Category Archives: Motherhood

When You Grow Up

Many of us spend much of our younger years sweating over what we’re going to do or be when we grow up. It’s all focused on our work. As if our work is a testament to our life and who we are as a person. I often wonder if this is a very American thing. When children in France or Italy are growing up, are they sweating over what they’re going to be? Do they have crises in college if they haven’t yet declared a major? Are they panicking when they graduate if they don’t know how their major will apply to their work?

And what does this say about us, that we put so much weight into our identity associated with our work?

Regardless of what it says, I think this is such a big reason why I, and many KT BFFs have had such an identity crisis since becoming moms. All of a sudden, work matters a whole lot less. That’s not to say we don’t take pride in our work but what used to seem so important and life shattering seems to pale in comparison to the importance of raising a child and teaching them to be a good person. After years of being identified with what we’ve accomplished professionally, suddenly it comes to a screeching halt and we are most consumed with what we’re accomplishing personally…this job that never ends….raising this little one.

A KT friend just emailed me and told me about this fabulous luncheon she had yesterday with Dee Dee Myers and many other professional women. Dee Dee Myers is personal working hero of mine considering she was the first female White House press secretary…and for Clinton, nonetheless. She has a new book out “Why Women Should Rule The World” and I saw her on Colbert and knew I had to have this book. I mean, doesn’t that title say enough?

Anyhow, apparently one of the women at this luncheon made a comment that really struck me – even though I wasn’t in the room. She said:

“We (women) are told that we need to grow up,  go to college and get a good job.  But then once we have children,  no one tells us what to do after that.”

 

Amen sister. Let me add to that and say – we are met with criticism and constant media banter and judgement over whatever it is we do decide to do after that – working too much? putting your child in childcare too early? not working and disappointing future generations of women? Need I go on?

 

I guess my job is to teach my daughter that when she grows up, the whole picture matters, not just the financial and professional one. Beyond that, all I can say is I plan to read Dee Dee’s book.

 

 

Potty Training…it’s a jungle out there

For those of you who have experienced the peaks and valleys of potty training a toddler, you know it is a world rife with drama, unpredictability and surprises.

One of the biggest surprises for me, personally, is that it seems they don’t actually pee as much as you think they do. Recall all those crazy amounts of diapers you were changing when your little one was a baby? I think it’s a branding thing – you never really realize how much that changes as they age until you start potty training and realizing – they pee less than we do – you’re just still caught up in what they were like as babies.

But see, potty training is not for the weak at heart. As you might guess, the little ones, though not peeing as frequently as one would think, do not have the ability to just – well – hold it. So with the beautiful new world of not needing diapers comes a deep fear and anxiety over – what’s going to happen if/when they have to pee somewhere and we aren’t anywhere near a toilet?

And so, you venture off on each new trip on a wing and a prayer, hoping for the best, dreading the worst, praying that you did really remember to pack an extra pair of pants and socks and underware before you dashed out the door with said toddler.

One of the most hilarious stories I’ve heard recently about potty training is from a friend whose daughter also attends my DD’s school. They were busy shopping at Buy Buy Baby one weekend at the onset of potty training, my friend turned her head for one second, only to look back and realize her DD whipped down her pants, sat down on one of the training potties in BBB and was peeing in that potty.

OK – HILARIOUS. This is one of the things I love most about little ones – they are so literal. There is a potty, I have to go pee pee, ok then – perfect! No filter. Just all practicality. Everything is black and white to them. Love it.

On the flip side of less successful potty training stories, I will tell you what happened to us this weekend. My DD has been potty trained since January and despite my anxiety, we really haven’t had any accidents…until…..Saturday.

Enter a child just recovering from being sick…on top of missing her morning nap….on top of being totally preoccupied. See – when the toddler gets distracted and busy doing something totally fun and exciting – they do not have time to worry about going potty, eating, or drinking. If only I could get this consumed with something other than shoes or celebrity gossip.

