Category Archives: motherhood

Reese Hates Singing And She Doesn’t Care Who Knows It

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Reesie has started a new habit which is majorly bossy and slightly worrisome, but more importantly, hilarious.

She gets royally ticked when people sing aloud.

I first noticed it a few weeks ago when my mother was over and Reese hit the music button on her little toy station thing. It started playing one of our favorite songs.

“There’s so many colors, here are just a few; red and yellow, green and BLUE!”

My mom and I sang along, like we always do when her music plays, and Reese flipped her shizz.

“Nooooooo!” she yelled at us while making a mad face and waving her hand around in her face. “No, No!” She looked scared and also pissed. We stopped, (Reese is the boss of us) and let her continue listening to her song in peace.

Later on, when she turned on her musical British teapot (hilar), we started the dancing and singing along again.

“Would you like a spot of tea? Some for you and some for me! Let’s take turns and always say, please and thank YOU!”

She stopped dead in her tracks and looked at us. “NO! NO! Nooooooo” she commanded, shaking her head and doing the wild hand waving.

I figured it was just my singing that offended her so much, until this past weekend when we attended our neighbor’s first birthday party.

All was going well until it was time to sing Happy Birthday. I had forgotten about her issues with singing and actually thought she would love hearing the song. The minute the singing began Reese looked at me with the mad face. Seconds later, the handwaving began. “Noooooooo! No! No!” She made sure to make eye contact with other party goers as well, as if to say “I’m talking to you too.”

This continued on and off for the rest of the song.

People noticed.

I assume this is just one of those random, weird phases that toddlers go through, but if not, we are all in serious trouble if we are embarrassing our kid this early in life.

Mom Guilt is a B

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Another thing that motherhood has taught me: Catholic guilt has nothing on mom guilt.

I know I have said it before, but I feel guilty whenever I even think about leaving Reese for extended periods of time (other than to go to work or when I know she’s in bed for the night.) The fact that I only get to see her for one or two hours Monday-Thursday makes it very hard to justify ever leaving her on the weekends.

So a few weekends ago, when one of Andrew’s closest friends from high school got  married out of town, I tried to plan a way where we could both attend all the wedding events without leaving Reese for the whole weekend.

Lucky for us, my best friend Sarah and her husband Ryan live in the same town where the wedding was taking place, and agreed to watch Reese on Friday and Saturday nights while we were at the rehearsal dinner and the wedding.

I have yet to leave Reese overnight anywhere and I really didn’t want to if I didn’t have to. So despite the fact that we had two nights booked in a hotel, I was still planning on spending both nights with Reese, either at Sarah’s house or picking her up and bringing her back to the hotel with me. The wedding was taking place in the hotel, so logistically, my plan was not ideal and some (Andrew) may even say it was stupid.

Friday night we went to Sarah’s after the rehearsal dinner and all spent the night there. On Saturday, determined not to lose all the money we put down on the hotel, I picked Reese up after leaving the reception and brought her back to the hotel.

It was an evening wedding so even though I left the reception halfway through to pick Reese up, it was still pretty late by the time we both got back to the hotel. I got lots of judgments/looks as I walked through the hotel lobby at 1 AM carrying my groggy 15 month old. The valet, assuming I was the only one in the car, actually almost drove away with her in the back before I could get her out of her seat. I guess he didn’t know our baby hangs late night.

After two days of being out past 11 pm (!!) and up before 6 am, Sunday morning hit us like a punch to the mouth. Pre-Reese, wedding weekends involved late nights and late mornings. We would roll out of bed on Sunday morning and hopefully have time to take a shower before heading to the post wedding brunch. This weekend, 6 am found the three of us sitting in bed, Elmo playing on repeat and Andrew and I literally counting the minutes until the brunch began.

Four hours later, we were the first ones in line at the buffet.

The time it took for us to recover from the weekend was enough for me to rethink my reluctance to leave Reese for an overnight, and to consider letting go a little.

We have family members who have been clamoring for a sleep over with Reese for some time now, and I think I’m ready to take them up on that offer. I know we’ll miss our girl and I’ll still have a few guilt-ridden moments, but when I am gloriously sleeping in until whenever I feel like it, eating entire meals sitting on a chair at a table, and not finding applesauce in my hair at the end of the day, I will know that I made the right decision.

Oh My God, No One Told Us That!

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As I’ve said before, the first year of motherhood has shown me that there are a lot of things that people just don’t tell you. In some ways, I get it.  No one wants to be the Deb Downer who squashes your pre-baby, blissful ignorance with the gritty details of their pregnancy, birth story, parenting experiences or whatever. Everyone’s experiences are not the same, so why cause someone to worry about something that may never happen?  That’s fine and all. But for me, if you are my close friend/family member, I expect a heads up about certain things. Certain things that will remain nameless, but if you have ever had a baby, you probably have a good idea of what I’m talking about.

Although it was never explicitly stated, I pretty much understood (from books, birthing classes, my doctor etc.) that I could be straight up crazy for a couple of months after my baby was born. Overly emotional, over-protective, stressed, tired. Yea ok. I guess these are the socially acceptable feelings for a new mom to have and thus, the ones we hear most about.

