Top 5 Things That Have Rocked My World Recently

Is that not the faintest line you've ever seen? This is why I had to take 6 of them!Let’s see how I can possibly describe the past 35 days – the length of time since my last post wherein I promised to “get back in the swing very soon”. It turns out that “very soon” is about five times slower than a slug in a marathon. Or me running a marathon. You know, on that subject, I’ve had some really strange dreams the past year or so. I keep dreaming that my legs don’t work any more. I keep trying to run, and my mind is screaming, “Run!” But my legs feel like they’re stuck in quicksand. Analyze that, Ears. See you next week.

Our lives have been consumed this past month or so with some strange, exciting and downright frustrating moments. And as much as I would love to bore you with all the details, I have decided to return to our “Top 5” series and give it to you in list form.

Top 5 Things that have Rocked My World Recently

1. A BIG surprise - On February 2, 2011, Brian was on a TDY (tour of duty) in Iceland. We were chatting through Skype when I remembered my decision to take another pregnancy test that morning. Since I have the attention span of a chicken (I dunno…it just came to my head), I forgot to look at the results (because two minutes is just TOO long to stand there!). Remember, I took the first pregnancy test of the year on January 28^th, and it was negative. So, I just assumed this one would be as well. While on Skype with Brian and JJ, I said, “Oh! I forgot that I took a pregnancy test this morning and didn’t even look at it.” I ran to the bathroom to get it…and that’s when the fun began. We got to tell our families in person during our trip back to the States in early February. It was such a wonderful experience! So, we’re gearing up for baby #2 due some time in mid-October. Oh, and if you’re still keeping track, the 2011 pregnancy test count is now at 7. I know, I know. But I just can’t trust one positive test. I had to take six. Well, since I wrote a book on #1, I’ll keep the rest short.
2. A change of perspective - I realized something very important recently as it relates to my marriage. As I’ve openly shared in the past, Brian and I haven’t exactly breezed through this whole marriage thing without some bumps in the road. But I think for the first time I truly embraced this beautiful sentence in the vows I made to him back in 2005: “I will support and uplift you by word and deed by putting more emphasis on what you are than what you are not.” Ouch. It appears I forgot about that line when times got tough. God-willing, my words and deeds will continue to reflect this change of perspective.
3. Three words: Muammar “Nutcase” Gaddafi. Let’s just say that military life in Europe has been VERY interesting this month.
4. www.SpouseBUZZ.com - I have the amazing opportunity to serve as a contributor for SpouseBUZZ! My first post published yesterday, and I received such a warm welcome from that huge community of military spouses. I am so thankful for the chance to meet some remarkable people and to continue my passion for writing.
5. Baked potatoes - I had some interesting cravings my last pregnancy. I couldn’t get enough chicken fingers, French fries, Diet Coke and Hot Fries. It actually gags me to think of those foods right now. This time, the cravings have been much healthier. I can’t get enough baked potatoes, salad, fruit, water, and sweet tea (sweetened with honey, not sugar). The funny part is that I have NEVER in my entire life craved a baked potato, salad or sweet tea. Never. I’m thrilled, though. Beats the heck out of the junk I wanted last time. But, in the interest of full disclosure, I have caved to Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and Thin Mints. (Those evil little girls got me again this year!)

So, this was not AT ALL list form as promised. Forgive me if I’m a little rusty on the writing. 35 days is a long time. That’s approximately the lifespan of a mosquito. Now you know.

Mommy Makeover

(Caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror today and was suddenly inspired to write this blog.)

For those of you who are not yet mothers but have considered a career as one, I’d like to offer you a step-by-step guide to your at-home “Mommy Makeover.” It’s a how-to guide that will have you looking and acting like a modern-day-mother-of-a-9-month-old in no time!

1. Take your cute, little figure down to the donut shop and eat until you gain a good 30-40 pounds. You’ll want to make sure you pack on enough poundage that your skin becomes transparent from all the stretching. If you can see all of your veins, you’re well on your way.
2. Once you’ve packed on so much weight that complete strangers say things like, “Whoa! That’s a big belly you have there!” then take yourself to a plastic surgeon. Not a great one…just a so-so plastic surgeon will do. Have him/her remove all that excess fat. You might see the remnants of your over-stretched stomach hanging halfway down your thighs. Don’t worry. This is normal.
3. When you go to sleep at night, set your alarm clock to go off in two hours. Wake up and place your breasts into a table vice for approximately one hour. Set the alarm for another two hours. Repeat. For AT LEAST six months or until the bags under your eyes absolutely will not disappear – even with an inch of concealer.
4. And speaking of makeup, donate it to someone who has more than five minutes of uninterrupted time.
5. Next, take deer urine (found at any hunting supply store), dog feces (we have plenty if you need it), and year-old dinner leftovers (pretty sure we have some of those as well) and smear them all over your body. The goal here is to desensitize your nostrils to the point where you leave the house with no knowledge of the urine, feces and food stains plastered to your outfit.
6. And speaking of outfits, take that cute, little wardrobe you love so much and replace it with nothing but sweatpants, sweatshirts and furry, pink slippers. This is your official “mommy uniform.”
7. And your hair? Just let it go. Extra points if your significant other finds Cheerios in there.

