Posts Tagged 'mom'

I was not totally prepared for this part

Okay…so why did no one warn me about the part where Kellan grows up???????

 I mean yes, duh

But…okay see, when babies are babies, you are their entire universe. You are the one who can make them smile and laugh the most. You are the one they look to and turn to and cling to. You. And you hold that wonderful position as the love of their life, their everything, for a little while. 

Until….you don’t.

I’m not saying we are there yet, but I am seeing that we are transitioning. 

This morning, he didn’t want to tell me why a character on this lego friends show was his favorite (they are all girls and all friends  and that’s really all I know). After some gentle prodding, he finally tells me because he likes her skin color and shoe color and hair color and outfit.

So, you think she is pretty?

Yah.

INSERT SCREAMING ON THE INSIDE BECAUSE IT STARTS THIS EARLY?!!!!?!!!!

I told him that that was totally normal and okay. I told him he shouldn’t ever be embarrassed (because that’s how it came across) to tell me or daddy anything. 

I asked why he was hesitant to tell me and he said it was because I would say, “Why do you like her shoes or why do you like her hair and I don’t know why.”

INSERT MORE INTERNAL SCREAMING HOW AM I ALREADY A NAGGING MOM TO HIM?!?!

So, yah. That all happened today. And it’s making me kind of look internally to see if somehow I am silently emoting that being vocal about liking how someone looks or liking their outfit or whatever is taboo. I am wondering if I should start openly complimenting people in front of Kellan to show him that it is okay to like and be open about someone’s shoes or thinking they have pretty eyes or whatever.

Is that what I’m supposed to do??  I am in new territory and struggling. I do not want him to feel embarrassed to talk about stuff and I also know that all the things I do not say speaks louder than the things I do say.

How are we already here?! 

I don’t feel like Tim will ever totally get it because he has never been the whole universe to Kellan the same way I have. He’s a boy. Kellan is a boy. They are boys. If we had a girl, I think it would hit home a little more for him because when she starting liking boys or talking about appearances I am sure he’d be like WHOAAAAA NOW. HOLD UP.

It’s actually hard for me right now, seeing him change like this. I’m glad he’s maturing and more responsible and, well, growing up, but it is hard to know and to see that soon I will be annoying to him. That I won’t be the whole world. I’ll be ugh, mooooom!

Maybe not always, but definitely at times.

Now that he can read, I barely get to read to him anymore….when we used to sit together and read books for hours. Now, if he’s reading to himself and I ask if he wants me to read to him, he just looks up and asks if he can keep reading like he is….to himself.

He’s purposefully matching his clothes…without Tim or me encouraging it. It’s just what he wants to do instead of wearing completely mismatched everything. He’s even starting to wear two of the same shoes. The only mismatched thing that has remained are his socks…and I will be so sad to see that go….

He is growing up so fast. Right before my eyes. It makes me teary to see it and to acknowledge it. Not in a bad way, more in a nostalgic, I see why people have lots of kids way. 

It’s hard….watching them grow up and needing you less and less. I mean, I’m being semi-dramatic here because he’s only five.

But he was just two.

And before that he was just born.

Soon he’ll be ten….and the years will just climb higher and higher.

On one hand, I cannot wait to see who he becomes and what his passions lead to. On the other….I’ll forever cherish and hold close to my heart all of the moments when I was his whole world. When he gave me the “love look” instead of the sass one.

I know there will still be times when I get those looks, but they will be rare…though when they happen, they will mean more than he will ever know.

am i doing something wrong?

Today should be the day I post Kellan’s five month letter because he is officially five months old today. Wow.

Except, remember how I said the other day how the letter was a bunch of intimidating, incomplete sentence notes?

Still is.

That and I’ve been feeling…I don’t know. Defeated, maybe? That’s not the word I’m looking for but it’s the best I’ve got at the moment.

I feel like, in the beginning, when Kellan was only a few weeks old, I thought that things would be easier by now. Not easy as in less work (because it’s more work as the days and months tick by. Fun work, but more, not less) but easier as in I’d get some time to myself during the day while Kellan naps. And he’d sleep longer stretches at night.

Fast forward to now and that “time for myself” is a genuine gift because some days I *might* get 15 to 30 minutes to [gasp!] an hour where I can get up and do stuff and he will stay asleep.

These little breaks do not happen often…though when I stop to think about it, they happen more often than they used to (which was never), so I guess that’s something.

I assumed that at this point, we would be in a more predictable routine. The only thing I know for certain at this moment in time is that he needs a nap after about 90 minutes of awake time. The length of the nap always varies…though he’s been taking a 2+ hour nap around 9 and then a 1-2 hour nap again around 12:30-1:30, depending on what time he wakes up from the first nap. Then we’ve got two 30-45 minute naps – one in the early morning and one in the late afternoon…usually…

I guess that’s kind of a schedule, isn’t it?

The part that is missing is the part where my entire body is not required for each of these naps.

And all night.

I should mention that we did have a break through the other night.

