Thursday, February 26, 2009

The Mommy Decline

Everyone warned me that I would do less for the second child. That there would be fewer pictures, fewer videos, fewer mommy and me classes. I pretty much have responded to all of this that I wasn't so great with any of that the first time around, so I'm not sure that there will be a difference.

Mostly, I was right. I have about an equal number of pictures of them from the first three months. I have an equal number of videos (0) and I have never taken either of them to a mommy and me class.

Here's the difference: On my desk is an 8x10 silver frame. In it is always a picture of Brynna. I have changed it out with her most recent portrait every time there was a new one taken. (3 mos, 6 mos, 9 mos, 1 year, 18 mos, 2 years, etc.) Next to it is the only picture of Maren I have at work, her ultrasound picture. On my screensaver, I have about 700 snapshots of Brynna that I have faithfully loaded to my computer every month or so of her life. The only one of Maren, I pulled off of Facebook.

I got an email the other day telling me that Maren is 12 weeks old. I was surprised. That means that Monday is her three month birthday. I need pictures. I NEED pictures. Probably a frame without the name of a formula company printed on it would be a good move, too. (Also, poor child might be ready for a toy or two.)

So, this weekend, in between digging out Brynna's old toys, I intend to take Maren's 3 month portraits. If I don't post them by Monday, you all should start yelling at me. Seriously. Because I'll probably forget.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009

The Season of Lent

We Baptists. We're not big on Lent. In fact, I'm not sure I had ever met a person who did Lent until I went to college. Apparently the Mennonites take Lent pretty seriously. My best friend Margaret taught me all about Lent when she gave up peanut butter for Lent.

It's weird, I know, giving up peanut butter. It wouldn't be a struggle for me, but she really, really loved peanut butter. She put peanut butter on practically everything. She would mix cocoa into peanut butter and make a "dessert spread." She was a peanut butter crazy gal.

I gave up things a couple of times when I was at Bethel. I gave up coffee one year. I didn't make it all the way through, but there were death threats, so it seemed wise to give up. One year, I gave up apples. I figured it would be easy because I don't eat a lot of apples, but not too easy because I really do like apples. It was not the greatest Lent sacrifice ever, but there you have it.

This year, I am giving up anger. I am so tired of being surrounded by anger and getting mad over every little thing. I'm sure I will fail a lot, but this is my goal. To give up anger. Hopefully, it will have an impact, no matter how small, on the world around me.

Next year, I may give up worry.

On a funnier note, my friend Wendy is giving up sobriety, so whatever works for you.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Fat Tuesday Pancakes

How did I not know about Fat Tuesday pancakes?

I got an email from Brynna's Montessori teacher last week that there was no need to send lunch on Fat (or Shrove) Tuesday because they would be having the traditional Shrove Tuesday pancakes to celebrate.

What?!? Okay, so initially I was just thrilled to not have to put together a lunch that my child would not eat, would complain about, and probably still would not meet the high dietary requirements set out for Montessori-moms. (Possibly, the most mom-tastic, alpha-moms on the planet.)

I sort of forgot about it, except the not making lunch part.

This morning, I get up and every news channel, radio station and local whosit is at I-HOP enjoying pancakes in honor of Fat Tuesday. I-HOP is apparently offering some sort of free pancake bonanza.

Really, I thought it was all about getting drunk and throwing beads. I mean, I know it's your last day to eat really rich foods and get a big ole slice of King Cake (incidentally, I just found out that the baby in King Cake is supposed to represent Christ and I'm a little creeped out by the thought of a tiny Christ doll in my mouth.) But I had no idea that pancakes were involved. Seriously, an annual excuse for pancakes.

So, here is my query and please, please weigh in. My daughter had frozen pancakes for breakfast and I had a handfull of strawberries. My daughter had pancakes for lunch and I had Taco Bell. I really, really, really want to honor Shrove Tuesday, this holiday I didn't know existed with pancakes for supper. Would I be the worst mom ever if my kid got pancakes for three meals in the same day? Discuss.

In the meantime, if anyone else had no idea that today is the day of pancake-y goodness, check out the wikipedia article about it : http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrove_Tuesday.

Friday, February 20, 2009

Mommy Evolution

I was giving Maren a bath last night and thinking about how far I have come as a mom. Baths are just a non-event now, like doing the dishes or watching TV. But with Brynna, these infant baths were a constant source of stress and anxiety. Let me share the story of Brynna's first bath:

She was about one week old. Small(ish) and squirmy and precious. I had been warned by the doctors, the nurses and, of course, numerous books that I should under no circumstances get the umbilical cord stump wet. If this unholy event occured, there would be dire consequences.

