Santa and Other Lies We Tell.

Spoiler Alert. Santa doesn't exist.

Or at least he doesn't exist in the form in which we lie - at length - to our children to make them believe. And the truth of the matter is that our parental punishment for the Santa lie is that we have to deliver on the gifts the kids want and create the "magic" of Christmas. Which, as we know, leaves us standing in a long line at the mall for the chance to talk to Santa and to get that ever coveted photo with the bearded stranger, stressed about purchasing the right gifts and  hiding them, only to then have to assemble them and lastly to pretend that we are equally surprised that the gifts magically arrived via our chimneys. Oh, and did I mention that Santa often forgets batteries. A-hole. And to top it off, while the children sing the praises of Santa, us parents don't get a 'thank you' for the torment we endured to perpetuate the myth of the jolly ole man. Yes, we are aptly punished for our lies.

With the magic of the holidays upon us, I can't help but to think about what it is that compels us to lie to our children. I'm not referring to the obvious daily lies we tell in order to get through the day - like the "i can send your toothbrush to be tested to find out if you brushed" -  but rather the epic lies. You know, the ones we make up and force our children to believe, only to later admit we were lying for years and years, as in Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny.

The fat man in the suit. For starters.... Santa goes to all houses across the world in one night? It's ok that he comes in unannounced but I will grab you by the arm and scold you for opening the door to someone who politely knocks? He knows exactly what you want and nails it every year? He comes to malls of all places so you can talk to him, but you'll never hear him or see him when he actually shows up at your house? Oh, and he comes via flying reindeer. I don't know if we should be ashamed as parents for perpetuating the myth or pissed at our kids for being so gullible.

The tooth fairy. Yep, there's a fairy who collects dead teeth. How the fck did this one get started?! There's a fairy who will come into your room while you're asleep and take something from underneath your pillow, but trust me, there's no such thing as monsters. How in the world are kids not questioning this? Oh, that's right, the good ole punishment we get for perpetuating the lie....us parents PAY our children not the question it. Why would a child risk hearing the truth when it literally would cost them a pretty penny? No tooth fairy = no pay day.  And for the kids who are too young to know better, why don't we tell them, when they are afraid of monsters under their beds, that it's just the tooth fairy checking to see if any new teeth had fallen out? I mean.... I hate this one.

Hippity Hop. Here comes the Easter Bunny! Now, this one challenged me even as a child. Santa has his reindeer. The tooth fairy has wings. How the fck does the Bunny get into the house to leave a basket of candy? Do we leave a key outside? Do we say that the bunny picks the lock with it's teeth? And in the same breath,  like the "no monsters," we assure our kids that there's no way a burglar could break in. Nope. Only rabbits can get through the door. And does the tooth fairy love or hate the bunny since the bunny contributes to dental problems with it's jelly beans and Cadbury eggs and hollow chocolate rabbits?

I'm all for the magic of believing, but there's something to be said for just how far we take these lies.  With a 2 1/2 year old who just this year understands the concept of Santa, I'm left pondering just how far I take it.  When my son sat on Santa's lap (aka a total stranger danger) he said he only wants a garbage truck for Christmas. And what did dear old Santa say? "Reece, what about a puppy?" F-ck you old man. Really? You needed to spike me by introducing the idea of a dog to my 2 1/2 year old?

For this year, the puppy situation is why I want my son to believe in Santa. I can blame the bearded man for forgetting the puppy. As for next year, well, I guess I will just have to see what Reece asks for and if I can pull it off or if I need a Santa scapegoat.

The Pregnancy Joke.

You will glow. You will feel powerful. You will feel beautiful. You will experience the greatest joy. You will experience love you can't imagine.

Your life will change. Forever.

These are all truths and all part of the big fat joke about having a baby.

I have two children who I absolutely worship and I've definitely guzzled the mommy Kool-Aid of how I can't imagine my life any other way, blah, blah, blah. But even so, when I look back on how I got here - to the place of being a mother - I can't help but feel like throwing my hands in the air and just saying "you got me!" as if I've been victim of one of life's greatest pranks.

You decide you're "ready" to get pregnant. Or at least as ready as a person can be for their life to irrevocably change in ways that can't truly be understood or planned for. For finances to double and vacations to just be fond memories of days gone. So now that you're "ready," WTF?! Why can't you get pregnant?! I personally spent many, many years trying to NOT get pregnant with my husband. Only to later find out that it was impossible for me to get pregnant without modern medicine. I consider this prank #1.

Prank #2 is having spent a lifetime believing pregnancy is nine months, only to learn it's actually 10. Yes, 40 weeks of gestating a human in your body. Weird.

Prank #3 is when you learn the hard way that morning sickness is not an accurate name for what you feel. It's like calling a hangover a morning hangover. You don't just feel awful when you wake after a night of excessive drinking. You feel that way all day. Now, imagine if you had a hangover that lasted for months. Yeah. Awesome.

You glow. No, you actually don't. This is prank #4. Glow is a "safe word." That's it. It's the only thing people can say to you that has nothing to do with your body and that sounds like a compliment.

Prank #5 is being told that you only need to consume an additional 300 calories a day while pregnant. SHUT THE F UP! I mean seriously?! Seriously?! I'm supposed to handle the emotional, physical, psychological challenges and changes of carrying a human around for 40 weeks and you want me to satiate my insatiable hunger with what equates to a banana and some peanut butter? Furthermore, I've been forced to give up caffeine and alcohol and all I get is a banana and some PB? Um, no.

Boobs. I can't possibly skip this gem. Maybe I was not informed, but I did not expect that my boobs would get even bigger after I gave birth. I watched them grow two sizes during my pregnancy and then another two sizes post-delivery.  I'm feeding a baby, not a calf. Prank #6

Similarly to how morning sickness is not accurately named, maternity clothes should be maternity and post-maternity clothes because you're stuck wearing them for way longer than you hoped or planned, making this prank #7. And then with the new big boobs, you have the joy of the maternity pants being too big, but regular pants not being big enough. Shirts that fit, even with a big belly, don't fit with your enormous boobs. #postbabyFAIL.

"It's ok to have sex six weeks after having the baby." BAH HA HA HA HA HA! Approaching a woman for sex six weeks after delivery is like daring a person to try to pet the lion at the zoo. You will be eaten alive. Killed on the spot. In other words, don't do it. But that fact that this is even the time frame considered reasonable is prank #8.

