Being a Mom

In and out, in and out…round and round we go.

I’m sure that I’m not the first parent to complain about their child popping out of bed all night long, but I’m going to complain anyway! I kept my son, who’s almost 3, in his crib for a long time. He was 2.5 by the time I moved him to the “big boy” bed and the only reason I did that was because I needed the crib for my daughter. He never tried to climb out, never complained, always slept well, so, since I’d had such a difficult time with his sleep when he was a baby, I thought, “Why fix what isn’t broken?” I absolutely dreaded the transition. I asked everyone I knew about their experience, I googled like a mad woman, I even went on Yahoo Answers searching for the perfect way to move him. In the end, I simply put him in a pack n’ play in the room for a few weeks to get him use to the new room(he was ridiculously too large for it, but it was working!), then we packed it up, said bye-bye to the baby bed and just did it. I was shocked! He slept all night, no problems. Piece of cake….right?

WRONG!! Wrong, wrong, wrong…how very wrong I was. He just toyed with us the first two months, giving us a false sense of hope that this was actually going to go well. Just as my husband and I were done patting each other on the back; just as we were sitting back and commending each other for being totally awesome; just as we got comfortable….Sssshhhh!!! Is that him I hear? Is he out of bed? Yup. The next thing we knew, we were losing 10 lbs charging up and down, up and down the stairs to put our little precious back in bed. He’s out of bed at least 5 times during the first hour and sometimes he wakes up at 5:30 AM, gets out of bed and won’t go back to sleep! I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t care what he does in his room. I don’t care if he’s awake, playing, singing, or just generally messing around for no apparent reason other than to keep himself awake….no. I don’t care what he does as long as he stays in his room. I know I should just chill out, but I get so mad sometimes, I want to go kick the dog(note here that I said I WANTED to kick the dog). I just get frustrated because the little monster tricked me. He gave me a good year and a half of solid, quality, reliable sleep. He’d go down at 7 PM and wake at 7 AM like clockwork. Now I never know what the night or early morning brings and that stinks. It’s like handing me a key to a room of golden treasure, then snatching it away and changing the lock. Now I know what I’m missing, and what I’m missing is a good nights sleep. Oh crap. There he is again, out of his bed and heading this way. Where IS that damn dog?

The Terrible….3’s!

My son is about to turn three in a few weeks. A few months ago I started to get excited. Was it the idea of having a fun Pump it Up party? No. Was is the thought of getting to go shopping for the 3T summer clothes? No. Was it nostalgia at the notion that my little baby was another year older? No, none of those things were making me excited. My anticipation was building and building because I knew that we were approaching the END of Terrible 2’s! Yay! Finally…FINALLY I get my sweet, adorable, cherubic child back. The one that looks up at me with his sweet face, asking for “more please, mommy,” and “I love my mommy, she is the bestest mommy in the whole world.” Yes, I was getting excited for the end of a tough, terrible, power-struggle of a year. What’s that? My son isn’t giving any indication that he’s coming out of this hell on earth called being 2 years old? I’ve never heard of the terrible 3’s….is that new? No, no, no, no, no, no, NOOOOO!!!! This wasn’t part of the deal! Now, he’s smarter, faster, sassier, more talkative and has developed better reasoning skills. So what does that make him? A formidable opponent. That’s what all that makes him! Ugh. Wish me luck…this train ain’t showing any signs of slowing down. No, it looks like we’re actually dumping the coal in the incinerator and speeding up. So move outta the way…we’ve got a 3 year old barreling through, and a stressed out, underpaid, under-appreciated mom chasing after him.

