Ok, I have to admit it.. On paper (kind of), in print for everyone to see.
I am a little depressed. Not postpartum depressed. I am post C-section depressed.
After my last c-section I feel like I bounced back so much quicker. In reality, as I read back in my older posts (see Hips don't lie, 8/10/10) that isn't the case, but I feel like I felt more 'ok' with myself after having Isabel.
I realize it's only been just shy of five weeks, but something is amiss here. I feel squishy-er, lumpy-er, old-er. I feel like last time I took so much pride in the fact that I was pregnant, had a baby, and had these breasts that fed my baby. It was all so amazing, so meaningful. The stretch marks and the lack of being able to fit into my former wardrobe as quickly as I wanted took third row seating to the fact that I was a new parent wading through the new tide that had come in. The saggy-ness of my belly didn't bother me as much, and the thought of the '6 week- you can have sex and exercise again' appointment made me excited, not terrified of someone seeing my post-baby body.
For some reason, this time has lost it's beauty and sense of wonder,. Maybe because I've been here before. I know this path. Wait out the 6 weeks, heal my body, set up a steady supply of milk for your child, feed on demand. All of this, and now continue to move with the rest of your life.
Baby came, you had three days in the hospital to heal enough to go home, now carry on.
Perhaps the reason I feel the way I do is because I'm unsure that I gave myself enough time to let my mind catch up with my body about having had another child.
I was so quickly back to business as usual that I wonder if my mind has completely wrapped itself around the fact that the wound in my belly, the engorgement of my breasts, the spit up on my shirt, the bags under my eyes are all due to the tiny miracle I often carry on my chest.
I once wrote that the scars, the stretch marks and the spit up are all badges of honor-- Not to be taken lightly. I have to stop stressing about what I am wearing, and accept that it's OK to wear sweatshirts and put my hair up sometimes (ok, all the time lately, as I have no desire to wear anything else unless I am going somewhere that sweat might be construed as sloppy/inappropriate).
I can still be an amazing, well put together mom in comfy clothes. Does it really matter if I am well dressed driving my kid in the car back and forth to preschool and then sitting around my house with a kid latched onto me most time? Does anyone REALLY care if I am wearing black yoga pants and a sweatshirt or tights and a trendy dress? Nope. Just me.
So with each quiet moment, I am going to try to remind myself once again that these stretch marks are going to fade. 6 weeks will come, and it will be OK once again for me to work out and stress about my jeans size.
But for now, I will give myself time to enjoy each cuddle with my new girl. I will not stress about my belly jiggling too much, or that my thighs don't have a proper gap. I will eat to nourish myself enough to nourish my baby. I will get back into a workout routine slowly, and not curse myself for missing a day because the girls were in need of extra snuggle time and by the time they were satisfied/asleep I was just too damn worn from the day to bother.
For now, I will wear sweatpants.
Saturday, November 23, 2013
Tuesday, November 19, 2013
This mommy's life, blog redux
So, it's been a while since my last blog post.. I got so distracted and busy with everyday life that I forgot about doing anything I really enjoy, except for a few things.
Most importantly, I got pregnant. ;-)
I gave birth to another baby girl Olive Luisa on Oct 21, and needless to say I am still adjusting to life as a mommy of two. Make no mistake, it's really hard! So far these are some of the things I have learned:
1) It doesn't matter if you have a new baby or not, when you have a 2nd (3rd, 4th, 8th) child, the other ones still expect things from you. They have needs. Many, many needs! Such as, but not limited to: Eating, wearing clean clothes, being bathed, wanting to play, cuddle and be read to before bedtime. Alone. More than likely without their new sibling, which may make it more difficult should your spouse/partner/whatever not be home or around to help you do so. Which if you don't understand what I am trying to say, means cooking, cleaning, rocking, doing laundry, reading, washing, carrying, etc on very little to no sleep regardless of c-section incision or stitches or pain.
