If the expectant mom is miles away, keep it simple by mailing them right from Amazon. She will get them in two days, and you won’t have to hit the post office. I seriously dread going to the post office.
One minute I find myself ogling at every little thing my baby does, talking baby talk with the best of them, and the next minute I am incredibly frustrated because my kids are screaming while I brush my teeth for the first time that day (at 2pm – hello coffee breath). I swear, I often feel like I am the emotional little monster in the house.
But I hope no one confuses my moments of frustration with my true feelings about my children and motherhood, and the joy I get from those precious moments of total sweetness in between the chaos. My babies absolutely know I’m crazy; they also know I am absolutely crazy about them.
Have you been on that roller coaster today?
If so, below is one recent example you’ll relate to, compliments of social media.
There comes a time in every parent’s life where bowel movements are as common a conversation topic as discussing the weather.
After almost ten years of marriage and two young kids, think you can guess the hottest topic is in our household?
If you guessed POOP, you are correct! And if you are disgusted that I would even type that word, you clearly do not have a young child.
Honestly, I don’t know when the turning point came. The point where I lost all modesty on the subject.
When the midwife was wiping my *ss during the birth of our beautiful daughter?
During the newborn stage when we were sleep deprived and changing 10+ diapers a day?
When our first daughter went through a phase where she would reach into her diaper and smear poop on her sheets?
When we potty trained our twenty month old and lost all dignity by referring to ourselves as “Poop Coaches” and offering “Poop Treats?” FYI Candy canes and popsicles are our aresinel of choice.
The first time we sent a text message that included a picture of our child’s “achievement”? I’m embarrassed to add that these texts have gone to family and friends at times.
At a recent dinner party where we conspired with friends to hide Miralax in our children’s sippy cups?
There have been so many defining poop moments, I really can’t say.
But the point is, there comes a time in every parent’s life where bowel movements are as common a conversation topic as discussing the weather.
And unfortunately the talk isn’t limited to the four walls of our house anymore. It’s at daycare, work parties, over a nice glass of wine…not to mention living forever on this blog.
And even for me, someone that lost all discretion awhile ago, a new low was recently achieved. Yesterday an acquaintance at church casually asked how I was doing.
Without thinking I responded, “Pretty good, but my daughter just had an explosive diaper on my lap.”
I sent that sentence out like it was a casual text update. After the words left my mouth, I was instantly remorseful. I crossed the line. I dumped my poop talk on someone that was not in the same life stage. That is how normal poop conversations have become. I can no longer see the social line until I’ve crossed it.
Forgive me for having limited social graces these days, but parenting young kids has a way of making you feel like a human Kleenex. I had a shower yesterday morning, but two hours later it felt like it had been a week. In just a few hours I had been spit up on multiple times, wiped boogers with my sleeve, cleaned out our toddler potty five times, changed a few diapers and a blowout onsie, cleaned up all the dog poop in the yard, and had my two year old’s naked butt sitting on me while I tried to get a home workout in. None of which was out of the norm. It was all a typical Sunday.
I don’t know if there is a point to all this, other than I felt like sharing what was on my mind. And these days, my mind has gone to mush. Brown, stinky mush.
Anyone else in that marital stage where you talk as much potty talk as we do?!
For twenty eight hours a week, I became the leading lady at the new topless bar in town. I had no choice. The baby had to eat.
The day my daughter was born, I started a new job. For twenty eight hours a week, I became the leading lady at the new topless bar in town. I had no choice. The baby had to eat.
It is true. Some people picture maternity leave as one long vacation. But women everywhere are actually busy doing some of the most demanding and thankless jobs during this time – sustaining human life. In my case that meant nursing, but I assume the hours are similar for moms using formula. There is plenty of work to fill the hours we used to use at our real jobs.
While being the leading lady at the topless bar is not less significant than a fancy job that you need a degree for; you’re not going to get paid the same. People (*husband*) may refer to you as the “Boob Lady.” Your shifts will be mandated every three hours by a loud, tiny boss. You’ll suddenly have to become a logistical genius to go on a mommy vacation (Target) for more than an hour at a time.
I am not complaining. I am just speaking in facts. Those first couple months a baby eats around eight times a day, for thirty minutes per session (prepping, feeding, clean-up). Each week the math works out to about twenty eight hours (during the newborn stage), with no days off.
In my experience, everything got a little easier with the second child. Overall, I had a better routine down. But, it still took at least thirty minutes to execute. Every three hours I would change baby, nurse and burp baby, freeze the let down milk I had collected and clean the collection cup (read how I’ve managed to build a serious freezer stash with ZERO pumping), then rock baby back to sleep or let her play on the mat.
Now that it is my second time working at the topless bar in two years, I understand that the role is temporary. My job description will change over time. “Boob Lady” doesn’t have to be my lifelong identity. However, it is a significant part of who I am right now.
And for those that have ever wondered what a new mom does with all her free time during maternity leave, come visit her at work. On the couch, where you tip her in foot massages and quality dark chocolate. **Shirts are always optional.**
Like what you’ve found on the blog? I’m always sharing life updates and humor on Facebook and Insta. Join the family! You can also buy my latest children’s books here.