Who Knew?

This week I am really rocking the mothering gig. First, for two nights in a row, the Beast ate nothing but cheesy poofs for dinner.



But they were organic cheesy poofs, so that is clearly excellent parenting.

Second was the incident with the spoon. The Beast is cutting molars (which is as fun as it sounds) and has been all over the place with eating (see above cheesy poof reference). Yesterday I was talking to his daycare teacher about what he ate for lunch. They had served rice and turkey. She was telling me that he wasn't excited about eating it and she had to help him eat it. I said, "so you finger fed it to him?" She responded that she helped him with the spoon. I said, "oh he doesn't use a spoon." She looked at me kinda strange and said, "he uses a spoon all the time." And then another teacher piped up, "he's really good with a spoon."

What. The. Hell. How did I not know my 13 month old uses a spoon? I have never even attempted giving him a spoon. I was just about to launch into full on research on when and how to introduce utensils. But he's already freaking using one? What else is he doing during the day I don't know about? Algebra? Is he driving? It is such a bizarre feeling to realize that my child does something during the day that I didn't know about it. But I'm proud of the little guy for being such a big boy with a spoon. Now if daycare wants to go ahead and potty train him and just hand him over one day with, "oh he uses the potty now," I'll be just fine with that.

I guess it really does take a village.

Categories

I have decided there are three types of people who will give you crap about being a working mom. For the most part, people don't really care or they don't really make a comment. But these three types will drive you crazy. Let's take a look at them:

Old People:

I come from a long line of working women. My mom, both grandmas, and at least one great-grandma worked outside of the home. But, obviously, many women raising children in decades past stayed home. So old men and women don't really get the working mom gig and give disapproving looks to the working moms and tell you the only reason your kid is sick is because you put them in that "institution" aka daycare. Because no child with a stay at home mom has ever been sick.

Unfortunately, there is not much to be done with these people. They are old and set in their ways and it's not worth the time or energy to explain your situation to them. It's kinda like when your grandma calls Asian people "Orientals" and you want to explain to her that Oriental is a rug and Asian is a person but it will take 20 minutes of you repeating yourself only for her to keep saying Oriental and then start complaining that she can't open her AOL email to read a forward about puppies that love Jesus. So you just drop it.

Insecure People:

We all have our insecurities but some people let these insecurities take hold of their very being and affect they way they interact with the general population in a negative way. The only thing these people are good at is finding the one thing that you are the most vulnerable about and exploiting it to make themselves feel better.

I was recently asked by a male friend, "so when is your husband going to let you quit your job and stay home?" Um, excuse me? I didn't get my husband's permission to become an attorney, to continue being an attorney, and if I ever decide to explore another career I sure as hell won't need his permission. I was so shocked at this question I couldn't even respond. But I quickly realized that question stemmed from his own insecurity about his career and lot in life so I did not fire back with the "I make double what you make" that I so desperately wanted to say. Or the "I am much more educated than you." Or the "why don't you go f*ck yourself."

The best way to deal with the insecure people is to smile and nod, silently pity them for being so insecure, and restrain all desire to retaliate with negative comments. One cannot stoop to their level.

Uneducated People:

When I say uneducated people I don't necessarily mean those with a lack of formal education. I have met many people with college and/or law degrees who are complete morons. When I say uneducated I mean people are are close-minded or not very worldly. Those who cannot imagine any situation other than their own. People who think that anything different than them must be wrong. These people typically cannot be reasoned with, they cannot be educated. The uneducated is often combined with the insecure for a double whammy of "oh my gawd I can't believe you let someone else raise your kid" bullshit. I choose to just ignore these people.

The common theme running through my three descriptions is that there is not much that you can do about changing their opinions or condescending attitude towards working mothers. Even if there were something that could be done, I would not do it because I choose to focus my time and energy on my family and career, not trying to change the mind set of someone who disagrees with my choices. Identifying these categories has helped me to take less offense when I do get a rude comment about being a working mother. I simply tell myself that their bad attitude is their problem, not mine.

Stepping Out Saturday

This blog I read does this fun little feature every Saturday called "Stepping Out Saturday." You are supposed to post a picture of your outfit from Saturday night and detail the pieces of the outfit. I've been looking at these posts for a while and I finally actually wore an outfit on Saturday.



Captain America, the Beast, and I went out for sushi with some friends.



Dress: H & M. Necklace and Cardigan: Brass Plum at Nordy's.



Shoes: Old Navy and surprisingly comfortable. No close up of the shoes because my toes are a disaster. My bulldogs get their nails done more often than I do. The Beast's polo is from Children's Place and cargo shorts are from Carter's (snagged for $10 on diapers.com). And no shoes for him because it was so gloriously sunny and warm! Plus he doesn't walk so there is really no need for shoes at this point.

The weather was seriously so awesome, we sat outside. The Beast had a great time. The restaurant was playing all sorts of songs from when I was in college and the Beast was rocking out. It was sort of surreal to listen to music that reminded me of frat parties and watch my little boy bop along to the music in his polo and cargo shorts. Oh Lord, am I creating a frat boy? I hope not! I guess it would be ok if he was a frat boy if he was all involved in philanthopy and the other b.s. that sororities and fraternities say to justify themselves. And yes, I'm a former sorority girl so I know all about these things.



If you ever want to truly realize how old and tired your skin looks, stick your face next to a baby. Yeah your skin is all perfect and such, come talk to me when you are in your 30s.





The Beast ate tofu and edamame and loved it! By the way, these disposable place mats are the best thing ever. They stick to the table and I can throw down cheerios, puffs, or whatever the Beast wants to eat. He's not eating off the dirty table and has his own little spot. Plus the pictures are fun to look at. They have made eating at restaurants so much easier.