You thought your mom was just being neurotic when she would always ask you to go to the bathroom before getting in the car. It wasn't that she was neurotic. It's that she was scarred from your childhood. Kids always shit their diapers before leaving the house or as soon as they are strapped into a car seat. Making attempts at going anywhere and the impossibility of being on time prank #9.

Now for prank #10. This is my least favorite one of them all. Who knew that becoming a mother meant I would become afraid of the dark? Yes, afraid. When darkness falls...it's scary to be a parent. You try all day to tee-up the perfect night. Fed at that appropriate times and tummy full at bedtime? Check. Hydrated but not so much that they will wet the bed? Check. Solid nap at the right nap time? Check. And yet you still say "sleep tight" and close the door and an indescribable fear comes over you, not knowing if you will make it to morning without seeing the little person you tucked in. Or if that "terrorist" you just put to bed is about to give you the big ole middle finger during the night in the form of "mommy!" and "daddy!" and "WAH WAH WAH." Forget "sleeping like a baby" and welcome to "nightmare on your street."

Things You Should Never Say to a Pregnant Woman

Now well into my second pregnancy, and after countless friends have had children, I've collected a few "gems" -- things you can't quite believe have been said to a pregnant woman. Yet I assure you, these have indeed all be said.

Here are 15 of the best (or worst, depending on how you look at it):

1. I'm tired.
2. I could really go for an ice cold beer right about now. Or, a margarita would be perfect on a day like today.
3. Don't you wish you could drink?
4. When are you due? [insert due date]. Do you think you're going to make it? You're already so big.
5. You're lucky. Your face isn't fat yet.
6. Your boobs are huge.
7. Enjoy going out now because you won't see the inside of a movie theater for another 10 years.
8. You're going to be so tired when the baby comes. I mean, exhaustion like you've never known.
9. You look exhausted.
10. Did you hear the story about the woman who (fill in the blank with any number of horrifying details of labor/delivery)
11. Are you worried you won't make it to the hospital in time for the epidural?
12. Are you worried about losing the baby weight?
13. Isn't it so weird that there's a person inside of you?
14. I bet you're going to have a big baby
15. I'm craving sushi.

And the bonus for post-birth.....

1. Wow. You had a small baby? But you were so big!

Ode to Celebrity Moms

Oh Gwyneth, Oh Gwyneth,
the fun's just begun.
We've learned you sell bikinis for toddlers,
and don't feed carbs to your daughter and son.

Momma Alba we applaud that sick bod of yours.
But two corsets for weeks?
Your weight loss approach is absurd.

Then there's dear Kim.
Oh Kim, bless her heart.
She's about to have a baby
while the world watches her fall apart.

Ms. Jessica Simpson,
you've fooled us all.
We thought you were an idiot,
but you're in a financial windfall.

Denise Richards, you're another,
we once thought borderline crazy.
But now we see the light.
Charlie Sheen has even given you all his babies.

Britney, you're another 
who turned things around.
We thought you bottomed out
and wouldn't get up off the ground.

Gisele, Oh Gisele,
a supermodel you certainly are.
But skip the string bikini mere weeks post-birth.
Honestly, it's just bizarre.

Katie Holmes, you did it.
We are a huge fan.
You made a choice for you and your daughter.
Against a powerhouse, you took a stand.

Reese, have a drink.
Hey, have another.
Don't feel bad for letting loose,
just make sure your driver is sober.

Tori Spelling, please stop.
Four babies is enough.
We can't look at you in those skimpy bathing suits while prego.
Enough is enough.

Jen Garner, you're amazing.
Solid mom - it's an easy call.
A sexy husband, three children,
and a head on your shoulders above all.

Beyonce, you're the queen.
You embody total class.
You balance privacy with enigma.
And you're all around bad ass.

I know it's not nice to judge other mothers,
so consider these just my observations about others.

We all do our best,
and try with all our might.
We hope we just don't screw up
and maybe - just maybe - once get it right.

Little Poem for the Little Guy

I love your morning breath and sleepy eyes,
your biggest giggles and saddest cries.

Your little kisses and your sweet bye-byes,
your tiny fingers and chubby thighs.

I love when you run around,
and when you aren't making a sound.

I love when you try something new,
even if all it gets is "ew!"

I live for your voice and sweet things you say,
little boy oh mine, I love you in every way.

When you play and make pretend,
when you're shy and when you make new friends.

It's always a joy to watch you learn,
to see you grow and your mind churn.

You live each day with joy and love,
and honest to God you're a gift from above.

Little Liar

I've refrained from pluralizing liar out of respect for the parents out there who have children who don't lie. Dare I make the blanket statement that all two year olds are liars. But below are some of the best I've heard.

Q) "Reece, did you poop?" 
A) "No."
Lie. My question was rhetorical. I asked as a courtesy. A courtesy he didn't extend before taking a stinky dump and walking around like nothing happened."

Q) "Reece, did you have fun today?"
A) "No."
Lie. He watched TV, ate, played, ate, napped, ate, played, ate. That routine makes everyone happy.

Q) "Reece, do you want pizza for dinner?"
A)  "Yes."
Lie. He asked "where's hot dog?" when the pizza hit his plate.

Q) "Reece, do you want a brother or sister?"
A) "Sister."
Lie. When asked in reverse order, he says brother.

Q) "Reece, are you tired?"
A) "No."
Lie. See photo. While laying on the kitchen floor about to fall asleep, he was still adamant about not being tired.

Q) "Did you take his/her toy?"
A) "No."
Lie. Child left sans-toy is in screaming fit of rage over Reece, the toy-snatcher.

Q) "Did you just pour your drink all over the floor?"
A) "No."
Lie. Sorry dude, but you don't have any siblings you can pin this one on. It was all you.

Q) "Did you color the sofa with your crayons?"
A) "No."
Lie. See above.

Q) "Why are you wet? Were you just playing in the toilet?"
A) "No."
Lie. Evidence in the form of toy monster truck found in bottom of toilet bowl.

Q) "Did you feed the dog your snack?"
A) "No."
Lie. Dog just puked it up.

If I Were 2 Years Old

1) I would sleep more

2) I wouldn't have to get up to pee in the middle of the night

3) I would never have to empty the dishwasher, wash dishes, start a bath, do the laundry, pay the bills

4) I would play all day

5) I would watch Elmo all day

6) I would play while watching Elmo

7) I would walk around pressing every button I could reach

8) I would take your phone and hide it so I could use it whenever I want

9) I would chase birds

10) I would eat a lot of Pirate's Booty

11) I would chase squirrels

12) I would eat a lot of french fries and fruit snacks

13) I would chase fire trucks, police cars, ambulances and anything with a siren

14) I would ask someone to carry me instead of walking

15) I would always make the driver of the car play the music I want to listen to. Alternately, I would scream until the music played

16) I would only take baths with the perfect temperature water, toys, bubbles and color fizzy tablets

17) Instead of reading, I would have someone read to me

18) I wouldn't work

20) If I didn't like the food served to me, I would throw it on the floor

21) If I didn't like my drink, I would pour it on the floor

22) If I didn't like you, I would bite you

23) If biting didn't work, I would kick you

24) I would let the dog out of the cage.

