitress oohs and ahhs over baby and you try to attach clip-on high chair to table. Feed baby while waiting for food order- baby eats much better and faster than you anticipated so you occupy him with Goldfish crackers. Wait, I haven't touched my beer yet. Where is our food anyway, we are wasting our window of opportunity! Scarf down chicken sandwich and realize beer has gotten warm. Baby starts to fuss- he can have buffalo chips can't he? Uh, oh- he is passed point of no return, time to pack it up. Still have half a beer- guzzle it down (it was $5.50 after all). Head home to prepare for bedtime routine....

THANK GOD IT'S FRIDAY!

Sleeping through the night

I am not sure why this is a coveted phenomenon- I am not particularly a fan. At eight months, Liam's status quo is to wake up once, usually around 5am, nurse and go back to sleep for a couple of hours. Occasionally, however, he will sleep the entire 12 hours uninterrupted- for him. I generally wake up and toss and turn waiting for him to stir. Then come the crazy thoughts- is he okay, is his leg caught in the crib, is he suffocating in his blanket, is he even in there anymore? Neurotic, I realize but 12 hours is a long time to go without hearing a peep from your baby. I've started getting nostalgic for the first nights when every few hours he would call out "mom, dad- I am here, I need you." That wasn't that long ago after all, so I don't think it is unreasonable for me to get unnerved during an entire night of silence. If only I had the luxury of twelve hours of sleep- I am pretty sure the last time that happened, I was eight months old.

Nursing the Mother

In efforts to prepare Liam for someone other than momma putting him to bed (daddy perhaps), I took nursing out of the bedtime routine. Guess who is having a difficult time with the transition? Liam is perfectly happy with PJ's, "The Going to Bed Book", daily gratitudes and then off to Never Neverland. I, however, miss that quiet time, the last contact of the day, where all of the stressors we've endured together throughout our daily rituals dissolve into those last moments. It was kind of like our silent acknowledgement that we had survived another day together- in spite of the crying, yelling and sometimes throwing of objects that had occurred. Or better yet, a celebration that we'd made it through in absence of such theatrics. Nursing has been one of my favorite parts of motherhood, but also one of the most difficult daily hurdles to overcome. The enormity of it cannot be explained but to those who have been through it. To provide sustenance for another human being, a human being that you created, is an incredible accomplishment, and responsibility. I guess I am getting a glimpse into how difficult it will be for me to relinquish that responsibility. The only constant is change, I am quickly learning, especially while becoming a mother.