I'm Certain that Ice Cream Truck Drivers Hate Parents

The music is unmistakable and it usually comes right before lunch or right before dinner. It's as if the ice cream truck driver times his or her arrival at playgrounds just to piss parents off as a great morning or afternoon of play instantly evaporates into a crying, screaming, shrieking, tantrum as you inform your child he or she must eat lunch or dinner before having ice cream. Alternately, you might say yes to ice cream, but you know that you're simply delaying a battle of wills that will be waged at home once the sugar rush is gone and you're left with a toddler who has subsided only on sugar for an afternoon and whose face is stained with food coloring from a giant ice something. You'll then tell yourself that the food coloring isn't so bad because you otherwise feed your child organic food. What follows is a wave of guilt over not standing your ground, followed by the reminder that it was just ice cream. You'll only remember the annoyance of it all when you next hear that ice cream truck music.

I have to believe that ice cream truck drivers hate parents. Why else would they pull up to playgrounds right before lunch and right before dinner? We are talking arrivals at playgrounds between 11:15am-12:15pm and 5:00pm-5:30pm. What ever happened to snack time? What about pulling up between 2:00pm-4:00pm? Or do you, dear ice cream truck drivers, know the ins and outs of What to Expect: The Toddler Years and know that our kids are napping until past 3:00pm making an arrival at the playground before 4:00pm unlikely. And it is, after all, the toddlers you are targeting, right? Because those cherubic faces are the ones us parents can't say no to so we are the bulk of your business.

Here's what I think should happen, to the benefit of parents and ice cream truck drivers all across the land...

Roll-up to any playground between 2:00pm-4:00pm with ice cream. Then, roll through my neighborhood delivering wine between the hours of 5:00pm-7:00pm. Then, and only then, will I believe that you don't hate parents.

Secrets Women Keep

There, I said it.  Women keep secrets from each other. There's no malicious intent, just an unspoken, "Trust me, you don't want to know" attitude that women who have been through childbirth have when it comes to talking to first time pregnant friends.

The other side of this is you find that there's absolutely no topic that you won't discuss with other new mothers after going through pregnancy and childbirth. And I mean, there is zero filter. Or at least that's been my experience.

I've never - not for one single moment - thought "who can I talk to about all of these strange and disgusting and surprising things" and perhaps that's because after having a child, I could talk to any other new mother I encountered -- close friend, colleague or complete stranger.

Being asked, "Did you have an episiotomy?" is one of the ways women swing open the door of new mother bonding. Yes, conversations have begun with an inquiry into lady parts. Not your traditional "So, where did you grow up?" means of conversation while getting to know someone. This is the Let's Do This approach new mothers take to bonding with other women. We are sleep deprived, our hormones all over the place (of note, that statement can only be made by self admission), and we are drowning in a deep sea of information and opinions. We are desperate for adult conversation and empathy and have no time for beating around the bush.

"Do you pee a little when you exercise?"

"So, your nipples..."

"Do you think I can convince my doctor to tell my partner that six weeks is too soon?" 

"Have you started your period?"

"Do you think the OB expected that I would have been waxed before I went to the hospital?"

These are just a sampling of the conversations us ladies have post birth. None of these, while openly discussed AD (After Delivery) would be discussed PD (Pre-Delivery) with unknowing friends for two reasons,  1) You don't want to diminish the beauty and excitement of having a baby and 2) You can't possibly stop once you start revealing the things that transpire during labor & delivery and shortly thereafter.

But today, oh today, this is the day when I'm going to shed just a little light on a few of the "mysteries" of post-birth as I'm currently "enjoying" these milestones.

You Don't "Bounce Back" After Baby. Not only may it take months to lose the baby weight, it's highly likely that your body will never be the same as it was pre-baby. That's not to say it won't be an awesome new body. The number on the scale may indicate "you're back," but your hips may remain a bit wider, your feet a bit bigger, your ass a lot flatter....

From Playboy to National Geographic. While you may feel like it's impossible to believe that you will go from a B cup to a DD cup to an A cup, that's what is going to happen. Before you can enjoy your huge boobs, you will lose them and they will be replaced with something that more resembles National Geographic photos than ones you'll find in Playboy.

Breast-feeding is a Pain. Breast-feeding hurts. There are the sore nipples -- the blisters,dryness, chaffing and bleeding that can accompany the time when you struggle to "get it right." Then you have the risks of blocked ducts and thrush. But even on a good day, with no other complications, you endure "The 60 Second Sizzle" when your child starts nursing. You're welcome.