2) Your older child(ren) is/are going to be pissed. And jealous. And you are going to feel awful. So horrible in fact that you are going to (in desperate times) wonder if it would have been better not to have had another one, because you never meant to make the one that already existed feel as if they weren't good enough, or that you needed something different, or more.
It will make you cry, it will rip your heart out, and it will make you realize how much you love your children because only a person you love so much can make you worry about them doubting you or not knowing how much you REALLY love them.
3) You should have been born an octopus. Because having 8 arms would be incredible, and given the chance you would put them all to good use!
4) A 2nd baby isn't that hard, you've done this before. Feed, change, cuddle to sleep- repeat. Boom, you got this.
A 2nd child is a whole other kettle of fish. Suddenly you are responsible for two lives. Two sets of car seat buckles, two mouths to feed, two butts to wipe (age depending), two sets of appointments, two sizes of clothes to wash, fold and separate, and the list goes on. And on. And on.
So as much as you have the baby thing down pat, no one can prep you for juggling two kids and all that comes with it.
5) I am kind of awesome. On two occasions I have made life happen. I was there for it, I saw it all. I helped bring two incredible lives into this world. . Two beautiful, amazing, smart, sweet, cuddly, best-thing-that-ever-happened-to-me lives.
6) Any day that I eat more than two meals and/or shower is a day worth celebrating.
More often than not, my days are filled with shirts covered in breast milk and spit up, eating only the crust left on my 3 year old's plate after she is finished and finishing my morning cup of coffee (after having to reheat it at least three times) by 11am. An actual meal and a hot (albeit probably only 5 minutes long) shower is like a dream come true.
7) There is no better place to be than when you are nursing a cuddly baby on the couch, and your three year old curls up next to you, snuggles in and sleepily tells you she loves you. Unconditional love. There's nothing quite like it. It's in moments like this when the clouds seem to part, and the sun peeks through, even if it's just briefly. Sometimes it's those little moments of calm that make all of the crap that proceeded it fall away. These moments are so fleeting, if you blink you might miss it. However, if you are lucky enough to not be too stressed or overtired to notice them, they are just long enough to give you incentive to keep on moving so you get to the next sweet and incredible moment.
Each day seems to be getting a little easier. Granted with each hurdle I leap, there is another to follow. Juggling doesn't seem any easier, but it looks less insurmountable. In time, I will look back at this first month and (hopefully, fingers crossed) it will seem like a distant memory, barely real. But until then, I will look forward to everything that having these two amazing little girls will bring me.
And I will keep muttering to myself on each sleepless night, over each tear from my eyes or moment of lost patience that 'This too shall pass'.
Until then.
Most importantly, I got pregnant. ;-)
I gave birth to another baby girl Olive Luisa on Oct 21, and needless to say I am still adjusting to life as a mommy of two. Make no mistake, it's really hard! So far these are some of the things I have learned:
1) It doesn't matter if you have a new baby or not, when you have a 2nd (3rd, 4th, 8th) child, the other ones still expect things from you. They have needs. Many, many needs! Such as, but not limited to: Eating, wearing clean clothes, being bathed, wanting to play, cuddle and be read to before bedtime. Alone. More than likely without their new sibling, which may make it more difficult should your spouse/partner/whatever not be home or around to help you do so. Which if you don't understand what I am trying to say, means cooking, cleaning, rocking, doing laundry, reading, washing, carrying, etc on very little to no sleep regardless of c-section incision or stitches or pain.
2) Your older child(ren) is/are going to be pissed. And jealous. And you are going to feel awful. So horrible in fact that you are going to (in desperate times) wonder if it would have been better not to have had another one, because you never meant to make the one that already existed feel as if they weren't good enough, or that you needed something different, or more.
It will make you cry, it will rip your heart out, and it will make you realize how much you love your children because only a person you love so much can make you worry about them doubting you or not knowing how much you REALLY love them.
3) You should have been born an octopus. Because having 8 arms would be incredible, and given the chance you would put them all to good use!
