findingmyshoes's Blog

We feed the cat first

findingmyshoes — Sat, 09 Jun 2012 01:37:00 GMT

I just read this article on Babble about second kids getting the shaft. As my mother's second child, I really don't feel that this is true, but as the mother, I can totally see it happening. So, I am being proactive and in treating both my children equally by being as lazy as humanly possible with my first child.

It's cool. She needs the fiber.

Observe:

Almost all LO's clothes come from consignment shops or Goodwill.
I consider eight hours a fine amount of time to wear a diaper.
The 5 second rule for dropped pacifiers has been extended to a five day rule, as long as I pick off all visible dirt before putting it in her mouth. Not that it matters because ....
LO considers the carpet in our living room an all you can eat buffet.
We have two baby books. Both are completely blank that way all the children can share them.

Any confessions about your "forward thinking" in treating your children equally?

From my blog: Mommy Mentality: A blog for women with clinical depression who are starting families http://mommymentality.blogspot.com/2012/06/we-feed-cat-first.html

Baby, Queen of the Night

findingmyshoes — Tue, 20 Mar 2012 22:02:00 GMT

I do not even know. This kid thing man; the benefits are seriously debatable. I love my daughter; she is amazing and cute and awesome: but the mom thing, possibly not my gig. First of all, it is HARD. Like hella hard. Harder than anything I could have imagined doing in a way I could have never imagined it. Now, apparently my child is not a piece of cake: she has reflux, so partially-digested milk regularly jettisons out of her mouth like a lawn sprinkler. She is six months and wakes up every two hours, when a lot of babies sleep through the night at 3 months. She doesn't nap for longer than 20 minutes. She doesn't cry as much as some babies, but she definitely cries and, MOTHEROFGOD, when this child cries it is as though she is summoning demons of darkness.

And I am so tired.

Before having a baby I was already kind of pathologically tired. I have, on more than one occasion, fallen asleep while talking to someone... in person. Not even kidding. I used to have to pull over to the side of the road during the hour and a half drive to and from college because I would literally pinching myself to stay awake. And its not as though I am don't sleep if given the opportunity. I could easily sleep any span from 5-17 hours a day, and still need a nap. So, generally speaking, I am very used to being in need of sleep. That is kind of the space I live: Sleepyville. I am the mayor. Naturally therefore, my child is Wakey Wakerstein from Fussy-facelandia. As result, I stumble through my life, confused, cranky and covered in grime, like a zombie from Night of the Living Dead that accidentally ended up on the Muppet Babies.

Being so tired is trying on any one's mental faculties, but having depression and no sleep is just killer. I would not say I am suicidal, but dark thoughts have definitely come back in full force. There have been times when I believed that LO would be better off without me. I often feel trapped, like she is a shackle that I have placed upon myself that will imprison me the rest of my life.

In some ways, it is heartbreaking because I since I was tiny I have longed to be a mother. I love babies, and I adored caring for them. I was the teenager that every kid wanted to have as a babysitter. Babies in grocery stores would leave there mother, toddle over to me and raise their arms to be held. I was pretty much the Snow White of children, and I couldn't wait to have my own. Now, there are days when I cannot believe that I this was not just some terrible travesty that descended onto my world; I cannot believe this is something I wanted and sought out. There have definitely been times when in my sleep deprived state I have envisioned throwing her out the window.

I don't understand: I don't understand how moms do it. How have we survived as a species? How was it that the first mom did not just leave her screeching, gooey parasites by the side of the road? Where does the strength to carry on come from?

From her I suppose. Because she is cute, and funny and she needs me. Plus, you know, God forbid she beckon her demons.

Posted from my blog: Mommy Mentality: A blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.

A child's cry for help...

findingmyshoes — Mon, 19 Dec 2011 22:15:00 GMT

"So, LO, I was thinking I might go to the hardware store. How about it?"

" Nonononnonono. That won't be happening."

"That's cool, I'll just go down and check out the Nordic trak in the basement; see if we can't get that going."

"Your kidding right? That's the most disquieting idea I've ever heard. I'm not sure how long it will take me to recover from this; I'm going to need a moment..."

"Fine. Know what? I'll just jump in the shower for 5 minutes. Be right back."

"ARE YOU INSANE?! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL US BOTH?! SOMEONE, CALL SOCIAL SERVICES! THIS WOMAN IS CLEARLY SET ON PLACING US IN MORTAL PERIL!"

"So, another afternoon of sitting on the couch, bouncing then, huh?"

"Ah, yes, that will be just fine....a little gentler please...."

Copied from my blog at: Mommy Mentality: a blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.

