If You Ever Want to be Driven Mad . . .

If you ever want to be driven absolutely crazy, build something from Ikea in front of your 2 year old.  This is how it went . . .

Me:  Setting out all the screws in separate piles to count and make sure I had enough

Judah: Pulls up a stool to the counter to look at the screws.  Starts reaching out to take one.

M: "Judah, don't touch those, mommy needs to keep them in order."

J: "Okay mommy.  This one??" Picking up a different one.

M: "No Judah."

J: "This one??"

M: "No Judah, you can't touch any of them."  I start to pull out pieces and lay them on the floor.

J: "Mommy, what are you doing??"

M: "I'm laying out the pieces before I put them together."

J: "Oh, mommy what's that??"

M: "That's a metal pole."

J: "Where does that go?"

M: "That goes in here."

J: "What are you doing, mommy?"

M: "I'm still trying to put this together."

J: Picking up a screw again "Where does this go??"

M: "Judah, please don't touch the screws."

J: "Mommy, what are you doing??"

Annoying to read?  Play that out for about an hour and that's how it went . . . =)

Why Is Parenting So Hard?

I've realized why parenting is so hard (at least for me).  In life there's usually a "right way" to do things.  There's a right way to follow a recipe, there's a right way to do your job, there's a right way to fill your car with gas.  But with parenting there's about 100 different ways to do everything, and each way could work fine for 100 other kids (and other mom's will ALWAYS try to tell you that their way is the best and ONLY way).  So you think, if I can't rely on other mom's to tell me the right way, I'll ask my doctor.  Wrong, they'll tell you 100 different things too.  Okay, so let's just ask the experts.  ERR!  You could spend your entire life reading a thousand books on parenting and get contradicting information from every single one.  (This is hilarious, but also frighteningly accurate http://www.huffingtonpost.com/ava-neyer/i-read-all-the-baby-sleep-advice-books_b_3143253.html) What you start to understand as you get deeper and deeper into parenting is that every child is different, has a different temperament, has different requirements, responds differently to sleep training methods, eats differently, etc.  So you just have to do what you think is best.  But that's why it's so hard.  How do you ever know that the path you chose is the best path for your child?  You wonder if you're forever ruining your child because of the decisions you're making.  You end up doubting yourself at every turn, wondering if you should be trying something different.  If you should listen to the ten other moms telling you ten other paths to choose.  It's just hard.  Changing a million diapers, cleaning up spit-up, doing two loads of laundry a day, picking up all the toys off the floor every single night, pushing a stroller with two kids around all day . . . those are the easy things.

You Know You Have a Three Month Old When . . .

you start to fear at every cramp that you're about to get your period

your drain starts getting clogged after every shower because of the amount of hair falling out

you start to wonder if your old clothes will EVER fit you again

you wonder how many people have seen your nipples

you panic at the thought of becoming pregnant again

your nipples no longer have any feeling

you do a load of laundry every single day

you don't even bother changing shirts anymore when your baby spits up on you

you have exactly 2 hours and 37 minutes to go out and then you need to nurse again

FOMO

My husband and I had a short conversation about this new phenomenon, FOMO (fear of missing out). Instagram and Facebook have made it so that every event, party, weekend getaway, shopping experience, dinner date, and park outing are documented for public view.  So not only do you get to see all your friends hanging out and having fun, but also you are reminded that you were not invited.  Of course you can't be invited to everything (however much we would like to be).  But at 29 and 30, this is still sometimes hard for even my husband and I.  So then we started to think, what is it going to be like for Judah and Eden growing up in an era where they will be able to see every single thing they are not invited to?  Every birthday party, every sleepover, every group date.  It hasn't even happened yet and I could almost cry at the thought of one of my kids feeling this way or experiencing FOMO.  

Let's just add this to the list of things to worry about . . .

Why Going to the Grocery Store Terrifies Me

1.  Those terrible horrible inventions . . . the mini trader joe's cart.

• I'm pretty sure the person who decided to put these into the store was only thinking of the quiet, well-behaved children (they exist, I know at least one of them).  Not the child who would run around like a crazy person, nipping people's heels, blocking entire aisles, picking up random food items to carry around, and then trying to escape the store with an entire mini cart full of groceries.  

2.  My child thinks a grocery store cart is a mini torture chamber. 

• God forbid my child would have to be confined and strapped in to one place for fifteen minutes.  All the while being force-fed bribery candy.  What torture.  

3.  Leaving a cart full of groceries would probably be frowned upon by the establishment.  

• I've only considered doing this once, but the embarrassment of having to bring my cart full of groceries to an employee and telling them I needed to go outweighed the embarrassment of my newborn screaming.  Luckily people have more sympathy for a baby crying than a two year old yelling.  

4.  There is no cart specifically designed to hold a two year old and an infant carseat. 

• Was the mother of two/three/four children not consulted when they invented grocery carts?  Sure, I could put baby in the Bjorn and not have her carseat fill the ENTIRE cart, but that would involve disturbing my happy, quiet baby in her carseat.  Thus increasing the chances of #3.  So for now, I will continue to pile up my groceries systematically around the carseat, placing extremely light items in between her legs.  

5.  Unloading. 

• If you live in San Francisco and you have kids, this needs no explanation.  But for those of you who don't, read my previous entry about getting in and out of the car, and just add four or five heavy grocery bags to the story.  

Terrible Two's

I spend a lot of time at the park.  Sometimes instead of watching my own kid, I people watch or eves drop.  In the past six months I have heard three people use three different descriptions for their toddlers. Before I tell you these three things, you should keep in mind that these are coming from tired, over-stimulated, irritable parents, who probably put themselves in a timeout every once in a while just to get away for a minute.

