Am I Less of a Mother?

I am a 40 year old woman. I have two sons, ages five and three. I spend my days between my office and my sons' schools. I cook three squares a day. I mend the occasional seam and fix buttons when I can find a match. I make homemade Valentines and sew super hero capes for my sons' stuffed animals. I, with my husband, raise our children with no family network to support us. I work part time. I mother full time. Yet some women claim that I am not really a mother. Apparently this has something to do with not paying my proverbial dues to earn the badge of Motherhood. Perhaps some context will help you track with me.

• I got pregnant on the first try, one month after going off the pill. Same story the second time. I kid you not.
• My pregnancies were easy peasy. Sure, I gained 45 pounds, half my body weight, but most of it melted away eventually (not without a struggle, mind you).
• Bunion surgery was worse than childbirth. From the first pang of labor pain to a swaddled baby in my arms was all of three hours. I even fell asleep during labor the second time, and the nurse woke me up to push. Three pushes, 20 minutes, done.
• I had an epidural for both births. I was dilated eight centimeters before I lugged my ass to hospital. I almost missed my epidural window and am grateful to those anesthesiologists who boogied to get me drugs in time.
• My babies were champion eaters and sleepers. Still are.
• My babies were bottle fed.
  

Some women have told me, uttered behind my back and boldly to my face, that I am less of a mother than they are.

• Am I less of a mother because I did not struggle to get pregnant? Does that mean I don't cherish my children and the miracle of life? Of course not! As a new mother on the cusp of 35, I was and am eternally grateful for bearing two healthy children. I am astounded by the cliched miracle of life every. single. day.
• Am I less of a mother because I don't have pregnancy war stories to share? I did faint in the cereal aisle of Lowes Foods once. Luckily my husband was there to pad my fall before I lost my battle with the linoleum.
• Am I less of a mother because I did not toil through an excruciating labor? My babies did all the work. I watched my children being born in the mirror and I swear they swam out.
• Am I less of a mother because I made use of the medical advancements available to me? The way I see it, I don't get my cavities filled without Novocaine so why labor through excruciating pain without the benefit of drugs? The epidural made my experience pleasant and pain free. I was admittedly lucky to experience no complications. I labored to eight centimeters on my own so perhaps I could have finished the job too. I didn't want to find out what I was made of; I had nothing to prove. At the end of the day, it's a personal choice.
• Am I less of a mother because my children eat a varied and healthy bounty of food? Am I less of a mother because my children relish their sleep? My boys, since they were itty bitty, ate like champs. To this day they probably eat better than any adult I know. My first son, Bird, slept through the night at 12 weeks old. My second child, Deal, beat his older brother by two weeks. Bird napped until he was 4 1/2. Deal is 3 1/2 and stills naps regularly. And they both go to bed at 7:15 and sleep until 7:30. I realize I am lucky. Developing healthy sleep habits for our kids did not come without some tears and threats and tantrums. But bed time is generally a perfectly pleasant time at our house.
• Am I less of a mother because I didn't nurse my babies? Oh, this is a touchy subject. Let's just say that I tried. Hard. My baby failed to thrive. He rapidly lost weight. My physical issues prevented him from getting nourishment (details to come in another post, another day). My team of doctors and lactation consultants ordered the baby on formula. You might say I went through heroic feats to try to nurse, even using a contraption that fed my baby formula through a tube that was attached to my breast to simulate nursing. I toiled so hard, yet my efforts were futile. The second time around the hospital lactation nurse, upon reviewing my file, advised me against breast feeding. To this day I see a nursing mother and child and feel pangs of regret. But in the end, my babies were nourished. And the best part was that my husband could cradle his infant sons and feed them too.
  

