New Mom Sexual Mind

Sex or Watch Leno?
Sex or Finish Folding the Laundry?
Sex or Movie?
Sex or Finish that Book?
Sex or Set my hair?
Sex or Write?
Sex or Sleep?
Ooh, sleep! Now that's sexy!
Sex or Watch the baby on the monitor?
Sex?
What's that again?

Free Moments

I'm out. All by myself. An independent woman. Alone. Driving down the street. Listening to the radio. Feeling old and out of date for not knowing the latest pop hits. But also relieved because they all suck these days. I have a few free hours to myself. To run errands, shop, do whatever it is I feel like doing. And for a moment I feel like I'm myself again. The me, myself and I self. It feels good if only for a passing moment. I do love the new me and how full my life is now. I am fulfilled. But being out by myself feels liberating. And womanly. I feel beautiful and cool. Someone I'd like to hang around. Chat up at a coffee shop. Then I'm at a coffee shop. Walking in this secret me. I don't need validation. Don't need anybody to look at me or strike up a conversation. I'm bad all by myself! Loving being alone for a few short moments in this day. As I reach for my wallet to pay for the coffee I find a rattle. Then the cap to a bottle. Then something chewy and yucky stuck to the lining of my purse. I am reminded. And tickled that I am a mother. A loved, loving mom of one of the most wonderful little boys. And I feel suddenly needed and assured. I get my coffee and sit down. Taking in the fun, freeing atmosphere. Slipping back into an alone but perfectly content moment. Then I reach into my pocket. Something's crunching. I feel crumbs. I pull out the crunchy fragile shell of a former Pepperidge Farm Goldfish. There's no escaping it. I am a mother. And that alone makes me feel even more attractive and sexy. All by myself.

When You Can't Blame The Baby

Today I had one of those mortifying moments. One of those moments you wish you could stop time and quickly rewind to undo the undoable. But the moment took a big fat front seat right in front of me and laughed hard in my face. So hard that I actually blushed even thinking about it later.

If only we could tivo life. Then we could use that bloop bloop bloop sound to go back to a moment we may have missed or quickly skip past a moment we're too afraid, ashamed or mortified to face. Like this one.

So you're wondering what? What? Tell what happened! Okay, I will, but first I get to go off on a few more tangents, because that's what blogs are for, so bear with me...

Now if you're like me or any other human being, you've blamed someone else at some point or another for something you had done or were responsible for. Your blame didn't have to be some mean-spirited finger pointing blame. It could have been as light and fluffy as a white lie, but it was still a misdirected blame. A point-blank lie.

Perhaps you've blamed the baby for those extra pounds you're still lugging around. Or blamed the excessive weight on nursing. Your body needs the extra calories, right? Right! Or blamed the baby for the reason your home is a mess and disorderly (I'm preaching to the choir on that one). Or maybe even a dirty diaper for your indigestion...

Maybe it's not so much an ordinary blame, but more of a condescending correction like "Oh, Cub, don't put that shoe in your mouth. It's dirty!" When really I was the one that left the dirty shoes out for him to grab. Does he not put EVERYTHING in his mouth?

Or, "Cubby, electrical cords are dangerous. You know you can't play with those!" When in reality it's really my fault for leaving them exposed. And he's a baby, does he even know what dangerous means? Will he not pull at anything sticking out?

Well, today, I had to suck up this mortifying moment all by myself. No one else to blame. It was just me and Cub at home and surely Cub was not responsible for this one!

Let me give you a little background first...

We're currently living in pretty tight quarters. Our space is limited and the walls are thin. So my husband and I do our best to keep quiet while Cub's sleeping. We do have white noise going but maybe out of habit we tip-toe around and talk in low tones. Well, as nasty as it sounds, lately we've been trying not to flush the toilet right after he falls asleep. We try to go back and flush it as soon as he's sleeping but that doesn't always happen. Now let me assure you, this is only for #1's. See, our one bathroom shares a wall with Cub's room and it happens to be pretty loud. So we'll do anything to preserve his precious sleep. Hey, we're first-time parents! We can get away with these ridiculous routines.

