Tuesday, April 26, 2016

A little less wine, and a little more water...

Tonight I went out to the movies with my mom.  We saw My Big Fat Greek Wedding 2.  It was pretty funny.  And really sad that the first movie came out 17 years ago. Cause now I feel old.  But the movie is not the point of this blog entry here tonight.  The point is that on my way home from dropping off my babysitter, an advertisement came on the local radio station. Now, I'm paraphrasing a tiny bit, but it went something like this...
 
"Hey moms.  There's nothing better than getting together with other moms for an evening to relax.  To remember that before dance recitals and hockey recitals, you were more than just a mom.  But there's also nothing worse than waking up the next morning with a headache while your three-year old bangs on pots and pans.  So how about next time, you drink a little less wine, and a little more water.  No judgment.  Just some friendly advice from Magic 94.9."
 
I'm sorry... what?!?  At first, I thought it was going to be a funny advertisement from a water company, like Dasani.  But, nope.  Just some friendly "non-judgmental" advice from our local radio station about how much wine I should be drinking - or not drinking, as the case may be.  Now, I don't get out much -  mostly because I'm usually 2 bottles to the wind and respect the "don't drink and drive laws" - so maybe there's a male equivalent out there in radio land somewhere.  You know, "Hey guys, I know living with an alcoholic wife is hard.  And raising kids is not the joy ride you thought it would be.  But how about instead of adding to that keg around your middle, you hit the gym.  Little less keg, little more six-pack.  No judgement.  Just some friendly advice from Magic 94.9." I dunno, maybe it's there and I just haven't heard it.
 
Now, maybe I'm only offended with this ad because I was out in public, and haven't had time to down my usual nightly bottle of vino.  But you know what I think.  I think that, maybe, the wife of someone who works in advertisement at Magic 94.9 had a little too much to drink over the weekend, and daddy had to get up with the kids.  But, I'll tell you what Magic... how much we mothers have to drink is none of your damn business.  I've got three great reasons to drink:  Gracie, Ella, and Jax.  And here's a list of 25 more:
 
1.  Because I'm a god-damned adult.
2.  Because today, my almost two-year old peed on my leg.
3.  Because today, my almost four-year old picked her nose, and rubbed it on my couch.  Twice.
4.  Because my husband sleeps with ear plugs in.
5.  Because my dog barks every time the wind blows, and today was fucking windy.
6.  Because today was laundry day, and I had 5 loads of laundry to do.
7.  Because after I finished washing and drying 5 loads of laundry, my son shit his pants.
8.  Because I made breakfast, lunch, and supper for three kids, and that shit is hard.
9.  Because I'm watching my weight, and can't eat any fucking fried pepperoni.
10.  Because I love pinterest, and I'm making a wine cork wreath, mother fucker.
11.  Because my cat hurled up a hairball at 5:30 this morning and guess who has to clean it up?!
12.  Because "Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mommy. Mom. Mom."
13.  Because "Sammy, what do I feed them for lunch?" "Sammy, where are the shoes?" "Sammy, can they go outside?" Sammy, where is my black t-shirt." "Sammy, do we have any more milk?"
14.  Because I have a five-year old who thinks she knows everything.
15.  Because "MOMMY! Gracie's being mean to me!!!!!!"
16.  Because my kids don't want to wear coats, even though it was fucking snowing outside tonight.
17.  Because it's the end of April, and it was fucking snowing!!
18.  Because today I swept up three thousand Cheerios from under my kitchen table, even though I just vacuumed yesterday.
19.  Because today I tried to kiss my two-year old and he pushed me away and said, "Eww, mommy.  No."
20.  Because today was a must-shower day.  And I didn't shower.
21.  Because while playing with a watering can, my oldest child watered my boobies and said, "Here mommy, maybe this will help them grow."
22.  Because I pee a little when I sneeze.
23.  Because I'm over thirty, and a little bitter about that now.
24.  Because I pushed three beings out of my vagina.
25.  Because I fucking want to!!
Bonus Reason** Because this stupid tablet keeps auto-correcting fucking to ducking.
 
