Our society is really moving toward being sympathetic and understanding toward SAH parents or spouses/partners, which is definitely something we’ve needed for quite a long time, and it’s definitely a positive thing.  However, as with most things related to humans, it tends to be one or the other with no balance. I really do feel for people – men or women – who stay home all day and take care of everything around the house, including cooking, cleaning, bill-paying, shopping (for necessities, not for leisure!), family time management, errands, repairs, etc. I know it’s a lot of work and it’s a job I don’t think I’d do well. But it’s also true that people who work outside of the home work hard, too, and are just as exhausted in the evening as the ones who stay home and chase after kids (or dogs, or laundry, or whatever!) all day.

The trick is in both parties recognizing that they are both working hard and contributing valuable, necessary pieces to the puzzle we call “family.” Once that recognition is accomplished, both parties need to agree that they BOTH need and deserve down time, and should take steps to ensure that happens on a regular basis.

Also – and this is important!  …No score-keeping. “Well, I took out the garbage the last three weeks and you haven’t helped clean up dinner since last Tuesday. AND I’ve done all the laundry the last two weeks because you’ve been working late.”  Or… “I sat through two committee meetings today and had to get my lunch from the vending machine. Plus I got a project from my boss that’s going to require way more time than he thinks so all my other projects are going to fall behind.”

Both parties should feel comfortable sharing how their work is going (wherever that takes place – home or office), but neither should gripe at the other one, expecting special treatment because their situation is “harder” or “worse” or “more exhausting.” And both parties should offer empathy for the stress the other feels about their work.

Now that Husband and I are working hard in different ways (up until Christmas we were both full-time office employees and now he is a SAH dad while I continue to work full time in an office), I’m trying really hard to make sure that I don’t act as though I’m more deserving of evening rest than he is, just because he’s been at home all day.  And I won’t lie: It’s hard.  Especially now that I’m in my third trimester and all I want to do when I get home is indulge myself in a lounge on the couch with a tasty beverage…and, if I was rich, I’d have a massage therapist waiting for me with a cushy table and lavender-scented oils.

But I have many friends who are SAH parents, and I’ve heard the stories my husband has about the energy-sapping activities in which he indulges Little Miss throughout the day.  So as soon as I open the door when I get home, before I even drop my purse or kick off my heels, I immediately drop the “Professional Woman” title and once again become “Mommy.”  And to be honest…I really wouldn’t want it any other way.

The only problem: I was used to buying JC Penney bras at $25.  Lane Bryant charges at least $40 for theirs, and in some cases as much as $60.  I have, over the years, come to understand that this is normal; in fact, a lot of bras (such as VS) run even higher, into the $80-90 range.  So when I DO buy bras I a) wait for the BOGO sales, and b) wear my bras until they literally fall apart.

So when I got pregnant and realized I’d need to buy nursing bras I kind of freaked out a little bit.  It’s hard to find nursing bras that offer the support a large-busted woman such as myself needs, so it was unlikely I’d be wearing the nursing bras once I stopped breastfeeding.  This time around I am once again balking at spending that kind of money…so when a friend of mine brought this to my attention, I got quite interested.  I’m no pro, but I think this type of sewing is something even I can manage.  Awesome.

But wait.

Let me explain.

You see, these tattoos aren’t permanent.  They’re applied using water and last anywhere from 5 days to a couple of weeks – whichever you need – and can be personalized with whatever colours and images you (or your child) prefers.  Still not convinced?  How about this: They’re made for you to write your phone number on so that if your child was to wander off at an amusement park, store, or zoo, anyone who found them could call you and reunite you and your child.

When I was two years old I was out shopping with my parents in a large department store.  Bored and curious (like any toddler in a store that doesn’t contain toys), I crawled under a rack of men’s clothing and created my own instant fort.  When my mom turned around to check on me, I was gone.  As a mother myself now, I can actually feel the panic I’m sure she felt all those years (okay, not TOO many) ago.  Fortunately they discovered me within moments, but I’m sure to them it felt like an eternity.

A few years later, when I was bout six, we were at a zoo in a large city, and before we left my mom wanted to check out the gift shop.  I was careful to stay near her but at some point, I looked up to show something to my mom and the woman I’d been following around was not my mother.  Suddenly frantic, I tore around the store, just about ready to cry.  Finally, when I was about ready to lose it, I dashed up the stairs to the balcony level of the shop.  There were my parents, browsing the books about animals.  It was as if they hadn’t missed me yet.  And maybe they hadn’t.  I actually don’t know.

The point I’m trying to make is that kids, even when they’re trying hard to be safe with their parents, get lost, disoriented, or distracted.  It’s possible that the best intentioned family can get separated in a frighteningly busy place.  If your child’s arm bears a permanent record of your cell phone number, there’s an easy way for someone to help you find each other again.

And for that, I’d tattoo my child.

Sometimes I feel that the best description of motherhood I can think of is, “constant guilt.”

I think as mothers we feel that guilt more than our parents or certainly our grandparents ever did because of how society has changed. We’re expected to be superhumans who can successfully juggle working, raising perfectly balanced, well-developed angels, serving as wife/partner and keeping our significant others happy, and still somehow finding time for ourselves. That IS NOT POSSIBLE. You cannot possibly be a stellar career woman AND the best mom in town. Oh, and you’re supposed to look amazing, too. Hair done, makeup on, fit body, stylish clothes 24/7. The idealized concept of what today’s modern western woman looks like is completely unrealistic, and it follows us from the time we’re 8 or so until we get too old and senile to care. It’s ridiculous the standards we as women try to hold ourselves to – and only sets us up for extreme disappointment in ourselves. If we can sit down at the end of the day and say, “My family is happy and healthy,” we’re doing it right. End of story.