Once you have assembled your “look,” it’s time to start acting like a modern-day-mother-of-a-9-month-old.

1. Wearing your most soiled “mommy uniform,” chase your dog (borrow one if you have to) down the middle of a busy street and scream, “I swear I’ll let you lick the high chair if you just come back home NOW!”
2. Next time you’re on the phone, take pots, pans, and wooden spoons and bang them together until the person on the other line says, “Would you like for me to call back at a better time?” Burst into tears and say, “A better time? A BETTER TIME? Sure! Call back in 18 years!!!” The goal here is to make the other person so uncomfortable they hang up.
3. Find yourself a hungry, Pot-bellied Pig and train it to scream every time you leave the room, don’t acknowledge it, or attempt to feed it green beans.
4. Find a stray, rabid cat and attempt to lay it on its back and put a diaper on it. Try (unsuccessfully) to maintain your composure as it kicks, screams and scratches you.
5. When out to eat at your favorite restaurant, take the tablecloth, salt and pepper shakers, silverware, fine china and the glasses and throw them immediately onto the floor. When your meal arrives, let it sit for 30 minutes until it is cold and disgusting. Only then are you allowed to eat it. Scream at the top of your lungs until the management and patrons applaud when you finally leave.

So, there you have it! Your at-home makeover kit. And now, for an unlimited time, you can add a real, live baby to your kit FREE OF CHARGE! All you have to do is come over here and get him any time. Hurry, because quantities are limited and so is my patience.

I Love Lucy

You could call her a babysitter. Or, if you were a Brit, you’d call her a “child minder.” I just call her my angel with an English accent. Her name is Lucy, and I love her.

Tuesdays and Thursdays are “I Love Lucy” days. I sit in my office for THREE SOLID HOURS and do WHATEVER I WANT TO DO. It’s so amazing I could cry just thinking about it. Sometimes I can hear JJ screaming between bites of green beans. I hear Chief scratching at the door and barking at the mailman. I hear the dishwasher and the washing machine beeping. I hear the phone ringing off the hook. And I can also hear the sound of my sanity returning when I realize I don’t have to do anything about it.

When I emerge from my office after those three hours, it feels like I’m floating on a cloud of blissful ignorance. “JJ cried the whole time and then spit up on your shirt? I’m sorry to hear that. Chiefy ate a diaper and a pacifier and then threw up on the sofa? I’m so sorry to hear that.” What she doesn’t know is that I’m soooooo not sorry I didn’t have to hear all that!

The greatest thing about Lucy is that she is so capable. I know she can handle whatever JJ might throw at her (literally), and that is an amazing feeling. And then, when JJ goes down for his nap (usually about 30-45 minutes before she leaves), she finds something productive to do with that remaining time. She cleans up his toys, hand-washes dishes, unloads the dishwasher, folds laundry, and swaps out the washer and dryer. I’m pretty sure she’d cut the grass and give me a pedicure if I asked her to, but I really don’t want to push it.

Side note: If a baby cries in the living room, and I’m not there to hear him, does he make a sound?

Side note: No, I will not give you her phone number.

The One Where They Revoke My Mommy Badge

It’s been a running joke in my household that someone might call DFCS (pronounced dee-facks for all you non-Americans out there) on me one day for my lack of wherewithal when it comes to parenting. Honestly, I have little or no idea what I’m doing. I forget to eat lunch 99% of the time. I can’t even keep my houseplants alive. And, sadly, most of my experience comes from reading other blogs or observing out-of-control parents in public and saying to myself, “Well, obviously I’d never do that.”

This is a strategy that has worked surprisingly well for me so far. Our kid is healthy, extremely happy and already fluent in six languages. We took a 9-month training course while he was in utero. Did the whole headphones on the belly thing. Worked like a charm. Next week we start training for his first triathlon.

Truthfully, I’ve been pretty chilled out about this whole mommy thing from day one. Something that surprised me and pretty much everyone who knows me. When it comes to JJ, I don’t get worked up about little things. Which is why it surprised me when I had a total meltdown last week.

It was a perfectly normal morning for us: coffee, breakfast, playing on the rug while we watched Dr. Phil and Judge Judy. I realized we had a “code brown,” so I laid JJ on the floor to change his diaper. He rolled over to his stomach immediately. So, I flipped him back over to his back. He rolled over again. I flipped him again. He rolled again. This continued no joke for five straight minutes. Each time he rolled over, I became more and more irritated. And each time I flipped him back he became more and more irritated. He screamed, his arms flailed around, and he kicked me a few times in the belly. Finally, I flipped him over, put my hands through my hair, and screamed as loudly as I could. Twice.