So, I set about my work. I prepared her bath things and placed the infant tub in the kitchen sink. Most of the afforementioned books recommended doing the first bath on the changing table, but I wanted to use the tub. (A piece of advice I am forever grateful I ignored.) I stripped my precious angel down and wet my rag and began working.

Just mere months before my daughter's debut, the wonderful people at Johnson and Johnson's had introduced us to disposable, pre-soaped washcloths. I thought that this would be the perfect tool for this first bath. Just wet and wash.

I wet. I washed. I watched with growing concern as my precious daughter was engulfed in more suds than a six-year-old with a box of Mr. Bubble. Of course, babies are small and by the time I realized that this would pose a problem, she was pretty much soaped.

I wet an actual cloth washcloth and endeavored to rinse the suds away. This seemed to make them multiply more than water-doused gremlins. As the insidious gremlin-like soapsuds began to swarm my poor child's body, the cold set in and she began to cry.

I grabbed a nearby cup and filled it with lukewarm water and tried to splash it on her legs. The cries became screams. Then, I panicked. My splashing became more frantic and I called for The Husband to come help. He ran into the kitchen and gaped at our suds-covered child. No help there.

As my panic began to grow, so did Brynna's screams. I realized at this point that she was not only the biggest newborn, but the loudest too. I started cooing and singing and trying desperately to make some of the suds, just a few, disappear off her body. It was at this point that I spotted (much like a well in the desert) the kitchen sprayer.

*AAHHHH*

My muddled mind considered for a moment that I would surely face dire consequences because there was no way I was going to be able to spray her off without getting her belly button wet. "Screw it," I thought. "This is no time for sissies."

I quickly yanked out the sprayer from it's resting place and turned on the tap and started trying to get the water to the perfect temperature. He continued to gape, with a pause every once in while to chuckle. Brynna continued to scream. By this time, her tiny body was shaking with anger and her little fists were flying through the air like she was really trying to hit somebody, anybody for this cold, naked indignity.

When the water (finally) reached the ideal temperature, I made my biggest rookie mom mistake. I pulled the sprayer over her body and pushed the trigger. Some of you are shaking your head in wonder at my naivite. Some of you, probably those without kids, are wondering why that was a mistake.

You see, the kitchen sprayer, when not in use, lies in wait, with it's hose coiled in quite possibly the coldest place in your house. So when you initially turn it on, all that chilled water has to come out first, before your perfect temperature water.

Suddenly, I redefined screams. Brynna turned purple. Like the blueberry girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory purple. I wasn't sure if it was anger, cold or both. I realized immediately my mistake and washed her as quickly as possible, yanked her out of that tub and wrapped her in the (thin, not very warm or absorbant) hooded infant towel waiting for us.

It was at this point that I realized rookie mom mistake two. I didn't have her clothes ready to put on. So, I took her to her room and sat in the rocking chair and rocked her into calmness. Her favorite song was the Dead's "Friend of the Devil." I sang it three times through.

Then, she peed on us. It was the perfect end to the perfect bath.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

Corrections and Can't We All Just Get Along (for Mommies)

I need to start with a correction. On Monday, I referred to my Grandmommie's foxes as "gray foxes," (note the lowercase). It turns out that Gray Foxes (note the uppercase) are protected and can't be caged. What my dear, sweet, law-abiding Grandma has are Arctic foxes that are gray in color. Until I met her foxes, I had never seen a gray fox, so that's what stuck with me. Anyway, it's a color description and not a species discription. Sorry if I confused anyone who thought that we were caging endangered animals. It's really a good thing she's doing, protecting animals that can't hunt or protect themselves.

Anyway, back to our regularly scheduled blog:

I am tired of judgemental mommies. Seriously, women, get it together. I just read a post on my favorite blogs about breastfeeding that included a plea to not bash breastfeeders or non-breastfeeders in the comments section. Really, really?!? People have to be reminded of that.

Of course they do. In my online mommy years, I have been called names, yelled at (or ALL CAPSED AT), bashed and generally been made to feel like crap. What were my crimes? Formula feeding, disposable diapering, not babywearing, implying that perhaps the "family bed" isn't for everyone, starting solids too early, teaching my kid to not let bullies push her around, having a c-section, believing in the joy of pain management and not whisking my baby to the dr. with a temp of 98.7.

Here's the deal: these are valid parenting choices. So are their opposites. But I have seen both sides of the fight, so don't wimper that no one ever bashes the babywearers. I watched two women tear each other up over formula vs. breastmilk. I've seen a woman claim that mothers with cancer should forego chemo for at least the first year, so they can continue to breastfeed. I have also seen women claim that breastfeeders are over-sexed.

