I Never....

I think pretty much anyone who is a mom, either stay-at-home or working, can attest to the fact that in the days before having a kid you form lots of opinions of the things you will and will not do when you are a parent. Most of these opinions are formed through observation of other people's children...your friends, your family, random obnoxious children in restuarants and grocery stores. And then you have a baby, and then you bring it home. And then it grows up a bit. And suddenly you are doing alllll those terrible things that you swore you'd never do. And you suddenly realize how terribly judgemental you, in your pre-child days, really were.

Because being a parent is crazy-hard, even when its not, if that makes sense. You have to keep them safe and alive, nurture them, listen to advice from everyone from your parents to your friends to the checkout girl at the grocery store. When you sit at home with them, you're not doing enough and when you're out and about you're overwhelming them. When you take time for yourself you feel guilty, but when you don't you feel lonely. When you leave them with grandparents you miss them the second you turn your back, but when you are with them 24-7 for days in a row you dream of "adult time". When they do something bad, you feel like the world's worst parent.

The inspiration for this post came from 2 sources. One--another blog I read had a "top ten" list of "I get it" moments that moms have. Two--this afternoon, I had to pee. As often happens, my little shadow accompanied me. He noted that my pants were down and said "Your pants on the ground, Mom?" A few months ago, there was an American Idol audition that became kind of famous...and old guy singing/rapping a song called "Pants on the Ground" which basically consisted of lyrics like "Pants on the ground, pants on the ground...lookng like a fool with your pants on the ground!"

So what do I do? Grab little Gabey's hands and start dancing (from a sitting position--remember, I'm peeing) and singing "Pants on the Ground". He sang too, and tried to pull his pants down, and we both laughed and then I finished up and we went about our day.

And so, this is my life: singing "Pants on the Ground" with another person, while peeing. Who'd've thunk it? Among the other things I never imagined myself doing....

1. Having a Kid Obsessed with TV. Oh no. Not me! I hate TV! Okay, not really, but I sort of view TV as something you do when there is literally nothing else to do. And, Im a stay-at-home-mom. So of course my kid was going to spend his days doing arts and crafts and playing with Baby Einstein puppets all. day. long. Right??

Maybe for the first year. But then, he started to show an interest in the big beautiful box of entertainment. Then interest became an obsession. I capitalized on this, justifying it as freedom to take a shower, clean the house, Facebook--I mean, pay bills on the computer, uninterupted. And before I knew it my child was addicted to television--anyone who knows him is well aware of this fact. At our recent Dunwoody weekend I heard him no less than 50 times proclaim "I need my TV"...half of the times no one was even listening, he was just talking to himself. How is this possible!!!??? Shouldn't MY kid be out collecting pine cones and making sand art??

2. Having a Kid Addicted to the Binky. I swore I wouldn't use one. And if I did, it would be short lived. And never in public, cause that was...trashy. And then I had Gabe. And I brought him home from the hospital. And I gave him a binky. And he never cried. And he slept really well (as long as he had a binky). And he LOVED his binky. And when the time came, he gave it up without a fuss--rather, it was me shedding a tear over the tattered and cracked pieces of plastic that I was throwing away, along with a chapter of babyhood. Are you kidding me???? Binkies rock.

3. Have a Kid Who Refuses to Eat Real Food. Lindsay, pre child: Finds picky children obnoxious. Why would they not eat the perfectly grilled and marinated steak, seasoned potatoes, and olive-oil dusted green beans my husband slaved over? Why are they instead eating a bowl of MY raisin bran for dinner?? Lindsay, post-child: Gogurt and pretzel sticks for dinner? Covers calcium and carbs, sounds good to me.

My dad recently asked why I didn't "make" little Gabe eat dinner. I advised him to try and "make" him eat dinner next month when they take him to the shore. I'm really excited to hear how this goes. Since the list of food G3 will willingly eat includes: peanut butter sandwiches, smoothies, french fries, yogurt (sometimes) and everything in the cake/cookie/candy food group. Recent attempts to "force" him to eat with us have been utter failures of tears, frustration, and wasted food. Make the kid a separate meal of microwaved nuggets and bread and butter? Everyone's happy.

4. Have a Kid Who Hits. After all, aren't kids who hit the product of families who beat each other? Doesn't a hitting kid indicate a child who has no discipline whatsoever?? Isn't a kid who pushes another kid indicative of a future sociopath?

Let's pause while all parents of toddlers have a good chuckle.