Fall Out. Your hair is going to fall out. The thick mop of hair you acquired during pregnancy is going to fall out. Not all of it, but you are going to shed a lot of hair. Possibly handfuls at a time. The solution? Buy some Draino and accept what's coming.  Your hairstylist will also know what's happening, so there's a trusted resource if you're freaking out.

All Banged Up. Speaking of hair...you may also learn the answer as to why so many new moms decided to get bangs. It's to cover up the "baby bangs" -- wispy thin strands that grow around your hairline at your forehead post-birth and seemingly take forever to grow out. Katie Holmes sported them at her wedding to Tom Cruise.

Jumpin Jack Flash. You will have hot flashes at night that will make you jump out of bed, convinced something is seriously wrong. Nothing is wrong. You just had a baby and your hormones are going crazy. As if tending to a newborn doesn't leave you sleep deprived enough, you may find yourself waking soaking wet, needing to change PJs and then having the chills while trying to fall back asleep. p.s. - as soon as you do fall asleep the baby will want to eat.

It All Depends. You're going to pee your pants for weeks. And this isn't just for those who suffer from incontinence post delivery (didn't know that was an option?). In general, if you have a vaginal delivery, you're going to pee throughout the day and definitely if you go for a run or try to just enjoy a good laugh with friends. Suddenly the packages of Depends in the feminine hygiene aisle don't seem so ridiculous.

Junior High on Repeat. You're going to get your period with no warning, no notice, no indication that you should be prepared. You're going to be embarrassed, you're going to be at the office or out running errands or with your kids. You're going to wonder if anyone can tell it happened. And you're going to need to ask someone for a tampon. Hopefully a friend. Possibly a colleague. Maybe an equally unsuspecting new mother who just happened to be prepared. Lesson here is to keep a pad or tampon in your diaper bag and work bag. It's like junior high all over again...yeah.

It's possible there are other changes and phases you'll experience after having a baby and for those who have been there, you know some of the ones I've omitted. But the truth of the matter is that the natural high that follows your Super Hero status of having produced a human being carries you through most of the "ick" moments and softens most of the "ugh" moments so that your postpartum time is more "oh, ooh and ah" than anything else. Promise. Well, kind of.

Minivan Etiquette: Giving Up More than Your Cool Status

My son was born on Wednesday, September 23rd. On Friday, September 25th, my husband and I brought our son home, but on our way from the hospital we stopped to buy a minivan.

The jig is up. I'm a Montgomery County suburb dwelling almost 40-years old mother of three. Whatever I think I have to prove, well, I need to let it go. It will be far more embarrassing for me to try and "prove" something than for you to give me a sympathetic nod when I pull up next to you in my minivan.

As my husband and I drove home having a circular conversation affirming our "need" for the minivan vs. a SUV, it dawned on me that there is an unwritten minivan code of etiquette I must now adhere to and it includes the below;

1. When passing another vehicle, I must remember that I'm driving a minivan and therefore forfeit the right to look at the driver I'm passing with detest and judgement that they are a horrible driver. I am, after all, driving a minivan.
2. Regardless of features and gadgets, under no circumstance may I position my minivan as cool. It falls under the category of sensible purchase. Not cool.
3. I will not drive with the windows down because that's just never a good look in a minivan. Exception is diaper blowout in which case all windows must be down. Of note, you'll know by looking at my face that I didn't choose to put the windows down.
4. I will do all valets the favor of using Uber when I go out at night. (Ha, ha, ha! As if I'm ever going out at night with three kids under the age of 5)
5. When taking the vehicle to the car wash, I will generously tip all those who clean my car as I can only throw snacks to the child in the third row so they inevitably spill, and I never go back to the third row, so it's simply where snacks go to die.
6. I won't ever offer friends a ride in the minivan. At least not the friends I want to keep.
7. I will not tailgate with the minivan. Although it has impressive cargo space and would be convenient, I understand that drinking beer and more so serving beer from the vehicle isn't a good look. (See how I kind of violated #2 with my boasting of mini's cargo space? Who would have thought I would want to brag about my mini?!)
8. Due to the fact that the size of my family and inability to pack efficiently requires that I drive a minivan, I will not add a "Baby on Board" sign or family stick figure stickers to the back of the vehicle.
9. I will not get a personalized license plate for the minivan. The vehicle is enough of a statement.
10. I will no longer look at drivers of minivans with sympathy... I will just now give a knowing nod.

Almost Kicked Out of Childbirth Class + Lessons Learned on Packing for the Hospital

When I was pregnant with my first child, I was so "prepared" that I put together a 3-ring binder of information and references. I took every class and did every tour recommended. Some were helpful, some...not so much.