It's never ending. I have given up on my mommy boards, and I miss the friends I had. I miss the little joys and tragedies we shared and the relationships we forged based on nothing but due date. But I can't stomach the judging. It's bad enough during pregnancy, but once the baby comes, it gets worse: how much tummy time is enough, is it okay to let them sleep in the high chair, should I make my own babyfood. And don't get me started on the venom and hatred that comes out during a vaccination debate.

Not once on those boards have I seen anything really hurtful to a child taking place. Never have I seen a parent talk about beating a child (unless it was a non-spanker attacking a spanker). Never once has someone said "Well, time for me to hop off here, snort some coccaine and breastfeed this baby." We are all good moms. And we make our own decisions. And our kids turn out fine. Or at least as fine as the rest of the kids.

So here's what I want to see. I want to see more support and less destruction. I'll start: I think it's great that some moms take such joy and comfort in breastfeeding. I'm sure it's really great and I will listen while you talk about it, if you want. Also, I think babywearing is cool. I don't see how anybody could really do it, but the concept is cool and I'm glad that there are parents out there who can make it reality.

Moms should support each other, because I promise you, there are plenty of people who want us to be torn down. Plenty of people who hope we never realize that we are all in this together and mobilize for mommy rights.

So, in the immortal words of that great sage, Jerry Springer, "Take care of yourselves, and each other."

Monday, February 16, 2009

My Big, Fat, Mean Husband

Friday was a pretty crazy day. We had a lot of little things to accomplish before we went home, so The Husband got Brynna and Maren, we did our errands and met at my grandma's farm to head home.

The Husband started calling me almost as soon as I got off work, "Where are you? How much longer? There's no one here!" I was pretty annoyed, almost so annoyed that I didn't answer on about the fifth call. Here's how it went when I did answer.

"What?!?"
"Don't panic, but Brynna got bit by one of the foxes."

(I should pause here to explain that my grandmother has two arctic foxes. They are not tame animals. However, they are too domesticated to ever survive in the wild. Therefore, despite the fact that they are not pets, can't ever be social, are annoying and smell bad, they will live in a large dog pen on my grandparent's farm until they die. They eat cat food.)

"What?!? What do you mean, don't panic? How did she get bitten? Where were you?"
"I was right here, we went up to look at them, you know, to kill time, since it's taking you so long and all, and one of them came up and kinda sniffed at the pen and Brynna stuck her hand in and the fox took a big bite before I could stop her."

(I should pause here to explain that throughout the conversation, I could hear my precious, oldest daughter screaming bloody murder in the background.)

"Well, how bad is it?"
"Pretty bad."
"Did it break the skin?"
"Oh yeah, there's lots of blood and I think you have the first aid kit that supposed to be in my car."

(I should pause here to explain that there would never be a first aid kit in the car if I didn't insist on it and make it so.)

"What?!? Well, what are you doing on the phone. Hang up and get her to the hospital. I'm finding a place to turn around right now. Stupid, Friday rush hour traffic. Get out of my, red car, I've got to get my baby to the hospital."

It's at this point that my darling, beautiful and faultless daughter gets the phone and says "JUST KIDDING!"

Then I hear them both laughing hysterically like this is the funniest thing ever done to another human being.

I hung up. Then I called a divorce lawyer to find out if I could divorce both of them.

Friday, February 13, 2009

New and Fascinating Verbs

I am a language person. I love grammar, diagraming sentences, basically all the stuff you hated in middle school. (I am using you as a general term, because surely there is anther big geek out there, just like me who likes to imagine what reading was like before the vowel shift.)

Anyway, I love the fluidity of language. There will always be debates over words like ain't, but other words flow right into and out of our lexicon without our notice being piqued. Words like Coke and mouse take on meanings bigger than before. Words like motherboard and touchscreen evolve out of seeming nothingless. And then there is the fading of once popular words: cellular, anyone.

But what I am amused at today is the way we can make anything a verb. I was just conjugating text when it occured to me how absurd this would have sounded just a decade ago. For instance, when I was in high school and the cell phone existed, but no one under the age of 30 had one to my knowledge, and there was little to it, other than dial and talk. While we would have not been overwhelmed by the concept of texting (we did have chat rooms after all), we would have at least snickered if someone said "I just texted her, she'll text back in a minute."

And what about friending. That is possibly my favorite. I get all excited when I see someone I know on facebook and friend them and then I go home and tell The Husband, I just friended so-and-so from high school (who he never remembers, by the way. All of you who went to high school with us, it doesn't matter who you hung out with more, I will remember you better.)