This Saturday was the best we've had in a long time. We started the day at music and sign language class in Corona Del Mar which was really fun. We learned the signs to lots of different animals so now when I sing Old MacDonald, I can sign the animal along with the sound it makes. Then we met a friend and her son for lunch in Laguna Beach. It was a fun lunch with amazing food followed by a stroll along the boardwalk. Its days like this that make me really love living in Southern California.

A Male's Point of View

Tonight I wanted to get a male perspective on the concept of the "mommy wars" and if men experienced the same conflict. My subject was my husband.

Me: Do you feel guilty that you work and do not stay home with the Beast?

Captain America: No.

Me: When people ask you "what do you do?" how do you respond?

Captain America: I'm a fucking civil litigator.

Me: You don't say you are a full time dad?

Captain America: ::looks at me like I'm insane:: No.

Me: Are you jealous of stay at home dads?

Captain America: Yes, they don't have to work.

Me: Do you know any stay at home dads?

Captain America: No.

Me: Have you experienced any "daddy wars?"

Captain America: No.

Me: Do you get upset when people label you as an attorney and not as a dad?

Captain America: Why are you asking these stupid questions? People that argue about that or make that a big issue are fucking self absorbed and trying to make themselves feel better.

I love him. And I'm adopting his attitude.

Never Say Never

While I was pregnant, I was adamant about two things: (1) no pacifier after 12 months and (2) no cosleeping. The pacifier thing turned out to be a non-issue, the Beast was pretty much over it at 10 months (he's now 11 months). But I was dead set against cosleeping. I thought that parents should have their own space, that no one could sleep well when sharing a bed, that parents needed a chance to um, you know, do the things that got them in this situation in the first place. Also, I had fear of rolling over the baby and flattening him out like a pancake. I just could not wrap my head around why anyone would want to cosleep.

Everything started out so well. The Beast slept peacefully in his bassinet right next to my bed.



The Beast at about a week or two old.


At 6 weeks, he was sleeping through the night and in his own crib. What a perfect little baby! What a good mom I was! I didn't even have to sleep train, everything was so perfect!




Six weeks old and sleeping in his own crib!

And then he turned 6 months. And he started teething. And he got sick (with a cold). And he was miserable. And he wouldn't sleep so I wasn't sleeping. And we were all miserable.

One night, in an act of pure desperation, after many attempts to get him to go back to sleep in his crib, I plopped him down in my bed. He looked up at me, snuggled into my 400 thread count sheets, fell fast asleep, and slept through the night. I laid down next to him and actually got to sleep. It was a relief. It was glorious. It was how I became a cosleeper


Six months old and taking up residence in my bed.

Once I realized how easy it was to get him to go back to sleep if I just put him in the bed with me, there was no going back. I work full time and I need sleep in order to function and somehow adequately perform my job. So after the Beast turned 6 months, whenever he gets up in the middle of the night, I just pull him in bed with me and we both get to sleep. Then I learned how to nurse him while laying down in bed. Even better! Even less effort was required. I could bring him into the bed, nurse him, and get more sleep.

We don't cosleep every night. He starts off every night in his crib and if he wakes up then I bring him into my bed. I suppose you could say that I cosleep on demand. I have to admit, on nights that he doesn't wake up, I sort of miss having that little warm body snuggled up against me. He is now 11 months and I have no intention of ending the cosleeping. Lately he has been staying asleep in his crib until about 5 am. When he wakes up at this time, I am definitely ok with cosleeping because it means I get another hour of sleep. He is sturdy enough now that I don't worry about rolling over on him. And it is pretty funny to watch him wake up my husband by happily pouncing on him. Pretty soon he is going to be a big boy and have no interest in sharing a bed with me and the husband (Right? Kids don't cosleep until they are teenagers, right?)

The moral of the story is never say never about any parenting techniques while you are pregnant. You just have no idea the things you are willing to do when you are stressed out and sleep deprived.

I Wish I Had Known....

I always planned on breastfeeding. When I got pregnant I knew it was what I wanted to do. I knew that I would be pumping at work. I knew that I didn't think formula was bad but I wanted to breastfeed my son. There are a million things I wish I had known before starting breastfeeding. That it would hurt in the beginning. That it would be stressful, not naturally easy, and totally rewarding.

What I really wish I had known was that it is not hard to nurse in public. I was so afraid to do it that I did not nurse my son in public until he was about five months old. I was so nervous about accidentally exposing myself or grossing someone out. I have no idea why, I spent four years in Santa Barbara with the girls on display for all to see. But the thought of someone actually seeing me nursing sent me running for the hills.

I had a hooter hider, I just was afraid to use it. I even practiced using it in front of my sister. The problem is I have giant boobs and I can't just discreetly pop open the nursing bra and feed my son. No, the entire boob has to come out and that is slightly off-putting for others.

For the first five months, I planned outings so that I wouldn't have to nurse or I brought a bottle. It was a huge pain in the ass. Then we went to Sea World and we were going to be gone for a long part of the day. By this time I had been back at work for 3 months and was beyond sick of washing bottles. So I decided I wasn't screwing around with bottles and packed the hooter hider. When it came time to feed him, I found a chair with arms (for support), slipped the cover on, and nursed away.

It was so easy! He was happy to eat, I was happy that there was no bottle to clean up. I couldn't believe I had waited so long to nurse in public. From that point on, I nursed him in restaurants, museums, even a bar (we were there during the day and its not like my boobs are strangers to bars).



Nursing in public turned out to be comfortable and easy. Now, I will say that at 10 1/2 months, nursing in public is somewhat of a struggle simply because the baby gets distracted. Also, I tend to nurse in public less because if we are at a restaurant he usually eats food. But I still enjoy having the confidence to run out of the house without a bottle, just my trusty hooter hider, knowing that I can feed my son on the run.