Motherhood is a patchwork of experiences. There is no handbook telling us what to do. There are no rules, no maps, no guidelines. Yet there are many, many tests. We all became mothers in different ways, none better or worse than the other. The women who took in foster children. The women who cared for a sister's daughter and raised her as her own. The women who adopted children who would otherwise face a bleak future. The women who rode the in vitro roller coaster. All are mothers. All see the magnificence and magic of motherhood. All feel our children's pain tenfold worse and rejoice in their glories tenfold more. All see the simple breathtaking beauty in her slumbering child. In the end, motherhood is a sisterhood.



Reposted from an original Deep South Moms Blog post.

Sunnyside Up

My son Deal was literally born sunnyside up. That's what the doctors called it when he popped up head first and face up (as opposed to facing backwards, as most babies come out). His sweet cherubic face was not smushed since it was all so fast but it was splotchy from the whole sunnyside up ordeal. When the nurse plopped him on my chest he did not scream or cry or look dazed and confused. He simply looked at me and grasped my finger. Then he looked intently at his daddy, the man whose constitution he shares.

That instant I knew that he would live on the sunny side forever. To this day, Deal grabs my finger when he is feeling a bit weary, overwhelmed, shy, or just needs some wonder twin power from Mom. He is an utter joy and really lights up all who encounted him. I am not just saying this because I am his mother. This child has the brightest disposition I have ever encountered.

Case in point:

While playing with his teddy bear and doctor kit yesterday, Deal pulled out the toy syringe to give Beary a shot.

"Don't worry, Beary. This will not hurt. This a sunny shot."

"Hmm...a sunny shot? What does that do?"

"A sunny shot makes people happy so they have a good day."


Yup, born sunnyside up alright.

Wordless Wednesday: Brothers

It Happened This Day in 1968

I had a great, insightful post about turning 40 today. Blogger ate it. F%&^!!!!

Now I've got to actually spend some time finishing a report in between bouts of hacking and putting my head on my desk to alleviate the cold building up in there. Argh.

I'll have to muster the energy to rekindle that post tomorrow. I'll write about being 40 +1 day.

Instead I'll leave you with a taste for what happened this day in 1968.

September 17, 1996 Dodger Hideo Nomo no-hits Colorado Rockies, 9-0 at Coors Field (What's with all the sports highlights?)
September 17, 1992 House votes 280 to 128 to give FCC control of cable TV rates (And later voted to have our phone lines tapped.)
September 17, 1992 NFL decides to suspend World League Football (Tell me it isn't so!)
September 17, 1991 U.N. admits Estonia, Latvia, Lithuiania, North and South Korea, Marshall Islands and Micronesia (Who can find these countries on a map?)
September 17, 1989 41st Emmy Awards: LA Law, Cheers, Dana Delany and Candice Bergen win
September 17, 1988 Jeff Reardon becomes 1st to record 40 or more saves in both AL and NL (I don't even know what the hell this means.)
September 17, 1987 Philadelphia celebrates 200th anniversary of Constitution (And now we have a bunch of mavericks positioned to tear it up.)
September 17, 1986 U.S. Senate confirms William Rehnquist as 16th chief justice
September 17, 1983 Vanessa Williams (NY), 20, crowned 56th Miss America 1984, 1st black (No Ugly Betty)
September 17, 1972 "M*A*S*H," premieres on NBC TV (Best theme song ever)
September 17, 1968 Ilina was born in a hospital in Calcutta, India. Ticker tape parade ensued.
September 17, 1964 "Bewitched" premieres on ABC TV (Still wish I could wrinkle up my nose to make dinner appear.)
September 17, 1964 Beatles are paid a then record $150,000 for a concert (Kansas)
September 17, 1964 Supremes release "Baby Love" (Back before Diana was a nut job)
September 17, 1962 Justice Department files 1st suit to end segregation in public schools (1962, people)
September 17, 1959 59th U.S. Golf Amateur Championship won by Jack Nicklaus
September 17, 1958 U.S. performs nuclear test at Nevada Test Site
September 17, 1956 Black students enter Clay Kentucky elementary school
September 17, 1953 1st successful separation of Siamese twins (Egads!)
September 17, 1953 Ernie Banks becomes Chicago Cubs 1st black player (Yet, I've never heard of him.)
September 17, 1948 WLS TV channel 7 in Chicago, IL (ABC) begins broadcasting (How fitting that TV started on my birthday!)
September 17, 1946 "If the Shoe Fits," opens at Century Theater New York City for 20 performances (Well, if the shoe fits, but it!)
September 17, 1940 Hitler begins invasion of England (operation Seelowe)
September 17, 1900 Commonwealth of Australia proclaimed (Fire up the barbie!)
September 17, 1862 Battle of Sharpsburg (Antietam)-bloodiest day of Civil War, 23,110 die
September 17, 1859 Man in San Francisco claims himself Norton I, emperor of America (I'd like to declare myself Empress.)
September 17, 1850 Great fire in San Francisco (Burned all the bread and then called it sourdough)
September 17, 1835 Charles Darwins lands on Chatham Galapagos-archipelago (Sarah Palin does not believe this.)
September 17, 1796 President George Washington delivers his farewell address
September 17, 1787 U.S. constitution adopted by Philadelphia convention (And we must protect it.)
September 17, 1778 1st treaty between the U.S. and Indian tribes signed (Fort Pitt)
September 17, 1691 Colony Massachusetts Bay gets new charter
September 17, 1683 Antonie van Leeuwenhoek reports existence of bacteria (Hence my OCD and fear of germs. It's this guy's fault.)
September 17, 1678 France and Spain sign peace treaty (Imagine the tasty food at this banquet.)
September 17, 1598 Netherland sailors discover Mauritius (Long lost brother of Maury?)

