Mama Confessions #17

I hate kid music.
There, I said it.
I mean, with all the wonderful, complex, beautiful, interesting, fun, and richly educational music available to us at the click of a button these days--
WHY is there a whole genre dedicated to silly, simplistic, poorly orchestrated, nonsense, bad grammar, and character voices with terrible vocal technique that you are supposed to expose your children to before anything else? It's horrifying. Not to mention obnoxious.
Hot dog, hot dog, hot diggity dog... No.
You put your belly in, you put your belly out... Are you serious?
I like to ate, ate, ate, aepples and banae-naes... UGGGHHH!
Clean up, clean up, everybody everywhere... please shoot me.
I can't do it. I don't want to.
Sam listens to the radio with me. We listen to my playlists. We listen to classics, top 40, broadway, progressive rock (thanks, Daddy), instrumental and choral music, easy listening, folk music, alternative... and whatever else we feel like that day. (As I write this, Sam is jammin' out to his all time favorite song-- Phillip Phillips' Home)
But I can't do it. I can't turn Pandora to that toddler station. I won't put in the CD of 'silly songs' someone gave us. I can't. It hurts my head and offends my musicianship.
And you know what? Sam seems to be developing well. He loves to sing and has above average rhythm skills for a 1 yr old. Sooooo...
Why does that stuff even exist? Does anyone enjoy it? Can anyone tolerate it? Can we sign a petition to make five green and speckled frogs sitting on a speckled log GO AWAY? I can't be the only Mama who feels this way...

Mama Confessions #15

Sam is learning to walk right now. Sam is a busy, ornery little boy. Sam runs into, knocks over, crawls over, falls on, and bumps his head on just about every piece of furniture he sees. Sam has lots of bruises.
On christmas morning he pulled a wooden stool over on top of himself leaving him with a giant, bruised, goose-egg on his forehead. Later that day he was at my parents house and walked straight into the the piano, which left another prominent bruise on his face. A few days before he had fallen and busted his lip while playing at my parents house.
All of these incidents happened under the care and careful watch of his parents and grandparents. All who love him and take excellent care of him, and felt terrible about the situation. Sam... if he cried about each of these incidences was over it within seconds and on to his next battle no worse for the wear. But here I am, his loving mother--on Christmas, no less!--carting around my bruised and battered child.
We were at a resturaunt ordering some food, and Sam was waving and being friendly and our server asked how old he was.
"A year," I answered.
"Is he walking yet?" the server asked.
"Not, yet. He's trying... thats why he has all these bruises... " His face really was sad and pathetic looking. Poor battered child.
"Oh," said the server. "I just assumed you beat him."
And my heart dropped... because that server just confirmed my worst fears-- that people were looking on my child and judging me and assuming I was at best negligent, but maybe worse-- abusive. And I started to go into a full terror/rage/panic when I looked up at that server who chuckled and winked at me.
"I have an 18 month old at home. Walking is tough. He looks great." He said and left our table with a smile.
Deep breaths. He was joking.
Sometimes I forget that I am not the only one who has ever done this. Tons of parents have felt guilty about accidental bumps and bruises on their kids, and it doesn't make them a bad parent. It doesn't make me a bad parent. It makes me a parent. One of many out there who understand.

Mama Confessions #14

Motherhood means giving up things.
Obvious things like... Your flat, smooth, sz 4 tummy. A sleep schedule. Rooms of your house and the back seat of your car to baby stuff.
It is the less obvious things that I wasn't expecting and kind of resent.
Things like... that last delightfully crusty corner of bread that you set on the side of your plate for your last bite... and then your toddler sees it and starts pointing bellowing until you hand it over.
Things like... clean water, as waiters can't seem to get a child's cup to the table at the same time the adult water glasses, and of course the kid must have a drink NOW and doesn't know how to drink without spitting backwash and floaties in your glass.
Things like... all the yummiest bits of chicken from your Chipotle burrito bowl, because you know Dad's not gonna share his, and you are not going to buy a separate burrito just for the kid who only wants the chicken and maybe a few beans...
Food.
You have to give up your food.
You hand over choice pieces to chubby hands that will pass it back and forth a few times then often throw it on the floor with a smirk. And you stare at that morsel you were planning on--looking forward to-- consuming now on the floor... and you remind yourself that you are thankful to be a mom.
But really, you wish you could also be thankful for that last bite of delightfully crusty bread in mouth.

Mama Confessions #13

It has been nearly a year since I was pregnant and I still have a couple maternity tops in regular rotation in my wardrobe. They are just sooooooo comfy, I can't give them up. They are a guilty pleasure, a bad habit.

I try to justify it...
They don't look maternity. 
Flowy blouses are a thing, right? 
No one would know if they didn't check the tags...
Whatever, Mama, you are rockin' this look like childless early-twenties-something. 