Mom’s don’t get to call in sick

So I feel just aweful and I’ve felt this way for the past few days. I finally went to the doctor and I’ve got a sinus infection. It’s interesting how we rush our children to the doctor for the slightest cough or smallest scrape, but it’s easier to move mountains than get OURSELVES there! Anyway, I’m laying on the couch, savoring a precious 30 minutes when both my 3 year old and 5 month old are asleep, and it occurs to me that Mom’s don’t get to phone it in….ever. Oh sure, there are days when the television is on too long, or your feeling lazy so the laundry that’s been piling up for weeks isn’t finished. Yes. Even I have days like that…it’s rare, but it happens(LOL!). I remember when I was working in pharmaceutical sales(pre-children) and I got 5 sick days, 2 weeks paid vacation and 4 floating holidays for the year…that’s like a whole month of NOT working: of blissful nothingness. You remember those days right? Back when your biggest concern when you were feeling sick was, “Ugh. There is nothing good on television between 9 and noon.” Of course, pre-kids, you rarely used those sick days because you were “sick.” Let’s face it, before you had a little petri dish to bring home every possible cough, cold, flu and pox, you were actually pretty darn healthy.

So now here we are, a few years and kids later thinking, “If I could just have those sick days back I’ll never waste them on a day of shopping and Starbucks again! Please!!!” But it’s impossible. You can’t have those sick days because you’re a parent and every time you turn around(slowly, because your head is so stuffed that it’s in grave danger of exploding), someone is demanding something of you. Now, this is where I’m suppose to mention that if having sick days back means I couldn’t have my kids then it’s worth all the sneezing, coughing and fevers in the world. Yeah. That’s what I’m SUPPOSE to say and any other day I would. But with how I’m feeling right now, ask me again tomorrow.

The second time around

I know that a lot of first time mom’s can relate to my experience when I had my son almost 3 years ago(shesh, time does fly!). I found out I was pregnant, got all the necessary and unnecessary baby gear, joined a prenatal yoga class and started my research on hospitals and cord blood banking. Being pregnant for the first time, I was so excited and basked in all the attention from strangers, family and friends…”when are you due?” “do you know what you’re having?” “picked a name?” Then came the big day, I couldn’t wait to meet the little peanut who had been kicking me for the past 9 months. An induction, breaking the water, epidural and c-section, and 14 hours later he was finally here…and pissed off!

The first 4 months are a haze of screaming, poop, crying(him and me), frustration, doctor’s visits and more crying(mostly me). I remember thinking, “what the hell did I do? I wish I was pregnant again….ah, sweet, sweet naivety.” For the first 4 months of my son’s life, he was gassy, colicky, fussy, intense and just generally pissed off with his new circumstances. It occurred to me why people only have one child….once is plenty thank you. So when I found out I was pregnant again, I was a bit apprehensive to do it all over again.

Well, we’re 4 months into my daughter’s life and I’m happy to report that I’m having a blast! It’s so much easier the second time around…even WITH a demanding toddler running around. I’m calmer and she’s calm and happy and easily predictable. I think that with the first child, we mothers spend our time worrying about when are they going to roll over, when will the colic end, when will they sit up, when, when, when. So much worrying that we forget to have fun and enjoy our babies. I’m enjoying it so much more the second time around and every tim I look at her I think, “I’m going to kiss, kiss, kiss you all the time because soon, you won’t want me to.” Now, don’t get me wrong, my son is awesome. His full of spirit and life and he’s smart and hilarious and challenging and all those things that I complain and love about him….the little quirks that make up the fabric of “him,” and I wouldn’t trade a thing. But, as far as actually ENJOYING and taking more time to appreciate the second one, well, I’ve made it a point, no, my mission to do it better the second time around.

Bruisers…gotta love ’em

Okay, I don’t know if any one else out there has a “bruiser” for a child…my son certainly is! In two short years this child has managed to chip his two front teeth, bust open his lip requiring stiches, and fell less than 2 ft. and broke his elbow. Yes, be BROKE his elbow! The ER doctor said that it was a very uncommon break for a 2 year old and, as a matter of fact, he’s never seen this type of break in a toddler before….ever. We are taking him to the Orthopedist tomorrow to find out if he’ll need a cast or, hopefully not, surgery. Watching my son constantly fall, trip, hit his head, run into walls makes me wonder how I possibly got through childhood without so much as an ankle sprain? Why do some kids just bounce right back up and some just happen to fall on that one spot, in that one place that breaks a bone? Ugh! It’s going to be very difficult to not wrap him in bubble wrap the next time he goes outside.

Welcome to Blogger Mommy!

This is the first post of Blogger Mommy. I hope to share my views and stories about being a mom and that you will do the same.

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