25) I would overfeed the fish just because feeding fish is fun

26) I would leave toys outside overnight

27) I would laugh for most of my day

28) I would nap after lunch everyday

29) I wouldn't go to school

30) I would never apologize for farting in public

Oh, how it's great to be 2!

Parent for Hire

My son is asleep and I'm back online for work trying to stay on top of a few projects. As I think about my job at the office, I am suddenly distracted by trying to figure out what a job description for being a parent would look like.

And what would it look like if my son wrote it?

Let the games begin.

Wanted.
Adult who isn't too old to play, but not too young and texts all the time (I hate when people use the phone around me and then tell me I can't have a turn. Learn to share. You're supposed to be a grown up). Must love Elmo, Thomas, construction sites and vehicles of all varieties. Must remain quiet while I drink milk and watch Elmo in the morning. Must be outdoorsy and know all animal sounds. Must enjoy making the "beep beep beep" sound trucks make when moving in reverse. Must love apple juice, meats that come in the shape of balls, chips with humus and cookies. Must enjoy a good wrestling match because I hate having my diaper changed. Must be able to function at peak performance with minimal sleep. Must desire job with zero privacy, no breaks, no performance feedback, no hope for promotion or raise or change of title.


Now. If I were to write it....

Wanted.
Adult with equal parts common sense and street sense to dedicate entire life to a three foot tall sweetie/terror. Responsibilities include life safety, education, socialization, fun, laughter, hugs and cuddles and boundary setting. Requirements include lack of experience because you'll need the element of surprise to keep you on your toes. And you will want to claim to "have had no idea THAT (whatever that is) could happen.” Preferably someone who isn't squeamish around poop or vomit. Loves laundry and cleaning, cooking for the world's pickiest eater. Requires very little sleep or personal time. Prefers going to the bathroom with a child observing all that's happening.

###

So, what do you think I forgot in the job post?! Would love to hear what you think!

The Art of Manipulation

I know I have a two year old because the artist of manipulation is now my son. Gone are my days as the Picasso of manipulation. Hello Rembrandt.

For the past three nights, Reece has told me that he's hungry before bed. So, we have a snack about an hour before bed and I top off his milk with a little extra. Well, low and behold, the sleep terrorist who HATES being left to cry it out in his bed at night, has now crafted a plan by which he is getting enough milk that he falls asleep before finishing it while being held by me. Hmmmm...... I see a future of him breathing into the glass of water and having to pee A LOT before finally climbing into bed. Lucky me.

And when it comes to naps, Reece is keen to use the lines that I use when putting him to sleep. Several times now, he has gotten up from his bed while I'm still in his room putting him down, and walked to the door, turned back to me and said "Night night, Mommy. Be right back." and he's left the room and closed the door behind him. If only I could climb into bed for a few hours while he played quietly somewhere.

And while these things are in part both surprising to me and sweet, what's less sweet is that when it comes to something he wants, he's as motivated to get it as an alcoholic whose glass is empty is motivated to get a drink. Yes, it's that bad. He basically would risk his life to achieve his goals.

For example. To reach keys hanging on a hook in our house, Reece stacks the laptop on top of a small table so he has an extra inch and is able to reach the keys. Obsessed with putting keys in doors, he then hides said keys so we can't take them away. Nor, can we lock our doors.

Reece now refers to his highchair as a ladder, for since it's on wheels, he can move the chair to wherever he "needs" it to be, climb into it and while standing reach objects that are high enough to just be within my reach. Well done.

Reece is also a fan of feeling dizzy. A big to do in our house is spinning around until he falls. He always starts off by saying "be careful," but clearly those are empty words to a child who reminds me of the kid in the movie "Parenthood" who walks around with a bucket on his head.

Ah, the stages of development. Can't wait to see what's next.

Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better

If I were to write a letter to myself, pre-baby, the title of this post would be the gist of that letter. In no way am I implying that moms are better than everyone else. What I am saying, though, is that whatever I did before, I can now do it better as a mom.

Now, these are not the sexiest, coolest, most enviable skills. But really, once you convert to "mom jeans" who is worried about cool?

Dishwasher. Markedly improved. I can systematically load and unload in a heartbeat. I can stack it more efficiently and empty it as if I were operating on fast forward. Boom! So proud.

Dishes. When I first started pumping, it took what felt like hours each day to hand wash parts and bottles. Now? Well, I don't want to enter one, but I would crush anyone who challenges me to a breast-pump cleaning contest.

Laundry. I can fold and put away clothes 10x faster than before I became a mom. And two years into sleep deprivation and I have only turned one load pink.

Peeing. Ready for this one? It's a gem. I can now pee comfortably with a two year old on my lap. Jealous?

The shower. I can now take a shower faster than it takes for my son to figure out that I'm in the shower and before he attempts to climb in with me, jammies and all.

Grocery shopping. Don't mess with me in the store. Don't ask me if I need help. Yes, I found what I was looking for or I'm too annoyed to talk to you about what I didn't find becauase now I need to go to another store.

Eating. I don't even think I chew anymore. Wanna dine together? Seriously, I was a fast eater before I became a mom, but the speed at which I now consume food definitely isn't acceptable. I haven't used the prongs in two years. Basically I just scoop food into my mouth and swallow. Not a goal of anyone anywhere.

Makeup. If I can't get it all on while stopped at red lights, then I don't wear it. End of story. Gone are the days of checking in the mirror that everything is blended. I now just slap it on and hope for the best.

Conversations with my husband. We communicate almost exclusively via text. Before our son, we actually spoke during mornings and evenings. Now we can say almost all we need to say in a handful of characters. Go us.

Ambidextrous. By necessity, I can now do most things with both hands. Let's face it, you've got to do what you've got to do.

So fire away! What are your "I can do it better than your pre-baby self" moments?

But Hey, Who's Counting?

Today is my son's second birthday. It both seems impossibly fast and yet incredibly slow that he's turning two today.  The time has flown, mostly in part to me still feeling like I'm in the weeds -- trying to get meal times and nap times and bedtimes right -- trying to get to work as close to on time as possible each day -- and just about always feeling like I'm coming up short in one of the many roles I have.