So... this morning (forgive me for tmi), I put Cub down for a nap and retreated to the bathroom to "let it all out". I'm pretty regular and my bathroom date happens to correspond with Cub's nap which is pretty convenient. This particular morning, I decided to hold off flushing for a few minutes just to be safe. Breaking the golden rule, never leave the "other number" in the toilet. Naturally, time flies and Cub gets up and off we go to meet daddy for lunch at his office.

The moment we get home, our building's repair man is arriving to fix an outlet in our bathroom. I cheerfully let him in. Cub and I begin to play in the front room as he takes care of the bathroom. All along I'm chatting him up and asking him if he can also come back to fix this and that, etc. He's very friendly and agrees, then leaves. An HOUR later, I happen to go into the bathroom to grab something and there it is! I will spare you the details. Let's just say the toilet remained in its unflushed glory right before my eyes. And you know how water expands everything! I wanted to jump right in there and flush myself down the drain! The poor repair man respectfully carried on a conversation with me looking right over the remains of my breakfast, last night's dinner and whatever else my body had disposed of. For a split second I pretended that maybe he hadn't seen it. Maybe he didn't look. But reality told me otherwise. It was unavoidable.

I stood there in utter shock. I knew I would have to see him again. Maybe even as soon as tomorrow and there was no one else I could blame. It was all me.

If only Cub had been older and I could have blamed it on pottie-training!

Oh well.

Kindergarten Mom

Being a mom, especially of young children, can be a lot like being in kindergarten.

For various reasons:

You find yourself talking in ridiculous pitches, you tend to be in desperate need of naps, you're snacking all the time, running around like a chicken with its head cut off, leaving the house in clothes only a five year old would pick out, and occasionally doing the pee-pee dance if you've been so busy and preoccupied that you actually forgot to pee.

But the similarity I love most is making friends wherever you go.

You know how young children around the kindergarten age can be dropped into random settings and make instant friends? You just let them loose and within minutes they're running around with some new friend, chasing imaginary villains, sharing snacks, laughing like they've known each other for decades, and having a ball. Then when it's time to go, their friendship takes a bow and they're off to the next thing. Just like that.

Well, as a mom with young children, you find yourself chatting up all sorts of people you might not normally engage in a conversation. It's like you have instant friend credibility. A sign around your neck that says, "you can talk to me, I'm a mom."

Now the woman down the street smiles when you walk by where before she shuffled past on her cell phone dodging eye contact. Now random strangers stop you on the sidewalk asking how old your little guy is and offer up stories about their kids or grandchildren or even their friends' kids.

You make best friends (for five minutes) in the grocery store line, whipping out photos, exchanging coupons, and sometimes sharing very personal experiences -- all within five minutes! But like a kindergartner, once you've swiped that credit card and it's time to go, good-bye new best friend. Nice knowing you. Off to the next thing... or friend.

But no matter how short these acquaintances are or how meaningful or trivial the exchange, these little moments of human interaction pour hope and optimism over our sometimes cynical adult hearts. Reminding us that it's okay to smile at strangers, make eye contact as you walk down the street, it's okay to be vulnerable and put yourself out there. These little moments leave us with kindergartner kool-aid smiles and a much needed eager anticipation to keep at this thing called life.

Beauty of Memories

I took a day trip with Cub today. They were doing roof work on our building so we needed a quiet getaway. I decided to take a nice cruise up the shore to Santa Barbara. That drive really is breathtaking. Reminds me over and over again how awesome God's creations are. The breaking waves along the rocks. The rolling hills. Even the clouds were carefully placed along the picturesque scenery. He really is the ultimate designer. Would kick some serious Project Runway butt!

As I entered Santa Barbara, I saw a sign for their zoo. I never knew they even had a zoo. Since I'm a sucker for cute animals, and Cub's learning the zoo animal names, it was the perfect destination. And boy was it! These animals have it good! Normally I feel bad for zoo animals. All incarcerated and stuck in drab fake habitats. But these Santa Barbara animals had 5 star habitats!! Which is perfectly fit for Santa Barbara, being as bourgeois as it is.