4) A 2nd baby isn't that hard, you've done this before. Feed, change, cuddle to sleep- repeat. Boom, you got this.
A 2nd child is a whole other kettle of fish. Suddenly you are responsible for two lives. Two sets of car seat buckles, two mouths to feed, two butts to wipe (age depending), two sets of appointments, two sizes of clothes to wash, fold and separate, and the list goes on. And on. And on.
So as much as you have the baby thing down pat, no one can prep you for juggling two kids and all that comes with it.
5) I am kind of awesome. On two occasions I have made life happen. I was there for it, I saw it all. I helped bring two incredible lives into this world. . Two beautiful, amazing, smart, sweet, cuddly, best-thing-that-ever-happened-to-me lives.
6) Any day that I eat more than two meals and/or shower is a day worth celebrating.
More often than not, my days are filled with shirts covered in breast milk and spit up, eating only the crust left on my 3 year old's plate after she is finished and finishing my morning cup of coffee (after having to reheat it at least three times) by 11am. An actual meal and a hot (albeit probably only 5 minutes long) shower is like a dream come true.
7) There is no better place to be than when you are nursing a cuddly baby on the couch, and your three year old curls up next to you, snuggles in and sleepily tells you she loves you. Unconditional love. There's nothing quite like it. It's in moments like this when the clouds seem to part, and the sun peeks through, even if it's just briefly. Sometimes it's those little moments of calm that make all of the crap that proceeded it fall away. These moments are so fleeting, if you blink you might miss it. However, if you are lucky enough to not be too stressed or overtired to notice them, they are just long enough to give you incentive to keep on moving so you get to the next sweet and incredible moment.
Each day seems to be getting a little easier. Granted with each hurdle I leap, there is another to follow. Juggling doesn't seem any easier, but it looks less insurmountable. In time, I will look back at this first month and (hopefully, fingers crossed) it will seem like a distant memory, barely real. But until then, I will look forward to everything that having these two amazing little girls will bring me.
And I will keep muttering to myself on each sleepless night, over each tear from my eyes or moment of lost patience that 'This too shall pass'.
Until then.
 |
| My girls: Olive 4 weeks and Isabel 3.5 Years |
Sunday, January 20, 2013
Morning, Sweeties!
Ok, so this is my first food blog post, so be kind and keep in mind that I am the FURTHEST thing from a food photographer! I have eaten many a muffin in my day... And as they have increased in size, I have noticed a severe decrease in anything nutritious, healthy or containing vitamins of any sort. Listen, I am the first to say that sometimes there is nothing better than a chocolate chip muffin, toasted just enough to melt the chocolate a little bit..BUT, for my everyday kid friendly-waist friendly recipe I have to at least TRY to maintain some semblance of a healthy eating lifestyle.
That being said... Who doesn't love carrot cake? Or Zucchini bread?! I do. A lot. I have lots of yummy memories surrounding both.. So, that prompted me to start researching and opening my recipe files, and I found the recipe for a 'morning glory' muffin, which if you have never had it, you are definitely missing out! It's a yummy blend of carrots, coconut, apples and pineapple in muffin form with the crunch of nuts and the chewiness of raisins throughout..
So, with a few tweaks, substitutions and additions, I created my 'Morning, Sweetie! Muffins'.. because there is nothing that says good morning to the people you love like the smell of something amazing in the oven that you can feel good about feeding your family!
Morning, Sweetie! Muffins
Adapted from: Earthbound Farm's culinary consultant, Chef Pam McKinstry's Original Morning Glory Muffin Recipe
Ingredients
1/2 cup white sugar
3/4 cup light brown sugar
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup sweetened shredded coconut
1/4 cup unsweetened shredded coconut (use a 1/2 of the sweetened if you don't have/can't find the unsweetened version, no biggie!)
1/2 raisins
1/4 cup craisins (dried cranberries, or just use 3/4 of all raisins or all craisins of you want, makes no difference!)
1 large apple, peeled and grated
1 cup crushed pineapple, drained.