To all the mothers who have it together. Congratulations. To those who don't, well, maybe it will just make the second child that much easier because things won't come undone. They are already still undone from the first.

On milestones like today, I'm overwhelmed with pen in hand as I sit to write an entry in Reece's baby journal.  Like most parents, I try to capture the milestones, but sometimes find many months between entries. So today, I really need to catch up and record who he is at this time. No small feat to summarize a person who changes on what seems like an hourly basis. Now, that could be the mood swings of the terrible-twos, but based on my moodiness and his father's, it's more likely our son's personality than "just a phase."

So, what to say. What to say.  You have used almost 5000 diapers? Consumed more than 20,000 ounces of milk? Been hospitalized once for a concussion that happened on my watch? (can you sense the mommy guilt? if not...I assure you that it's there). You've been on two planes. You can tell us when you've pooped, even though most of the time you lie or pretend you didn't hear us (well done with the latter). 

It's wild to think that of all the milestones, the past two years are so huge. Not only can he hold up the weight of his own head, but he can walk. There was once a time when he didn't even know there were feet attached to his body. Two years ago, he couldn't see, hold an object or roll over. So yes, two years into life and a lot has changed.  He once couldn't chew food. Now he uses utensils and brushes his teeth.  And perhaps most importantly, he has learned the art of manipulation.  Oh, and his dreams have changed. Once a smiley infant, I'm sure dreaming of boobs, he now dreams of trucks and cars.  Boobs might make a return, but for now, it's trucks and cars.

More than anything - well, not more than my love for Reece - so more than most other things, I'm so incredibly grateful that Reece doesn't know that I'm winging it. He doesn't seem to approach me with any hesitation or doubt in my ability and though he can't yet tell me if I'm getting it right or wrong, he's giving me enough feedback that I know he loves me and he trusts me. I can comfort him just as easily as I can make him laugh. And that right there....I'll take that for two years into this wild journey.

What's Your TV Mom Personality

In parenting books, we're often asked to determine our child's personality. Based on how we categorize the child and their general disposition, we are then apparently able to modify our parenting to be most effective. 

What we're not often asked, if ever at all, is about our mom personality and how that might impact how we parent. So I got to thinking....what type of mother am I? Hmmmm..... what would make this a much more fun exercise is if the I pondered this based on TV moms.  And here you have it. An array of moms who have very different personalities. I know who I most resemble and who I aspire to be (not yet the same...work in progress over here). 

Now, what is your TV mom personality? 
The below descriptions are from our good friends at "Access Hollywood."

Morticia, "The Addams Family"
She was of course creepy and spooky, mysterious and kooky...but she wanted nothing but the best for her children. She wore nothing by black, spoke French to driver her husband crazy with desire and kept people entertained with her unusual tactics. [Personally, I think this sounds a lot like Angeline Jolie. Just sayin'.]

Claire Dunphy, "Modern Family" 
She is determined to not allow her kids to have the same wild and rebellious lifestyle she had as a teen; and in order to implement these rules she becomes a bit overbearing. Her sarcastic remarks and dry humor have landed her a spot in our hearts.

Carmela Soprano, "The Sopranos"
She is a bit complicated. She loves her children on one hand. But on the other, she sacrificed their security for the sake of the luxuries her husband's career offers. As a strong female character, she also separated from her husband and continued to provide for her children.

Marion Cunningham, "Happy Days"
She and her husband are the definition of the classic 1950's couple. She gave up her secretarial job in order to become a stay-at-home mother and take care of her children. She also acted like a pseudo mom to others.

Marge Simpson, "The Simpsons"
She is loving, thoughtful, and most of all, patient with all members of her family. She instills morals, and provides a grounding voice in the midsty of her family's antics. 

Elyse Keaton, "Family Ties"
She is the definition of a "cool" Mom. With her new agey, former hippie lifestyle, she always tried her best to bond with her kids. Elyse had the capability of showing how to love your children even under the most challenging circumstances.


June Cleaver, "Leave it to Beaver"
A typical trophy wife, June Cleaver enjoys needelpoint, cake decorating and arranging tea roses. While her youngest son has a hard time staying out of trouble, she is still nurturing, and tries her best to support her son through all of his ordeals.


Clair Huxtable, "The Cosby Show"
Loving, warm, strong and witty, Clair Huxtable is often the caring disciplinarian for her children. Her role as a pioneering, family-balancing professional was a positive one. She was a strong working mother, yet fair and loving with her children.

Tami Taylor, "Friday Night Lights"
Loving, supportive, strong, fiercely protective, she cared about her marriage as much as her children. A family oriented and full-time working mother, she made it seem possible to do it all. While a friend to her eldest daughter, she's a mother first and is equal parts disciplinarian and confidant.

Carol Brady, "The Brady Bunch"
The typical story of two parents with children from different marriages, get together and form one big, happy family. Though she chose to be a stay-at-home mother, she did much more - she was a freelance writer, a sculptor, she organized school event ans work with the PTA; she was a warm and caring mother who loved all of her six kids.  [If this show aired today, it would be a reality show. Not scripted sitcom.]

Yo-Yo Parenting

Dear Parents,

Whatever you've done. You've done it wrong.  This is how I think every parenting book out there should open. These books should be dedicated to "All you sorry asses who didn't buy this book first." 

Let's face it, the volume of information out there about raising children is overwhelming. Add to it all you learn from friends and family and then of course from that little resource that's called, um, what is it again? Oh yeah, Google.

There's a thing known as "yo-yo dieting" - when you go on and off diets. I have determined that there's also a thing called "yo-yo parenting." This seems to be my current technique.

Just as my soon to be two year old tests boundaries, I am testing various reactions and methods for managing his tests.  Should I do what this author said? Oh wait, it didn't work. I'll change my approach and do what the other author said. But wait. That woman posted a comment on BabyCenter.... or was it TheBump? Now that I think of it, I should search on WhatToExpect.  Sometimes I lack all conviction, feeling like I need to find the "manual" that I will follow in raising my son. Otherwise, I fear I'll continue to be a yo-yo parent. And as any parent knows, it takes way more than one time for something to stick, so you can't yo-yo, you have to commit.

But how on earth do we muster the patience to try these approaches? It occurred to me that this is why they are called terrible twos. Not because my child is a disaster during this year, but because I am the disaster. A two year old is turning to mom and dad for boundaries, for limits, for an understanding of this big and crazy world. And what do I do in response to his inquiries and protestations? I play a game of yo-yo. 

