I yell out because I’ve hurt myself and the baby starts to cry and then I have to comfort her. This perfectly incapsulates motherhood.
Alright fine. I was getting my eyebrows waxed and I didn’t cry out but she did start to cry and I still felt worse for me but couldn’t show it. BTW, a baby does not mix with a day spa atmosphere. They aren’t always that zen.
Charles (Chuck, Charlie, Chaz, Chip, Chuckles, Charcoal) are the property of ME.
I have some pregnant friends and this unnerves me.
Do I tell them what names I have planned for my future children or do I let the chips fall where they may? Can I include names I like but might not use but would be sad if they used? You know, you always want the greener grass on the other side of the tracks? Or whatever. I think I’ll just be mature (since I’m a parent now) and email a list of names I like to every person I know. That way my bases are covered. Perhaps I’ll start a facebook group? And I’m pretty sure that makes it legally binding. I’m doing this for boy names for sure because good luck finding one of those…
Although their are some moms who are stronger then I am, I find it hard to maintain the social life I had pre-baby. Beacause Spawn insists on waking up before noon, I have had to drastically cut back on my wine and martini intake. So, baby bonus: I’m hung over a lot less. Plus, at my baby music class the moms and babes would have to get into tight circles at the end and I had to pretend that I found their babies so cute that I couldn’t stop smiling, making me unable to sing or talk and have them smell my booze breath from the night before. Trust me people, this only has to the happen once. After that, it’s all tea time and stolen Chatelaines. PTA, here I come.
My friend is home sick from work. She’s so lucky! I wish I could go on vacation… Being sick is the only way to get a vacation from parenting. Or exercising. Or getting groceries. These vacations are lame.
Going on an actual vacation would be so different now. I’d see so much more of the place just by virtue of being awake for many more hours in the day, like the whole morning. The thought of taking Spawn on vacation reminds me of a previous question that hasn’t been answered: how far does a baby monitor reach and what are, if any, the laws surrounding its use?
is that one where the kid throws stuff on the ground and then I pick it up and the she throws it on the ground, repeat, etc. This isn’t one of those activities that is fun for both “parent and child” like watching Oprah or going out for ladies’ lunch. Which reminds me of a question I’ve been dying to ask since I found out I was pregnant: when is it too early to start disciplining? Maybe I’ll just play around with it. Next time she throws stuff, I’ll take away her baby monitor privileges. Next to go: independent play time. Although… whose getting punished here? I’m thinking maybe of banking her punishments. And then WHAMO! When she turns 12, she’ll get a macaroni and construction paper card wishing her the best and a list of her bad deeds since, well labour should be the first one,explaining how she’s punished until she’s 18. And then she’s free to go. Nay, encouraged.
Summer time isn’t all cold beer and BBQs. There is one summer time reality, and I don’t care who you are**, that is hard to face: popping your summer bathing suit cherry. That first time you have to take your shirt off and let your skirt fall to your ankles. In public. In broad daylight. Sober as a judge. All I can hope for is that any on-lookers are wearing sunglasses in order to avoid the glare from my lilly- white ass. The only thing worse than the great unveiling is that dreaded first walk from your towel to the surf.
The good news for me is that my cat scratches stretch marks should distract nicely from the paleness. Sigh… here’s a link to Fitness Magazine online.
**no, really. If this doesn’t bother you, I don’t care who you are. I don’t want to know you
What do you call you mother? I call mine ‘mom’. When I was little I called her ‘mother’ because I wanted to sound mature. Since I not only get to chose my kid’s name, I also get to chose what she calls me, I chose ‘maman’. I wanted to call her a French name but my associate wasn’t having it so instead I’ll have the French name. My mom always said that she hated being called ‘mother’ and now that I am one, I get it. Well, whatever your called, happy Mother’s Day!
I started to do some light on-line research (wikipedia) about Mother’s Day. It was all very boring. Blah, blah, blah, I get presents from now until I die. And although my daughter is too young to know this now, I will make it a priority to teach her the importance of the perfect blend of thoughtful, homeade presents and good, store bought presents that I actually want. I figure I’ll have to sacrifice one of her birthdays and give her a card I’ve made out of macaroni and construction paper which I’ll sign in pencil, writing that she’s the best daughter in the world!!! and that ought to learn her. I will expect two gifts (per child, of course). One thoughtful macaroni card, etc., and one present from a Mother’s Day gift registry that I will direct her to (and subsequent children, of course) at an appropriate time. Probably after the New Year. I’m aware that she/ they will have to receive an allowance and I think that it’s a great opportunity to teach her/ them about the importance of giving. Giving good gifts. Because giving your boss a macaroni card will get you nowhere.
Sigh. See how difficult and selfless being a mother is? I have to take my day and use it to teach valuable life lessons. You might say that teaching is gift enough. And you would be wrong. I will be posting the link to my gift registry ASAP.
Here is a list of things I feel I should be able to get out of because I have a baby:
student loan payments. At least I souldn’t be penalized for paying late. They’re pretty lucky that I remember at all and should be grateful. Student Loans needs to start a gratitude journal.
You know, we need to get someone on the ‘inside’. If I knew someone who worked at the student loan call centre and had access to the files, I would find a group of people who wanted to go in on paying this agent to make our loans disappear. I could start a facebook group and everyone could post their SIN on the group wall. In fact….
Mompreneur idea: I will job shadow a computer hacker and then I can work from home while Spawn naps, hack into the student loan database and delete, delete, delete. For a small fee. Well, for a moderate fee because it would still be worth it to you to pay me a couple thousand dollars in order to never make a student loan payment again.
(misc-mom.tumblr.com does not condone any criminal activity and suggests everyone pay their student loan every month, without exception)
My baby dislikes me again. She did at first. Well, to be fair it was more disinterest than dislike. And to be honest, I wasn’t wild about her either. I was too traumatized to feel anything overwhelmingly positive. But now because she’s in a serious Sleep Therapy regiment, there’s no mistaking it: she’s not my biggest fan. I was telling this to a friend and she said that it’s not as bad as when I have to forbid her to date a guy. She’s right. And it made me think about the many layers to my new role as a mother. If I’m doing my job right, sometimes I’ll have to be the bad guy and sometimes she’s not going to like me. But I’ve also learned that I might be in trouble because to make up for the Sleep Therapy, I really kiss her ass all day. I just hope she doesn’t pick up on my crippling guilt and use it against me. Because I’d have to ground her only to further perpetuate the cycle.
I just remembered that I missed my baby’s latest check up. Great. Now I’ll look like a negligent parent and I’ll never know if she’s in the best percentiles for everything. And I was going to ask about the availability of some sort of organic, all natural baby tranquilizer. Another sleepless month, I guess.