1 cup grated carrots
1 cup grated zucchini
1/2 cup coarsely chopped walnuts or pecans ( I omitted this to make them allergy friendly!)
3 large eggs
1/2 cup vegetable or coconut oil
1/2 applesauce
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 Tablespoon Cinnamon
1.5 teaspoons nutmeg
Note: this recipe is easily made vegan by omitting the 3 eggs and using the flax seed egg conversion, or a powdered egg replacement.
Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat to 350 degrees F.
Grate carrots, apple and zucchini into a bowl, set aside.
Sift or whisk together the sugars, flours, baking soda and salt into a large bowl.
Add the coconut, dried fruit, apple, pineapple, carrots and nuts (if using), and stir to combine.
In a separate bowl, whisk the eggs with the oil, applesauce, spices and vanilla. Pour into the bowl with the dry ingredients and blend well.
Spoon the batter into muffin tins lined with muffin cups, filling each to the brim. Bake for 35 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the middle comes out clean. Cool muffins in the pan for 10 minutes, then turn out onto a rack to finish cooling.
This is good time to clean!
Enjoy!
Tuesday, January 15, 2013
i needed a challenge...or maybe a project
So, this is less about my daughter and more about well, me. I know that new year's resolutions are so....how can I put this? Silly, cliché, and not to mention possibly damaging to ones self esteem should you fail and fall into the 70% category of people who give up on their resolutions before the end of January.
So since I already try and keep to a healthy lifestyle, I wanted a challenge that would benefit not just me but my whole family, and help us all strive for positive change, but also make it something that I can achieve with some ease, and being able to keep to my challenge while also keeping the somewhat nutty schedule that I do...
For those that know me, you know I love to cook, and cooking healthy is something that is important to me...and my ability to do so while making the food palatable to an almost three year old, a somewhat finicky Puerto Rican, and myself.
So here's the plan... OK, gonna attempt to blog what I cook, what my family's reaction is, and how I made it.
I am also going to make things as healthy, UN processed, and yummy as I can... I am also going to try to home make our treats, and snacks...in figure, if I make it, at least I know what's in it....
So, stay tuned...my plan is to have the first one up as soon as humanly possible. And yes, I know... Another food blog...blah. Deal with it, lol. I promise it will still have plenty of snarky mommy humor and quips about my little lady and the man in our life.
If there is any food, snack, or something special you'd like me to tackle, please feel free to comment, it'll make the challenge that much more fun!
Thanks everyone!
So since I already try and keep to a healthy lifestyle, I wanted a challenge that would benefit not just me but my whole family, and help us all strive for positive change, but also make it something that I can achieve with some ease, and being able to keep to my challenge while also keeping the somewhat nutty schedule that I do...
For those that know me, you know I love to cook, and cooking healthy is something that is important to me...and my ability to do so while making the food palatable to an almost three year old, a somewhat finicky Puerto Rican, and myself.
So here's the plan... OK, gonna attempt to blog what I cook, what my family's reaction is, and how I made it.
I am also going to make things as healthy, UN processed, and yummy as I can... I am also going to try to home make our treats, and snacks...in figure, if I make it, at least I know what's in it....
So, stay tuned...my plan is to have the first one up as soon as humanly possible. And yes, I know... Another food blog...blah. Deal with it, lol. I promise it will still have plenty of snarky mommy humor and quips about my little lady and the man in our life.
If there is any food, snack, or something special you'd like me to tackle, please feel free to comment, it'll make the challenge that much more fun!
Thanks everyone!
Thursday, November 15, 2012
Ch ch ch changes.. and a little mush.
So much has changed since I last wrote. So much in fact that it has taken me weeks of staring at my blank 'new post' screen to even put the ideas into something resembling a complete thought.
I have yet to have written this publicly but as many people know, in September my husband lost his job. This threw our entire lives into upheaval. Between panic, tears and scrambling to figure things out, I haven't stopped very long to actually put into perspective what happened here..
