Patriotic Duty

Sorry, this is a little leftover from Patriot's Day and the Boston Marathon. Given recent primary results, I couldn't help myself...

Why Is Mommy Drinking?

Some people have observed that moms like to talk about drinking. Wine is the typically discussed beverage, but margaritas, martinis and scotch certainly qualify as well. I've heard non-parents question this phenomenon. As I have been drinking this evening, I thought I'd weigh in and help clarify things. 

Mommies aren't really different from other people. So let's discuss some things that might make the average non-parent want to sit back and knock down a cold one.

1. A co-worker that questions your every decision. Whether it's your boss or someone you manage, the effect is the same. When every idea is met with, "I think we should do XYZ instead", "I don't like that", or "Wwwwhhhhhyyyyyyyyy?", getting anything done requires herculean effort, and you spend much of your day in negotiation. It is exhausting. It might make you want to scream, "Just shut up and do what I say!" Or it might make you want to drink.

2. Getting stuck next to a crying baby. What is everyone's travel nightmare? Being stuck next to the crying baby on an airplane. Parents fear upsetting their neighbors on flights so much that there's a trend of packing cutesie little goodie bags to apologize for their noisy offspring. Because no one wants to listen to a crying baby. Sit down on a plane and notice a gaggle of families with small children seated near you? I bet you order your drink before the plane even leaves the gate.

3. The person who doesn't know when to stop talking. Maybe it's your cube-mate who chatters at you all day long while you're trying to actually get stuff done. Maybe it's your neighbor who conveniently runs into you when you're running late, and takes 10 minutes to say something that only needs 30 seconds to communicate. Maybe it's the family member at Thanksgiving dinner who doesn't know which details to leave out when discussing his last visit to the proctologist. That person might make you want to shout "SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!!!" Or maybe they make you want to drink.

4. Having other people spill things on you. That guy on the train who just managed to spill his coffee down the back of your new dress? That new waitress who just dumped your soup in your lap? You are now wearing substances never intended to adorn clothing. And you don't have the chance to change your clothes anytime soon. You might want to hide from the public all day. Or you might want to drink.

5. Constant interruptions. You just started working on something, and then the phone rang. And as soon as you get back to work, your boss stops by your desk. And as soon as you get back to what you were doing, you suddenly have to go to the bathroom. Now. And as soon as you remember what you were trying to do in the first place, the fire alarms go off and you have to leave the building. And then it's noon and you haven't accomplished one single bleeping thing all morning. Maybe it lights a fire under you and makes you more productive than you ever have been before. Or maybe you just want a drink.

6. Sleep deprivation. Ok, so I'm not sure that sleep deprivation makes me want to drink. But it really makes it harder to negotiate with the constant questioner, drown out the crying baby, not yell at the talker, get past the large stain in the crotch of your pants, and remember what the heck you were doing before the 3 kazillion interruptions began. So mustering your self-control in challenging situations might make you feel proud of yourself. Or it might make you want to drink.

Why do mommies want to drink? Because our lives consist of a daily abundance of 1-6. My colleagues are 7, 6, 2, and 7 weeks old. They hate my ideas. They never stop talking. They all do some amount of crying. I'm covered in milk, spitup, and boogers. And they specialize in tag-team interruptions. 

Want to torture someone? Deprive them of sleep. And make them listen to a crying baby for hours on end. Oh wait. That's my life. Right now. (No, really. The baby's in the next room, swaying in her Mamaroo. She's crying again. It's that time of day where nothing consoles her. We've tried everything. It all only makes her more upset. We mostly have to wait it out and then we can eventually soothe her. I'll try again in a few minutes.)

After every article that talks about the challenges of parenting, you get commenters who say something along the lines of, "Well you signed up for this. Stop complaining." Yes. I did sign up for this. I adore my children. And if I can raise them to be kind and successful adults, it will be my greatest achievement. But when a marathoner talks about how Heartbreak Hill really slowed her down, do you say the same thing? When someone complains about their chatty neighbor, do you say, "Well you moved in next to them. Suck it up buttercup." Or when their boss shoots down every single idea they have, say, "You took the job, idiot. Get a new one or shut up." Well, if you say these things, you're a jerk. But I doubt you do. Because actual empathetic people acknowledge that there are frustrating aspects to life. And people need to vent. Some days are worse than others. And sometimes you get those days for years on end.

Mothers Day is coming. If you have co-workers who are moms, take them out for lunch this Friday. And buy them some drinks. And while you're out, could you pick me up some earplugs? The crying's really getting to me. 

Cheers!

Ostrich Month

I'm sorry if I haven't returned an email or phone call from you lately. My phone spends a chunk of its time now as a white noise machine. 

Ok, ok, I'm avoiding you. I'm not avoiding you, really. Just responsibility. The responsibility of taking in one more piece of info. Or answering one more question. Or making one more decision. But it's not just one more. It's another. And then another. And then another. Because life doesn't stop. Even if you're mostly sleeping in 2 hour chunks. And having your ears filled with marathon crying sessions.

And the older kids don't become quieter when a new baby comes home. Oh no no no. They still want to monologue constantly, if they're HurricaneDebbie. If you ask her to be quiet, she'll drop to a whisper, but not actually stop producing words. They still want to take 200 words to express a 5 word idea, if they're MeToo. (Good gracious, child, GET TO THE POINT!) And they need to have constantly self-edited conversations if they're HeyMama. (Her constant on-line/mid-sentence revisions take serious concentration to follow if you've only been sleeping in short bursts.)