Um... Don't judge me.

Mama Confessions #12

My child is better looking than yours.
Oh, don't judge me. You think the same thing.
Look, I am not saying that your child is unattractive. When I told you she is adorable and beautiful, when I told you he is handsome and charming... I wasn't lying. You know I'm a horrible liar, so it's true, I believe those things I said about your child.
But lets just go ahead and fess up here and be honest about the fact that every mother, while capable of recognizing beauty and attractive qualities in other babies, will always believe that her own are the most attractive. And when we see other children-- even exceptionally cute children that we need to comment on out loud... we are still in our head thinking, wow I'm glad that my kid is even better looking than that kid!
See I'll prove it to you...

This is a cute kid. You can't deny this is cute. I dare you to find bluer eyes, longer lashes, a sweeter smile with little teeth poking out...
You just imagined a picture of your own child in a similar-- but cuter-- situation, didn't you? See? Guilty.

Mama confessions #11

I still feed my family grain.
I do.
And I know some of you are thinking SO? and some of you are thinking... don't you know, that's the sure ticket to obesity, sickness, and death!
Look, some of these trends in healthful eating are just that-- trends. And I have consistently stayed several trends behind.
I try to feed my family a balanced, unprocessed, (mostly) organic diet. So I am on that wagon. We do pretty good, but sometimes we have fail days. Regardless, I feel pleased with our eating habits, for the most part.
I have yet to find reason to restrict gluten in our diet, and I am convinced the husband would revolt if I did. He has a love affair with wheaty, gluteny goodness that rivals any I have ever seen.
I've done some research on the topic, and though I recognize there are benefits, I am still not convinced Paleo is right for our family either. I know, I know...  I am opening myself up here for a lot of unsolicited info from all my 'Paleo' friends. I know there are a lot of you that sing the praises of it, and can't believe that with the obvious benefits and information available lousy moms like me still choose to consume and serve my family grains.
Let me say though, I am proud of you-- and impressed at your dedication if you have selected this for your life and for your family. I just can't. I am not there yet. I am not convinced. And on top of that-- I am pretty sure our financial situation limits us even further from venturing into that realm. And sometimes I feel a little judged-- a little out of the loop-- a little not trendy-- a little worried that what I am doing is not right.
But I see the generous supply of good foods on our table, in our pantry. And I look at the chubby cheeks, and round belly of my little man. He is strong, healthy, and thriving. I am doing my best to provide the best possible sustenance for my family, and we are doing well.
Even eating grain.
So we're going to keep going on that train for now... until I have good reason to change our course.

Mama confessions #10

I hide the toys that light up and make noise. I told people not to buy them for us, because I didn't want them cluttering up our house and my brain with their horrible electronic renditions of nursery songs... GAH. Anyway, that might make me a mean mom, but whatever, I'll take the ridicule along with my sanity, thank you.
Even still, there are a few that found their way into our house, and I hid them in the far back corner of the closet. I hid them so that I could take them out on days like... yesterday.
After a hard run I was so tired and so exhausted and so in need of a shower. And Sam was being so sad and so clingy and so if-you-put-me-down-you-will-regret-it. So I set him down in his crib [screams] and fished that little blinking singing piano toy out of the closet and handed it to Sam [more screams]. Then I pushed the little button and it started blinking and singing [awe-filled silence]. And he sat silently pushing the button over and over again for the next 15 minutes while I took a bubble bath in the next room and tried to ignore polly-wolly-doodle-all-day spewing forth from the new 'magic' toy.
And that is why I hide the noise making light up toys; Because sometimes Mama needs a little magic up her sleeve to make it through those days. Woe is me the day my son is de-sensitized to the magic. But for today, the magic is hidden away for another desperate moment.

Mama Confessions #9

Sam found the Dog's toy box today.
Obviously, I don't want my child playing with the dogs toys.
But upon further inspection of Sam's new obsession... I decided that I am a pretty lousy dog mom. The toy basket consisted of several chewed up plastic water bottles, a destroyed frisbee, a tangle of yarn, and a service bell. Sigh. No wonder the dogs are obsessed with the kid's toys.
We do occasionally purchase real toys for our dogs, but Charlie could care less, and Winston completely obliterates them within 30 seconds. But he really enjoys and savors a water bottle when he can sneak one... so whatever. The service bell they used to ring when they wanted to be let out, but now we have a dog door, so that was just tossed in the basket, and the yarn? I have no idea.
So anyway, excellent and safe toys. Pointy, chewed up, plastic stuff and Sam is fascinated. And the dogs are much too happy to share.
Sigh.