Well, that got his attention.

He looked up at me with his big, blue eyes, stuck out his bottom lip and whimpered as if to say, “What the heck did you do that for, lady?” It was by far the most defeated I have felt as a mother.

Side note:  We had his 6-month doctor’s appointment a few days after this incident. (Yes, I know he’s 8 months. Don’t ask.) Fortunately, his eardrums are fully in tact. Because I truly did worry about that. And, since I failed the post-partum depression pop quiz they give me every time I go there, I had a fun chat with the pediatrician about our little “episode.” I swear they’re going to revoke my mommy badge one day. I need to start cheating on those pop quizzes.

I still have no idea what came over me. After I freaked out, I put JJ down for his nap and called Brian. He was in a meeting, so, I texted him, “I NEED you to call me!” That got his attention. He called immediately and talked me down from my diaper-induced rage. Somehow he always knows exactly what to say to make me feel better. If only I heard half of what he says to me: “I’m sorry, Brian, you’re going to have to repeat that. I was distracted…”

Fortunately, I’m better this week. I’ve found my happy place…about a mile past Caffeine High and just before you get to Drug Induced Coma.

And Then He Bit Me

Admittedly, I haven’t always been a proponent of public breastfeeding. (And...we just lost my dad.) Even when I was in my second trimester we went to Rome (Italy, not Georgia), and there was a woman in the airport nursing her child. I remember thinking, “Can’t she just go somewhere else to do that?” Because, why wouldn’t a mother want to sit on the soaking wet floor of a public bathroom with human feces floating through the air (trust me, I saw it on Dr. Oz) and feed her child? Granted, this particular mother was wearing a leopard-print mini skirt and sitting in such a way as to draw every bit of male attention to her bare flesh…all of it. But, still.

I’m pretty sure that complete disdain for public nursing is the default line of thinking for those who have never had children and/or those who believe that their own birth was the result of an immaculate conception. Your parents had sex, okay? At least once. Get over it.

It’s no surprise, then, that nursing JJ brought about mixed feelings for me. On the one hand, I thought I should be free to breastfeed wherever and whenever I wanted to with little or no regard for those around me. Then again, I understood how uncomfortable it is to try not to stare at a woman who clearly could find a more discreet way to disrobe herself in public. It’s called a nursing cape, people.

No matter which side of the debate you sit on, I’m sure most of you can agree that nursing is usually a wonderful experience for both mother and child…

…until the child gets teeth. And that’s what brought my nursing bonding experience with JJ to a screeching halt. And I do mean screeching. My sweet baby gazed up at me with his gorgeous, blue eyes and proceeded to bite the CRAP out of me. Out of pure instinct, I popped him on his bare leg. Then, I felt so bad I cried a little. And since I screamed so loud and popped him on the leg, JJ cried a little too.

And that is why I stopped breastfeeding JJ last week.

I have to confess that I’ve had a huge amount of guilt about this for the past several days. When the pediatrician told me it was time to start giving JJ formula, I felt like a miserable failure. I suppose I could have kept nursing and/or pumping milk until JJ’s 18th birthday. I probably could have carried him around in a Baby Bjorn until he's taller than me. But, I guess all this "attachment parenting" feels just a little too "attached" for me.

So, why do I feel guilty still? I suppose much of it has to do with my own self-imposed expectations. But it doesn’t help when ridiculous supermodel moms rant about how perfect they are because they nurse their children straight through college. Okay, so that’s a bit of an exaggeration, but I’m referring now to Gisele Bundchen who believes there should be a law that requires all mothers to breastfeed for at least six months. (For the record, I think there should be a law that requires all supermodels to actually feed themselves first. Then maybe you can rant about what other women feed their children.)

You see? This is why moms walk around all day feeling guilty about themselves. Because mothers are the absolute WORST critics of other mothers! Why can’t we all just realize that the way you do/did something is not the way ALL mothers should do it? And I’m not letting myself off the hook here, either. I’m guilty of this as well. Believe me, I cringe when I see a screaming toddler in the grocery store and I hear the mother say, “If you stop yelling, I’ll get you some ice cream.” It truly makes my blood curdle to hear it. I roll my eyes and think to myself, “I will never do that.” But I've said that about lots of things...like getting a tattoo.

I’m sure there are things I do that would cause other mothers to cringe as well. Ooh, fun idea! Maybe in addition to his baby book I’ll keep a record of all the things I do to scar JJ for life. A timeline like that sure will come in handy one day when he’s in therapy.

Thursday, January 6, 2011: You bit the crap out of me, so I popped your bare leg. You cried. I cried. It was terrible. I’m pretty sure that’s the day you started hating me.