A Special Birthday Toast for 5:00 Fridays

I'd like to start by wishing my Bird a HAPPY 5th BIRTHDAY!!!

Five years ago I was still drinking milk at every meal and sipping on non-alcoholic sangria at block parties and weddings. Note, alcohol-free red wine blows. Alcohol-free alcohol blows. I drink neither milk nor non-alcoholic wine anymore.

Five years ago I went into labor at 8:00 PM, went to the hospital after downing some noodles and a burrito (yeah, I know, weird combination), barely missed getting an epidural since I was already dilated 8 cm, got comfy, joked with the nurse about not wanting to poop while pushing (I didn't for the record), freaked out, watched Mac Daddy share a chocolate bar with the nurse, stared in a trance at the monitors, pushed 3 times for a total of 20 minutes, and there was Bird, squealing and squinting in my arms.

As for me? A puddle. Emotion that I don't even have the words to express. My baby. My son. A first generation American. A family.

Bird and I are exactly alike, minus the 35 year age difference and gender discrepancy. He is the apple to my tree. We butt heads often because we are so much alike: stubborn, passionate, nitpicky, dramatic, emotional, and always think we're right. Mac Daddy and I like to say that Bird feels life passionately. His tantrums break the sound barrier while his laughter would make the palace guards bust a gut. Just like me. He puts hot sauce on everything and has a dentist's dream of a sweet tooth. Just like me. He loses himself in books and doesn't forget a thing. Just like me. He is meticulous, and perfection rules his world. Just like me. When he is older, I will explain to him that no one in the world understands him better than I do. I totally stole that from my friend Shan who says that to her son.

Bird is my first baby, my oldest, my guinea pig, my eyes to my childhood. He is inquisitive to a fault (consider this a warning Miss Ross!) and is a rather deep thinker.

Just yesterday Bird informed me that horseradish is named so because it's a radish with a strong flavor and since horses are strong, they called it horseradish. Well wallop me upside the head with a rolling pin and pop me under the broiler! Makes total sense, doesn't it? Find me a better explanation for the etymology of horseradish. I'm telling you, Bird put a lot of thought into that and likely had many a silent debate in his head before nailing down the goods. Smart boy, that Bird.

Oh, have I mentioned that he also drives me crazy? That's because he's me. I live with a mini me who enlightens me to my faults and I don't like that much self exploration. Mac Daddy gets particularly wired because he has to live with two little people with such big personalities. Cue violin music here.

