When To Say When

Oct 22, 2014 by

This is the first year my son is really “into” Halloween. He carefully considered his costume for months. He changed his mind about 31 times after finally settling on Batman. When his costume arrived, he immediately tried it on, running around the house yelling, “I’m Baaaatmaaaan” and spent the rest of the day saving the world. This is also the first time he’s intrigued by Halloween’s “scary things”. He saw someone dressed in a monster costume on TV and my first reaction was to cover his eyes and change the channel (the guy was really scary!). But it was too late. He saw it and was amazed. He asked me to rewind it so he could see it again. I did. Again and again and again. I kept assuring him “it’s only a costume, it’s not real” but he didn’t want to hear it. He was too busy gaping at the crazy werewolf man hulking around on the screen. I could tell he was a little nervous, but utterly fascinated at the same time.

What I Say to My Kid vs. What I Mean

Oct 7, 2014 by

Anyone with a toddler knows that every day is a test in patience and endurance. Every morning when I wake up, I give myself a pep talk that goes something like this: He’s three years old, cut him some slack, he’s curious, just trying to figure out the world around him. Be tolerant.  Be kind to him. I will admit though, I am not too good at the whole patience thing.  But I try. I really do. For example, here are a few things I say to my son versus what is actually going on my head.

 

What I say: Yes honey? What can I do for you?

What I mean: How can you possibly say my name that many times in a row? Say “Mommy” one more time. I dare you.

 

 What I say: No, you may not ride your brother like a horsey.

Letting Go of the Negativity

Oct 1, 2014 by

Insecurity. Self-doubt. JEALOUSY. Anxiety. Resentment. They are all such heavy, negative emotions. At the same time, they are natural, innate, and above all, powerful. They have the ability to overwhelm and take over. They have the power to weigh you down, both literally and figuratively. Personally, I’ve experienced those feelings at different levels throughout my life. And at times they’ve consumed me. And during those times, I just gave in and accepted it: this was part of my personality; part of who I was.

As time passed, I came to realize that is NOT who I am. Maybe it had to do with maturity, life experience, becoming a wife, a mother, I’m not sure. Maybe I just didn’t want to feel insecure and weighed down by heaviness of negativity. So I made a conscious effort NOT let those destructive words describe me anymore.

Letting-Go

Momfession: I don’t think I could pump for another baby.

Sep 30, 2014 by

Did you know that CT Working Moms has a Momfessions page?  It is a place for all of us to anonymously share some of our best/worst motherhood confessions.  One recently submitted Momfession caught my eye:

‘I was so traumatized from exclusively pumping for my son, who wouldn’t latch, that when my daughter came along I refused to pump, and when she didn’t latch and lost too much weight initially, we switched her to formula. Not breastfeeding or pumping was so freeing and wonderful. I felt like I had been given my life back. I was so ashamed though that I pretended to be nursing or pumping when talking to other “mom friends.”’

The Fear of Having Post-Partum Depression…AGAIN.

Sep 24, 2014 by

With my first son, I had post-partum depression. But that’s not what this post is about. To be honest, I’m not quite ready to write about that. This is about what happened the second time around.

 

First of all, I did not want to have another baby. Sure, I liked the idea of my son having a sibling (being one of four, I knew the significance of that experience). My husband wanted another child. But I did not. Why would I ever take the chance of going through that horrible nightmare again? Nothing is worth feeling like that. No, not even a child.  

 

Well, the conversation inevitably came up and I gave my husband the same reply every time “I’m just not ready yet.” I used that excuse for about a year. Then in a weak moment (or maybe subconsciously I thought I was ready, I don’t know) I said “Ok, let’s do it”. So I went off the pill and started timing things. About two days later I freaked out: There is NO way I’m doing this again! 

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