The Great Debate

I love blogging, it's fun, it's a great creative outlet, and it gives me a good excuse to go through old pictures and post pictures of my bulldogs. I also love to read other blogs. I read blogs of people I know in real life and people I only know in cyber life. I have recently stumbled upon a blog of a new mom who just recently went back to work full-time. This is currently my favorite blog because as a future working mother I am interested in how women juggle baby, work, husband, and keeping a home. I know I will find my own path in maintaining a healthy balance but it is interesting to see how other people do it.

My new favorite blogger recently posted this: a post about her going back to work and the routine she keeps to make sure she spends time with husband, baby, and gets her job done.

I thought it was a cute, interesting post. I liked that she and her husband set their alarms 15 minutes early just for some cuddle time. What shocked the hell out of me were the comments on the post. Some were supportive, some said "this sounds like my day," some said thank you. But some where down right cruel, telling her she was a bad mother, telling her to stop complaining, telling her to re-prioritize. I couldn't believe that some of these commenters actually took the time to write such mean and hateful comments.

The post and the comments had me thinking of the cold war between stay at home moms and working moms. I am very proud of the fact that I will be a working mom. My mom worked, my grandma worked, my great-grandma worked. I come from working stock. I have my own personal reasons for working and I know that it is the best decision for my family. And I hope that my son will be grow up to be proud to know that his daddy and mommy can be successful attorneys. I also know that women who stay at home are making the best decision for their family, and I'm sure they have their own personal reasons and situations that make that decision best for them.

What I don't understand is why can't the stay at homers and the workers get along!?! Nobody should try to impose their views on this issue on another family because you just don't know what another family's situation is or what is best for them. I have mommy friends that stay at home, that own their own businesses (a couple of them even!), that work full time, that work part time, that have gone back to school, that work and go back to school at the same time (that's just impressive). And all of these women are great mothers and doing what they have determined is best for themselves and their family. And I would never judge that. I just don't understand how people can judge a woman's decision to stay at home or go back to work.

I have been pretty vocal that I will be going back to work after the baby is born. The vast majority of people have been supportive. But, I have gotten minimal negative feedback about it. I have had some questioning of my choice of daycare (which is funny because I haven't made a final decision yet). To these people I usually just smile and nod and change the subject. I am future working mom to be, I don't have time to change your closed mind. And your closed mind? That would be a "you problem." That is not a "me problem" because I understand that everyone makes their own personal decisions and that it is really none of my business. I just wish that women on both sides of this debate could relax, be more open minded and stop being so damn judgmental! This isn't a sorority ladies, this is life!

Suits

Things my baby boy will not be wearing:


My son will not be wearing a velour Juicy Couture track suit. Nevermind that this little suit costs $98.00, I am just morally opposed to men (or baby boys) wearing Juicy Couture. Me on the other hand, that's a different story. I'll rock my Juicy sweats until I can no longer squeeze my prego ass in them.

I will also not be dressing my son as a 1980's rapper.


Whatever happened to a little baby pair of Levi's and a cute t-shirt?

Decisions, Decisions, Decisions

I am horrible at making decisions. Luckily this does not crossover into my professional life. I have no problem deciding how to tackle a legal issue; but, in my personal issue I'm as wishy washy as they come.

When I was little my parents would take me and my siblings to Camelot, the local arcade and miniature golf place. In the arcade you could play skee-ball, win tickets, and pick out a prize with your tickets. There was a huge display case full of brightly colored plastic rings, yo-yos, little stuffed animals, etc. Basically it was all cheap, plastic crap. And I would stand in front of the display case and cry and cry and cry because I couldn't decide what to buy with my tickets. Decisions do not come easy for me.

And when I finally make a decision about something, I have a hard time sticking to my guns. If someone says why did you decide that and not this? I will usually respond, oh I don't know I guess I should have picked the other option, you're right, I'm wrong. Again, let me stress that I am not like this as a lawyer, you question my legal reasoning and I will take you down. But if you question my decision regarding a restaurant or whether I should bring a jacket out, I will come crumbling down.