When it comes to sleep training, you can let your child cry-it-out but check in periodically. Or, you can let your child cry-it-out and not go in at all. Alternately, you could ruin your child's trust in you if you let them cry at all. Um, thanks for the advice.

Or what about when it comes to bribing your child. I know books stay away from the word bribe, but we all know what "incentivize" really means. So, when potty training, offer your child an M&M or the like if they go on the potty. And maybe a few treats if they poop. But other times, you're most certainly advised against using food as a reward - heaven forbid this takes you down the slippery slope towards childhood obesity. Thanks, experts, for clarifying the food reward thing.

I'm learning that after the first year, there's no longer a weekly manual (thank you What to Expect the First Year) of what to do with your child. It seems as though after 12 months, the parenting really begins. That would have been good to know before month 13. Because I could have prepared. I honestly and naively had thought that What to Expect the Toddler Years was going to walk me through some type of systematic approach to year 2. WRONG. But if I had known and jumped ahead (and what first-time parent has that time?), I could have done my research and made the preparations. Like a wedding, you don't just show up. You plan and make choices and prepare. Yes, some thins you'll wing day-of, but for the most part you know what you have in mind. Not so much with me and parenting. Of course I know the big picture stuff like wanting my son to feel loved and safe and for him to be kind and well mannered, etc. But as for how to get there? Insert yo-yo.

As I can now feel the yo-yo coming closer and closer to hitting me in the face, I know that I need to have confidence in myself and just make whatever decisions feel right. But as any    yo-yo dieter knows, it's hard to break the yo-yo cycle.

I'm really hoping that once I muster the strength to put down the yo-yo that my son won't  want it to then play with it. I guess that's what the traditional terrible-twos is really about.

Don't Give a Toddler Red Bull. And Other Parenting Advice.

 

To be clear, his father and I did not give him this Redbull. The little burglar took the cans from the fridge. Thankfully, he couldn't open them.  And in case you aren't already aware, toddlers do not need the "wings" that Red Bull promises. Pretty sure the battery pack they come with does the trick.




When it comes to parenting advice, I'll listen to anything anyone has to share. As you can imagine, this has resulted in a combination of wonderful advice and total inappropriateness.  

Like when Tiphanie at Safeway asked when I was due and I told her I was past my due date. "Honey, I can tell you how to get that baby to come out. I chose the date my three children were all born. I just had sex three times a day for a few days in a row and the kids just popped out. I promise it will work." Um, thank you? 

Or the time someone told me that the most important thing I needed to do to prepare for motherhood was to find God. I'm pretty sure that of the 300 items TheBump.com has told me I need to do to prepare for baby, this is not one of them. But again, thank you?

So what were the helpful bits of advice? Here they are in no particular order.

"Babies are designed to survive first time parents."

"Always remember that picking a battle with a toddler is like a game of tug-of-war. Only pick up that rope if you know you're going to win."

In regard to children wanting to dress themselves when they have no business choosing outfits; "It's not like anyone is going to look at your kid and think 'I can't believe his/her mother chose that outfit." 

"Enjoy your boobs while they are huge." Why thank you. I will.

"When you're exhausted and feel like you're going crazy, remember that sleep deprivation is a form of torture. Your craziness is real." Please don't ask my husband how many times I've used this line.

"Never say you're having a shitty day with an infant unless you've already been shit on that day."

"Let the fact that your child has no memory work in your favor. It's okay to let the baby cry it out, they won't remember it in the morning." 

"However long it took for you to gain the weight is how long you have to lose it." Or, as long as it takes. So take THAT Jessica Alba!

"Do not turn on each other." This mantra saved me and my husband during many sleepless nights.

"It takes a village." If you don't have one, borrow someones. It's the same philosophy of how smokers will always let another smoker bum a cigarette. A mother will always share her village. Just don't even think about taking her weekend sitter.

"Approach baby proofing as if your child's goal in life is to try to kill themselves." 

"There's no such thing as being ready to be a parent." 

"When you fly with your child or children, the general rule is this: People understand that kids may cry and by fussy. But you MUST be in a constant state of trying to end the crying and fussiness."

"If breastfeeding in public and someone stares at you. Just turn to them and say "You're welcome."  Offering the stranger some milk for their coffee is usually crossing the line.

These are the gems I have to share. What's some of the best advice you've received?

My Housekeeper Thinks I'm Dirty

Do you have ever that fear? I'm not even sure why or how it's come to be a fear of mine, but it has. I know in my job I love to feel needed. So why wouldn't my housekeeper want to also feel needed? Maybe she does, but I'm not giving her a chance. I don't want her to feel needed because my house is so dirty.

So there you have it. I clean before the housekeeper comes. And now that I think about it, she probably thinks I'm the type of person who throws money away because when she comes over, the house is already clean. So there's my conundrum. Be judged for being dirty or judged for being frivolous with money. I'll take the latter.

I was thinking about this while applying make-up in the car as I drove my son to see his pediatrician (only at red lights, so it was safe). I hadn't slept in days because Reece had been sick, but surely if I was wearing make-up the doctor would take one look at me and think, "Wow. She's totally got this under control. What a great mom." Um, yeah. Pretty sure my make-up job did not convey that message.

After leaving my son's appointment, I began to think about the other absurd behaviors of mine that fall into the same category of cleaning for the cleaner and beautifying for my son's doctor. I was both surprised and alarmed by what I came up with.

I brush my teeth and floss right before I go to the dentist. As if to say, "I don't know why you think I have plaque. Obviously you can tell I'm diligent about brushing and flossing." It's like running your toothbrush under the faucet when you're younger and don't want to brush. You figure you can trick your parents with a wet toothbrush. Your awful, halitosis like breath surely won't give you away.

And before getting a physical or going to any appointment where I know I will be asked to step on a scale, I diet for a few days. Yes. As if that will have a huge impact on my overall health. I basically cram for the exam. I'm so crazy.

But it doesn't stop there. The list continues....

If I am ever getting a manicure or pedicure, I always remove old nail polish and make sure my nails look ok. I don't want the person to think that I'm just a mess with mangled nails. Though, instead, the person is probably thinking, "I can't believe she can't paint her own nails." For some reason, that judgement I'm ok with.

And I most certainly style my hair before going to the hairdresser. Because again, I don't want the hairdresser to think that I just wear it in a ponytail most of the time - heaven forbid (insert visual of me ALWAYS in a pony).