And I'm sure every single other mother out there can add to this list.  I don't drink wine to remember the times before I was a mother... I drink wine because I'm a mother.  And quite fucking proudly, too, thank you very much.  Mothering is hard as hell, and if I want to drink wine I will, gosh-darn it!  I'll also drink Keiths, Sangria, mouthwash, and windshield-wash fluid if I want.  Because your "non-judgemental, friendly advice" is judgemental as hell.  And ignorant.  And dumb.  How the hell am I supposed to parent efficiently without a little grape juice as a reward for a hard day's work? Huh?? Drink a little less wine, and a little more water.... pfshhhh... I've been drinking water all night. And look how well that turned out for you tonight, Magic.  There's not a mother out there who would hear your friendly advice and think, "You know what.  I should drink more water.  Thanks, Magic!"  But I bet there are plenty willing to join me in donating our empty wine bottles so you can put your advice in them and shove it up your ass.
 
So, hey Magic.  There's nothing better than playing music for the audience, and broadcasting great jokes for everyone in radio land to hear.  It's even nice to remember the days when you didn't play the same song 10 times in one day.  But there's nothing worse than hearing judgemental advice from a radio station about the amount of alcohol a mother should be drinking.  So how about next time, you play a little more music, and a little less bullshit.  No judgment.  Just some friendly advice, from a wine-drinking mother you pissed off on a Tuesday night.

How about a little less water, and a little more wine?!
 

Sunday, April 10, 2016

For my friend, the preggopotamus...

One of my best friends is pregnant, which is fantastic news for me!  I mean, I'm sure it's great news for her too, except for the fact that the little parasite growing inside of her is making her barf all over the place... but for me, it's truly awesome.  Because as any other mother will tell you, no matter how many times you say "I'm done," there is always a little nagging voice in your head that says, "Oh, come on!  Just one more!!" And you don't really listen to it, except that you walk past a cute little baby in the grocery store, and your heart goes "screeeeeee!" and you want one.  Now I don't have to have one.  Because I can steal my friend's baby, love the crap out of it, and hand it back.  I cannot, however, steal the baby of the lady in the grocery store.  People frown on baby kidnapping.
 
So anyway, this friend of mine is all knocked up, and miserable because of the barfing, but terribly excited about her future, and the other day as we were discussing the barfing, she said "Ugh, this baby better be worth it!" Heh. Heh. Heh.  Yeah, babies are totally worth it.  Except when they aren't.  Which is lots of the time... except they make up for and are totally worth it again.  Except when they aren't, and when they don't.  Which they do.  Not.  Sometimes.  Confusing??  Yeah, welcome to the most fucked-up relationship you will ever, ever, ever be in.  Parenting!  But totally worth it.  Mostly.
 
I'm a mother of three kids, which basically makes me an expert... according to the mommy blogs, anyway.  So here's my sage advice, my heart-felt wisdom, and my unique experiences... I'm basically the baby whisperer, so take everything I say as gospel.  Except, don't, because every baby is different, every situation is unique, and once you think you have anything figured out, you'll realize that precious gift you're currently carrying in your belly is just screwing with you for fun, and that you actually know exactly nothing.  So yeah... here we go.
 
When your baby is born, you will feel the most amazing bond of motherhood and will love that child more than anything in this entire world, making the last 10 months (9 months is a freaking lie!!) totally worth it. 
 
Okay, so you'll totally love the kid.  But you may, or may not, feel that instant bond.  Lots of mothers talk about how they cried and could hardly contain the instant love they felt.  A friend told me it was like her whole soul changed and immediately revolved around the baby.  Pretty amazing, right?   When I finally pushed Gracie out and the nurse handed her to me, my first thoughts were pretty amazing too... "Cool.  She's here.  Right on!" I mean, obviously I loved her... but there were no tears, no instant soul-changing revelation.  Really, I just wanted some freaking supper!  And that's okay.  Despite what people tell you, it's okay not to break into tears and pledge your last dying breath for your baby.  If shit came down to it, trust me, you'd give your last breath.  But you may not feel that right in that moment.  Gracie and I had to get to know each other... she was my first child.  And to be honest, I didn't know what the crap to do with her.  Within days, when the shock of pushing a human out of my gitch had worn off, and we had had some time to stare into each others' eye, I totally would have jumped in front of a bus for her.  But don't beat yourself up if you don't feel that the instant your baby is born.  Not everyone does.  But trust me, it'll come.
 