Yesterday I came across this article. I will state that I am not a fan of the title. I don’t think it really reflects what the article is about, and in my opinion, it doesn’t provide an accurate depiction of how the mothers in the article seem to feel about motherhood. It did however, provide a brief moment of relief for me.

When Reese was a newborn I had nightmarish thoughts about awful things that could happen to her. Every article about a missing or ill child, a car accident, a fire etc. brought fresh fears and anxiety that reared its head at all hours of the night. Was it irrational to think that someone could lean a ladder against our home, climb up to the second floor window, cut the screen and take Reese? Maybe, but this image ran through my mind more than a couple of times.

Thankfully, I can’t say that I experienced anything as severe as what the women in the article went through, but I can relate to not feeling totally comfortable sharing these feeling with others.  At the time I just felt like a paranoid weirdo.

Today, these fears are few and far between, but I doubt that they will ever completely leave my mind. I don’t know many mothers who don’t worry about their kids on a daily basis, regardless of their age.  I guess it is the price you pay for having a child, and in my experience so far, it is a small one.

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On Scary Elmo Bubblebaths

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Nary a day goes by where I do not fear that I have scarred my daughter in some way. Last night was no different.

I bought some Elmo bubblebath this weekend thinking I was the bomb mom, and we tried it out last night.

Apparently, when you have never seen bubbles before, they can be scary. It kind of makes sense I guess. Normally your mom puts you in a bath with clear water where you can see all your toys and body parts, then one day she puts you in a bath full of white stuff and acts like its NBD.

Reese freaked out when I stood her up in the tub full of bubbles. She began saying “No! No! Nooooooooo!”, pointing at the bathroom door and trying to climb out of the tub with a look of panic on her face. Being out of the tub was not enough; the sight of the bubbles was too much and we had to leave the bathroom completely.

Getting back in took a few tries. I mean the bubbles were still in the tub, so I don’t really blame her. She kept looking at me with the saddest face imaginable and saying, “bubbles.”  Normally, bath time is one of her favorite parts of the day, so I’m sure she was internally cursing me for screwing with it.

Finally, with her screaming all the while, I charged back into the bathroom and drained the tub of the cursed bubbles. I eventually got her back into the tub with just water, but it wasn’t the same. She was extremely cautious and inspected her bath toys, the water, and the wash cloth suspiciously.

Hopefully one day she will be able to forget this incident and won’t end up being the weird kid in school who is afraid of bubbles.

Here’s Reese in happier bath times.

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The Lies We Tell Our Children

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Sunday afternoon Reese and I went to lunch with my younger sister Elyse and her boyfriend TJ.

We sat in front of a table with two little girls who apparently would not eat their burgers. At one point we heard their mother say, “You know what’s going to happen if you don’t eat your lunches, right? The man in the kitchen is going to come out here.”

For some reason, Elyse and I thought this was really funny. Probably because I know for a fact that if my mother had told Elyse this when she was little, it would have worked. Elyse was scared of everything and she would have been terrified at the idea of the man in the kitchen coming to our table and confronting her about uneaten food.

Will I tell my child small white lies in order to get them to behave? Probably. Sometimes I tell Reese that we can’t put Elmo on TV because he is sleeping. Right or wrong, I figure at this age she is not going to remember, and probably doesn’t even understand me anyway. Judge away people!

I remember my older sister telling me that her friends used to tell their three-year old that Spider Man would not like him if he didn’t behave, and that if he didn’t listen to Mommy and Daddy some character from a TV show he watches would “come and bite your butt.” As terrifying as getting your butt bitten sounds, the kid never seemed truly fearful or even entirely convinced that this would happen.

But what about when children get older? Will I ruin my credibility with Reese and lead her to question everything I ever tell her? Probably not. Personally, I don’t remember being super pissed at my parents for telling me that Santa brought me presents every Christmas or that the tooth fairy was leaving me money underneath my pillow. I mostly just felt stupid for believing it in the first place (it went on a little too long.)

As of late, this topic is blowing up in parenting magazines, blogs, books, etc. and there is even a semi amusing twitter from which I stole the title to this blog post. “Lies I Tell My Kid” https://twitter.com/liesitellmykid.

I’m sure this will become more of an issue when Reese is older and begins asking the hard questions, but for right now, Elmo is sleeping and I’m ok with that.

Girls’ Week

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Our main man was away in California on business last week, so Reese, Miles and I were left to hold down the fort.

It was only the second time Andrew has traveled for more than one night since Reese was born and despite the fact that she is now running around, it seemed to be a little bit easier this time around than it was five months ago.

Four whole nights to myself (once Reese was in bed) meant lots of “me time.” I used this time wisely, laying on the couch watching trashy reality tv that Andrew does not tolerate. I caught up on Real Housewives, Teen Mom and the Bachelor and was even introduced to the embarrassingly addicting world of “Married to a Jonas” (I love you Danielle; don’t listen to the haters.) It also meant doing all the chores I normally do PLUS the boy chores (shoveling snow, taking out the trash, etc.) It was only 4 days but it reinforced my belief that single moms are not to be messed with. Working all day and then coming home to take care of a one year-old solo is no joke.