There used to an example in one of the books I loved about grammar (Elements of Style, maybe) about mg-ing. Apparently, it's a car thing. I had never heard that and couldn't imagine anyone being pretentious enough to say it. But that's before I was busy texing my brother and friending my mom.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

Talkin' Politics

I live in a world carpeted with eggshells.

Before I start, understand that this blog isn't about my politics or your politics, it's about how we interact. It's about respecting each other. It's about how there are only fights and never debates anymore. It's about how we can't seem to talk politics without personal attacks.

Here's the deal. I'm a Southern girl, a Baptist and basically a huge ole rebel. My family (although all registered Democrats) are really conservative and almost always vote Republican. My church is Southern Baptist Convention, so you know what they're like politically. My friends are mostly liberal democrats, but I do have a few conservatives in the bunch.

I am the poster child for bleeding heart liberals. I am also very opinionated, loud, possibly even obnoxious. I have an opinion on everything and I love to share it. But I don't, share it, I mean. I don't talk about politics EVER (except at bookclub - love those guys) because I don't want to hurt anyone.

I don't want people to walk away as battered and bruised feeling as I do from conversations. I don't want people who can't separate politics from faith to spend the rest of their lives envisioning me rotting in hell because I merge my politics and faith differently from them. (For the record, my faith almost entirely informs my political views. If you disagree, I will be happy to explain it.) I don't want to hurt people. Because really, I'm not going to change their minds(understand that they are probably not going to change mine either) so why should I make us both miserable?

So, I am becoming very, very good friends with this sick feeling I get in my stomach when I feel like it is my duty to speak up, to defend my beliefs, to tell it like I see it, but keep my mouth shut. I have two issues with this:

1. I'm not sure that's okay. I believe in standing up for what I believe and I believe that if I don't, then why should anyone else. I love to debate (and I'm pretty good at it). I love to get the ideas flying around the room and have everyone hear everyone and respect that there are just as many different ideas as there are different people.

2. No one else is friends with that feeling. (Okay, that's a broad generalization and I'm sure that lots of people are, but just roll with me here.) People don't avoid the politics because I am there. People don't try not to hurt me, they don't try not to engage me. In fact, there are a few people in my life that I feel are constantly baiting me, trying to get me to get mad and go all debate-y. So, why should I be constantly subjected to their opinions without them ever hearing mine.

So, what's more important - making a stand or keeping the peace? Is it worth starting a war so that I don't feel like I've abandoned my beliefs? Or is it just selfish to have to share when people are obviously not interested in what I have to say?

Friday, February 6, 2009

An Open Letter to my Furnace

Dear Heat-Providing Mechanism -

I know that I don't spend enough time talking to you and telling you how much I appreciate your hard work at keeping my family alive. I also know that you have run twice as hard this winter as last and never complained. I know that it was not your fault that we lost power and you had to shut down for three days. I know that you would probably like more attention.

I know that I have never sung your praises the way that I have sung the praises of more triffling objects, like the crock pot or waffle maker or flat iron. I know how this must hurt.

I tell you all of this in the hopes that my newfound appreciation for you will convince you to tell me why you suddenly quit providing much needed heat to my family last night. Yesterday, my house was warm and cozy and all was right with the world. This morning, not so much.

There is still propane in the tank, I checked. Not much, I'll admit and you will need a refill before spring (much to my dismay). But still, it's there. If it's there, shouldn't you run?

It's not so much that you've stopped working that hurts me, but that you refuse to explain why. I thought we were closer than that. Please, let me know what the problem is, so I can fix it. Or just work again, that would be good too.

I'll never take you for granted again (this week). I promise.

Love and furnacey kisses,
Jessi (mother of two precious babies who need heat)

P.S. We'll always have Sadieville in the winter.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Superbowl

Last night was Superbowl Sunday. I'm sure you all know that.

I did not get to watch the Superbowl. I really wanted to. For the last few years, I have wanted to watch and The Husband didn't want to, so we watched other stuff. This year, I talked him into it. This year, I carefully planned a junk food supper and a night with the four of us and the TV.

Then, at 5:00, while I was getting out the ingredients for my junk food supper, the power went out. After discussing our options (and our newfound lack of supper), we went to KFC, then took the girls to my mom.

When I got home, the power was back on and there was slightly less than two minutes left in the game. I missed the whole thing. Plus, my delicious junk food supper.

To top it off, I left my keys in the diaper bag at Mom's house.

I want my normalcy back. I want to get back into my normal rhythm and do my normal things. I want to be sane again. I want to quit losing stuff and forgetting stuff and be my normal anal retentive self.