Scientists find that boobs not as magical as money

findingmyshoes — Wed, 14 Dec 2011 06:34:00 GMT

I have been pretty fortunate to have never had trouble in the boob department; my boobs and I have pretty much always got along. Now that I have a child, our amicable relationship continues, despite my occasional jealously that LO obviously likes them better than me. Seriously, the child will look at me with daggers in her eyes, as though she resents my never giving her and my boobs any alone time. "You're always trying to come between us!"

Insecurities aside, I am really lucky not to have encountered a lot of the problems women face when trying to breastfeed. For a lot of my friends, and for so many women, breastfeeding is horrendous, if not just impossible. Every book, movie, Oprah episode and health professional pounds pregnant ladies with the idea that breastfeeding is the crucial element in nuriting your child, leaving a lot of women despondent when they find out that breastfeeding is not exactly as it is portrayed in the La Leche Manual. Tons of women who face difficulties either biologically or logistically end up feeling like bad moms.

Turns out, it may all be for naught.

Within the past year scientist have found that all the benefits of breastfeeding may not be so much a result of breast milk, as it is a corollary to all the benefits of being upper middle class. Women who are breastfeeding generally are upper class chicks who can afford breast pumps and such, or who can afford to stay home with their child. These same moms also can afford good prenatal care, and can more easily provide good nutrition for their children once they are born. So scientist now suggest that the ability to provide quality care for children throughout their childhood may be more important than mere breast milk during infancy; good to know for my friends who have such trouble breastfeeding.

On the other hand, an Australian study found that children who breastfeed past six months of age have better mental health than their bottle-fed counter parts. Now, granted, I didn't actually read the study, but the but this seems fishy to me. We already know that moms who breastfeed are middle upper class moms. The Reuters article that covered the study even noted that "The mothers who breastfed for less than six months were younger, less educated, poorer, and more stressed, and were also more likely to be smokers, than the moms who breastfed for longer. They were also more likely to suffer from postpartum depression, and their babies were more likely to have growth problems." It seems pretty obvious to me that what the children are benefiting from is not the extended breastfeeding, but the greater access to a happier, healthier mom.

Is it just me, or could the scientist perhaps trying to conjure up an easy solution to a greater social problem? Maybe instead of doctors and social services all pushing breastfeeding down moms' throats, making thousands of moms feel guilty and inadequate, perhaps we as a community should be taking that energy and pressing politicians for better support for families of all income levels.

From my blog: Mommy Mentality: Pregnancy and depression

If I downplay Santa, will I ward off Scrooge?

findingmyshoes — Tue, 06 Dec 2011 19:46:00 GMT

So my new obsession is babble.com. It meets all my mommy/domestic-goddess/maintain-your-own-identity tendencies all in one place. I completely have a crush on it. And since it is the season, a few of the articles regarding telling kids about St. Nick caught my eye. I am not sure what we are going to tell LO about Santa, but I am leaning towards honesty. It's not like I hate Christmas, or childhood or anything. Additionally, I am not afraid of lying to my child; those people who get this angry indignation over how Santa Claus is a lie, and they would never LIE to their children, just seem silly to me. I fully intend to lie to LO for a variety of reasons. No, I think I am leaning towards honesty in this case because if I am going to create a dominating narrative about Christmas that embodies our family's values, Santa misses the point.

It's not like I hate childhood or happiness or anything. What's funny is that I believe in Santa. As a symbol of the goodwill and cheer of Christmas, and the sense of awe that kids have, Santa is a fine cultural icon. But that's not how most kids think of Santa. One blogger on Babble noted that for most kids Santa is, "receiving instead of giving, greed instead of gratefulness, idle wanting instead of active contributing". I don't want my kids to think of Christmas as a time to get stuff; I want them to think of Christmas as a "celebration of giving", meaning that it is fun to give stuff. Personally, I have no magical memories when it comes to Santa, so I don't think I would be denying my children anything by telling them the truth.

I do realize of course that there is little I can do to combat the cultural tendency, as well as a child's natural inclination, to focus on Santa and getting stuff, but at least before LO starts school, I would really like to keep Christmas about family and celebration rather than toys, so Santa may have to play second fiddle for at least a while.

Copied from my blog at: Mommy Mentality: a blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.