At one point I caught a glimpse of the elephants from a hill with the backdrop of the Santa Barbara mountains and for a moment I actually felt like we were in a different country. I was also tickled by the Giraffe taking a stroll along a beach backdrop. Everywhere I looked, beauty. I kept trying to capture it on camera but the camera couldn't do it justice. Some things are just better left to the eye.

On my way back, I continued admiring the coastal beauty and debated whether I should try to whip out my camera or iphone with one hand and snap a shot while driving. I decided not to, not only because it would be completly irresponsible and unsafe with my sleeping Cub in the back, but also because I had to tell myself, not everything has to be captured on some form of technology. Then I thought, ooh, I can't wait to write about this on my Facebook status. Then again, I stopped myself. Just let it be! (Even though I still did end up writing about it on Facebook later this evening!) As I drove home listening to my thoughts, this simple yet profound thought came to mind: a memory is the best place to frame a picture.

I can take a thousand pictures of Cub and try to write about his every last development, but the best place for all of these pictures and stories is right at home in my memory. Yes, one day these memories will be fuzzy and blurred together and I'm sure they'll be confused and intertwined with memories of his future sibling, but who cares?! For the moment as they hold their own, carefully cataloged in my mind, they are perfect. And I can't think of a better home for them!

WARNING: Robber On the Loose

I'm sending out this WARNING to every parent within readers reach!! There is a robber on the loose! I have not seen him but I have found his footprints and evidence all over my nursery. He is out to get every nursery and yours is not exempt. He will even try to sneak into cars and strollers too. He is notorious and dangerous. He will leave your child cranky and irritable. Or over-stimulated and hyper. He is the nap robber.

At first I thought it was teething or transition. Perhaps Cub was still adapting to his transition from three naps to two. Or maybe he's transitioning into later nap times. Then I thought he was overly tired and couldn't settle himself down to sleep. But one day, I came in to Cub's room after a very exhausting nap battle and I saw it. The evidence. Cub's eyes were red from fatigue as if someone had just snatched his sleep from him with no remorse. He had been violated. My little sweet boy was violated by the nap robber. His clothes were tattered. Blanket thrown about. And even the curtains fluttered from where he had crept in through the window.

This man is cold-hearted. He doesn't have any sympathy or compassion for tired parents. He could care less that you have things you need to get done during the once valuable nap time. He laughs and scoffs at the notion that you could actually get a moment to yourself.

I've tried bolting my windows shut and putting surveillance cameras all around Cub's nursery (I finally got a video monitor, DB's Mama!). I've even tried to blast him out with stadium concert-level white noise. So far none of it has worked. He's slick and smart. And still sneaks in undetected.

If you catch him, please let me know. I'm willing to put up a 1,000,000,000,000,000 bounty for his head!

Legacy

I was at a function a few weeks ago where the ice-breaker question was "What have you learned about parenting from your mother."

The question caught quite a few of us off guard. Many of us in tears. I had never really thought about that question prior to that day. I've thought about ways I take after my mother as a woman or many times in college or at different points in my life when I was trying to balance and figure out who this me person is and how this me person relates to and compares to those around me.

But as a first-time mother, I really hadn't considered my mother's parenting. At least not in the greater sense. I'm sure I've had a more critical view during tough moments or while she parented the rebellious adolescent me. But to take a step back and really examin what I've learned from her was new territory.

Most of the women had something to say in response to this question. And as I pondered it, I was emotionally moved by how I felt about my mother's parenting efforts. I thought about how she's such a positive, glass half-full person. How giving she is. And so many other strong and admirable attibutes I had taken for granted.

When you're a child struggling against the parental forces, all you tend to dwell on is how unfair, uncool, unfit your parents are in your immature mind. But to look back as an adult, it can be truly rewarding and eye-opening.

Many of the women said they never knew how poor they were until their mothers told them later as adults. As children, their mother's made such sacrifices that the day to day struggle was never apparent. There were also a good handful of women who said they learned how "not to" parent from their mothers. These women had bad examples of parenting. Riotous, irresponsible, self-centered mothers who left them feeling like an after-thought or burden.

While the question unearthed some deep, appreciative sentiments toward my mother, it also forced me to think about myself and my parenting. How would I want Cub to answer that question? Or better yet, to date, if he could speak, how would he answer that question?