During a childbirth education class, there were hours spent when the preggo women in the room were instructed to try out the many different positions that might be recommended during labor.

"Go ahead and try this one...get comfortable...make sure your partner knows his/her role."

That first line of instruction had me staring blankly at my husband. That one line of direction felt too close to a common pregnancy statement that I loathe which is when the non-pregnant person makes the statement "We are pregnant." No, we are most certainly not.

To tell me that I need to find a position that's "comfortable" (relative to pushing a human out of my body) and to make sure my partner has a role. Not happening. Here's my partners role: Worship me, care for me, tolerate me and don't repeat back to me (or anyone...ever) anything I said or did that wasn't AMAZING during labor. That's my partners role.

So everyone is on a ball or on their hands and knees and partners are rubbing shoulders, holding hair, etc. I looked at my husband while I unenthusiastically sat on a yoga ball and said "Don't touch me." The teacher overheard me, as did several nearby participants. Apparently I wasn't being productive.

"We really need you to take this seriously or we'll have to ask you to leave."

"I am taking this seriously. I seriously don't want him to touch me while I'm in labor."

We stared at each other, the teacher knowing better than to mess with a pregnant woman with a strong POV. We broke for lunch. My husband and I didn't return to the class.

With that in mind, it's then no surprise that when I read "What to Pack for the Hospital" on the What to Expect website, that I laughed. And laughed. And laughed a bit more. It's not that it's funny, and in fact I offer my apologies to those offended by my reaction to the list, but if you know me...you'll understand.

LABOR GEAR

• "Pen and pad for taking notes, or the What to Expect Pregnancy Organizer"
• No. I'm not taking notes. Someone else can take notes, but what I want to remember is that women who have gone before me swear that I'll forget everything that happens. (exception being the amazing moment when you meet your child) 
• "Your birth plan (several copies, so all staff, on all shifts, can get one)"
• Unless you go for a natural, non-medicated birth, isn't the plan DRUGS + evicting "tenant" upon conclusion of his/her 40-week stay?
• "Stopwatch to time contractions"
• Aren't you in the hospital? Pretty sure they've got this one covered for you.
• "Massage oils or lotions"
• Ah yes, oh how I want to be massaged while in labor. The thought of having my husband gingerly massage me as if to relieve the pain and anxiety that a human is about to walk out of my V...pass. Do. Not. Touch. Me.
• "A tennis ball or plastic rolling pin — both make excellent back rub tools — or an actual massager."
• How about "a tennis ball for throwing at everyone who tells you to "bear down" and yet can't actually describe to you what that means.
• A rolling pin to use as a weapon for anyone who tries to give you a back rub.
• "Your favorite pillow"
• This is just mean. Yes, pack your favorite pillow and then leave it at the hospital. You won't be getting any good sleep for weeks.
• "If you have long hair, a clip or scrunchie to keep it out of your face"
• If you care about your hair, something is wrong.
• "Snacks for during labor (your own snacks will be limited, and must be approved by your practitioner; your partner should pack sandwiches and nutritious nibbles so he doesn't have to leave your side to find something to eat)"
• Oh, that's right. I'll be fasting as part of the "magic" of birthing a baby and with contractions forcing me to double over in pain, I'll make you a sandwich, honey. Yeah, let me get right on that.

On a serious note, there are some great things on the list, so if you are preparing for a trip to the hospital, do check it out. However, as noted above, there's also some sh*t you don't need to bring.

You're welcome.

The Mommy Scale

I've recently had a series of candid conversations with moms about what our lives are really like and how it feels to work outside the home and feel present when in the home. The thread that ties all of these conversations together is that we all have degrees of awareness that we need to let go of some of the many things we feel we must do and yet we can't quite let go of anything.

One of the worst feelings is that of not being successful in any of the many roles I play. Not feeling like I'm on top of my game at work, not present at all the times when my kids want or need me, not spending time with my husband because there's laundry to do and lunches to make, and then of course never getting around to actually putting the laundry away once folded and questioning the quality of the lunch I packed. Heaven forbid I then indulge all my neurosis and think about what the teachers will think of the lunch that I packed. Dare I wonder how its contents compares to that of the other lunches? Should I check out Pinterest and look for creative new ways to make lunches? STOP. I just have to stop.

My reality is that the list of things to do at home grows at the same rate as my work aspirations and where does that leave me? Mommy purgatory. And I want out.