Doing what every mother instinctively does, I tried to nurture those around me, and make everyone feel OK with the situation. I made one of the hardest decisions I had to, which was to go back to work during the daytime. I didn't have to. I mean, for lack of any other money making option, I guess I did.. but I could have been bitchy and complain-y (more so, I guess) and said that I wasn't changing anything, that he lost his job and that he needed to fix it. But that's not what partners do.
Marriage is give and take,
and in this situation I HAD to give,
and with each day that passes, it seems like a lot.
And while I tear up a lot lately getting used to the idea of my husband being home with her, getting to take her to her library programs, put her hair in pigtails and chose what kind of waffle she will eat in the morning, let me enlighten you about my husband a little bit.
My husband had been working at a miserable job to keep up afloat. He swallowed his pride every morning he used to have to go to work to be belittled and eat shit all day by his former employers because he knew he had to make money to take care of his family. It was killing him, his spirit and his kindness and sense of self worth and it was not paying nearly enough to deal with a third of the garbage he had to put up with.
He's 1 and ( a little less than) a half months away from graduation for his Master's Degree (in addition to which he also got a Project Management Certificate) which has taken him a LONNNNNG 4 years of stress, sitting in a cold basement, missing family gatherings/holiday celebrations, early mornings, late nights, pre-and postnatal craziness (well me, but him by default) and did I say stress (?).. He's so close they've probably almost printed his name in his diploma, and I couldn't be more proud.
He spends each moment of every day worrying. He worries about money. He worries about how he will take care of his family. He worries about me and Isabel, and wants to be sure we are safe and happy. He worries he will disappoint me. He worries about Isabel and hopes she will grow up to be a good person, and hopes we are doing the best we can. He worries about bills, and late charges and finance rates.. and I wish he wouldn't worry so much.
He's the most loving, dependable and caring man I could have ever asked for. Isabel is lucky to have him as her daddy, and I am truly blessed to have him walk by my side in this crazy life we live together. He's always got my back, and although I can seem adverse to a lot of his 'hair-brained' ideas, I know for a fact that he only does all of the things he does for Isabel and I. We come before him. Or happiness, our safety, our security.. it comes before his and I want him to know that I realize that.
Thank you, Mr. Bermudez for all of your hard work and love.
I love you always.
I have yet to have written this publicly but as many people know, in September my husband lost his job. This threw our entire lives into upheaval. Between panic, tears and scrambling to figure things out, I haven't stopped very long to actually put into perspective what happened here..
Doing what every mother instinctively does, I tried to nurture those around me, and make everyone feel OK with the situation. I made one of the hardest decisions I had to, which was to go back to work during the daytime. I didn't have to. I mean, for lack of any other money making option, I guess I did.. but I could have been bitchy and complain-y (more so, I guess) and said that I wasn't changing anything, that he lost his job and that he needed to fix it. But that's not what partners do.
Marriage is give and take,
and in this situation I HAD to give,
and with each day that passes, it seems like a lot.
And while I tear up a lot lately getting used to the idea of my husband being home with her, getting to take her to her library programs, put her hair in pigtails and chose what kind of waffle she will eat in the morning, let me enlighten you about my husband a little bit.
My husband had been working at a miserable job to keep up afloat. He swallowed his pride every morning he used to have to go to work to be belittled and eat shit all day by his former employers because he knew he had to make money to take care of his family. It was killing him, his spirit and his kindness and sense of self worth and it was not paying nearly enough to deal with a third of the garbage he had to put up with.
He's 1 and ( a little less than) a half months away from graduation for his Master's Degree (in addition to which he also got a Project Management Certificate) which has taken him a LONNNNNG 4 years of stress, sitting in a cold basement, missing family gatherings/holiday celebrations, early mornings, late nights, pre-and postnatal craziness (well me, but him by default) and did I say stress (?).. He's so close they've probably almost printed his name in his diploma, and I couldn't be more proud.