 

So what is it that compels me to behave in such a way as this? Naturally, the judgement of others and the desire to appear like I have it together, even when I most certainly do not. Yet what has me stumped is when I told my husband about this piece, he replied "How do you explain all the days you leave the house in sweats without make-up? Why don't you care what you look like on those days?" I paused and gave it a moments thought and replied as any good wife would. "Because you're stuck with me, so I don't need to look nice for you."

 

And scene.

Bait and Switch

So, you're going to have a baby! Congratulations. Enjoy thinking about all those amazing milestone events you can't wait to do together because guess what? The whole first few years of parenting are a bait and switch.

Those dreams of taking your little guy fishing and camping. Of taking your daughter to the American Girl store and putting bows in her hair. Those dreams are a far, far cry from your new reality as a parent.

In fact, what no one will tell you is that the first parenting milestone is making sure your kids' plumbing works.

Yes, that's the first parenting goal you will have. The doctors and nurses are adamant about recording every pee and poop. Congrats mom and dad because you are now the official recorders of shit. Literally.

My husband has a "bait and switch" philosophy about marriages (will definitely cover that in another post) and about parenthood.

You are "baited" into parenthood by thinking long term about your life. Of course you will have kids playing in the yard. And of course those kids will learn to ride bikes in the driveway. But not before you put up the basketball hoop so you can teach your kids how to shoot a ball. Wow, thinking about basketball you then segue into thinking about their first baseball game. You will buy them team shirts and foam fingers. Ballpark hot dogs and cotton candy.

These are the things my husband focused on as we entered parenthood. And boy oh boy wasn't he surprised when he realized that first, his sports loving and great athlete of a son would need to learn to hold up the weight of his own head. And that right there is the switch.

It's like dreaming of hearing your child say "mommy," only to have a little traitor like my son who said "daddy" first.

And whoever coined the phrase "sleep like a baby" was mocking parents.

And so there it is. The thing no one will tell you but me. Becoming a parent is a bait and switch. You are lured into it with the "someday our family will _ ." And then you're rattled when you realize that blank is filled with things like "leave the house" because by the time you're ready to go anywhere, your baby will definitely have pooped. Don't forget to right that down.

Just to be clear, I write this with fondness for the bait and switch. It's because of the bait that you keep on giving everything you have. And one day, it's no longer a switch. They actually do turn into the little people you dreamt about. Even though you are still tracking their poops.

You Whine, I Wine

I blame pregnancy for my fondness for wine when my son whines.

People may tell you that when you're pregnant you will stop craving some of the things you're not allowed to consume thereby making it easier to give up those things.

LIE.

For anyone who enjoys a glass of wine at the end of the day (or at lunch. I don't judge), you will still want that wine. You just concede that you can't have it.

Consider, you have that moment when you find out you're pregnant and in a bittersweet gesture you move the wine glass to the back of the cabinet. You say farewell to boozy brunches with bottomless mimosas and Bloody Marys and you begin a 40 week journey that includes some of the greatest physical discomfort you've ever known. Sleepless nights that prepare you for even less sleep once your baby arrives. You manage the stress of preparing your home, lining of childcare, possibly leaving your job. And you do this without the crutch and escape of a glass of wine at the end of each of your challenging days.

Then it happens. Baby arrives. Guess what? Mommy's got some time to make up for. Bring on the wine.

Now, I don't want to paint the picture that I have a drinking problem. That's not it. I just have a problem with not drinking.

Because of the 40 weeks spent not drinking, I think I now appreciate more than ever the ability to pour a glass of wine in the evenings and sip my way into a peaceful escape from the daily chaos of life. Somehow with wine in hand, the five o’clock meltdown doesn’t seem so unbearable. So when Reece whines, I now wine. I figure after 40-weeks of not being allowed to go near the stuff, it’s the right thing to do these days.  

For those who are parents, you know that moment when you watch your toddler behave in the most irrational way. Throwing limbs around as if in an attempt to sever them from his body; the legs kicking and arms swinging as if he is trying to defend himself from a monster and not just avoid a bath. Oh, and that bath by the way is full of bubbles, toys and fizzing color tablets. So really not that awful.  And yet, there you find yourself. A spectator of this display of this nuclear  meltdown. But, with a glass of wine in hand, it somehow turns the scene into entertaining and not so frustrating to you. So go ahead, little two foot tall monster bring it. Just don't do it on a day when we're out of wine.

I Learned All I Need to Know About Parenting from the Movies

In the absence of routine adult conversation that does not include the topic of children, do you ever find yourself with an inner monologue? If so, welcome to my inner monologue. If not, well, welcome to my crazy.

I’ve found that most men could have a conversation using just quotes from movies.  Lucky them. For me, movie quotes have become the reference for parenting milestones, challenges and joys. Yes, in my mind when something happens, I seem to always think about some movie quote.

While some more obscure than others, I looked at the AFI list of the 100 top movie quotes and found that perhaps all I need to know about parenting I can find in the movies. 

Let’s take a look at some of my pics, shall we?

“Mama always said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you’re gonna get.” Forrest Gump

This is the number one parenting lesson. No matter how ready you are, you’re not ready at all. No matter how prepared you are for a given situation, you never really can prepare for all the scenarios. As this quote both excites and humbles, for me, it’s tops. And, it does not have to remain part of your inner monologue. I look forward to one day saying this to my son, followed by “let me know when you figure out what it means.” That should totally buy me 30 seconds of quite time to myself.

"Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."  Gone with the Wind

This one tops my list because of its versatility of use. Yet, it can really only be enjoyed when said as part of your parenting inner monologue. You know, the things that you utter in the bubble above your head, but never would say to your child. "I don't give a damn if you don't want to go to sleep. Just – as the book is titled - Go the fuck to sleep!"  "I don't give a damn if you don't want your diaper changed. News flash. It's happening."

“This is your dance space. This is my dance space.” Dirty Dancing

How many times do you wish you could teach this lesson to your stage five clinger? When your loving little child will not sit anywhere but on your lap. When you’re child insists on going to the bathroom with you. When your child insists on sitting outside the shower, peeking at you with the curtain pulled back so to not let you out of his or her sight? Um yes, those would be moments when I wish my son knew that mommy needs her own dance space.

"I'm going to make him an offer he can't refuse."  The Godfather

Oh yes I am! This is basic parent survival 101. Bribery.

"Toto, I've got a feeling we're not in Kansas anymore." Wizard of Oz

Welcome to parenthood. Where life will never be the same as you once knew it.