Hopefully tomorrow I'll do better and be in a better mood. Wish me luck, hopefully there will be a brighter blog tomorrow.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Lazy, lazy me

You know when the cartoonists go on vacation, and they re-run old cartoons? Well, I am double dipping. It took me almost an hour to write this for Facebook, so I'm publishing it here.

25 Random Things about Me

1. I live in a town with a population under 300. I love my small town and my small town life. I always wanted to either live in the middle of nowhere or in a big city (in other words be invisible and anonymous) but it's actually kinda cool living in the small town.

2. I love John Cougar Mellancamp and refuse to drop the Cougar. Scarecrow is one my top ten all time favorite songs.

2. Counting Crows is my favorite band.

3. I know that I'm 30, but I still have a pair of Chuck Taylor's and a pair of Doc Marten's and I will never live without either. I was a grunge baby and I stick by my love of Nirvana, flannel shirts, combat boots and ripped up jeans. That whole red hat society thing? When I'm old, I'll wear flannel!!

4. I love my girls and their most annoying traits are my favorite things about them. Brynna's stubborness, fierce independence and absolute refusal to learn the easy way are what make her sooo lovable. Maren doesn't really have annoying traits yet, except for the hour between 9 and 10 when she fusses for no reason, but I'm sure when she grows up, I'll feel the same way.

5. I have given up on new music. I am old enough to listen to the stuff I liked in high school and complain about how anything released in the last five years is crap. I only half believe that to be the truth, though, mostly I don't have the energy to find the good bands anymore.

6. I competed in forensics in high school and college and explaining that it has nothing to do with dead people is still one of my favorite passtimes.

7. I like hair bands. Both the 80's kind (a la Poison) and the kind you really put in your hair.

8. I have donated hair to Locks of Love 3 times. They are my favorite charity, I think. Each time, I went close to 2 years without a real haircut to grow it long enough.

9. I love TV, even though intelligent people aren't supposed to. My current favorite show is Supernatural, but my alltime favorite is Buffy the Vampire Slayer. I am obsessed with BtVS and still watch it on DVD whenever I have the house to myself.

10. I love books more than TV, but not that much more. I hate bestsellers as a rule, but I love reading almost anything else. Left to my own devices, I prefer to read SF and horror.

11. I have a small obsession with Charles Manson and the family. Not in a creepy, fan-girl kind of way, but in a how-could-that-happen kind of way. I've read most of the books and a good deal of the websites. I have also read all the newspaper articles I can find about the murders. What fascinates me most, though, is the creepy crawlers.

12. I love jewelry, but I don't wear it much. Mostly because I hate mornings.

13. I read A Wrinkle in Time at least once a year. It's my favorite kid's book of all time.

14. Van Gogh is my favorite painter. I like the impressionists.

15. My ears don't curl at the top. Like an elf. I like to think like Liv Tyler in Lord of the Rings rather than like Santa's elves, but whatever.

16. I've always wanted to wear glasses. When I was a kid I did everything my grandma told me would make me go blind (staring at the sun, reading in the dark, reading in the car, sitting too close to the TV). Grandma was wrong, I still have perfect vision.

17. My favorite number is 38. I don't know why.

18. My husband and I went on our first date when we were 14 and our second date when we were 20.

19. I love corderoy. I'll wear that with my flannel when I'm old.

20. Phineas and Ferb is my favorite new cartoon. My favorite cartoon from when I was a kid was the one where they did classic books acted out by the cat. I can't remember the name of it and all my friends don't remember and tell me I'm crazy. If you remember the show where the cat read the books and became the main character, email me. I also love Scooby Doo, but I can't claim it, because it's older than me.

21. I am older than my mom. She is 29 and I am 30. If anyone is interested in her actual age, I can't tell you, but I can tell you that she had me when she was 19.

22. I love puzzles, crossword, sudoku, etc. My favorite ones are the logic puzzles and I'm always mad that there are only 2 or 3 per puzzle book.

23. I get obsessed easily. I am currently obsessed with Twilight. I have also been obsessed with Harry Potter, Buffy, Serenity, Jericho. I could go on all day. The scary part is I never get over it. None of my obsessions ever really go away, I just accumulate. One day, I worry that I will run out of room in my brain for my obsessions and will start replacing important stuff (like how to tell time) with facts about all the actors in Buffy or different types of vampire myths.

24. I love What Not to Wear and I secretly hope that someone will nominate me. I really do need the help and I would absolutely die for Nick to do my hair.

25. I like to cook, but I love to cook for parties. I love to make appetizers and desserts, but not everyday, moderately healthy, dinner for 4 things.