He spends each moment of every day worrying. He worries about money. He worries about how he will take care of his family. He worries about me and Isabel, and wants to be sure we are safe and happy. He worries he will disappoint me. He worries about Isabel and hopes she will grow up to be a good person, and hopes we are doing the best we can. He worries about bills, and late charges and finance rates.. and I wish he wouldn't worry so much.
He's the most loving, dependable and caring man I could have ever asked for. Isabel is lucky to have him as her daddy, and I am truly blessed to have him walk by my side in this crazy life we live together. He's always got my back, and although I can seem adverse to a lot of his 'hair-brained' ideas, I know for a fact that he only does all of the things he does for Isabel and I. We come before him. Or happiness, our safety, our security.. it comes before his and I want him to know that I realize that.
Thank you, Mr. Bermudez for all of your hard work and love.
I love you always.
Monday, August 6, 2012
When good girls go bad..
No! NO! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
That's pretty much what I hear from the minute I wake up, until her tiny little eyelids fall closed at night. Apparently my daughters has not only learned the meaning of the word, she uses it often when I really want to hear anything but..
"Izzy, let's go change your diaper" "no!"
"Isabel do you want to eat?"' "nooooo"
"Isabel, don't touch that please!" "No, no, nooooooooooooooo!"
Okay okay, I guess calling her 'bad' isn't the nicest, most pc-mommy thing to do, but COME ON people!
I prayed every night for about a month prior to her 2nd birthday that she would not be a terrible two.. that the little 'moment' we had at about 18 months was the worst of it, and that the days after her 2nd birthday would be a bliss-filled cakewalk, while I scoffed at all the tantruming kids on the floors of supermarkets reducing their now teary-eyed and hoarse (from screaming) moms to mom-zombies whowould plead, beg and near lose their minds for just a glimpse of the child they *thought* they knew.
This was and is in fact, not the case. So, instead of just assuming that a) there is no God who would've listened to my pleading for a well behaved child, or b) She/he was far too busy listening to the other moms with bigger and far more pressing issues, She/he decided to arm me with books about deep breathing exercises, a night job and (lots of) wine to get through the part of my little girls life where she needs me so deeply, yet wants so intensely to express her independence that it often creates a storm between us.. Something similar to what creates a tornado; hot and cold air, running amok in the atmosphere. A strong vortex that sucks up all the energy, good and bad leaving a mess of destruction in it's wake..
Ok, so that was a little melodramatic, but you get the idea.
Who knew two-year old's were such complex little creatures? I never knew that such a strong desire for a particular outcome thwarted by an inability to complete or fulfill said desire could cause such an boiling over of emotions, (often times resulting in a display of floor exercises that could rival an Olympic athlete)? And while I feel that these moments last forever, in reality they are one just a quick moment out of my whole day, after which she is back to her sweet and loving self again.
Who knew that at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter. Each tantrum no matter how big or small isn't something we can't get through, regardless of how insane, destructive, embarrassing or over-dramatic. At the end of the day, we all put our heads down and sleep (hopefully!) and dream the day away. We cleanse our hearts and minds, and wake up again hoping that the brightness of the sun and the promise of a new day will wash away the insanity of the day before. Or at the very least, gain the energy to deal with the craziness of yet another day with a two year old.
I am quickly learning that no one ever died from being told no (or at least, I don't think so), and me inciting a tantrum is not a question of my ability as a mother, but how I deal with it and all of the challenges of being mommy brings is. I don't expect to deal with all of them (or even 50% of them) perfectly, but I can try.
And in the meantime, I have to start getting used to this, because I keep hearing that three is worse.. (gasp!)
Okay okay, I guess calling her 'bad' isn't the nicest, most pc-mommy thing to do, but COME ON people!
I prayed every night for about a month prior to her 2nd birthday that she would not be a terrible two.. that the little 'moment' we had at about 18 months was the worst of it, and that the days after her 2nd birthday would be a bliss-filled cakewalk, while I scoffed at all the tantruming kids on the floors of supermarkets reducing their now teary-eyed and hoarse (from screaming) moms to mom-zombies whowould plead, beg and near lose their minds for just a glimpse of the child they *thought* they knew.