After about 30 minutes of Kellan kicking and swinging his arms and talking and generally doing anything except sleep…at 3AM…while I remained in a half awake state to make sure he was ok…he eventually settled down and fell asleep WITHOUT MY BOOB IN HIS MOUTH.

This is huge because that’s how he usually always soothes himself back to sleep.

I was happy, proud that he figured it out on his own, for the most part. It made me think that he will eventually figure out how to self soothe…I’ve even been doing an experiment with him during most naps and nighttime. It’s all being documented…we’ll see if it does anything other than make me crazy…errr…crazier than I already am.

Since the word go, I’ve been of the mind that he will figure it out on his own, in time. I have no idea how much time it will require, but at some point, before he’s graduated high school, he’ll figure it out.

For the last few weeks, during the middle of the night, I’ve started just leaving my boob “out there” and if he can find it, then it’s his for the taking.

If not, he’s on his own.

I stay mostly asleep, regardless of the outcome.

(we co-sleep, in case you’re late to the party)

I guess the point (that I’m not really making very well) is…patience is not my strong suit. I don’t even have a patience suit or pants or shirt or anything.

I have a DO IT NOW kind of personality.

Babies do not have this.

They have a I NEED IT – from you, all the time – NOW mentality.

And instead of me trying to force my own agenda on him, a la cry it out so he has no choice but to figure it out alone (and no judgement if that’s what you did), I’ve been trying to be patient. To give him time. To allow him to develop his own way of self soothing at his pace, not mine.

Some say that’s crazy talk and I’m fostering habits that will result in a child who will never learn to soothe himself and never sleep through the night.

Others say complete opposite.

I’m going by my (very tired) gut, which says that crying it out just isn’t the right thing for him…not now, anyway.

It is really hard to live every single day on someone else’s agenda. Personal Assistants to overly demanding famous people, I bow to you, because if anything can dampen your spirit and try to break your will, it’s a complete loss of personal freedom to someone else.

Kellan determines my days…and my nights. And I’m ok with that, as hard as that reality is sometimes. Other than being forced to remain (happily) patient, the hardest part is not comparing him and his sleep and independence – or lack thereof – to other babies.

He isn’t other babies.

He is him and that’s all he’ll ever be

(grammar be damned).

what kind of mom do I want to be?

I know it is about to happen, regardless. It’s not like I can debate whether I WANT to be a mom or not.

I’m only a few weeks away from jumping in without looking, both feet first, into the mom role.

Lots of you have kindly told me I’ll be a great mom…and I really appreciate your support and your belief in me.

I’m honestly having a hard time seeing myself *as* a mom. I mean, I’ve never been one before so I guess that’s natural to feel? I have no idea. I just can’t see myself as “mom.” I mean, I can and I do in some kind of future in my brain when I think about the future that I don’t feel like has happened yet – if that makes any sense at all.

I see Tim and me as these adorably cute, loving parents to well behaved kids, doing things together as a family.

Granted, I realize this “future” can be easily mistaken for fantasy and I might just end up with a hellion but, still. Somewhere ahead of where I am now I see myself as a mom.

I just can’t see it…now. I can’t see myself as this nurturing, loving person to a little baby. Not that I’d be some distant, crazy ass mother or anything. I’m just having a hard time looking at myself in the mirror that way. I’ve always kept most of my emotions inside.

I told Tim awhile ago that I never want to be like that with the sprout. I want emotions on the outside.

If you’re feeling them, express them, don’t ferret them away. That’s what I’ve always done…until recently. I’ve been trying to allow my emotions to come out more which, by the way, has been way easier thanks to the pregnancy hormones.

It has (finally) gotten to the point that I was all teary eyed over something ridiculous at dinner the other night and Tim was like, “Whoa…why are your eyes all watery?! What happened?!”

I told him I’m trying to be more in touch and in tune with my emotions.

And I am.

I know boys aren’t “supposed” to be emotional but I definitely want to make sure the sprout isn’t afraid to express what he is feeling. I know all too well how much a locked up emotional response can eat away at you from the inside out. It isn’t healthy.

I want to be more huggy and kissy and touchy-feely. I didn’t grow up in a family like that but I want to have one. Tim is better at those things than I am, as his family is like that. Hugs all around. All the time.

I’ve gotten better over time but I still have a way to go.

I want to be more expressive. More emotional. More present in the moment.

As much as I felt like naming the sprout was pressure…when I think about what kind of example I want to lead…wow. That kind of pressure is monumentally more challenging than a name.

I know I am not going to be the perfect mom…I’m not trying to be one. I just want to be a mom who is emotionally present for her child. One who participates in their life and shows them plenty of love and affection. One who is a teacher and a listener and a disciplinarian.

Tim has his own set of daddy responsibilities that I know he feels stressed about. He’s already expressed how he is supposed to KNOW. EVERYTHING. so the sprout thinks his daddy is the smartest person in the entire world.

He and I both know we aren’t going to KNOW EVERYTHING but I understand what he’s saying.

He wants to be a good daddy. And knowing how to do things is part of that for him like being emotionally present and open is for me.

