Category Archives: Motherhood

Baby Boot Camp

Gather round kittens. Today, I am going to be like Dorothy and pull back the curtain to reveal the Wizard of Oz.

See, what I am going to write about is old news for those of you with kids. So you can just read along and shout out a “Hell yeah” or “Oh, no, you didn’t!” – if you want too. But for those of you without children, particularly those of you who are pregnant, what I am about to reveal to you is the God’s honest truth.

First – you will read it and think I am being dramatic.

Second – you will think “oh, that won’t happen to me.”

But what’s the first rule with fight club? Whenever you think “oh, that won’t happen to me” – it will. And soon. And probably worse than I’ve just described. And for the purposes of full disclosure, even though my child is 19 months, I continue to fall victim to the “Oh, that won’t happen to me.”

Apparently I forget my own advice. And about life with a new baby, I never dramatize for affect. Trust me. I wouldn’t dare because it is a difficult time.

So what we are going to talk about today is what I will not-so-fondly refer to as BOOT CAMP.

Baby Boot Camp. In fact, the very reason yours truly is not yet pregnant again is because well, it’s hard to forget baby boot camp.

First – Baby Boot Camp begins the first day you arrive home from the hospital and continues until around 12 weeks of age.

See, the first mistake is this. The first mistake is that each one of us has gone through our very own first pregnancy – and during that 9-10 months, all anyone cares about is YOU. And frankly, all you care about is you. Sure, you walk around thinking about baby and imagining baby – but see, you don’t have to DO anything FOR baby yet. So it’s still really about you.

And so, as a preggo, you think being pregnant is hard. And sure, it’s hard, don’t get me wrong. It’s no walk in the park, particularly once you round the corner of 34 weeks. And getting up to pee every 1 hour or 2 hours is hideous. And your back hurts. And you are cranky. And you haven’t seen your feet in a while. Etc. etc.

But see. Kittens.

The truth is, that ain’t hard. It’s merely the warm-up.

I say this to you – BE PREGNANT and stay that way AS LONG AS YOU CAN. Everyone loves a good, long warm-up. Even if they can’t get on the floor and do a downward facing dog.

Because what you forget in that period of time is this – your baby is IN you – therefore you don’t have to BE a mom. You don’t have to set aside your deep need for sleep or a shower or some peace and quiet – because your baby can’t bother you beyond some kicks. So trust me. Pregnancy ain’t nothing on new mommyhood.

Sadly, the hard part ain’t over once you are done with delivery. Friends, the hard part, has just begun (well, not in the hospital. take full advantage of the team of nurses around you that answer to your and baby’s beckon call).

Because once you leave, that is what baby boot camp is all about. It’s about never knowing the misery of ongoing perpetual sleep deprivation until you have a baby. You think you know before you have the baby. But you don’t. You actually have absolutely no idea and frankly, be glad for it.

It is truly a form of torture because it doesn’t ease up until somewhere between 12-16 weeks. The problem is you don’t know WHEN it is going to ease up.

That is the problem.

When you are exercising, you know WHEN you will stop exercising (for me, as soon as I’m done reading the latest In Touch).

When you are suffering through a test, you know WHEN it will end (and that you don’t care if you fail).

When you are stuck on a long painful conference call with work, you have a pretty good idea WHEN it will end (if you’re even paying attention instead of emailing).

When you have a newborn that wakes in increments of 1-3 hours all day and all night for months on end, and it is your first child, you don’t know WHEN it will end.

But see – all is not lost. This is why we call it Boot Camp and not a LIFE SENTENCE. Though, of course, you’d look great in an all stripes outfit.

KT is here to first – remind you that if you think I am being dramatic or that it won’t happen to you, then check back with me about 6 weeks after you’ve given birth.

But again – it’s boot camp. It ENDS.

I am here to give you that glimmer of hope to hang your hat on.

Around 5-6 weeks, you will likely wake up at some bizarre and previously considered hideous time like 4-5am, sit up faster than you knew possible, look down and see that your boobies have leaked all over the place and what? What does the clock say? It says 5am?