This was and is in fact, not the case. So, instead of just assuming that a) there is no God who would've listened to my pleading for a well behaved child, or b) She/he was far too busy listening to the other moms with bigger and far more pressing issues, She/he decided to arm me with books about deep breathing exercises, a night job and (lots of) wine to get through the part of my little girls life where she needs me so deeply, yet wants so intensely to express her independence that it often creates a storm between us.. Something similar to what creates a tornado; hot and cold air, running amok in the atmosphere. A strong vortex that sucks up all the energy, good and bad leaving a mess of destruction in it's wake..
Ok, so that was a little melodramatic, but you get the idea.
Who knew two-year old's were such complex little creatures? I never knew that such a strong desire for a particular outcome thwarted by an inability to complete or fulfill said desire could cause such an boiling over of emotions, (often times resulting in a display of floor exercises that could rival an Olympic athlete)? And while I feel that these moments last forever, in reality they are one just a quick moment out of my whole day, after which she is back to her sweet and loving self again.
Who knew that at the end of the day, it wouldn't matter. Each tantrum no matter how big or small isn't something we can't get through, regardless of how insane, destructive, embarrassing or over-dramatic. At the end of the day, we all put our heads down and sleep (hopefully!) and dream the day away. We cleanse our hearts and minds, and wake up again hoping that the brightness of the sun and the promise of a new day will wash away the insanity of the day before. Or at the very least, gain the energy to deal with the craziness of yet another day with a two year old.
I am quickly learning that no one ever died from being told no (or at least, I don't think so), and me inciting a tantrum is not a question of my ability as a mother, but how I deal with it and all of the challenges of being mommy brings is. I don't expect to deal with all of them (or even 50% of them) perfectly, but I can try.
And in the meantime, I have to start getting used to this, because I keep hearing that three is worse.. (gasp!)
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
And now...a moment of clarity.
I have spent the past (a little over) two years worrying, probably giving myself unnecessary wrinkles, dark circles and ulcers over being the mommy I always wanted. The mommy who knew exactly what you wanted for your birthday, the kind of cake to bake and the one that always called you at the exact time you were born every year, even if that moment was in the middle of the night.
The mom who kissed away your boo-boos and tears, one who was there waving goodbye when you got on the bus in the morning, and smiling excitedly when you got off the bus after school. But unfortunately, as Isabel got Andre and I by chance, circumstance and a dash of science and biology, I couldn't chose my mom.
Just because my mother wasn't the exact mom I would have wanted, still want or chose, doesn't mean that I would change anything. If I didn't have my mother, I would have never become the person I am today. I would have never learned that being a mother is so much more than a title, and that much like adopted children, it doesn't matter who gives birth to you, you don't need to be tied to someone by blood to have them be family. You don't need to come from the belly of the person who will love you most... And while I hope that Isabel never has to feel the disappointment I have felt from my own mother, I was very fortunate to know the love of a mother, (while not mine by birth) who loves me unconditionally.
I also learned that the little things do matter some of the time, when the little things are cuddling on the couch or making cookies on rainy days. Walking hand in hand picking flowers when it's sunny, or playing in the sprinkler outside on hot days. Or holding each other close in bed, cuddling as if life depends on it. Giggling in the bath, blowing bubbles, and kissing each other goodnight.
So much of my time is spent worrying.... How will I get it all done? How can I clean the house, make the perfect meal, do the laundry, teach her her ABC's and make sure she doesn't watch too much TV, and still get through a nights work? How does everyone else, some with multiple children, make it all look so easy? They all secretly have maids and nannies, don't they? Magic spells from 'the book of mommy magic', that is apparently harder to get a copy of the than the 50 shades trilogy?