And they don't need less from you. Or argue with each other less. Or compete with one another less for your attention. Oh no no no.

So I've been avoiding email. And phone. And messaging. Because my brain hurts from the sound and the constant demands to interact, to listen, to answer, to be on-demand. So I've stuck my head in the sand, like the proverbial ostrich, and ignored anything that could be immediately ignored.

So I'm sorry for ignoring you. Tomorrow marks LittleFritter's 1 month birthday. I need to emerge from the haze, get my head out of the sand, and become a responsible, reliable human again. Or at least try...

Learning Curve

I used to think of myself as an intelligent person, but I'm starting to think that I'm not so bright. Possibly still intelligent, but definitely a bit dense at times. Thankfully, God gave me children to help me learn a few things.

Child #1:  I learned how to do things one-handed.

Child #2:  I learned how to ask for help instead of stubbornly struggling along on my own.

Child #3:  I learned to say "No" to things that weren't worth doing.

Child #4:  ???

So far, I think I'm just learning how to sigh heavily and mutter "whatever" at things that previously would have bothered me. But we're only 3 weeks in to having 4 children, so I'm willing to learn more.

Mommy Moment

Mommy Brain. It's a real thing. Whether it's due to the hormones, the lack of sleep, or the brain-dessicating effects of 3 highly-verbal kids who need to ask questions every 23 seconds, Mommy Brain is a real life problem. And it can be seriously debilitating.

If you know me, you know I'm not one to only post Pinterest-worthy images of my daily life. I will not insist that raising 3, now 4, children is all sunshine and roses. I have no problem telling it like it is. I post pictures of laundry piles that swallow entire beds. Pictures of things in my house generally have chaos in the background. And at least one dog that probably is overdue for a grooming. I'm fine with admitting my failings, and frequent feelings of failure. So I'm sharing my biggest fail for the day to help you feel better about yourself. 

Today's Mommy Brain Moment:  I drove to the wrong dentist's office. I took myself for a scheduled cleaning. To our family's pediatric dentist. I figured it out before actually pulling into a parking spot. And the dentists are actually in the same town. I would have been on time if I'd gone to the right place. That's a huge accomplishment for me. But I would have failed part of the cognitive test I give my patients on a daily basis. Where am I? Oh crap. I'm not sure...

Yesterday's Mommy Brain Moment:  I burned a pot of breastmilk. Huh? Yup. I did. I have to scald anything I pump because I make extra lipase, which makes the milk smell soapy. So I scald the milk briefly before freezing it away. The scalding takes only a few minutes. You can't walk away from the pot, because it heats up very quickly. So if you walk downstairs to do laundry and get distracted by other household stuff, you end up with a brown pot of what used to be 3 ounces of liquid gold. I didn't spill it, and I didn't cry over it. But I stupidly destroyed 3 ounces of preciousness that I'm carefully collecting to earn myself a child-free date night this Friday. Dang.

Tomorrrow's Mommy Brain Moment:  It could be anything. Really. Anything's possible. 

Hope your week is free of Mommy Brain Moments. Unfortunately, conditions are favorable in our household for many many more.

Two Weeks and a Day

This child in my arms is two weeks and a day old today. She's celebrating this milestone by refusing to sleep unless she's being held. And she's fighting the process of falling asleep like her life depends on it.

She's helped dress me for the occasion by adorning my sleeves with eye boogers, and my shoulders and hair with spitup.

We've learned a lot about LittleFritter in the last few weeks:

• She's a hungry girl. She really likes to eat. She gained a full pound in the week after we brought her home.
• She likes to be upright, with a view of the world. Especially the people in it.
• She likes to be the center of attention. She got passed around at the church Easter Breakfast like a hot potato, and loved every minute of it. I swear she turned on the charm. She was a dangerously tempting baby, and caused visions of larger families to dance in multiple heads...
• She's got quite the range of facial expressions. The nurse at the hospital who bathed her on Day 1 reported that LittleFritter gave her a suspicious side-eye for the entirety of the bath. The nurse of 30+ years said she never felt so judged in her entire career. Fritter has thankfully added "surprise", "sly smirk", and "full grin" to her repertoire. "Eye roll" was an early accomplishment. I guess that gives me 13 years to prep for the teen years.
• She's outgrowing her 0-3 month clothes as we speak. I ordered a bunch of 3-6 month stuff last week. It won't be here for a few more days. We're doing laundry very frequently for the 3 sleepers that currently fit her.

We're adjusting to having a larger family. With 4 adults around to manage it all, we're doing well. But in a week, my parents head back to Texas. Then the real fun begins...

Not Such A Little Fritter...

So LittleFritter made her grand entrance Sunday morning. After keeping us in suspense for over 4 days past her due date, we were just happy she didn't need a medicinal eviction notice. 

She upheld my Fishtank Theory. You know how fish will grow according to the size of their tank? My children have gotten successively larger with each pregnancy, as my "tank" has been stretched out of shape. 

HeyMama started out right under 7 lbs. MeToo started out right over 7 lbs. HurricaneDebbie started out at 8 lbs. and LittleFritter tipped the scales at 9 lbs 7 ounces. And 22.25 inches long. I have to say I'm a bit gratified that she's that large. I was getting rather uncomfortable, and actually asked my midwife if it was possible that the baby could be bruising my internal organs. 

She's lovely and perfect, and I'm thrilled to have her off my bladder and in my arms. She feels a lot lighter that way...