Breast is best.  Period.
 
Your ta-tas hold a magical power.  Breast milk.  It's like liquid gold.  It's a life-changing elixir with benefits rivalling the Fountain of Youth.   It's totally natural, and nothing is better for your baby.  Unless, of course, like me, your baby rips a nipple off while performing this "totally natural" function, you develop a thrush infection that lasts 4 months (hello, searing, burning pain in my nipples), are diagnosed with Reynauds specifically affecting your nipples (look that up, it's awesome), develop a uterine infection and are hospitalized, develop supply issues, or a million other things that may affect successfully breastfeeding.  If you attempt to breastfeed, and succeed... you are amazing!  If you attempt to breastfeed, and do not succeed... you are still amazing!  If you decide from the very beginning not to try breastfeeding, and bottle feed your little person... still amazing!!  But let me tell you the part that isn't talked about very often... it's the second option here... attempting and failing.  If you want to breastfeed, and run into issues, you will feel like a failure.  You will cry tears you didn't know you had, over things you didn't know bothered you.  For example, I once said to Danny, through tears "But if I don't keep breastfeeding, how do I know my baby won't die of SIDS." That's right, breastfeeding can help lower the risk of SIDS, which of course, to an extremely hormonal woman means you are choosing death for your baby if you do not breastfeed.  How I fed my babies was probably the thing I cried over more than anything else.  It was torture for me to feed them via boobies, and it was torture for me to stop feeding them via boobies.  I pumped almost exclusively for Gracie for 4 months (the thrush infection made it damn near impossible to actually put her to boob), and wrote a 2500 word email to my lactation consultant while bawling my eyes out the day I realized I had to start supplementing with formula.  I felt like a failure.  An absolute failure.  Six days later, I realized how much easier it was to make a damn bottle out of formula, without having to attach myself to a milker, and stopped feeling bad.  Felt the same guilt with babies 2 and 3, but for fewer and fewer days.  How you feed your baby will cause all sorts of anxiety.  But guess what, Gracie is hella smart, and that kid ate formula.  So there.  Feed your kid.  However you do it, they will be okay!! Also, as a warning... the "bonding" you feel while breastfeeding... again, it's different for everyone.  Personally, I felt a lot closer to my baby while looking her in the eye and snuggling her next to my cheek with a bottle in her mouth.  The blood running out of the side of her mouth while breastfeeding made it a little creepy.  Kidding.  But seriously, I was much more relaxed with a bottle, and found it much easier to position them where I could creepily sniff the crap out of their heads while they ate.
 
Your relationship with your Husband will change.
 
This crap is true.  For some people, they will begin to hate and resent their husbands, solely for the fact that the husband didn't have to push a 9-pound baby out of their penis.  For me, I felt a deep, deep, desperate need to keep Danny close to me.  I suddenly felt the need to know exactly how much he loved me, and made him tell me over and over again that he would never leave me.  Hormones.  They're even worse after baby's born!!!  The day Danny had to go back to work, you would have sworn I was being left to care for 10 babies at the same time.  I had no idea how I would manage it, I begged him not to go, and he texted all day to make sure we were alright.  I was alright, by the way.  But who in the hell decided to leave me with an infant only 5 days old... I had no idea what to do with it!  That's what I thought anyway, and you will too.  But, trust me, you'll figure it out.  As for your husband, talk to him, tell him how you're feeling.  And teach him right now to say these words, "It's okay.  You're doing great.  Of course I love you. What do you want me to make for dinner?"
 
The Internet is Ripe with Friendly Advice.
 