Without Andrew, even our nightly ritual of walking the dog turned into a major production, and it ended up taking me almost a half an hour to get the three of us out of the house. Getting Reese bundled up, Miles leashed and back-packed (more on this later; but yes, our dog wears a backpack), the stroller out the door and down the steps, and locking up, all while holding a 24 lb toddler and trying to avoid tripping over a 50 lb dog was comedic. The fact that we live on a very busy street (right at an intersection to be exact) means that there is always a live audience of people in their cars watching/judging as I awkwardly toss the stroller down the stairs and try to keep Miles from running out the gate while I strap Reese in. Never far from my mind is the fact that I know if I was in those cars, I would be laughing at me.

Come Thursday evening, the three of us were looking forward to having Dada back.

When we heard Andrew’s car pulling in the driveway, I brought Reese into the kitchen and she stood against the door peering out the window; hair still wet from her bath and her feet covered in fleece pajamas. She bounced up and down when she heard his feet on the deck stairs and when he appeared in the doorway she began her dance of joy (this consists of rapid arm flapping, heavy breathing, more bouncing up and down, and sometimes, ironically enough, ends with a slap to the face.)

Despite the potential slap, it really is the best kind of greeting after days away.

Thirteen Month Update: Us as Parents

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And now an update on us after 13 months of parenting.

On occasion, we’ve had a few mishaps which made us question our parental abilities. There was the time that Reese fell out of the bottom of the stroller as we were wheeling it down our steps because she hadn’t been strapped in, an incident with a bee while on a walk that caused me to briefly run away from the stroller, leaving Reese, so I could save myself from the bee; or the time Reese was being “changed”and the dirty diaper was put back on her instead of a clean one. I could go on. But I won’t. Mainly because I am too afraid of what people will think of us.

We are still learning and I feel like we will always be learning; no matter how many kids we have or how old they get. Most days, I still think it’s pretty hilarious that I am somebody’s parent, and I don’t think it will ever stop feeling like a job for which I am severely underqualified.

We have been parents for thirteen months and sixteen days and our list of questions is long. What do we do when Reese starts hitting us? How do we teach her to share? Is there a way to get her to stop chucking her food and her cup around the kitchen? What’s with the biting??

Things I do know: we have a healthy, beautiful daughter who smiles, laughs, gives lots of hugs and kisses and seems to have a thing for us. This makes me think we are doing something right.

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Reese at 13 Months

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At thirteen months old, Reese is showing us something new every day. Her steps are getting steadier, her words are getting clearer (and louder) and we are getting a glimpse of our girl’s personality. We are beginning to see a sassy/mischievous side to Reese that is delighting us and scaring us at the same time.

At 23.5 lbs she is strong and sturdy and has a belly that would make any baby jealous. She has six teeth (4 on the top and 2 on the bottom), is 29 inches long and still has a crazy big head with dark hair that I cannot wait to get into pigtails.

Here’s what she’s been up to the past couple of months.

New tricks:  Walking everywhere, giving kisses to everything (the man on the Quaker oatmeal container is a favorite), making animal noises (we’ve got the cow and the lamb down pat),  pointing at the TV and screaming “Elmo” (not our favorite new trick),  pretend answering the phone (putting her hand immediately to her ear) whenever we hear a phone ring anywhere, telling us “no” while hitting us in the face (also not a favorite), mimicking things we say with the same inflection/tone we use (this one doesn’t happen very often, but is absolutely hilarious when it does), and incessantly asking for whoever is not there (when Daddy goes somewhere she immediately begins asking for him and then takes your hand and leads you around the house to look for him.)

Favorites: All food (although I still can’t get her to eat meat!), but particularly rice and lentils, BANANAS, crackers, sweet potatoes, oatmeal with raisins, Cheerios, grapes, Elmo, babies, books, and her talking teapot

Words: baby (with a French accent), mama, dada, nana, no,  “cruck-a” (cracker), bath, and “myyyyyyyy” (Miles.)

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To 2013

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I am not one for resolutions. The last one I made, much to the delight of my husband, was  to try to do less clothes shopping. But then I got prego and needed a whole new maternity wardrobe so that didn’t last long.

This year I have decided that a resolution is necessary immediately, in order to combat my extreme laziness and insatiable appetite for entire frozen pizzas and Bud Light. 

Since I stopped breastfeeding about a month and a half ago, my pants are getting a little tighter and the sad truth that I can no longer eat what I want and nurse/pump off the calories is setting in. It was fun while it lasted.

Pre-Reese, I worked out often and tried to eat semi-healthy. Now, going to the gym is no longer an option unless I want to wake up at 4:30 am (hells no.)

Thus, I have resolved to try to eat a little healthier, try to cook more (heating up frozen stuff doesn’t count) and do some sort of exercise where I can. Notice my use of the words/phrases “try”, “some sort” and “where I can.” Clearly, I am weary of setting myself up for failure.

So here we go.

Cheers to fewer cocktails, carbs and cookies, and more sweating, starving and stir-frying. Ugh.

Happy New Year!