Anyhow – we had to take DD to get special sneakers and inserts to correct her foot-turning in/tumbling a lot issue. We left the shoe store and went into a toy store very quickly for a birthday present. DD was in her brand new practical (and boring) white $80 tennis shoes not five full minutes, I was paying at the registered, glanced up at DD and noticed “the stance.”

In other words – she was one step away from putting her hands over her crotch like little kids are prone to doing. My stomach filled with dread and then my husband made eye contact with me – in a look of horror – as we both realized that DD has just peed all through her pants, her brand new shoes and on the carpet of this toy store.

He looked at me frozen in time. He was a man immobilized.

Me, being an action-oriented kind of gal, I mouthed “Get out of here! Go to my car!”

And he swooped her up and literally ran out without a look back.

I stood there, feeling so relieved that no one in the store could identify me as the parent to the child who was so busy playing trains that she completely pissed all over the place.

This was new territory to me.
Do I tell the store that my child just urinated everywhere like a zoo animal?

Or do I run out after I sign the credit card receipt – just as quickly as my husband did, after quickly noticing that said carpet is very absorbent and a dark shade anyway – so no one would even notice unless they stood in that spot barefoot?

You decide what I did.

And kittens – don’t ever say I didn’t warn you – it’s a jungle out there with potty training.

Happy Birthday To Me

Hello Kittens –

I’m so sorry that I’ve been MIA the past week or so. Work has been eating up all my time, sadly. But today is my birthday…and though I don’t look a day over 23, I’m 33 today. I like this number, I feel good about this number. It has a good ring to it. Good things will happen in this 33rd year. But, really, the best way for me to start off a new year is to have a few rants. I mean – what gal doesn’t feel better when she gets a few things off her chest?

With that, I would first like to complain about the DVR. I believe the DVR is ruining my life.

Why? You ask.

Well, let me tell you.

As you know if you are blessed (and cursed) with this technology in your home, if you just tuned out, you can rewind.

Get caught up in your thoughts, debating the pros and cons of a skinny cow vs. quart of ben and jerry’s for dessert? Then realize you missed a few crucial minutes of “Lost” – ok, then, rewind.

Get caught up reading “Star” or “In Touch” – rewind, fast forward, whatever you want, you can control what you know when your mind wanders into the deep territories of food, celeb gossip and spring fashion, as mine does.

Always a deep thought going on here in KT.

But see, the trouble is, you can’t rewind or pause anything else in your life, as I’ve learned.

So suddenly you realize your husband is 15 minutes into telling you something really important about his day and while your important thoughts on “did i really put enough cheese on top of that burrito? and do we have enough in case i want more?” – are also valid – well – you can’t pause or rewind your husband.

Or better yet, fast forward to the end bit about work and get back to important matters.

HA!

So this plays out in my life frequently, it seems. I can’t rewind a work convo, I can’t rewind the radio, I can’t pause, I am just, well, screwed.

And I blame the DVR. The DVR is enhancing my adult ADD. What is a gal to do?

Fortunately, nodding reassuringly along with a few “Oh, definitely” and “absolutely you should be fired up about that” have helped me skate through thus far. But things aren’t looking good…we all know I’m not getting any younger…and my DVR isn’t going anywhere….so this predicament is bound to just get worse. I really can’t be held responsible for it. I blame the DVR.

My second rant is against sidewalks in Washington, DC. Perhaps all over this country. I am most familiar with sidewalks in Washington DC.

I think it’s time for some women to get involved in the planning and execution of the cracks between sidewalks because no one who has ever worn a kitten heel has ever built a DC sidewalk. If they had, they would know that the cracks are just wide enough for your beautiful kitten heel to get caught and torn up. Not to mention the embarrassment of getting caught and trying to walk forward and not going anywhere.

Do I smell a conspiracy?

Are the urban planners in bed with the shoe repairmen in this town?

Is it another example of the Bush administration trying to keep women down and certainly dowdy in practical pumps?

Can I get more of a tax rebate to cover the expense of getting my shoes fixed..or better yet..having to replace them because I look like a poor kid who just graduated from college walking into the office with ripped up heels? What gives, sidewalk maker? Cut a gal a break.