Like this blog, here.  Totally friendly, unjudging advice.  Read only this blog and nothing else.  Because every other mommy advice group out there is dangerous.  If you have questions at 3 in the morning about what you're doing right or wrong... save them for morning and phone a real friend.  Do not...  I repeat...  Do. Not. Go. On. A. Mommy. Facebook. Page.  Those crazy ladies be judging everything!  From breastfeeding (see above, food is best - any food), to car seats (oh, sweet Jesus, the car seats!), to winter coats, to co-sleeping, to CIO (crying it out - which is evil - and totally worked for me!), to cloth diapers.  Everyone has an opinion.  The problem is that everyone also has a problem with everyone else's opinions.  That shit gets nasty in those groups.  Stay away.  Stay far away.  If you really need help at 2 a.m., call your mom, or text me.  Only enter those mommy groups after you have 3 kids and you've learned not to give a crap what other people say about your parenting skills (hey, mine are still alive, right?!?).
 
Don't forget the diaper bag.
 
I only say this, because you will forget the diaper bag.  Not on the days that you don't need the diaper bag, of course.  On the days where you have a successful, uneventful trip to the grocery store, you will have your diaper bag, full of useful things like wipes and a change of clothes.  However, on the day your kid decides to crap up it's own neck, into it's hairline, and through the only diaper and set of clothes you have - that'll be the day your forget the diaper bag.  You'll laugh about it later... after you've washed your kid in a sink at Superstore or on the side of the road with watered-down Lysol wipes (that was me - don't judge) and have carried them home completely naked because you decided it was better to toss the whole outfit into the trash than even attempt to clean that shit. Your husband will, of course, say "Where's the diaper bag?" And you'll say, "I told you to grab it!" and he'll say, "No, I said I didn't have it and told you to grab it." And you'll both hold the baby up by it's pinky fingers and try to remove clothes that are covered in yellow, runny, poo, and after you finally get the baby cleaned up, your husband will say "Eww, what's that on your elbow, and you'll realize it's poop and you just used the last piece of paper towel in the public restroom.  So... don't forget the diaper bag! (But tell me the story about when you do, after it becomes funny!)
 
People post the best part of their lives on Facebook
 
Not the worst parts.  Not the crappy parts.  The best parts.  If you look on Facebook, you'll see baby smiles and giggles.  Clean kitchens, and homemade dinners.  You'll see little Billy's perfect little art project, and hear about little Maggie's ability to walk and write the alphabet at 6 months of age.  You'll read about how this mama thinks that motherhood is the most amazing, life-changing experience, and how unicorns visit every night to help put her little angel to bed.  Don't let these people fool you.  Parenting is amazing!  But only like 40% of the time.  Most of the time it is hard, exhausting, dangerous, sad, and totally fucked up.  But the times that it is amazing, it is sooooo amazing.  The little terrors that we raise are such amazing little people that bring such joy to our lives.  They can make you smile without even thinking.  They are incredible.  Absolutely.  Just don't be fooled into thinking it's Facebook-awesome, like all the time.  Remember the people like me, who share the crappier parts of parenthood that other people are afraid to talk about it.  I share, because I know I cannot be the only parent whose 2-year old could use the word "fuck" fluently in a sentence.  Because I cannot be the only one, who, at the end of some days, wants to drown parenthood away with a a glass of wine.  Because my kids cannot be the only ones with attitudes bigger than my own, who challenge every fibre of patience, but who still say the most adorable and hilarious things. 
 
I will forever share the crappy parts of parenting... because parents, new and experienced, like to know they're not alone when their kids are acting like shitheads.  Because parenting is exhausting and challenging just as often as it is rewarding.  And because it seems, these days, that everyone is so quick to judge every decision, big and small, and make us feel like failures as parents.  The way I see it, if you love your kids, and do your best to raise respectful little people, then you're doing alright.  And hopefully now, my friend, when things get tough in those first few weeks and months after the little puker-maker is born, you have a little something to read and laugh at, and say "Damn... she was right." Cause I usually am, you know!! :)

Prego with baby #3 - the One Who Made Me an Expert...
 

Wednesday, April 06, 2016

Old Love...

Do you know what today is?  Today is the 11th-year anniversary of the first time Danny and I went on a date.  This is also the first time in 11 years that Danny hasn't mentioned today to me.  April 6.  Our first date.  More than a decade ago.  Three kids, two houses, and my whole twenties ago.  Yikes.
 
