Confession: I’m a recovering mom-judger.
I used to roll my eyes when one more exasperated first time mom would ask, “How do I get my two-month old to sleep through the night?” I would be hard pressed to hide my surprise if another mom admitted the cornerstones of her kid’s diet for the last week was string cheese and chicken nuggets. I’d go home and tell my husband, “So and so lets her kids do x, y, and z. Can you believe it?” followed by the quintessential line, “I would NEVER let that happen.”
Yep. That was me. Judgey McJudgerson at your service.
A few nights ago when I was spinning around in my chair singing, “I’m not funny, la la la…” instead of writing, I started to wonder why I judged so much. I’m not a mean-spirited person. I genuinely like most of the people I found myself judging. I didn’t like judging them nor the guilt that came with it. So what was my issue?
And in a flash of insight not unlike Big Bird realizing he didn’t want a new habitat if it meant leaving his friends on Sesame Street, it hit me.
I judge because I’m insecure.
That’s it. Continue reading
1. Call the baby by the wrong name. Guilty. I’ve done it. My mom friend handled it well, but talk about embarrassing.
2. Ask if she can cover up while nursing. Breastfeeding is one of the most patience depleting, emotional wrecking balls New Mom will ever face. If she covers up on her own, more power to her. If she whips her boob out to feed her new baby and you’re uncomfortable, dismiss yourself to the kitchen and start loading the dishwasher.
3. Show up unannounced. Call or text first and ask. Aside from being sleep-deprived, exhausted, and sore, there’s a good chance New Mom is also half naked because why put the boobs away if baby is just going to want them again in five minutes?
4. Tell her to sleep when the baby sleeps. Maybe it’s just me, but I hated this piece of advice. Sure, I’ll sleep once all 84 burp rags are washed and put away, my kitchen doesn’t look like a FEMA zone, and my legs don’t bare a not so vague resemblance to Bigfoot.
5. Offer to hold the baby so New Mom can clean her house or shower. You have it backwards. You should offer to do the dishes or make dinner or fold laundry while New Mom enjoys precious moments with her new bundle of joy. Continue reading
I love bed.
I love sleeping, falling asleep, waking up and going back to sleep, all of it. Sleeping is one of the best ways I spend 5 hours of my day. I didn’t used to feel this way. In my time before kids, going to bed was just something my body made me do. And naps? Forget about it.
I love bed.
Lillian, for the most part, does not. Oh sure, there are nights where she asks to go to bed with her words. “Mom, night night.” There are also nights, though, when she tells me she’s ready for bed via an interpretive dance which includes, but is not limited to, screaming, flailing her limbs, chucking herself to the floor, and more screaming.
More often that not she knows that when I say it’s time for bed, it’s time for bed. She doesn’t pitch a fit, but she does attempt to find any excuse to prolong being lifted up into her crib. The conversation goes something like this. (I don’t write toddler dialect well so rather than have you try to decipher what she’s saying I’ll just put it in standard English.)
“Lils, it’s time for night night.”
“No, Mom! Daniel Tiger!”
“No, we’re done watching T.V. It’s time for bed.”
“No. No Jake and the pirates either. It’s time for bed.”
Her shoulders slump as she walks towards me, then perks up. Continue reading
Many of you were wanting my take on camping with little kids. I’ll begin by saying that this will not be a super positive review of the experience.
I don’t think I like camping. I think I like the idea of camping. Of waking up to a chilly morning, quietly drinking my coffee by a campfire while listening to the sounds of the world waking up. A bird chirps. A squirrel whizzes by. Ah, camping. The day progresses in a slow, sedated lull. I wander with my campmates through a hike or down the coastline for a relaxing walk. In the evenings, we all don an extra layer and drink hot chocolate with Bailey’s around the campfire until it’s time to curl up in our sleeping bag and quickly drift off to sleep, the fresh air doling out to us the best night’s sleep we’ve ever had.
That didn’t happen though. Even without kids it wouldn’t have happened. Camp coffee always has grounds in it. I’m freezing cold from about 5pm until 3pm the next day regardless of how many layers I wear. I didn’t have any Bailey’s. I also didn’t have my fan who’s sole purpose is to offer white noise so falling asleep to the sound of… well, nature, didn’t really work for me.
Oh, right. And then there’s the kids. Continue reading
We can all agree that kids make some poor choices. They eat crayons, consider the bookshelf their personal Everest, and would rather sit in the toy box instead of, you know, play with their toys.
I think there are a number of ways that kids get it right though. Here’s just a few.
All they want to eat is junk food. Well duh! Who doesn’t want a diet comprised solely of goldfish crackers, fruit snacks, cookies, and juice all day, every day? Screw broccoli; bring on the bacon cheeseburgers!
They don’t want to wear pants. Or any clothes for that matter. One thing I can count on happening every day is my kids whining and moaning when I insist on getting them dressed. They fight. They squirm. Their limbs turn to jello. It’s just a shirt, guys! It’s not the apocalypse. But on those hot days (okay, 80 degrees) when they can run around in just a diaper, I can’t say I’m not a little envious. Continue reading