“Go ahead. Make my day." Sudden Impact

The quote you never want to use, but sometimes find the strongest of urge to say. If you find yourself uttering this out loud, bad news because it's too late. It means that minor meltdown your kid was having in public just turned nuclear. Well played kiddo.


"May the force be with you." Star Wars

 This should be the salutation all parents use with each other.


 "Fasten your seatbelts, it's going to be a bumpy night." All About Eve

Welcome to the labor and delivery ward. Welcome to parenthood. Welcome to each phase that’s “just a phase.” Enough said.

 "I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore." Network

This one is tricky because you need to know this one exists, but problem is, it’s being uttered in your child’s inner monologue. But knowing is half the battle, so parents, consider yourselves warned.

"You can't handle the truth."  A Few Good Men

This seems most applicable to sleep training whereby which you leave your kid alone to cry until they are so fatigued they fall asleep. Luckily, they have no idea what's happening until it's too late. You don’t really want to tell them when you’re lovingly in the midst of your bedtime routine that you’re about to let them scream for possibly hours. Trust me. They could not handle the truth.  This also goes for the question “where did I come from?” Until they are older, they don’t want to know the truth.

 "After all, tomorrow is another day."  Gone with the Wind

Thank GOD because momma can't handle another day like today.

"The stuff that dreams are made of." The Maltese Falcon

Because let's face it, being a parent is pretty fucking awesome.

No One Told Me

No one told me how much I would love my kid. But I suppose that's the one thing no one can convey with words.

No one told me just how gnarly a diaper pail smells. This is something someone could have conveyed to me. Just be honest. Tell me not to stress when registering for a shit locker because secrets out --- so long as you have to open it, it will always release the stench of day old poop into the air. Leaving you gasping for clean air.

No one told me that my body would never be the same, even if I tried to get back in shape. Um, this would have saved me many moments of insecurity and many dollars on pregnancy tests. Yes, you read that correctly. There were some dark days folks... Days when that little pooch had me convinced I had to be preggo. Surely I could not still have a pooch after 20 months, right? Wrong. Pregnancy test confirmed what mirror indicated. Pooch was in fact a pooch.

No one told me that although gravity indicates poop should stay down in the diaper, that it can in fact go up a child's back. Enough said on this one.

No one told me that leak proof cups are not in fact leak proof. WTF on this one. I mean really. How many times have I filled a sippy cup, properly placed it upright in the special cup holder in the diaper bag and later found the bag wet! The packaging on these cups should read "Attention parents: we did our best but we still can't get these to stop leaking."

No one told me that the smaller the child, the more crap you need. This goes for around the house and when traveling. It starts when they are a newborn. You don't just need one crib, you need three. What?! One for the nursery, one for your room, and the pack and play in the living room for quick diaper changes. Yes, you have 3 beds for a person who most likely sleeps in the large bouncer or swing that now occupy corners of your family room. But don't you worry, one day you will get rid of the swing and bouncer. Good news, right? WRONG. You will replace those things with an excersaucer (fondly also known as a neglect-a-saucer as you can leave your kid in it while you leave your kid to do other things), a jumper hanging from a doorway and a large toy to help your child learn to walk. And then the next big phase is when your child actually plays with toys. You soon find that although the little people from Little People toys are little, they only like to live in large castles, jungles and farm houses. You're welcome. So now you have one of those in your living room and probably another large contraption that pops out balls.

And then there's traveling with a kid.
Car seat. Check.
Stroller. Check.
Travel crib. Check.
Diaper bag. Check.
Toys. Check.
Monitor. Check.
Clothes, blankets, lovies, bottles, cups, snacks, treats. Check.

I'm waiting for someone to create a diaper that will hold up for an entire day of travel. On a recent trip, our flight was delayed by 4 hours. You can never have enough diapers to last through a delay. We bought some from a nice enough looking family after sizing up their kid. Gives new meaning to "it takes a village."

The list of things no one told me could go on and on. But I know what my list looks like. What's on your list?

I Wanted to Be a Parent for the French Fries

With nine nieces and nephews, I've watched my siblings happily eat the leftovers off their children's plates for years. And now as a parent myself, I get to enjoy this treat of eating food that adults really don't order (but wish we did. I mean, who doesn't love a basket of chicken tenders and fries?!).

So if we go out, I order a healthy salad and then feel guilt free when I inhale handfuls of fries and a chicken nugget or two. It's quite a wonderful set-up. It's like that little gift we get for being parents.  We get to dedicate our lives to shaping these little people to be good citizens. And we in turn get fries, nuggets, pizza and goldfish. Seems fair.

But my son has now out smarted me. On a recent trip to McDonald's he held the container of fries in his right hand, the hand farthest from where I was sitting. If I reached for one, he casually just stared at me, pulled his hand back, then dreamily looked out the window while devouring fries. And this includes me having to watch him dip the fries in ketchup and suck the ketchup off, leaving the limp fry, now inedible, sitting on the tray.  

Naturally, I was disappointed because I had built my salad lunch around the fries -- yes, I'm one of those types of people. The person who will eat pizza, but with a Diet Coke. Who will eat fries, but when the entree is a salad. (I'm aware of how ludicrous this is, but I just can't stop).  But, you'll be pleased to know that I did the adult thing. I let him have his fries and I got a small order of fries for myself.  And just as we settled in to sitting across  the table eating fries together, what happens? The little fry hoarder gets up, walks over to my side of the booth, climbs in and takes my fries.  I was in such shock when he just started eating the fries from my container -- while still holding his fries in the other hand -- that I just laughed and then he laughed and it was a great memory made.  Now mind you, I'm totally not sharing my fries in the future.

Please Don't Say It's Just a Phase

I don’t know about you, but second to commenting on my appearanceduring pregnancy, nothing quite makes me squirm with annoyance quite like beingtold “It’s just a phase.”  Those fourwords mean you’re not getting any sympathy from anyone who has already beenthrough it. It’s code for “You’ve just got to tough it out. Sucker.” And theperson who tells you “it’s just a phase” is most certainly smiling on theinside knowing they wouldn’t want to relive that “phase” EVER AGAIN.

So what phases make you want to exclaim – You whine. I wine.

Here are some of my least favorite phases.

My kid hated diaper changes, too, but they grow out of it. It's just a phase.