Mama Confessions #8

I'm pretty sure my kid hates me.
He's fine when other people are around, but as soon as grandma and grandpa leave, or daddy goes to work-- he screams inconsolably.
I chocked it up to teething or a wonky nap schedule the first couple of days, but it has become a very consistent pattern of happy and content around everyone (the kid doesn't know about stranger danger) and wailing miserably when left alone with Mama.
I'm a nice person. Really. I am trying very hard to be accommodating to your needs, and comforting to your fears... and patient and loving even though I am tired and heartbroken.
But all I get is anger and tears and gnashing of teeth.
Well, there would be gnashing of teeth if there were more teeth to gnash.
I am still holding out hope though, that this might all have something to do with the aquisition of teeth and not as much with an innate hatred for a small one's maternal parental unit.
Sigh. Tough break.
I tell you what.

Mama Confessions #7

I signed up for a local bible study because they offered insanely inexpensive childcare.
I mean, I am sure I will get benefit out of the once a week bible study too-- but it was really the childcare thing that reeled me in.

Mama Confessions #6

I talked about poo on my blog.
I swore I never would, and I did. Be it ever so briefly, it's there. Making me one of those moms.
This is my public confession and apology.
I swear I will do everything in my power to keep such things from happening again.

Mama Confessions #5

If the boy is taking a particularly long nap, I sometimes panic. I hold my breath and tiptoe into his room and try to push out of my mind all the possible ways he could be maimed or harmed that happened while I was doing other things. I arrive at the side of his crib and lay one hand on his back to check his breathing, then finally start breathing again myself.
I know I am completely neurotic, but I refuse to believe I am the only mother who does this.
Often my prayer is, Dear Lord, please don't let fear and doubt keep me from being the mother Sam needs me to be.
Then I remind myself of 2 Timothy 1:7, and I try to live my life there.

Mama Confessions #4

My son has been sporting a faux-hawk all week. I think it's hilarious and adorable.

Full disclosure: I may have trimmed his hair to make the style work.

Also, Cetaphil makes an excellent infant styling wax. 

Now you know.

Mama Confessions #3

Source: younghouselove.com via Alyse on Pinterest

I don't keep a baby book for my son. You know those cute little thingies where you write down all those milestones for posterity sake.
So someday you child can shame their children by saying-- I took my first steps at 11 months, so it looks like I was a lot more advanced than you are.
My child will not be able to do that. And that might be a little bit sad for him-- but who the heck has time to write stuff down in a frilly little book?
Sorry buddy.
I can assure you, however. That you are developmentally on-track, and healthy and happy as can be. And you are 7.5 ish months old right now. How's that for a baby book entry?

Mama Confessions #2

You don't get 'sick days' from being a mom, and that sucks.
It's hard to focus on being there for someone else when you can barely drag yourself out of bed to make a run for the toilet bowl-- for the 16th time today. And just add the guilt of not giving your family your best to the rest of those nasty feelings you have when you are sick... and being sick sucks even more.
Last time I was sick I made my husband get up with Sam in the morning because I told him 'I don't have the energy to be mom today'. My husband told me that was a horrible thing to say. It might be, but it's also honest. Some days it's just hard to make it all happen.
I don't think that makes me a horrible person, though.
I think it just makes me a person.

Mama Confessions #1

The other day I was shopping with a friend (and Sam) when the little man who had been sleeping so contentedly suddenly awoke and was hungry. I dug around in my bag to discover I had no bottle in his diaper bag. We were nearing the end of our shopping so I tried to keep him happy with little swigs from my water bottle, because he finds that fascinating. But that was a short lived distraction. We got up to the counter to pay and my son was wailing uncontrollably. I dug through my bag and had not even a toy to distract him with. I was defeated, and felt like a horrible mom as people judged me waiting in line to purchase some jeans while my infant screamed and I did nothing to feed or appease him. SIGH.
I had purchased a simple pair of foam flip flops at the store and this finally occurred to me on my way out, so I grabbed one (A brand new, never been worn, clean, foam flip flop) and handed it to my son. I am sure you know, it went directly to his mouth.
We had one more stop to make, just to grab dinner before heading home... but here I am walking into Panera with an infant chewing happily on a flip flop and everyone looking going, is that child eating a flip flop?
IT'S CLEAN! IT HAS NEVER BEEN WORN! SOMETIMES YOU GOTTA DO WHAT YOU GOTTA DO! I wanted to yell at the store. But I didn't. Because the flip flop was quickly losing it's magic and he was crying again, and we purchased our food and bolted outta there before someone could call child protective services.
That day, I was mortified and felt like a terrible parent. Every day since then, when thinking about it I have giggled... and I only wish I had taken a picture of my son chewing on that flip flop because it was just such a strange and unexpected toy for an infant. Ever since then I have done a much better job keeping my bag (and also my car, you know, just in case) stocked with a clean bottle and toy.
But just add that to the list of reasons I am not winning mother of the year award.