Even if you’re wearing the same sweatpants your kid tossed yogurt on at 7 a.m.

~ William Attwood

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Some people are writers.  Among those are people who write news articles, human interest stories, novels, self-help books, introspective or devotional books, cookbooks, and…blogs.  Some are even really good at it.  I’ve never written a book (that was published or which I even attempted to publish) but  I have written news articles, devotional thoughts, and…blogs.  The first two I’m fairly accomplished at…but the latter – oh that elusive skill to writing powerful, entertaining, worth-the-read-in-your-busy-day blogs.

I just don’t have it.

Today’s featured blogger (see below) does.

Mother of Brothers does.

My friend D does.

Single Dad Laughing does.

And so many more I get overwhelmed thinking of all the awesome blogs I could be reading if I did nothing else with my life but read about how to enjoy/improve/refocus/make the most of it.  And I thought I could add to that?!?  What was I thinking?

So today I leave you with the brilliancy of someone who does a much better job at contributing to the blogosphere than I ever could: Glennon Melton – mother, wife, and future awesome old person.  She “penned” this incredible gets-you-thinking piece about what it’s like to try and seize the moment every moment of every day while parenting.  I think her point of view is refreshing, honest, and clear-headed.

Starting now I’m taking a break from this blog for a while…it’s time for me to admit that my blogging skills are mediocre at best and crap at reality.  So, with sincere apologies to the two and a half people who have been kindly following this blog for unknown reasons, I sign off here for a while…until I find someone else worthy of being shared with an already severely overcrowded cyber world.  For a little while I’ll spend some time practicing over at my other, more personal, friends and family only blog, and if I ever get one right, I’ll repost it here.

Thanks for flying with us and we hope you’ll choose us next time you decide to check out a newbie blog.

Cheers!

Image via Wikipedia

When Husband and I started talking about having another baby, Little Miss was about one.  It took nearly another year for us to be financially secure enough to seriously consider actually going for it.  Three months later…voila!  Baby #2 was successfully created.

Once the initial excitement wore off (showing the positive test to Husband, texting pictures of the test results to two friends, squealing over pee on a stick, telling our families, etc.), the apprehension set in.  How could this pregnancy possibly be as exciting as the first?  How could I feel that special sensation of, “wow, I’m growing a human!” when it was all “old news.”  None of it was new.  Plus, I was distracted by caring for and spending time with my toddler.

Before long, I was already feeling guilty.  I felt like I couldn’t love this pregnancy as much – that I couldn’t love this baby as much.  And that made me a terrible mother…didn’t it?

About three short weeks after we found out we were pregnant we decided to take the plunge and move 250 miles across the state so I could take a new job – a better-paying, different-experience, more-responsibility job.  My focus immediately shifted from Baby to finishing projects at work, making lists for my superiors of things that needed to be covered, putting together a procedures manual for my replacement, packing, finding a place to stay until I found a new home for my family in our new city, working logistics with my new employer, putting our house on the oh-so-pathetic market, and saying goodbye to friends.

When I finally arrived at my temporary lodgings and began my new routine at my new job…it hit me that I had kind of forgotten I was pregnant.

What kind of woman forgets she’s carrying precious cargo?!?  What kind of mother forgets about her child?!?  A terrible one, that’s what.  Now I was convinced I was a bad mother.  And I cried (thank you, pregnancy hormones).  I was aware of every single second when I was pregnant with Little Miss.  I’d wake up in the middle of the night and think, “Wow, I’m gonna be a mommy!”  It was surreal and I treasured every moment.  This time I felt like I was cheating both my child and myself of special prenatal bonding, and I hated that feeling.

Then this week happened.

Two days ago I tried on three pairs of pants before finding a pair that fit.  None of my button-up pants work anymore and I’ve officially dug the maternity pants out of storage.  I also came to the conclusion that I needed more long-sleeved maternity shirts (during my pregnancy with Little Miss I didn’t need maternity clothes until my third trimester…which was in late spring and early summer) because I was beginning to have a hard time not flashing people my growing belly throughout the day.

Then, the crowning moment.

Yesterday I attended a workshop for my new job.  I was seated at a round table with several other people listening to the presenter (who was quite interesting) and taking notes.  At one point I leaned back in my chair and just stared down at my belly.  I was admiring its roundness and how I actually felt and looked pregnant, when suddenly – BUMP!  Miss Bennett whollopped on me from the inside, making my belly bulge just to the right of my belly button.  An instant grin appeared on my face, and my heart sped up to what felt like four times it’s normal speed.  I got butterflies in my stomach as I watched to see if it would happen again.  It suddenly occurred to me to tell Husband, so I texted him that I’d just seen my belly move thanks to Miss Bennett.  He seemed excited, too.

Then it hit me.  I am thrilled about this baby.  I am excited to meet her and hold her and raise her and see the woman she’ll become.  I love her no less than Little Miss – and I haven’t even met her yet.

They always say your heart grows as your family does, and that it’s inexplicable and seemingly impossible, but somehow you love each of your children the same…with all your heart.  I know I have yet to experience this fully, but that precious, precious moment showed me that I honestly have nothing to fear.  Yes, this pregnancy is different.  And yes, this baby is different.  But I am not a terrible mother.

And I can’t wait to meet Miss Bennett.

“My oldest is almost four and I love each stage more than the last!! It is so fun to watch him grow and learn. This weekend we were playing outside and he was using his toy lawn mower and I see him stop and closely examine the grass he just ‘cut.’ Soon I hear, ‘Mommmmy, why does the grass look the same after I mowed it?’ I had to explain that the lawn mower is a toy. He responded, ‘Then why do I do this?!?’”