So today's cocktail is for my Bird. My first baby who has started kindergarten. My baby who is one shoelace away from being self sufficient. My baby who still nuzzles into the warmth of my chest and caresses the inside of my arm. My Bird who gives extraordinarily wet kisses, a thousand at a time. My Bird, who giggles at eskimo kisses and butterfly kisses while begging for just one more. My Bird, whose time to fly the coop is thankfully years away.

Cheers to my Bird!

Baby Blue Martini

Pour one shot of each into a martini shaker loaded with ice:
Hendricks Gin (my personal fave!)
De Kuyper Blue Curaçao
pink grapefruit juice
pineapple juice

Pour into a chilled martini glass.

Garnish with a sliver of lemon peel.

Sit back, admire your parental accomplishments, squeeze your kids, and take a long, slow, deliberate sip. End with an audible "ah."

Turning 40 First

My husband, the amazing Mac Daddy, turns 40 today. That's the BIG 4-0. He is sleeping next to me bidding farewell to his 30s as I write this. Mac Daddy is not one who likes his birthday, not because he is wary of aging. He simply does not care. Perhaps because he is the youngest of six children so his birthday was often overlooked as a kid. Perhaps because he subliminally fears getting old and is actually battling vanity. Who knows.

Let me tell you a little story. When Mac Daddy and I were co-workers and just friends (really, I used to set him up with my girlfriends!), we passed each other by our mail boxes at the office one morning. I knew it was his birthday because the big ass white board sign by the elevator told me so. When I saw Mac Daddy I commented, "So, big day today, huh?" To which Mac Daddy replied as he ran his fingers through his hair, "Yup, got my hair cut."

I am one who loves her birthday. The caps lock key is not strong enough to express just how much I love my birthday. I cannot imagine being as blase as Mac Daddy. I like to make a big deal out of everyone's day that marks their entry to our planet. Today warrants special attention; Mac Daddy is ringing in 40!

Here's what I need to make his day extra special. Please leave a comment wishing Mac Daddy a Happy Birthday. Pass it on to your friends. This is a non-discriminatory party to which everyone is invited. Mac Daddy is a level-headed liberal so Republicans can even stop by. Even though he won't admit it, I know he will be tickled by the comments. If you've been lurking in the past, now is your optimal time to comment. Mac Daddy thanks you...while blushing, of course.

Now I'd like to share 40 reasons why I love Mac Daddy. Though there are a zillion more, I'm sticking to 40 to commemorate every year of his life.

1. He looks extraordinarily sexy in boxers.
2. He is a hands on dad who makes my heart melt when he plays superheroes with Bird and Deal.
3. His eyes. They are sometimes blue, sometimes steely gray.
4. His dry sense of humor kills me...even if I don't get the joke til days later.
5. He is wicked smart.
6. He was a trooper about getting his brows waxed to be more of a chick magnet back in the day when I was setting him up with my friends.
7. He likes to shop. Spend money even.
8. He loves his mother and talks about her often.
9. He's close to his sisters (all 4 of them).
10. They way he sleeps with one leg hanging out of the covers, regardless the season.
11. His open mindedness, despite growing up in Small Town, America.
12. His only vice is fantasy football.
13. He grills a mean steak. Sometimes he even stuffs it with blue cheese.
14. He lets me have the last piece of coconut cake.
15. His gentle disposition that is just like Deal's.
16. He once spent a lot of dough to me buy me a handmade hat at an art fair just because he thought looked good on me. That was 12 years ago. I still have and wear that hat.
17. He took a week of vacation to care for me when I had breast reduction surgery. That's more than what my family did, and Mac Daddy and I were just dating at the time.
18. He's rain man. The man knows numbers.
19. He's just as hot in tennis whites as black tie formal.
20. His Wisconsin accent on certain words like "warm" and "dragon." Of course he says the two together often, with all the heat generated by fire breathing dragons and all.
21. He dances. No drinking required. Oh, and he dances well.
    