Coming to terms with bowel movements

findingmyshoes — Fri, 28 Oct 2011 22:56:00 GMT

You know what's funny? I actually feel as though I am letting people down if I don't publish to my blog regularly; as if I have this huge readership that wonders where I am if I don't update regularly, when in reality, I am pretty sure I have only one reader (Love you Mom!). So the battle with new mommy-hood continues. The thing about little tiny babies, (well one of the things of many things) is that you really can't set them down...ever. LO, like all babies, demands to be held a minimum of 24 hours a day, which which I suppose is fair, given that is what she was taught to expect while growing in the womb. Considering that since being born she has to deal with the trauma of things like changes in temperature and bowel movements, she figures the least we can do as parents is parade her around the house like royalty. Fortunately, I have gotten pretty adept at doing things one handed and with my feet and LO has gotten to the point where she will tolerate being in the moby wrap for almost an hour before the vomits over the both of us. Hooray for progress!

Copied from my blog at: Mommy Mentality: a blog for women diagnosed with major depression who are starting families.

What are you on and where can I get some: mommy hormones and me

findingmyshoes — Thu, 20 Oct 2011 01:52:00 GMT

Okay, so that last post was not the happiest I have ever written, but I feel compelled to be honest about my transition into motherhood. I feel as though one of the primary problems setting moms up to for discouragement and frustration during early motherhood is very few people talk about what it is really like to be a mom.

Think about it: no commercial uses the slogan, "Used by ambivalent mothers everywhere". (Although I really feel that is a missed opportunity; I would totally buy whatever it was they were selling.)

Also, TV moms have this comical, zany birth, which the most ridiculous element of which is how short it is (labor the first time often takes DAYS), and at the end of which they are smiley and out of breath and gently moist with sweat, but beaming and over joyed at their new baby. Jackasses. I mean, who gives birth like that?

Also...why do I trust TV so much?

But it's not just TV. Naomi Wolf, a prominent feminist who wrote a book that was intended to reveal the darker side of motherhood, actually described her child as "queenly", even as "glowing", upon the child's expulsion from the womb. I can promise you, I did not see my child as queenly, or glowing, nor did my heart sing with our loving bond when they placed her on my chest. Mostly I was relieved to be done with the labor, and honestly only vaguely aware of what else was happening.

I know there are moms who are attached to their babies right away and just float on clouds immediately after their babies are born, but I feel like those of us who don't experience that face a double whammy: first having a new baby but no hormonal high, and then the second blow of feeling guilty because the mom does not instantly bond with the small bodily fluid production unit that has taken over their home, time, and mind space.

There are a few moms out there that describe more of an experience I can relate to. Anne Lamont wrote a great book about dealing with being a single mom. I also liked this article from a mom honestly describing the time it took to really feel a bond with her twins.

The truth is though, most of the time it's really hard to express anything other than bliss when talking about your baby without fear that someone will call social services. That's I left in my bummer of a post. To hell with June Cleaver! She is over represented. Someone needs to speak up from the disenchanted mommies group, so the negative-nelly blog post stays.

Posted from my blog: Mommy Mentality- a blog for women diagnosed with major depression that are starting families

Our new little roommate

findingmyshoes — Tue, 04 Oct 2011 23:52:00 GMT

After nine long months, we now have a new little roommate. She's very cute, and cuddly, but I have to say, being a mom, from the very beginning, is not exactly what I expected.

I mean, of course, the best laid plans go awry, and frankly, we should planned our plan B way more carefully. Neither my husband or I had ever been in the hospital before, and we were completely unfamiliar with area hospitals, so when all of a sudden I was diagnosed with pre-eclampsia and had rush to the hospital, we had no idea what we were in for. While I am grateful for everything the hospital did, the process of becoming a mother for me was no where near the empowering, mother-goddess experience that I had somehow come to expect. The stay before and after labor was degrading at best. The labor was traumatic: NOTHING like what I was taught to expect from what I had read or heard about. There was no rush of overwhelming motherly love; our baby did not have a halo or seem dreamlike in her debut. Other than sheer exhaustion and relief at the labor being over, I was mostly struck at how similar she looked to a very tiny, wet, old man who had just lost a boxing match.

As we drove home from the hospital after our five day stay, I honestly considered that guy from Alien lucky. Granted, that guy didn't have anesthesia, but after the thing emerged from him, it ran away; no one slapped a bow on it and asked him to breastfeed. No one tells you about the blood, and the pain after the birth. The crying- and oh God there is SOOO much crying- and sleepless nights are not so funny or cute when you are actually going through it.

And now... well... she is still super cute, and she is kind of getting more fun, but caring for a newborn is really hard. It's hard to write about, though. There is so much pressure to only express bliss and joy at the arrival of your newborn, that I feel like expressing any kind of ambivalence or frustration makes me a pariah, or at minimum suffering from postpartum depression. But I can't be the only woman who feels this way. I find it very hard to believe that all woman give birth and meet the challenge with unendling love and patience.