I don't think this feeling is about the need to "Lean In" so much as it is about stopping to think about what I haven't really thought about since before I first became a parent (you know...those golden moments of pregnancy when you paint an idyllic picture of the type of mother you'll be?). Well, it's real. It's happening. It's time to sincerely ask myself, "What kind of parent do I want to be and what lessons do I want to teach my kids about my role and contributions to our family?"

It's too easy to move on autopilot that I haven't stopped to think about the mother I want to be to my children. Of course loving, nurturing, patient, fun, silly, engaged, and all of those things. But in terms of my children's perception of me as a provider, what does that look like? What will they come to value and what do I want them to value?

After stressing about lunches for my son and the batch cooking for the week, my older and wiser brother forced me to realize that I'm stressing about the wrong things.

"Reece, who makes your lunch?" he asked my son.

"Can we go play in the basement?" Reece replied.

My brother turned to me and said, "you're worrying about something Reece gives no thought to. Not that it's not important, but maybe try to think about what Reece most needs and you'll feel better about being present because you'll be on top of what he's looking for from you."

Light bulb.

It was in that moment that I realized I have defined my role as mother based on my own criteria of responsibilities that I believe fall to mothers and those things are not specific to the ages of my children, but rather very traditional and stereotypical things like laundry, lunches, snacks, art projects, preparing things for school. As I write this I'm thinking, "I'm a feminist for crying out loud and I've gone all 50s on what I think my role should be?!" This is why I have needed to stop and think about my role as a mother.

What I have come to realize is that I'm defining my successes and failures as a mother based on a scale that I've designed. A scale that for some reason I have set to measure the same things year after year, never changing and yet with each passing day/month/year, I watch the needs of my children change.

I haven't thought about the people I'm in the relationship with - my kids - and tried to put myself in their shoes at four and one years old and thought about what they want in a mommy. They aren't going to comprehend the value of my career and what it might mean to them later in life. So why am I fixated on trying to measure my successes on this scale that doesn't match their needs? My kids want their favorite shirts and snacks and toys, but there's no doubt the asks for those things come after the #1 ask of having me spend more time with them playing, reading, cuddling.

It's just like any relationship. What I think I should handle as a wife are the very things my husband would deem as "second tier" wants and needs. He would be happier ordering takeout if it meant we could hangout longer vs. me making dinner and cleaning dishes while he watched a movie alone.

So why, if the recipe is so simple. If the need is so basic. If all they want is time, why and how is it so hard to find? It's because of that damn scale. That scale I created. The scale that I resist changing because it feels like I'm lowering the bar or somehow failing by recognizing the need to change the way I measure myself. That scale that just forced me to realize I've been working against myself for the past four years. That scale that I thought kept me on track, but in fact derailed me.

So I come back to the great question of what kind of mother do I want to be and how will I feel good about the mom that I am? Perhaps before I measure myself, I should ask the people I'm measuring for to create the scale and I should consider their needs regularly to help me define and constantly redefine the role. Of all the things I think I "should" be doing, bottom line is that what my kids want most is for me to simply be present.

So hello Pinterest fails because I'll be making those creative projects with my kids and most likely, the messier the better. Farewell to trying to be a SuperMom who gets everything right.

Sh*t People Really Say to You When You're Pregnant

Today marks the beginning of my 24th week of pregnancy and also the second time someone has asked if I'm sure I'm not having twins. Assholes.

The only reason you would look at someone who is pregnant and ask if she is having twins is because you're shocked by the size of her belly, boobs, swollen feet, hands, face, or any other apendage that you can't help but have swell when pregnant.  

Asking someone if they are carrying twins is like asking an overweight person if they want to rethink the dessert they just ordered because surely they've already had enough to eat. You just don't. You just wouldn't. You just shouldn't.

What is it about pregnancy that makes people feel like they have carte blanche to say whatever comes to mind and to put their hands on a woman's belly? Why would anyone want to touch a strangers stomach or think that it's appropriate in the slightest? Why not cop a feel of my huge boobs while you're at it because any hand on any part of my body is bizarre, might as well make it interesting, too.

As a mother of two already, I know that going through pregnancy and entering parenthood does bond you with other parents. A friend with whom you've never talked about sex, you can't help but discuss things like episiotomes (note: if you don't know what that is already, do yourself a favor and do not Google it) and nipple ointments. It's just some very real sh*t and you need people with whom you can keep it real. But what you don't need, is a total stranger judging you or scaring you with horror stories of pregnancy, labor and delivery.

As any mother knows, there are things about pregnancy, labor and delivery, and post-birth that you don't even share with other soon to be mothers, no matter how close you are to the person. You know that it's better left unsaid, but that you'll be there for the friend when they turn to you and say, "How come you never told me about [insert one of so many disgusting things]."