I met Danny when I was 19, and he was 21.  He was with me when I moved to Moncton, and when I moved back a year later.  We spent our twenties buying two different houses, getting married, going on our honeymoon, having three kids, and dealing with career changes and life's hardships.  We were wild and crazy and in love.  And although the crazy is still there sometimes (hello, three kids!!), I think we've lost some of the wild.  But after 11 years of being together, a little less wild is good sometimes.  I call it "old love."

Back when I was 19, we had "new love." You know... the "no, you hang up first!" smoochy, kissy, gross sort of love.  New love was awesome.  Danny and I would email back and forth every day.  Even though we saw each other every single day.  He'd leave me love notes on the counter, written on a receipt, or a paper towel, or whatever he could find.  I'd come home for my supper break at the drug store, and he'd have a pasta dinner waiting for me.  We'd talk about going to the movies, or out for dinner, and we would decide - together - where to go.  He would tell me about his job, and the work he did on planes, and I actually wanted to know, to be involved in that aspect of his life.  We would go to bed every night at the same time, and fall asleep cuddled together.  Ahhh, new love.

Crap's not like that anymore.  Instead of emails, he gets texts that say "Jax pooped.  On the potty, and not on the floor.  Rock on!"  There are no love notes on the counter, but some days he makes our bed before he leaves the house, so hells yeah for that!!  He rarely cooks me dinner anymore (cause really, who wants to cook for 7 people??), but he slaps my butt or pinches my ass every time he walks by me in the kitchen, and sometimes he even honks what's left of my pathetic excuse for boobs... so I'm pretty sure that means he still thinks I'm sexy as hell.  We don't decide together anymore where to eat or what to see.  We spent a good portion of our late-20s fighting about it (I don't care, you pick!), and we've just come to the arrangement that if Danny really gave a shit, he'd let me know.  Otherwise, my choice!  I still care about his work, which is now school, but he knows that I know even less about computer programming and sciences than I did about Auroras.  So he talks, and I try my best to comprehend, but we both know I'm not fooling anyone.  And as for bedtime, three kids has killed that for us.  I'm exhausted by 7:05, about five minutes after the kids are down for the night.  I try my best to make it to 10:00, but honestly I'm in bed most nights by 9.  Some nights he comes with me, watches a show while I fall asleep, and then returns to the living room to finish Walking Dead, or whatever other gory crap he watches after I'm out cold.  I like having him with me while I fall asleep, but I can't tell you how many times I've woken up from the brink of sleep choking on one of his farts.  So perhaps the living room is the best place for him after all.

Do I miss the "new love" of 11 years ago?  Sure, sometimes!  But there's something awesome about being at a point in my life when my husband comes home from the grocery store with a new package of tea he saw me eyeballing. Or knowing that when he says, "Sammy, are your hormones acting up again?" that he mostly means "Are you okay, do you need a hug?" It's great knowing that when he says "Do we have plans on Thursday night?" he really means "One of the guys just texted, can I go out for wings?" because even though I told him years ago he doesn't need my permission to ever go out, he still respects me and our life enough to check in every single time.  He still holds my hand in public.  He still kisses me goodbye every time he leaves the house.  He still texts me "I'm here. xox." when he reaches Acadia every day, because he knows I worry about his drive on the highway.   He knows all of my faults, and I know all of his.  He knows what drives me absolutely crazy, and he knows that at least once a day I'll drive him completely insane.  He still brings home flowers when he knows I've had a bad day, and pepperoni and chicken wings when it's been an especially rough week.  He delivers me snacks and water bottles and vitamins in bed when I text him at 9:05 p.m. because I don't want to get back out from under the covers - even though it means stopping whatever he's doing to do something for me.  He still offers to clean the barf when one of the kids is sick, because he knows how much I hate it.  And he does it all with love.  Every single time!

New love is pretty awesome.  But this old love crap... well it's pretty spectacular in lots of different ways.  And now that we're both officially old too (hello, thirties!), I can only see our old love getting even older!