Wednesday, December 17, 2008

A mother's job is never done...


Listen people, I'm not one to complain about Motherhood. Most of the time, I flippin' love it. I'm the mom who gladly wipes my son's nose with the bottom of my $100 Anthropologie skirt. I'm the mom who picks up the same Star Wars action figures from the same spot on the floor everyday and I do it with a smile. For some reason today has just been one annoyance after another. Let me demonstrate for you. This will be therapeutic for me.

It all started bright and early at 6 am when my son (Cohen, the one that is in utero) woke me up with a few swift kicks to the rib. I tried to change positions but the kicking continued. As if he was saying "WAKE UP MOMMY AND EAT AN ENGLISH MUFFIN, WE'RE HUNGRY!" Then, I felt a small child wiggle next me. Griffin had crawled into bed with us at about 3 am and had proceeded to actively pursue sleeping on top of my head for the rest of the night. "Is it the day?" he asked very sleepily. "No, it's still dark outside, it's the night, now go back to sleep!" I replied. 10 minutes later we were in the living room and he was sipping on his morning smoothie. It was 6:10 am. I promptly put on Blues Clues and sat on the couch in stupor.

7 am rolls around and I decide to take advantage of the early start to the day and load the dishwasher. Against my better judgment I put on Spongebob Squarepants and escape to the kitchen. The problem with Spongebob (other than the fact that it has zero educational value and makes my son act like a hyper sponge that lives in a pineapple under the sea) is that it is on Nickelodeon, which is filled with commercials. Every 5 minutes Griffin would scream "MOM!" at the top of his lungs. I would run into the living room to find him wide eyed "Look at those cool shoes mom, can I have them?" I gazed at the television to see some crazy Sketchers tennis shoes with bouncy balls on the soles. He then proceeded to beg for a Chia Pet, Cinnamon Toast Crunch, and a doll that actually pees in the potty. I escape back to the kitchen ignoring his pleas.

Then, he decides that he is going to pretend to be sick so that he can stay from school home and play video games all morning. I know that this was his plan because my child has an inner dialogue that comes out all of the time. He is constantly spewing out his grand ideas under his breath. As I pass by him to empty the hamper in the bathroom, I heard his plan being made. "I'll say I have a tummy ache." I heard him say. Then the symptoms started. "Mom, I have a little tummy ache." I gave him half a child's TUMS and our little bear stuffed animal that warms up in the microwave to sooth an upset stomach, just in case this symptom was real. "Mom, the inside of my legs hurt!" So I rubbed lotion on it and told him it was medicine that makes legs feel better. "Mom, my finger hurts!" I gave it a kiss and put a Spiderman band aid on it. "What would make you feel better?" I asked him. "Uh...to stay home from school and play Spyro all day."

Luckily, I managed to shove him in the car and successfully hand him off to his teacher. She can deal with his fake symptoms. I'm going to feel really bad if he comes down with a tummy bug and has a sprained finger. Anyway, now the house is quiet and all I want to do is curl up on the couch and watch the latest episode of The Hills. Heidi and Spencer will have to wait though. There are presents to wrap, cookies to bake for a cookie exchange, and thank you cards to write. The list goes on and on. This whole domestic thing is really getting in the way of my social life!

Monday, December 15, 2008

Mommy and child are both cranky and sick. I'll be back in business
as soon as I can breath again.

Thursday, December 11, 2008

Emerson was such a bad ass!


"To the illuminated mind the whole world burns and sparkles with light."
Ralph Waldo Emerson

Tuesday, December 9, 2008

I got bit by the Christmas bug...



Last year our Christmas tree was pitiful. We waited way too long to get it and it was one of three left at Lowes. It really was a pathetic little tree. It was concave and it kind of leaned a bit to the left. So you can bet your sweet ass that right after Thanksgiving I started to campaign for a Christmas tree. I wanted a glorious tree that was tall and fat. Well, I got it and I love it. We put on an Elvis Christmas album and pulled out all of the ornaments. It would have been perfect except that I made the mistake of letting Griffin play Spyro to distract him while Roger and I got the tree on the stand, put on the lights, etc. It backfired in a big way because he didn't want to stop to decorate the tree. He spent the whole time saying things like "This isn't cool, I want to play video games instead!" I mean, it's not like he's 13, the kid is only 4. So I put him in charge of the back of the tree where he could kind of hide behind it like he was in a fort and you know what? It worked. He got really into it and the back of the tree looks amazing! It's very surreal to start all of these traditions as a parent. I hope that it's not a tradition for Griffin to bitch and moan about how uncool the whole process is. I hope that I can keep him excited about all this Christmas crap until he's at least 7 years old.

I love my new Christmas tree so much that I named it Mitch.

Saturday, December 6, 2008

The power of Swayze!


I had a moment to myself this morning because Roger is at his Dad's plantation and Griffin is at my mom's house. What would any red blooded American girl do with her free time but watch Dirty Dancing? Who doesn't love a little Swayze action?

Come to think of it...the guy has done some amazing work. Roadhouse is one of the best movies ever made. Ghost gets me every time. Let me tell ya, Dirty Dancing did it for me this morning. The dancing really is dirty and his black pants are out of control. It had been years since I heard him announce "NOBODY PUTS BABY IN THE CORNER!" Yes, I'd say that I used my free time very wisely.

Thursday, December 4, 2008

I am woman, watch me leave your office!

I stumbled upon this wonderful picture that Erin took of Griffin when he was just a few hours old and it got me thinking. I am 22 weeks pregnant with my second one and starting to really meditate on the delivery of this baby. Every pregnant woman has a moment when they pause and realize that the baby has to come out somehow and more than likely she will be the one to push it out. It's a bit daunting. So I pulled out my Hypnobirthing book and I'm brushing up on my self hypnosis skills. I used that method for Griffin's delivery and all things considered (31 hour labor) it went really well.

I decided to get a doula after a conversation I had with Wynn at Chic-fil-a one morning. Yes, there was a chicken biscuit involved and maybe some hash browns. She told me about this amazing woman named Pat Nielson who is a doula and owns a really great pregnancy center for new moms that has kind of turned into a hub for us mommies. Hypnobirthing is a new practice and most OB's and nurses have never even heard of it so, I decided to use her so that Roger can focus on being my coach instead of running interference between me and the nurses.

Anyhoo...when I mentioned it to my OB, he said that I could not have a doula. He REFUSES to work with one and so does the majority of the Doctors in that practice. Pardon my French but, can you believe that shit? I politely said thank you and good bye and took my butt over to the midwives.

The Midwives is an amazing birthing center here in Athens. I met with one of the ladies and loved her so much that I wanted to crawl up in her lap and suck my thumb. I love the feeling in the office too. When I walked in, one of the receptionists exclaimed "OH MA GOD, I LOVE THAT PURSE!" while waving her hands in the air "MAY I HOLD IT?" As I handed it to her I had wonderful sense that I was home.

More importantly, they are going to support my quest for a natural birth, which honestly, is a quest that I would gladly have end with a nice warm epidural. I'm going to at least pretend that I can make it without drugs and maybe accidentally find myself able to accomplish this task. I want my doula rubbing my back, Roger hypnotizing me, my midwife slapping me in the face and gently saying "YOU CAN DO THIS!", and a nurse down at my crotch ready to catch my baby. Yes, I will have an army of support.

No smelly OB saying "I'm the doctor here!" and kicking my doula out of the room as I cry.

I am very pleased with myself for taking charge of my own birth experience and I can't wait to hold my little boy with my shining team all around me.