And finally, I am not really ranting against my DD, I am almost proud, though tired. My DD is almost 2.5 years old and her communication skills continue to expand and improve daily. We all know this is a double edged sword. Take, for instance, our doctor’s visit on Friday.

Doctor enters the room, DD immediately tells him she has an owee. He asks her where and she says “Ears.”

I was quite pleased. It was the first time she had communicated so clearly to a doctor what was wrong with her. And it turns out, it was her first ear infection. Fast forward 20 minutes later to the enormous tantrum in the foyer of the doctor’s office and the nurse who ends up helping me because my child refuses to leave or put her coat on. At this moment, why can’t I use the DVR to fast forward my life?

Then progress to the 20 minutes in the parking lot of her telling me she is “not” getting to the “Carseat” because she “wants to sit only on mommy’s lap.”

I mean, I get it. Everyone wants to be close to me but I’m a law abiding citizen, not Britney, so into the car seat she eventually went. Meanwhile I aged 10 years and the parking lot attendant didn’t charge me for parking out of pity, trust me, I could see it in his eyes.

Then came our entrance to the CVS parking lot 15 minutes later. My dread of having to get her out of the carseat to get the prescription to only have to load her back in after the ordeal we just went through only escalated when I opened her car door and she looked at me and said very steadily “I’m not going anywhere.”

Secretly, I loved it. I mean – who does this kid think she is and god love her sass. At least I don’t have some lame door mat of a kid.

But she sure as hell isn’t making anything easy along the way.

With that kittens, I won’t make you wait so long to hear from me again, and please, send all the rest of my gifts to my home, it’s so much trouble having to make so many trips to my car today.

Parental Torture

Many of you who know me and my darling Daughter, know that I am the mother of world’s most prolific drooler. Though she is coming on 2.5 and has had a full mouth of teeth for quite some time now, she still drools like nothing you’ve ever seen.

Lose sight of her?

Just follow the trail of drool puddles left behind.

Going out with her?

Did you remember to pack 6 bibs to keep up with her as she burns through drenching each one with her drool?

Many around us are left wondering if she will still be drooling in her Prom pictures.  I mean – again – we are not talking about a baby who is teething anymore. So it’s just well – strange.

The truth is, like any other parent, I think my kid is the cat’s meow and totally adorable, so if her one outward flaw is the she drools a lot – so be it.

But you must know that I’ve always wondered if there is a reason she drools so much…much less…will it – actually – ever end?

Drumroll please…I now know the answer!

Today she was evaluated for her gross motor skills because both of her feet turn in when she walks/runs and she tumbles a lot. As it turns out, she is not lagging at all in her gross motor skills but her foot turning in is related to her muscle tone.

For any of you out there with less than stellar muscle tone, fret not – don’t blame it on that tub of Ben and Jerry’s you might eat with some regularity. Instead – blame it on your parents!

Seems that we are born with the kind of muscle tone we are going to have. Some have low tone, some have high, firm tone.

My sweet cherub has low tone – so her feet pronate and she hyper-extends her knees. But wait, there’s more –

This is why she drools!

We need to help her strengthen the muscles around her jaw.

So, how does one do that?
PARENTAL TORTURE.

We were told today by a medical professional that we must go out and purchase blow toys for our toddler. You know – like fake little horns and harmonicas – so she can blow through them to her heart’s content – and this will help strengthen her muscle tone – and maybe she won’t be drooling in her Prom pictures.

Can you kill me now?

I mean – I always viewed musical toys for toddlers as gifts that grandparents get your child for Christmas as payback – to find pleasure in watching you be tortured after you tortured them for so many years. Or that people with no kids buy because they don’t know any better but have good intent – so you just make a note to self to remember to return the favor if they ever have kids.

But now – now – a medical professional tells me I need to go buy said parental torture devices to help the development of my child.

Lord have mercy.

Tylenol and a stiff drink, anyone?