And often, the time I don't spend worrying, I spend feeling guilty.. Guility for wanting time to myself. Wanting to be just me, not mommy-me, not wife-me, or work-me, just me. Danielle me. To go shopping without worrying about what needs to be done at home and who might be missing me in my absence. Agonizing over wanting to leave my kid totally safely with another mom in a local gym nursery, that I will be 5 feet from so I can workout and feel better about myself which will hopefully improve my overall mood, any maybe make me a better mom. Guilt over sitting on the computer or eating a whine-free lunch during nap time instead of using that time more 'wisely' to get dinner made, or the cleaning done.
So, my moment of clarity came to me while I was driving home last night from work. Why all the stress? Why all the guilt? I am doing the best I know how, and the outcome has been pretty amazing.
I am not the perfect mom. I am the only mom I know how to be. I will learn from the mistakes of those before me, and take (with caution) the advice of those around me.
I will not spend all of my time agonizing over what I feed my child, how we spend our days, and whether everyone else is happy with the way my child is being raised.
I will no longer concern myself with being the 'perfect' mom. I will everyday grow, and learn with my daughter, and I will try to concentrate being a better mom. Not a better mom than my own. Not better than my sisters or my friends. But I will always work on being the best mom I can be.
The mom who kissed away your boo-boos and tears, one who was there waving goodbye when you got on the bus in the morning, and smiling excitedly when you got off the bus after school. But unfortunately, as Isabel got Andre and I by chance, circumstance and a dash of science and biology, I couldn't chose my mom.
Just because my mother wasn't the exact mom I would have wanted, still want or chose, doesn't mean that I would change anything. If I didn't have my mother, I would have never become the person I am today. I would have never learned that being a mother is so much more than a title, and that much like adopted children, it doesn't matter who gives birth to you, you don't need to be tied to someone by blood to have them be family. You don't need to come from the belly of the person who will love you most... And while I hope that Isabel never has to feel the disappointment I have felt from my own mother, I was very fortunate to know the love of a mother, (while not mine by birth) who loves me unconditionally.
I also learned that the little things do matter some of the time, when the little things are cuddling on the couch or making cookies on rainy days. Walking hand in hand picking flowers when it's sunny, or playing in the sprinkler outside on hot days. Or holding each other close in bed, cuddling as if life depends on it. Giggling in the bath, blowing bubbles, and kissing each other goodnight.
So much of my time is spent worrying.... How will I get it all done? How can I clean the house, make the perfect meal, do the laundry, teach her her ABC's and make sure she doesn't watch too much TV, and still get through a nights work? How does everyone else, some with multiple children, make it all look so easy? They all secretly have maids and nannies, don't they? Magic spells from 'the book of mommy magic', that is apparently harder to get a copy of the than the 50 shades trilogy?
And often, the time I don't spend worrying, I spend feeling guilty.. Guility for wanting time to myself. Wanting to be just me, not mommy-me, not wife-me, or work-me, just me. Danielle me. To go shopping without worrying about what needs to be done at home and who might be missing me in my absence. Agonizing over wanting to leave my kid totally safely with another mom in a local gym nursery, that I will be 5 feet from so I can workout and feel better about myself which will hopefully improve my overall mood, any maybe make me a better mom. Guilt over sitting on the computer or eating a whine-free lunch during nap time instead of using that time more 'wisely' to get dinner made, or the cleaning done.
So, my moment of clarity came to me while I was driving home last night from work. Why all the stress? Why all the guilt? I am doing the best I know how, and the outcome has been pretty amazing.
I am not the perfect mom. I am the only mom I know how to be. I will learn from the mistakes of those before me, and take (with caution) the advice of those around me.
I will not spend all of my time agonizing over what I feed my child, how we spend our days, and whether everyone else is happy with the way my child is being raised.
I will no longer concern myself with being the 'perfect' mom. I will everyday grow, and learn with my daughter, and I will try to concentrate being a better mom. Not a better mom than my own. Not better than my sisters or my friends. But I will always work on being the best mom I can be.
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