Now that stumped me. Sure I want him to say I was kind and funny and cool and beautiful, all the attributes that pump my ego. But if I go deeper, to the heart of the question, to the inward parts of my true being, what would my behavior and lifestyle mirror for my child? I can quickly defend myself and say I'm not "so bad". Or, I'm not as bad as some women. Or lean to the other side and give myself all sorts of pats on the back for what a loving, wonderful mother I am. And truth be told, I am many things -- good and bad. So as I continue to let that question sink in, I challenge myself to push to improve all areas.

Maybe it's not about what I "want" him to say about me. But what would Truth say?

"Good, better, best. Never let it rest. 'Til your good is better and your better is best.”

Spacing Out

My loyal readers out there may be noticing that the frequency of my postings are becoming further and further apart. This is not deliberate. Although I did start out of the gate certain that I would maintain at least a daily, if not a couple of times a week, posting schedule. Then reality hit! Ha!

But I do promise you, within my control, I will post at least once a week!

Today's post is about spacing out. Yes! Don't you love that? Who doesn't love just spacing out?
Kids do it all the time. Ever notice a baby or a toddler just zone out? Then you call their name or say something and this little funny smile creeps up on their face, eyes still somewhere far away, until they blink and boom their back to the present.

Us adults used to space out and day dream all the time. Until technology robbed it from us. Now whenever we have moments to space out, we instead go to our iphones, blackberries, laptops or any other gadgets to play around with. But we must reserve time for spacing out!! Or rather, PRESERVE space out time. It's very important.

I hear moms all the time talk about how they don't have any "me" time anymore. Between juggling multiple toddlers, babies, schedules, cooking, cleaning, and every other mommy demand, their personal time is virtually non-existent. So the roaming question is always, how do I create more me time?

Most of us think that "me" time requires going out to get a pedicure, massage or some other form of pampering. And don't get me wrong, I am the queen of pampering! I need a massage like babies need milk. The only problem is, I can't always get one. At least not as often as I'd like to. So where do we dig up this mommy time? Between drop-offs, soccer games, changing diapers, etc etc?

I was talking with a few of my girlfriends the other day about prayer. How prayer has become such a struggle for me. I used to hop out of bed and start my day out with it. But now it's like pulling teething. We all complained that there's just no time for prayer anymore. I'm sure God had a good laugh at that one! Then I remembered all the times I had to get up in the middle of the night to nurse or rock Cub back to sleep. All the moments when I was in a dark room with him asleep in my arms with nothing to do -- except pray. But did I do it? Not, usually. I did do some quality spacing out though. It can actually be quite funny to take in all the random thoughts and images that cross your mind while zoning out. You might come across a high school classmate you haven't thought about or seen since 10th grade!

As my girlfriends and I continued to talk, we all realized there are mini-me moments that we could be taking more advantage of. But instead we find ourselves cramming in little odds and ends of things that don't "have to" be done in that moment. Some of the best mini-me moments are at a red light. When you're stuck waiting and instead of getting on your cell phone or changing the radio station you can just zone out. Tune the world out. And be. You'd be surprised how refreshing 15 seconds of spacing out can be. It's powerful!

So yes, our lives as moms are demanding. And yes, it's very difficult to find me time, but no, it's not impossible. We just need to be more creative and perhaps redefine what "me time" really is. Spacing out has all sorts of benefits. And it's also free!! And can be done anywhere and everywhere. Go ahead, try it!!

Get Up, Stand Up

My baby is gone.

He was just here.

I found some of his old booties.
They're tiny and precious.
They belong on a doll's feet.

I put away some of his clothes. To believe that a very short time ago he couldn't fit into the newborn onesies we had. But now they're all piled up, shoved inside a closet and waiting. Either to be given away or for a sibling to come sometime in the future. Or to be eaten by nasty silverfish hiding in the deep crevices of the closet.

That baby I had, that yummy, gummy, beautiful cooing little baby boy has vanished. I cradled him to bed one night. All cozy and perfectly curled up into my arms. Then I woke up and poof he was gone. Just like that. I'm sure there was even the "poof smoke" when it happened too. But since it was the middle of the night I didn't get to see it.