With so many women in the world and women who have had children, how is it that so many people don't know the etiquette associated with engaging with someone who is pregnant? My public service is to share some of the rules with you.

1. Do NOT comment on the size of a pregnant woman (this includes asking if she's having multiples)
2. If I tell you I don't know the sex of the baby, do NOT then ask "What position were you in when you conceived?" True story. Someone asked. Apparently my answer could have confirmed for this total stranger the sex of my child. Super.
3. Don't ask a future mother if she's ready for parenthood. No one is ever ready. 
4. Under no circumstance, other than a mother wearing a t-shirt that reads "Please touch my belly," should you approach a woman's stomach with your hand out to cup the bump.
5. When dining with a pregnant friend, do not be alarmed if she's insulted that the waiter removed her wine glass from the table. Even if it's a good choice not to drink, we don't want anyone telling us we can't.
6. Do not ask me about my choice of having or not having an epidural or my chioce of breastfeeding or formula feeding my child. Both are ripe with judgement.
7. Do not respond in any way other than delight if someone reveals to you the name they've chosen for their unborn child.
8. Don't ever say, "Was this planned or is this an "oops" baby?"
9. Let's do away with the old wives tale that you can tell if a woman is carrying a girl because baby girls steal their mother's good looks. When spoken out loud, this is how this sounds, "Yikes. You look rough. Pregnancy acne, swollen ankles, dull hair. You must be having a girl and she already hates you."
10. And the most sensitive question that I think all people should avoid asking anyone who is pregnant, "Are you going to stop working so you can raise your kids?" Super personal, likely complicated and never easy to answer. A legit question that to the unknowing person may not feel loaded, but it is. Trust me.

Here are two great videos that further capture some of the things people say to those who are preggo....

What Not to Say to A Pregnant Woman by Baby Gizmo

ELLE | 5 THINGS NOT TO SAY TO A PREGNANT WOMAN!

But I Can't Get Pregnant! Or So They Said....

"Congratulations," my doctor says in a cautious tone not knowing if it's joy or terror filling my heart.  Truth be told, it's first terror and then joy. And the look on my face clearly reflected my feelings.

"Is this a surprise? What kind of birth control were you using?," she then asks.

Not hard questions and yet I just sat there, staring at her, suddenly more aware of my nausea than ever. Or is that the terror? 

Feeling as if I now look like a I feel --- ghostly white and ready to vomit --- in perhaps the most matter-of-fact tone in which I've ever uttered any words, I replied. "Birth control? I was relying on the fact that I CAN'T GET PREGNANT! My infertility was my birth control." My doctor just looked at me and wisely responded, "Well, apparently you're now fertile."

Who needs birth control when you've been told that you can't naturally conceive?! Apparently I do. Britney Spears' "Oops I Did it Again" popped into my head and more than it was I ironic I just felt old. (I swear I was cool when Britney first came on the scene. But now I'm knocked up...again...and making a Brit Brit reference and yes, I just referred to her as Brit Brit).

I was given a 0% chance of getting pregnant on my own with my first child. Couldn't happen. With IUI my chances increased to 15%.  Two years later I returned to the doctor who again confirmed that I would not be able to conceive without assistance, but for various reasons my odds were now just 5% with IUI.  I'm the lucky winner and I know that to be true...I won with odds of 15% and 5% and now here I am pregnant against all odds.  Sincerely, I'm grateful and not taking it for granted, but it's honestly as shocking as coming home and finding that my two children turned into dogs while I was at work. 

The hard and definitive decision to not have any more children was no longer the decision my husband and I made.  Not only was the sense of control we thought we had over our lives rattled, but with this baby, we will be outnumbered and that's just not good. Not good at all. We are a man-on-man defense and man-on-man offense kind of family. Play to your strengths and we do. Our strength is being man-on-man. Not anymore.

Last year, or maybe the year prior, there was a quiz promoted all over Facebook where based on a few questions, you were told how many children you should have. My quiz result was two.

Because every question - the medical, mystical and practical - can be answered through a Google search, I began searching "having three children." Source alone, a blog titled "Scary Mommy," I clicked on her piece about having three kids. It was the best bit of empathy I have had since finding out I was pregnant - "... Everyone asks if it’s your first and when you say it’s your third, they laugh hysterically and walk away."  

Regardless of the roller coaster ride to come, the way I see it is that I'm already buckled in with two, so really, isn't one more just like adding a few upside down turns?