On top of it all, I want to make sure I’m both a good wife and a good mother in supporting him raising a son. There will be lots of things that I need to step out of and allow Tim to take the lead. It only makes sense when it comes to men and boys.

I’m not a man. I don’t know what it is like to be a boy. I have to step back and allow the lessons to come from Tim.

There are so many things I don’t know and so many things I’ll learn as we go along with the sprout but right now, when I have a free moment to think about everything that is about to hit us square in the face?

I’m really excited but I’d be lying if I admit I was scared.

It is like the first day of school…only a million times more daunting.

my response to why i tell the family about the blog…

Everyone had such great points why NOT to divulge my little haven…that I felt an ENTIRE POST was needed to respond.

So, to bring you into my world for a minute…

Let’s start with a story.

Back in high school, around driving age, I was dating this boy.

Said boy went to a different church than me. Some Sundays, I would go to HIS church instead of the one my family and I had gone to since I was like, three.

On the days I went to the boyfriend’s church, we would bring home a program with the Sunday Sermon to be prepared to answer the, “so what’d you hear/learn/do in church today?” questions from my mom.

Because we said we were going to church. And she expected we would have some sort of information about our morning’s lifted-up-by-the-Holy-Spirit experience.

One particular Sunday, we decided NOT to go to the service. At this point, I don’t even remember WHY we didn’t go. I guess we had some sort of urge to ruffle our rebellious feathers.

Our perfectly crafted plan – developed in the teenager typical five minutes -went something like this: We attended Sunday School for Teens…where mostly you goof off for an hour…so we could say we actually WENT to church. After gossip hour, we walked by the sanctuary and picked up a program sitting in a wicker basket by the door so we’d have PROOF. DOCUMENTATION of our participation.

Then we turned our heels and walked right out of the double doors.

We drove over to his house and waited for “church hour” to tick by so we could go back to MY HOUSE for lunch. Because my mom made the good lunches. And his mom never went grocery shopping. So there was never a discussion on which house to go to.

Mine won. Always.

So, at noon sharp, we make the trip over to my house and saunter into my finished basement, feeling smug like we’d just pulled one over on EVERYONE because WE DIDN’T GO TO CHURCH but would have everyone believing otherwise.

Because we were home exactly fifteen minutes AFTER CHURCH WAS OVER.

Because we were smart enough to pick up a PROGRAM FOR THAT DAY.

We sat on the couch and watched TV. Waiting on my mom and brothers to get home from their church service.

About ten minutes later, my mom walks in, lugging grocery bags from an impromptu trip to the grocery store after church.

The first words out of her mouth weren’t “What would you like for lunch?” or “LOOK! I went grocery shopping!” or “Make yourself useful and help me with these!”

It was: “So, how was church?”

START PLAN OF PRETEND CHURCH ACTION.

AND WOW…did we feed her a load of bull shit. Completely plausible, of course, because it was all right there, in the program. Backing us up.

Then she says, “Really? Sounds like it was a great sermon!”

We smile like we’ve just gotten away with murder.

“IT WAS. Life changing, I tell you. Absolutely amazing.”

My mom drops the grocery bags, stands straight up and looks ME square in the eye and says, “Oh! Guess who I RAN INTO AT THE GROCERY STORE?”

I’m all, “I have no idea?! A clown? The Pope!? Maybe one of the Beatles??…”

She says nothing.

Still…quiet…boyfriend is no longer rattling off whatever Bible verses he could remember and is instead looking at the floor and shuffling his feet.

I start sweating…unable to make myself speak…to defend myself…to come up with SOMETHING to say.

Mom: “I ran into Joey’s MOM!”

(Joey was a friend of my then boy friend…whose ENTIRE FAMILY were members and devout Sunday worshippers at the church we skipped out on)

I just continued to stare at her…silently praying to the God I left in favor of watching TV this day to allow me this ONE chance to slide by and I swore I’d never skip out again on church or step on another ant or blame my brothers for something I did ever, EVER again.

Mom: “Funny thing, she said the sermon was wonderful…yet…she didn’t SEE either of you today at church.”

And that was it. We were hung right out to dry and suffered the consequences.

We’ll just say “lunch” wasn’t exactly served that Sunday.

Ratted out in one of the most IMPOSSIBLE SCENARIOS.

Because of course, MY MOM and JOEY’S MOM would need something from the EXACT SAME GROCERY STORE in the EXACT SAME AISLE at the EXACT SAME TIME AFTER CHURCH.

And the two churches…by the way, were MILES APART with about five different grocery store options between the two.

I never lied to her again…because it didn’t matter WHAT IT WAS.

She found out.

The “happenings” in my life are like a horribly twisted six degrees of separation. She knows somebody who knows somebody who knows the cousin of the uncle’s child twice removed who READS THIS BLOG.

So – the whole point of this story…

I tell THE FAMILY about the blog because even if I don’t…they’ll find out. And I learned in high school that it’s easier to deal with it BEFORE than to hide it and have the motherly wrath bestowed upon me.

I’ll take my punishment up front. Thanks.

Hey, at least I was honest.


this is where you ask those burning questions

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