There are a lot of decisions to be made during pregnancy. Decisions need to be made regarding what you will and will not eat, exercise, genetic testing, when to announce the pregnancy, and such. And as I make my decisions, I am starting to find the ability to finally stand up for my decisions and not let others question my decisions. For example, I have decided to completely cut out caffeine while I am pregnant. This sounds like an insignificant decision, it certainly does not impact anyone but myself. But I cannot tell you how many people respond with "oh a little caffeine is fine," or "I drank caffeine when I was pregnant and my kid is fine," or "oh that's just a bunch of hype." And I have been able to say to people, "for me, I have chosen not to drink caffeine," and that's that, end of discussion. Sounds simple, but this is a big step for me.

I'm glad that I'm getting experience in standing up for my decisions. I know people will only continue to question my decisions as I make decisions regarding being a working mom (and I will be a proud working mother), nursing, disciplining, education, etc.

Change Is Good.

When I was younger and I wore jeans, I tugged out them constantly, always pulling them up so my thong wouldn't show. This picture is from a sorority/fraternity mixer thing and you can see that my oh so trendy low rise jeans are falling down. I have no words for the tube top. I think, I hope, this was some kind of theme party. I have no idea what that theme would be, sparkly maybe? I'm just hoping I didn't just walk around in public like that. Please note, I am 21 in this picture and cannot be held accountable for my wardrobe choices.



Now, when I wear jeans, I am constantly pulling my shirt down to make sure my belly panel isn't showing. Oh how the times are a changing. This is me at 18 weeks and having just eaten the Pioneer Woman's lasagna. Which is amazing, seriously, you need to make this recipe.



P.S. I have thrown out the sparkly, rainbow tube top as I am now a respectable lawyer and mother-to-be. And there is no way in hell that thing would fit me today.

A Real Onesie

Today my friend Lexe gave me this adorable onesie for Baby Brady. It's just so darn cute and little. This whole thing is starting to feel real, like really real. Like, in five months there will be a little baby, my baby, wearing this onesie. Crazy.

The Grilled Cheese Wins Again

Today it poured in sunny Southern California. I'm not talking about the usual light drizzle that sends Southern Californians into a tizzy, this was legitimate, unrelenting rain with wind and everything.

Brady and I actually had the day off together due to Dr. Martin Luther King's birthday. We rarely have the day off together so it was a nice treat to stay home together in our pajamas and work from home. Days off don't really exist for lawyers because you still need to bill and stuff still needs to get done, but it was nice to be home together. At one point in the day the poor dogs needed to go out and do their thing. We couldn't let them out back because our very small backyard had turned into a lake. So I told Brady if he would take them on a little walk to go potty, I would make him a grilled cheese sandwich. He accepted. And that's when the horror began.

I thought I had conquered the art of making a grilled cheese sandwich. In reality, I got cocky. I pulled out my fancy mandoline slicer from crate and barrel. I have used this before to get really nice, thin slices of cheese so it melts perfectly. I now hate this contraption. So I'm standing there in the kitchen, slicing my cheese, thinking how perfect my sandwich is going to be and how Brady is such a sucker for taking the dogs out in the rain while all I have to do is make a little sandwich.

I'm holding the stupid slicer in one hand, pushing down on the cheese with the other, I push down the cheese all the way to slice it and, yep, in the process slice open my finger. In fact, I took out a giant chunk of skin from the top of my right middle finger. It started gushing blood. I could barely get a paper towel off the roll before I started dripping blood all over the kitchen.

I yelled for Brady who had since returned from his walk. I started to feel dizzy and faint. I was convince I was losing buckets of blood. Brady helped me fashion a band aid around my gaping wound. After a few hours and many soaked band aids, Brady said he was taking over and that I needed to get my finger to stop bleeding. He made me hold my finger under running cold water which hurt like a bitch. Pardon my french but this really freaking hurt. I screamed and whined so much that poor Frank was all upset and I'm surprised the neighbors didn't call the cops. I started feeling dizzy again and had to sit down. Now Brady made me hold my hand above my head with ice and pressure. I continued to scream and whine that it hurt. Every time I saw the paper towel soaked with blood I felt queasy and had to look away.

It's been hours since I cut my finger and it is still bleeding, although it is bleeding a lot less. This has got to be one of the most painful things I have ever gone through. In the midst of my panicking about my finger and whining to Brady, I thought "how in the hell am I ever going to handle childbirth!?!" That epidural better be as good as people say it is!