But you haven’t fed junior since close to midnight.

So then you will nudge your husband and wonder if it’s some Christmas Miracle.

Could you have possibly slept through Junior’s cries? And your husband just quietly got up, fed and burped and changed baby and got him back to sleep while you slept through it all?

So you ask. Because you are a new mom and you don’t have much brain power.

And your husband, confused and more of a blithering idiot than you, of course, did not perform said miracle.

Instead. Your baby did it.

Your sweet beautiful perfect baby just slept that long and gave you almost 6 hours of beautiful sleep. And you, my dear, are a new person.

Then your baby will revert back to his old ways. But then you have the 2 month shots and you learn the beauty of shots and baby Tylenol. It’s almost better than mixing a stiff drink with a valium.

And your baby sleeps – possibly all night.

By now, you are 8 weeks into it and you are starting to really build up stamina. You function beautifully on 4 hours sleep, you think of that as an entire night. You have figured out a good schedule and you feel like more than just a milking cow. You know when you have windows of time to run some errands with baby to avoid screaming fits. You have talked, thought and stressed about poop more than your previous non-parental self would care to believe.

Life is slowly starting to look up.

So what is my point here?

My point is this – the first 12 weeks of your new life as a parent are like boot camp. You have essentially started a new job, you have no idea what you are doing and you are meant to learn it more hormonally charged and sleep deprived than you knew possible.

I ain’t gonna lie to you. It isn’t all fun. But you have a baby. Along the way, you have a beautiful baby that you love and you are getting to know – and you are starting to discover a new part of you that has been lying dormant all these years – Mom you.

You don’t know Mom you until you have a kid.

And I don’t actually believe you know true and selfless love until you have a baby.

These are the things that make boot camp bearable and why people lose their minds and sign up to do it all over again. The next time with a toddler added to the mix.

And so, I will say this to you – new mommy’s and preggos out there. KT is here for you. KT advises you to refer back to my older posting and “Adopt-A-Mom” – you need lots of help. KT advises you to STOP with the obsessing over everything that “needs to get done” when baby is napping.

Guess what. It doesn’t.

Your husband can help you with the laundry.

No one expects a new mom to write a Thank You note when she should be napping.

And there’s always take-out for dinner. The baby weight will come off you when it’s good and ready – so don’t sweat it in the first 12 weeks  (or 12 months, we don’t judge here on KT, we even cut left-leaning Republican progressive mom’s some slack).

IF you are pregnant – be VERY nice to your Mom. (Or possibly, in some alternate universe, your Mother-in-law.) Because your mother is the one that is going to be your saving grace, when all is said and done, at the end of the day. So – bite your tongue if your mom is annoying you as a preggo. You’ll regret it later.

And finally – don’t call new mom’s. Whoever you are out there. Just retreat if you are moving to a phone. Leave new mom’s the hell alone. They have families and sisters and sisters-in-law and mom’s of their own that are calling them plenty. Trust me. They do. If they want to hear your melodious voice, they will call you. Otherwise, just leave the new mommy alone.

She’s in boot camp training and needs all the quiet time she can find. And just remember, it gets better, the baby sleeps more, and then starts to smile, and laugh, and coo, and sleep more.

And you just might find yourself thinking you actually could do it all over again.

Firecracker

Hello kittens –

We all know that tomorrow is the 4th and while I’ve never been one to wrap myself in a flag and feel all patriotic, I can totally get behind a random day off mid-week, and I LOVE a good fireworks display.

But see, today and tomorrow, I am participating in classicly American activities. And again, while my heart doesn’t beat with pride for country (frankly, I’d rather go back to France and celebrate Bastille Day), I am still excited. See, due to my dad’s job, I grew up overseas. My sisters and I missed out on all things classically American. You can imagine there wasn’t a whole lot of Trick-or-Treating in Jakarta, for example. And sure, we did our best and still would get dressed up and have parades at our school, but it’s still just different.