22. He wanted to leave Spamalot at intermission without me asking.
23. His affection for Bird and Deal is the stuff of tears and melted hearts.
24. He bakes. Intricate recipes and all.
25. He loves my family, despite the wackiness.
26. He gives me more closet space (because he and his buddy Ray claimed our closet space was adequate in the design of our newly renovated house...last time I trust men to gauge my closet space!).
27. He prefers old houses and things with a story.
28. He is our family cheer leader.
29. No complaints, even when my experimental pumpkin risotto sucks.
30. He does not claim he's babysitting when he's watching the kids and abhors men who do so.
31. At 6'2, Mac Daddy is a gentle giant.
32. He looks fab in plain front khakis.
33. I would be remiss in omitting his manly actions, but my parents read this blog so I'll keep it clean.
34. His wit. Sharp. Funny. Disarming.
35. Money is not everything to Mac Daddy; he's a man of deeper values.
36. He is not embarrassed when I sing into a hairbrush microphone and dance maniacally to Video Killed the Radio Star. Even if the shades are open. In fact, he'll join me.
37. He taught Bird to ride a bike without training wheels and didn't lose his patience or get and edge in his voice one single time.
38. He has no tolerance for people, men especially, who take their families for granted.
39. He's simple, humble, authentic. No airs about this guy.
    
40. He's home to have dinner as a family every single night. We are his everything, as he is ours.

HAPPY 40th BIRTHDAY TO MAC DADDY! Don't forget to leave a comment wishing him a happy birthday too!

Happy Birthday, Deal!

Three years ago today, we welcomed you into our family, Deal. You completed us, making us a family of four. Somehow that has a better ring to it than a family of three. We were fulfilled but not complete without you. Bird has a little brother now. He, like us, cannot remember life without you.

Labor was ridiculously fast and easy for me. I even took a nap and awoke to a nurse telling me to start pushing. Three pushes and there you were, just 20 minutes and a damn good anesthesiologist later. You were squirming and whimpering, not writhing and crying. As if the bright lights and murmur of the equipment were no surprise to you. As if you expected to see your daddy in your face with a camera poised to capture the moment.

You grasped my finger immediately, bringing me to tears. Then you looked at me knowingly. You were calm and secure, our breath catching the same pace, our hearts beating together to the same cadence. We absorbed each other in that moment. Time halted. I almost expected you to say, "So you're the chatty one I've been listening to all these months! Nice to meet you, Mommy!" The truth is, we didn't meet for the first time that morning.

We knew each other all along.

Mac Daddy and I didn't know if we were having a boy or a girl. Not knowing the gender of your baby is life's greatest surprise. I would never find out ahead of time, even if I had 10 kids (um, which I won't, I assure you). The surprise was a delight, and you surprised us all because all bets were that you'd be a girl. Incidentally, you'd be Audrey Beth if you had been. Audrey for my idol, Audrey Hepburn. Beth for Mac Daddy's sister who was killed in a motorcycle accident in 2001. Alas, you were named for the word "blue" in my native language and given your Opa's middle name. We joke that you were born blue in a red state.

You have always been an easy kid, Deal. Your temperament is much like Mac Daddy's, making you less volatile and antsy than your big brother. You are predictable and relish a routine. You are quick to give smiles and hugs, warming hearts around you. You still grasp my finger like you did the moment you were born when you are tired, scared, or just a tad unsure of your surroundings.

Sometimes Mac Daddy puts you to bed when I play tennis at night. When you scamper into our room the next morning, the very first thing you say is, "Did you have fun at tennis, Mommy?" Always thinking about others. That's who you are. You also tell me that you'll protect me from snakes because you know they terrify me. When you sense that I am irritated or frustrated, you ask, "Are you happy with me, Mommy?" Who can answer no to that? Your sweetness keeps you out of trouble, simply because your daddy and I are suckers for your darling little voice and giant grin.