First comment, "toddlers are like communists."  Communism is a theory of social organization based on the holding of all property in common, where there is no actual individual ownership.  Pretty good comparison if you ask me.  As my toddler wanders around the park and grabs the first toy he sees and declares "mine!" I'm sure in that moment he fully believes communism is a completely fair idea . . . . that is until the other kid tries to take his toy back.  

Second comment, "toddlers are like little terrorists."  Ouch.  Seriously guy?  Did you just compare your daughter to a terrorist?  Might seem kind of harsh at first, but at further inspection, pretty accurate.  Definition of terrorism: "Systematic use of violence and intimidation to achieve some goal.  The act of terrorizing."  Wow, could this describe my son any more dead on??  When my son walks towards me with his arm wound back behind his head, hard toy in hand, with a "don't make me throw this at you" look in his eye, he is basically a terrorist.  

Third comment, "most toddlers are bi polar."  Oh my gosh, yes!  Finally, someone has pin pointed the problem with this kid!  Now it all makes sense.  "A mental disorder characterized by an alternation between extreme euphoria and deep depression."  This is why my two year old goes from laughing his head off while singing yo gabba gabba, to screaming because he has a fuzzy on his shirt.  It's really too bad that the large amount of suckers we use to bribe him don't act as medication to counteract this syndrome. 

Ahhhh!

Have you ever seen that family guy episode where Stuie tries to get his moms attention over and over again? "Mom? Mom? Mom? Mommy? Mom? Momma? Mommy? Mom?" This may be an otherwise fictional show but this is no joke people. I don't know what it is about two year olds being acknowledged for what they are saying. I've even tried ignoring my son to see how long it would take for him to stop but there is only so much "Plane! Plane! Mommy plane! Mom! Plane! Mommy! Plane!" You can take before you feel like you want to stab yourself in the ear with a plane. 

First Day of "School"

As I approach Judah's first day of "school" tomorrow (Vacation Bible School) I finally understand why all the mom's cry in the movies when their kids go off to school.  

You cry because you feel torn that you partly don't ever want your kids to leave, and you're so fricken excited to have 4 hours to yourself.  

You cry because you wonder if anyone else will be able to handle your kid.  

You cry because you can't bear the thought of your son feeling like you abandoned him.  

You cry because you so badly want them to have fun and be okay without you.  

You cry because you feel bad for the volunteer who isn't even getting paid whose going to have to deal with your sons two year old tantrums.  

You cry because you worry that no one will play with your son. 

You cry because you realize that this is only going to get WAY worse when your son ACTUALLY leaves you for college.  

A Mother's Musings Attempting to Get in Her Car

I live in San Francisco, in Russian Hill.  If you’re not familiar, it’s the part of the city where when you’re parking perpendicular to the curb for the first time your first thought is “holy shit the car is going to flip over!"  It’s the part of the city where when you’re driving up a hill and you get to the stop sign you have to strain to peer up over the steering wheel like a little old lady to see if you can keep driving.  It’s the part of the city where two-foot driving is a necessity.  

My husband parked the car the night before on said perpendicular parking street.  In the morning, I was to take my 6 week old, Eden (in her car seat) and my 2 year old, Judah to the car.  Here is my train of thought … 

Should I put Judah in first and leave the car seat on the hill?  No, someone will probably call social services.  

If I put Eden in first and tell Judah to wait he’ll probably run into the street get hit by a car … social services.  

I can put Eden in faster, let’s do that.  

"Judah, if you stand on the sidewalk until mommy calls you I’ll give you a treat in the car." 

Open the door, rest “nicely" on car parked below us.  Shit.  Car seat won’t fit.  I’ll go in through Judah’s side of the car. 

"Judah, mommy said I’ll give you a treat if you stay there." 

Open the door.  Shit.  Are you fricken kidding me??  

Bring car seat back to sidewalk next to Judah and stand there staring at the car.  

Okay, I’ll put Judah in first.  Where to put Eden?  Ah, the trunk.  

"Judah, remember, you get a treat if you wait on the sidewalk."  

Put car seat in trunk.  Lady walks by and stares at me as I walk away from my baby in her car seat, in the trunk.  

Yeah, keep staring judgmental rich lady who probably has a garage.  

Get Judah from sidewalk (he really has deserved his treat by now).  Open his door.  Are you f’ing kidding me???  I hate my husband for parking in this damn spot.  

Stare at car. 

Think about ditching plans and going back to the house.   

Open front passenger door, set Judah on seat.  Have a momentary thought about backing the car out just enough while Eden is in the trunk … social services.  

Go back to trunk get Eden.  

Open driver side door, squeeze Eden into front seat.  Reach around and click car seat into place.  

Wipe sweat off cheek. 

Attempt to pick Judah up and put him in car seat … bad idea. 

"Judah, remember that treat???"

I am the Anxious Mama

"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body" Elizabeth Stone

If you’re not a parent the quote by Elizabeth Stone probably won’t mean anything to you.  You may think you know what it means, but you don’t.  Not only do I have one heart walking outside of my body, but two.  I worry about my kids every day.  It’s something I struggle with and ask God to help me with.  I had hoped that as my kids got older it would get easier, but my mom informs me that she still worries just as much about us kids as she did when we were younger.  As my sister is 31, I’m 29, and my brother is 24, I’m essentially screwed.  But a lifetime of worry is nothing compared to the constant joy I get every day.  Sure, sometimes I want to punch someone in the face, but not always.  So whether you’re family, friend, a complete stranger, or a fellow anxious mama … enjoy.