Passive aggressive comments stated to others regarding how a "good mother" would still maintain an active social life and wouldn't be "only about their child" really, really, really anger and hurt me. Especially when they come from people who do not have children. And it stings even more when these statements come from people who have such importance in your life. They have no idea how hard it is to find balance while working 40+ hours a week while raising a son and trying to mix in a little socializing here and there. I may not be the same family member or friend that I was before I added mother to my title, but that doesn't mean that I haven't forgotten my previous roles. They change, it's life. That's all I'm going to say as I try to smile and pretend like those comments don't break my heart.
I'm a good mother, damn it.
Friday, July 23, 2010
Sunday, July 18, 2010
13 months!
It was hard enough to believe my little boy was a year last month. Now he's officially one month into toddlerdom and oh what fun it is! The monthly update!
Likes:
Pushing around his walker. Actually, obsession is a good word to describe it.
Pushing around anything with wheels.
Playing with trucks and trains and making a "BRRRRRRRRR" motor sound while doing it. Where does he learn this stuff??
Loves to have your recite a line from one of his book and he picks out what book it is. He gets the right book about 98% of the time.
Sign language.
Watching other kids.
Feeding the dogs his food from his highchair. They now go outside during meals.
Dancing to music.
Veggie burgers.
His lovey at bedtime.
Bubbles.
Dislikes:
Diaper and clothing changes (this seems to be a staple every month).
Being interrupted if we have to leave when he's engrossed in an activity.
Going in the carseat.
Likes:
Pushing around his walker. Actually, obsession is a good word to describe it.
Pushing around anything with wheels.
Playing with trucks and trains and making a "BRRRRRRRRR" motor sound while doing it. Where does he learn this stuff??
Loves to have your recite a line from one of his book and he picks out what book it is. He gets the right book about 98% of the time.
Sign language.
Watching other kids.
Feeding the dogs his food from his highchair. They now go outside during meals.
Dancing to music.
Veggie burgers.
His lovey at bedtime.
Bubbles.
Dislikes:
Diaper and clothing changes (this seems to be a staple every month).
Being interrupted if we have to leave when he's engrossed in an activity.
Going in the carseat.
Saturday, July 10, 2010
The Joy of Having a Boy
I think most people would describe me as fairly laid back. I don't necessarily freak out about much, am fairly accomplished in the procrastination department, and just have a very c'est la vie attitude about life in general.
That is, until Jude came along.
The paranoia was ridiculous at first. Those beginning weeks, I could come up with these insane scenarios in my head about what could happen. For example, I remember saying: "Don't use any scented lotions or perfumes, Jude may develop allergies or ADHD. I don't want anyone wearing perfumey crap while holding my baby." That's one of the milder ones. Anyways, as Jude got a bit older, I relaxed quite a bit. Even when he was hospitalized for RSV back in February, I kept my cool for the most part.
Then he starting crawling.
The kid was into everything. It was a little harder to maintain my zen demeanor when my 8 month old was halfway underneath a couch trying to reach the lamp plug to pull it out of the socket. But, I maintained composure and we've survived.
Now he walks. Nay, RUNS. The kid is a thrill chaser of the most extreme kind. Daycare says that they spend half of their days running and catching him as he launches himself off the top of the toddler slide. At home, if a door opens, he crawls at breakneck speed to try and squish his fluffy cloth diaper butt through it to get to two things he is obsessed with: stairs. and the dogs' water bowl. It's as if these two things are constantly on his mind. Oh, and everything can be pushed. The baby cribs at daycare, chairs, toyboxes, dressers, anything. If it's there, Jude will try to push it along...hopefully down some stairs if he could.
Daycare called on Friday. They were in a panic. Jude had fallen while running and his tooth cut through his entire lip. Blood everywhere. Come get him.
I flew to daycare. By the time I got there, he was surrounded by three of his favorite teachers, happily chewing on an icey toy and enjoying the attention. I could tell by the look in his eye he was already pondering what his next adventure was going to be.
The cut was hardly bleeding by the time I got there. It wasn't very big on either side, but due to the location of the wound, it was gaping open. I took him to Children's Hospital emergency room where I spent two awful hours. First they had to put a cottonball full of numbing agent on the cut, band-aided to his face, for 20 minutes. Yeah, right. They say nothing is impossible? Trying to convince a one year old to not lick, pull, freak out that a cotton ball of numbing liquid is taped to his lip is impossible. Sadly, that wasn't the worst part. The absolute worst thing I've been through with Jude was yet to come.