Not that those lungs aren't capable of some serious whining fits and temper tantrums. Oh, we saw them full blown today. You got away with a lot on this, your birthday. Don't expect the same lenience tomorrow, dude.

Before you had teeth to fill in the gummy space in your mouth, your smile was enormous. We called it a bug catcher smile. You crack up at that now. You love to hear stories of when you were a baby. You think you are still a baby simply because you suck your thumb (though never at school) and carry around your teddy bear named Beary. Some time between 2 1/2 and 3 you gave up your blankie, replacing it with Beary. You would rather play with Hotwheels and firetrucks than anything else. Every morning your parting words to Mac Daddy are "Will you play cars with me for one minute, Daddy?' You say this while holding up one finger. Daddy plays with you every single morning, no matter how late he'll be for work. You won't sit still to watch more than 10 minutes of TV, and you are a royal pain in a movie theater. We hold hands and dance to bad music together. Sometimes I lift you up to dance cheek to cheek, knowing that you'll soon tower over me, making it impossible to do so.

In the wee hours when I cannot sleep, I simply stroke your forehead and gaze at you. You fill me with emotions I don't have words to describe. Seeing you and your brother humble me. I am lucky that you are mine and that you chose us to be your family. My goal is to make sure you know the depth of my love every single day. Even when you and Bird make me crazy, know that I love you more than anyone else on this planet ever will. Get over it, future daughters-in-law.

Deal, you are an extraordinary little boy. You aim to please and truly take pleasure in other's happiness. You cuddle, hug, kiss, and nuzzle better than any golden retriever known to man. Your manners are impeccable, and you love to regale those around you with stories of race car drivers, knights, super heroes, and princesses. You always make me a princess in your stories. Know that you will always be my prince.

I love you to the moon and back again.

Resell. Reuse. Recycle.

I loved being pregnant. I ate with abandon and loved not having to suck in my stomach for a good seven months. And I admit, the elastic waistband was my best friend. God, I miss that. My slight frame of 100 pounds did flourish to 145 when Bird was growing in me. That's almost HALF my body weight for those readers who never aced a math class. And to think I lost and gained it all back with Deal. For the record, I did lose it a second time too. Nonetheless, pregnancy was a piece of cake...and a bowl of ice cream, a handful of cheese fries, a decaf vanilla latte, and mango lassis. Maternity clothes were even cute and getting cuter every season!

Birth was easy too. Please don't smack me next time you see me. Granted, I had the modern medicine benefit of an epidural (This girl had nothing to prove. Clearly millions of women before me gave birth without drugs. I know it can be done. Not for me. I figure we don't get a root canal without Novocaine these days so why shirk the comforts of medicine? I'm not preaching epidurals for all, just stating my experience.) Plus, I swear by prenatal yoga to open things up. Anyway, three hours from start to finish (labor pain to baby in arms), three pushes, done. Mac Daddy jokes that he didn't even get to crack into the snacks we packed. Bunion surgery was way worse than childbirth.

So pregnancy was a dream, childbirth an ease, motherhood...a different story that you'll glimpse through the annals of this blog. After two healthy pregnancies and two healthy boys, this girl is done. I sold or donated all my maternity clothes, though I was tempted to hang on to a few discrete pieces for those days I needed some fat pants.

If your closets are still bulging with maternity wear you'll wear no more, check out Belly Bundles. You can consign your maternity clothes, make some cash, and be green! Yes, recycling clothing is an easy way to treat our planet gingerly. If you're in the market for new chic maternity fashions, Belly Bundles will be a dream. You can buy twice as many hot outfits for the price of one new one at Motherhood. Maternity clothes get such little wear and tear so all the pieces are in top shape. And with designers like Michael Stars and Japanese Weekend, you're sure to find some awesome additions to your growing addition. I spent waaaayyy too much time window shopping and I'm never going to be pregnant again. Hmmmm...that almost makes me shed a tear.