Now I have a wiggly, twirling, adorable greased pig. Not a pig like the dirty, smelly, gross animal. A cute piggy. Like a Babe type pig. The frisky type of pig you want to kiss all over and play with. One that George Clooney would get. A Wilbur pig that bats his eyes at me and makes me laugh. That frolics and giggles and is impossible to catch or hold still.

I think this pig ate my baby.

Somehow during nap and bedtime this little piggy disappears. And leaves me with a bop bag. You know, those balloon-like things that you bop down and they keep bouncing right back up? That's what's happening in the crib.

No more baby.
No more pig.
Just a bop bag.

Cubby is now all about pulling up. He has mastered this skill and wants to show it off on every occasion. Especially during sleep times. I lay his little self down and bop he's up again! Standing, holding onto the crib railing with his four teeth grin.

I let him do this a few times, hoping he'll get bored or tired or both. But after what feels like 10 hours, I gently put him back down and firmly tell him it's time to go to sleep. He looks at me like, yeah right. Then scrunches up his little face with all his might, trying to use those little six-pack abs to pull himself up again. As soon as I step away --- BOP. What do I do with this new bop bag?

When I try to resort to picking him up and rocking him to sleep, the cute greasy pig comes back and is wiggling and squirming out of my arms!

It's a conspiracy.

They're double-teaming me. That bop bag and greasy pig.

And what's really pathetic is they're outsmarting me!

I guess I'll make peace with them for now.

I gotta admit, they're cute.

And when I turn my face during these moments so he won't see, I can't help but to want to laugh at how ridiculous this is.

Cold Communication

When Cub was first born I made a best friend.

Her name is Stacy. In the early days she was just "the nurse practitioner". But after a gazillion phone calls, voice messages, heart to hearts, she became "Stacy". Or better yet, Stace.

Those first few weeks, every little sniff, cough, gulp, blink, long breath, poop, sent me running to the phone.

At one point I actually felt inclined to send "Stacy" a thank you note for being so helpful and patient with me as a new mom.

My conversations went like this (with exaggeration of course):

"Hi, Stacy. It's me. Cub is breathing. Is this normal?"

"Hi, Stacy. It's me again. Cub just sneezed and then a little snot came out of his nose. Does he have pneumonia?"

"What up, Stace. You know who it is. Cub only sipped from one boob today. Is my milk gone?"

"Stacy! Where are you?!! Cub is throwing up. Does he need to go to the ER?"

"Hey, there. It's me... again. Cub is sleeping. He's actually sleeping! Can you believe it?!! Should I be worried?"

Poor Stacy.

Then one day I woke and realized it had been MONTHS since I called Stacy. Wow. I sort of missed her. But I actually felt in a good groove. Sure Cub was doing all of the same things, but I actually was more relaxed about it.

So here we are today. Cub is sniff sniff sneezing. Cough cough, choke cough, nose running coughing. And I know better than to call Stacy. But I wish there was some magic potion I could give him to make him feel better. I've already tried the saline drops and humidifier. He doesn't have a fever to my knowledge and seems otherwise fine. But the poor kid can't even drink a bottle without yanking it away to gasp for air.

In an attempt to fill my Stacy void, I find myself striking up random conversations with strangers to give the latest sick update.

Yesterday I was at Babiesrus. I had to pee so bad because I had been driving Cub around town for an hour to let him get a good nap in sitting upright in his car seat with his stuffy nose. So I run to the bathroom and what a relief!! When I came out of the stall there was an employee washing her hands. Naturally I had to involve her. So there we are washing hands and I'm telling her about how badly I had to pee because my son's sick and I just finished driving him around town for an hour and how hard it is to have a sick baby, etc etc. At first she gave me a warm smile and commented about how great it is to pee after having to pee for so long. But after I continued on with how sick Cub's been and all of his latest symptoms, I could see the "weirdo, weirdo" alert flashing on her forehead and the "vacate the bathroom" alarm ringing in her ears. She sort of started walking backwards out of the bathroom, maintaining her trying-to-be-nice smile. Then bolted!

I didn't even get to describe the various colors of muscous to her!!

Where's Stacy when I need her!