The ER doctors strapped him to a papoose so he couldn't move anything, covered his face with a sheet so that just the wound was exposed, and held his head in place. The sheer terror and look in his eyes while he kept them on me the entire time he was being stitched up will haunt me forever. I could tell that he was heartbroken that I wasn't coming to rescue him. He was too young to understand what was going on, all he knew was that he was being tortured and his mama was doing nothing to stop them. It broke my heart. I never want to go through that again. But chances are, I know I probably will.
Three stitches felt like thirty years. They finally let him free and he spent the next hour alternating between sobbing and doing this little hiccup/shuddering thing. I felt awful. He finally took a nap on the way home and I just wanted to pull over and kiss his little tear-splotched face over and over and tell him how sorry I was.
He was pretty clingy the rest of the day, but in better spirits after his nap. By bedtime, he had rubbed or licked all of his stitches out (they warned me that this was probably going to happen due to his age and the location) and I almost felt like I put him through all that for nothing. The wound has stayed closed, though.
Someone mentioned to me that the money you save not buying cutesy, frilly, pink things for a girl is made up in ER copays on boys. How true.
Close-up of the stitches. Jude worked the middle stitch out before I could even get a photo. Please excuse the banana on his face. He's anything but dainty when he eats.
That is, until Jude came along.
The paranoia was ridiculous at first. Those beginning weeks, I could come up with these insane scenarios in my head about what could happen. For example, I remember saying: "Don't use any scented lotions or perfumes, Jude may develop allergies or ADHD. I don't want anyone wearing perfumey crap while holding my baby." That's one of the milder ones. Anyways, as Jude got a bit older, I relaxed quite a bit. Even when he was hospitalized for RSV back in February, I kept my cool for the most part.
Then he starting crawling.
The kid was into everything. It was a little harder to maintain my zen demeanor when my 8 month old was halfway underneath a couch trying to reach the lamp plug to pull it out of the socket. But, I maintained composure and we've survived.
Now he walks. Nay, RUNS. The kid is a thrill chaser of the most extreme kind. Daycare says that they spend half of their days running and catching him as he launches himself off the top of the toddler slide. At home, if a door opens, he crawls at breakneck speed to try and squish his fluffy cloth diaper butt through it to get to two things he is obsessed with: stairs. and the dogs' water bowl. It's as if these two things are constantly on his mind. Oh, and everything can be pushed. The baby cribs at daycare, chairs, toyboxes, dressers, anything. If it's there, Jude will try to push it along...hopefully down some stairs if he could.
Daycare called on Friday. They were in a panic. Jude had fallen while running and his tooth cut through his entire lip. Blood everywhere. Come get him.
I flew to daycare. By the time I got there, he was surrounded by three of his favorite teachers, happily chewing on an icey toy and enjoying the attention. I could tell by the look in his eye he was already pondering what his next adventure was going to be.
The cut was hardly bleeding by the time I got there. It wasn't very big on either side, but due to the location of the wound, it was gaping open. I took him to Children's Hospital emergency room where I spent two awful hours. First they had to put a cottonball full of numbing agent on the cut, band-aided to his face, for 20 minutes. Yeah, right. They say nothing is impossible? Trying to convince a one year old to not lick, pull, freak out that a cotton ball of numbing liquid is taped to his lip is impossible. Sadly, that wasn't the worst part. The absolute worst thing I've been through with Jude was yet to come.
The ER doctors strapped him to a papoose so he couldn't move anything, covered his face with a sheet so that just the wound was exposed, and held his head in place. The sheer terror and look in his eyes while he kept them on me the entire time he was being stitched up will haunt me forever. I could tell that he was heartbroken that I wasn't coming to rescue him. He was too young to understand what was going on, all he knew was that he was being tortured and his mama was doing nothing to stop them. It broke my heart. I never want to go through that again. But chances are, I know I probably will.
Three stitches felt like thirty years. They finally let him free and he spent the next hour alternating between sobbing and doing this little hiccup/shuddering thing. I felt awful. He finally took a nap on the way home and I just wanted to pull over and kiss his little tear-splotched face over and over and tell him how sorry I was.
He was pretty clingy the rest of the day, but in better spirits after his nap. By bedtime, he had rubbed or licked all of his stitches out (they warned me that this was probably going to happen due to his age and the location) and I almost felt like I put him through all that for nothing. The wound has stayed closed, though.
Someone mentioned to me that the money you save not buying cutesy, frilly, pink things for a girl is made up in ER copays on boys. How true.
Close-up of the stitches. Jude worked the middle stitch out before I could even get a photo. Please excuse the banana on his face. He's anything but dainty when he eats.
And my little Hurricane Jude back to work as usual. Pushing a stroller. Into the cat.
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