Perhaps one of the most frustrating and disgusting phases. Nothingcompares to smelling that unmistakable smell of your kid having pooped. Yousmell it. God forbid you hear it happen. And you quickly think to yourself “didI change the last dump? If so, I’m definitely not changing this one.” But astoo often happens, with no else around, you sigh heavily (taking in deepbreaths while you still can) and head towards your toddler. As soon as you movetowards your child, he or she recoils as if to convey their deepest desire to keep the poop right where it is. In thesteaming diaper. WTF?! you think to yourself. This kid has got to be kidding.But no, not kidding. Not even close to kidding. And that’s usually right whenthe little monster sits down and you just think ‘super. Sit in it. That’sgreat.’  And you know, since there’s noway for a single wipe to come out of a dispenser at a time, that this diaperchange will definitely take a dozen wipes, and tears, and you may even need todouble bag it.  And with all thosethoughts in your mind, you just decide it’s time. You’ve stared at your childwith total disgust for long enough. And the fear that it will not remaincontained in the diaper for much longer is too much to handle.

 This whole “phase” gives newmeaning to the phrase Oh Shit. And let me tell you this, if we don’t get out ofthis “let me sit in my wet diaper; let me play in my poop” phase…. Well, someserious shit is going to go down. (whatever that means)

Oh, those terrible twos. It's just a phase.

WHAT?!!!! It's not a phase. It's an entire year of my life that I must livewith a two foot tall terrorist. ‘nuff said.

Yeah, sometimes kids experience sleep regression. It's just a phase.

Um, hell no!  He doesn't sleep, Idon't sleep. I don't sleep, husband doesn't sleep. And with no one sleeping, myhusband and I are definitely turning on each other as our wills get crushedeach night.

This isn't a phase, it's a form of torture. Just ask my husband howmany times he heard THAT phrase when we had a newborn. “Honey, it’s not justthat I’m tired. I’m tired in the way that sleep deprivation was used as torturein times of war.” Yes, I pulled the torture and war card. It seemed appropriateand accurate at the time.

Sometimes kids start to hate foods they used to love. It's just aphase.

Sure, says the person who isn't in a death match stare down with their childwho is looking at you like you’re crazy for even suggesting that he eat rice.Or chicken. Or applesauce. How dare you serve those awful foods.  Um….you loved them YESTERDAY! Seriously. Howdoes it happen so fast? Now I know where the love/hate thing comes from.Toddlers. They love it. They hate it. End of story.

And don’t even get me started on hunger strikes. Seriously. How dothese little people know about strikes?! Is eating too much to ask?

I’m aware that these are just a sampling of the many, many, many, manyphases that we go through with our babies and toddlers. If you’re up forsharing your best and worst, please do. I can tell you. It feels really good toget this off my chest. So now it’s your turn!

How Do You Know if the Grass is Greener?

Often times, I catch myself thinking about a world in which the grass is greener. Thanks to my husband's healthy ego (and I really do say that with love), whenever I'm "green dreaming" (term I use to refer to dreaming of the place where the grass is greener) he grounds me in some positive aspect of the shit show that we are dealing with -- or phase, as the pros would call it.  And it is the "green dreaming" that inspired the theme for my blog. Sometimes I wish this job of being a mom wasn't so Hard and didn't feel like a Job. But hands down, even though there are times I dream of something easier, what I have is the Best. Ever. And there you have it, my grassy green blog. A momztale of the Best. Hardest. Job. Ever.

Now, enough about me.  Let's talk about me.

My green dreams.. 

"I wish I didn't use nursing as an excuse to eat EVERYTHING."
Ok. So who can relate? You have a baby. You lose enough weight initially from the birth to make you feel like you've done good enough for a while. And as you start to get into your mom groove, you decide to lighten up on yourself. I mean, I'm not a Hollywood actress, so I don't have the pressure to lose all the weight in 6 weeks. And hey, it took 10 months to gain all this weight, so I might as well take 10 months (uh, or more) to shed the pounds. With this reasonable sensibility of facing the flab, I for one, began to eat MORE than I did when I was pregnant. I geniusly justified it because I was nursing and you know you MUST consume at least 500 extra calories a day when breastfeeding. Um, yeah. No. I most certainly did not need those extra 500 calories. Because for me, those were shitty, wasted calories. I didn't just eat an extra bite here and there --- or fruit with peanut butter as suggested by too many books. Instead, I treated this like my last hurrah. Like the way a guy enters his bachelor party --- with the sense that he must get as drunk as possible and have the most fun possible --- I entered post-baby "dieting" with the same mindset. I MUST make sure that I eat every last bit of food that pre-pregnancy I would have deemed as "bad." If I get it out of my system now, I won't crave it later. Oh sure. Yeah. That works. Uh, no it doesn't. But after 16 months, I was back to my pre-baby weight and in hindsight, I don't really care that it took so long. I really did enjoy my pregnancy and that first year of motherhood. A cake eating (mostly just frosting), cookies and ice cream enjoying, chip and dip craving and fast food (ew, but yes) indulging first year. And here I am, hoping to get knocked up again for a do-over. Hmmmm....

"I wish he was a better eater"
Something I've said to my husband countless times.  And my husband's wise words of comfort usually entail "You would be so annoyed if he was a good eater because you would have to prepare more elaborate meals everyday and do even more shopping." He's right. I now sound like the laziest mom of all time, but it's true. I myself would be perfectly happy eating a bowl of cereal for dinner. Maybe a bag of popcorn.  So when it comes to preparing meals and making sure my son eats a healthy diet, it's already work, just based on the mere fact that he can't live on cereal and popcorn.  My son who only eats things in the shape of a ball or that requires "sauce" (ketchup) helps simplify my life and certainly our evening routine. So yes, for me, my situation is actually the greener side of things (even though it's hard to remember in moments of total frustration -- like tossing away an uneaten dinner every night for a week!).

"I wish my son slept through the night"

Before he started sleeping for 10-12 hours, I used to dream of a life in which my son slept through the night (as most parents do). Well, now he does and whether it's pathetic to admit or not, I miss him in the night. Not to the point that I wish he would wake up (um, that would mean I wouldn't be up to speed on all things "Real Housewives" related) but when I climb into bed I think about how excited I am to kiss his sweet face in the morning.  While being honest, I confess that I'm then equally excited to turn on Elmo and throw a bottle his way in hopes of stealing another 15 mins of sleep in the morning. I guess I just realize that I wouldn't trade the late night cuddles that helped us get to this land of zzzssss.


So for all the moms out there who wonder what it would be like "if only..." let us not forget that there's a lot of joy in the way it just is. And there's also NO guilt or judgment to be passed for wishing for something else. Parenting, after all, is a guessing game. So who can blame us for trying to guess what the green dream would look like?

Please share --- what are your green dreams?