And so, there are times when I love living in our very American neighborhood because it’s fun to see and do all the things that I wondered about as a kid. Which brings me to tonight and tomorrow.

Tomorrow is the annual July 4th parade in my ‘hood. Now, don’t get all excited, it will last about 10 minutes and consist of little kids walking down the street. But see – my little kid will be a part of it and my neighbor and I are getting together tonight for baby happy hour (yes!!) and we will decorate her daughter’s red wagon with things like pinwheels and little American flags. This is just another example of me feeling like a foreigner, all excited to participate in something these crazy Americans do.

Having baby happy hour – now that I know how to do. But decorating a red wagon with all things patriotic and then pulling my daughter and her friend through a July 4th parade – totally new and fun. Honestly. Can’t wait!

Of course, the bratty side of me wants to bring along anti-Bush signs or maybe a French flag, just to stir things up, but I won’t do that. I won’t go serving Freedom Fries later in the day but I’ll play along.

And so, I wish you all a Happy July 4th. More from me later in the week.

Let’s Go Dutch

During my travels, I read the International Herald Tribune on occasion and I came upon a very fascinating article about Dutch blood pressure women. The piece made the case that while French and Japanese women may never get fat, Dutch women never get depressed. And it was based on some kind of statistically sound study.

Apparently, the Dutch women seem to have it right. Not only do they get a lot of exercise because they bike everywhere (and my parents live in Holland now and have attested that this is, in fact, very much the case). They also eat right but see, there’s more to it. Sure, they can smoke weed whenever they want and prostitution’s legal. But get your mind out of the gutter.

Apparently they have a work-life balance that most of us would dream of. And add to it, they have a home-marital relationship that seems made of fairy tales and jiminy crickit.

It would seem that while most Dutch women do return back to work after having babies, about 70% of them work part-time. In fact, they scoff at women who work full-time. Indeed, they shamelessly admitted to just plain old judging those women. Why would one do that, they wonder? When they have a culture that supports and advocates working but not full-time? And by no means did the piece suggest that they are working part-time so that they can cram in racing their children to various activities during “down time.” Mais non! It just seems that work-life balance and some relaxing quiet time is the way to go when you go Dutch.

Furthermore, there’s the home life.

Apparently Dutch women are bossy and their husbands know this going into marriage. Seems that they also know that the role of a husband is to PERFORM CHORES AT HOME.

Even better -to just simply take the initiative and DO IT. In fact, apparently the men do more work around the house in Holland than the women do. And that’s been the case for centuries. They didn’t need to burn any bras to reach that point. Hell, they figured out that system long before anyone even invented the bra. All of this seemed even more relevant to me after reading yesterday’s Washington Post page A story about happiness in marriage in America and about how the role of doing household chores has increased 15% points in terms of happy marriages since 1990.

SO, in case you think I’ve been smoking a little weed and have everything confused. Let’s review.

First, today is not opposite day.

Second, it’s only 9:22am on a Monday so I most definitely have not been drinking or doing drugs. I barely even had enough coffee this morning to crank out some lies.

Third, I would never lie to you.

So – apparently Dutch women don’t get depressed because they are bossy. Because their husbands do the majority of painful work around the household and just take the initiative to do it, because they work part-time and maintain a good life balance, and because they get lots of exercise with their bikes and wooden shoes.

Oh – and sure, I guess they can just smoke some dope if they’ve had a bad day.

Anyone else thinking of going dutch with me?

Bonjour Kittens

Bonjour my lovelies –

Miss moi? I am back and sadly don’t have much time…work has to go and interfere with my desire to blog away on KT and surf the web and email my friends. How rude, right? How very not-French of my job….

But, I thought I would give you all a taste of moi. Surely you’ve missed moi as it’s been so long. So while I will be brief today, I promise more later this week, I just want to give you some observations from my trip to La France.

First of all, I’ve concluded that going on vacation alone with your husband is a must-do for all mom’s. Even if it feels hard at first. Secondly, I’ve concluded that 5-6 days max is the ideal time. I’ll be honest, for the first 6 days, sure I missed my darling daughter, but trust me, we LOVED afternoon naps, sleeping in, and dilly dallying around town, and long late dinners with lots of wine. That French wine makes everything wonderful. As does the cheese. And the pain au chocolate.

After day 6, I was ready to return to my baby even though I was staring down a weekend in Provence. Actually, I ached for her. But somehow we powered through. I’m thinking the fabulous shops, prolific amounts of wine and cheese and perfect weather with no bugs helped.

So first kittens, a week’s vacation sans enfants is a must-do. Even a long weekend. But if you think you can’t leave your kid or your kid can’t survive without you, well then, you are the first one that ought to be signing up for that break.

But now to La France.

Returning to Europe for the first time as a Mom opened my eyes to things that I assure you, I never noticed or cared about before.

First – my mom was right. Per the usual. The Europeans have WAY better stroller options than we do. When we were shopping for our stroller what feels like 500 years ago, my mother couldn’t believe the dirth of options we have here in the States and how few of the strollers go into a bassinet, fully flat. Well, in Europe, dear kittens, they all do, and they are beautiful and seem to move seemlessly over all the cobblestones. And interestingly, they all were outfitted with beautiful soft fabric for l’enfant.

Is anyone really surprised that the Europeans have better and more stylish strollers than us? Hell, most of us are walking around with European strollers and for all you Bugaboo fans out there, I saw ONE the entire 10 days in France…and of course, it was an American couple.

Second. French baby clothing stores and French maternity fashion.

FABULOUS.

If I had been preggo, I would have shopped my heart out. I did, however, shop my heart out for darling daughter and man was that fun. Adorable outfits, fun color combos that are different from ours (lots of red, lots of polka dots, but much smaller polka dots and of course, an adorable rain coat that is – reversible. Why wouldn’t it be.)

I was also surprised at how family friendly the culture seemed to be. During the day, I noticed new mom’s out and about with their friends, all lunching, babies and strollers everywhere. I never once spotted what seemed to be a nanny. Never. Not once.

We all know that if you walk through the parks and streets of Washington or NY during the day during the week, well, it’s pretty obvious to spot the nannies with the babies. I couldn’t believe that I never ever saw something similar in Paris, Lyon or anywhere in Provence. Occasionally I saw what could have been a Grandmother with the babies. But speaking of parks, the French know how to build them for kids. There were parks everywhere we turned and filled with fabulous large wooden structures to climb all over.

I inquired with our family friends who have been living in France almost ten years now. I asked about returning to work, I asked about maternity leave, I asked all these questions. What I learned is this – the French government pays couples a significant amount of money to have children, they get paid for each kid up to three kids. Note I said “couple” and not “married couples.” I will get into the French political drama over the unmarried couple maybe tomorrow because it was fascinating – but really, it’s so not French to get married.

Our friends thought that you get paid full salary for about 4 months of maternity leave but he wasn’t entirely sure and he said that it is becoming more common for the women to return to work but not nearly the amount as we do here in the good old U.S.

As for the mom’s, they all seemed to have returned to their pre baby bodies even when they were pushing what looked to be a one week old to me. I was amazed. And never once did I ever see evidence of breastfeeding.  I saw lots of mom’s shaking up the bottle, mixing up the formula while they were out to lunch, but never once did I ever see someone breastfeeding. I just saw formula and bottles. And trust me, I was paying attention.

The other thing I noticed was how the French women eat. Again, I was watching. Probably blatantly staring sometimes. They ate everything. They had gobs of bottles of wine (gasp! drinking as a mother! mon dieu!), they had appetizers, bread, entrees, and dessert. And kittens, these women clean their plates.

Why are they still so thin? Is it that they walk and bike everywhere? Does the obsessive smoking help? I don’t know. But these women eat.

And finally, a note on fashion. Flats everywhere in metallics. Lots of black and white, nothing really that blew me away or even really surprised me. Just simple, clean style with flats. And of course a cigarette in one had.