I will say my kid is worse than the average in this department. Why is he like this?? I do not know. As I say to him often "Do I hit you? Do I hit Daddy? Does Daddy hit you? Does Daddy hit me?" (The answer to all those questions is NO, fyi.) Although he watches an abnormal amount of television, its all Dora and Sesame Street and last time I checked Bert wasn't smacking Ernie around. We are working on teaching him that this is wrong, but seeing as my little love is moody and intense, with a temper, its taking a long time to get through to him. He is learning impulse control, slowly. But--pretty much all the kids his age hit and push to some degree. It isn't right, and some of them learn that quicker than others. I've learned to roll with it, punish quickly, and be generous with apologies.

5. I Will Never Have a Kid Who Throws Fits in Public. Again, let's all pause to laugh loud and long at this one.

Ever been to a grocery store where a kid was melting down, screaming, kicking, yelling at his mom, and think to yourself "OMG what a nasty child. MY sweet little angel would never do that." If you've thought this, your sweet little angel either hasn't been conceived yet or is under the age of 4 months. They all do it, and you never, ever know when its coming (even though, of course, its usually your own fault for hauling them out at naptime, or with a fever, or after a strenuous playdate). Yep, there is no greater feeling than trying to soothe a tantruming child that you'd much rather throttle while 500 pairs of judgemental eyes (and probably 20 pairs of sympathetic been-there-done-that eyes) watch you. Don't think it won't happen to you. It will.

6. My Kid Will NOT Eat Fast Food. And when we go out to dinner, he can eat normal food like we do. Um, right. If we go out to dinner, and take Gabey? I'll get him whatever he damn well pleases, whatever keeps him happiest longest. French fries and ice cream?? You got it. Happy kid=happy mom=better parent. That should be a no-brainer, really.

7. Anyone Who Doesn't Breastfeed is Just Lazy. I will still proclaim that I think that breastfeeding is the best for babies. And that it should at least be attempted. And if I ever have another child I will definitely attempt to b.f. But as someone who did this for only 19 days before quitting, I will never, ever view another mom's decision to give up on breastfeeding.

Why, you ask? I think for some moms and babies it comes naturally. A baby with a strong suck reflex and a mom with a good milk supply can usually travel down this path with few, if any problems. For me, the first 6 days were like that. And then it started to hurt. And then little Gabey wouldn't really eat much. And then I tried to pump with a handpump (never, ever attempt this, ITS BRUTAL!!) which yieled next to nothing. And then it was suggested that I supplement him. Which led to an even weaker suck reflex since he was fuller. But the pediatrician was concerned that he was losing weight, so not supplementing was not an option. Many emails were exchanged between me and a lactation consultant named Jill, my mother, and other friends who had successfully breastfed. Of course, they all told me completely different things as there is no one way to make this work. Pumping was encouraged to build up my milk supply, which was dwindling. Pumping only served to help speed along the process of cracked and bleeding boobs. Each time it was time to try and feed G3 again, I would literally dig my nails into my palms to keep from screaming because it hurt so bad.

Then he got thrush, and so did I. Which equals more pain. Still, I perservered until the 19th day, when I sat down to nurse and nothing came out of one side. It was my birthday and the 19th day at home trying to feed an infant from my body. It wasn't working. So I "gave up" and gave him formula. I suffered none of the painful after-effects of stopping breastfeeding, which led me to believe that my milk supply was pitiful to begin with. And G3 immediately started to gain weight, and he was happier, and he slept longer stretches, and now Gabe could help me with the feeding, and I could go out in public without having to run home every two hours (b/c there was no way that I could have managed to b.f. in a public place--it was a major process just to get my bra unhooked.)

So that's what worked for us and anyone who might scoff behind my back and say "Hmmpfh she didn't even try, she only did it for 19 days" can go jump in a lake. My kid grew just fine, he is rarely sick, we bonded plenty, and my poor, poor boobs were saved from a fate of becoming flat and flabby and battered.

I could keep going with variations of these seven things I swore I would never do, and of course have. I'd never let my kid eat meals in the living room. I'd never let him watch extra TV so I could facebook/blog/check the mommy board longer. I'd never have a glass of wine in his presence (hahaha!). I'd never keep him out 3 hours past his bedtime because I was having fun at a friend's house. I'd never feed him candy while shopping to keep him from whining. I'd never put him to bed without a bath, or brushing his teeth, or without a story.

But you know what? He's happy. He's healthy. He's loved. There's 4000 million things you are "supposed" to do...and I figure we're doing about 100 of those so that's ok. We don't let serious offenses go without consequences. He's not malnourished. We don't beat him and lock him in his room for days without food. We rush to aid when he really, really needs us. We'd give him the shirt off our back, our drink, a hug, sit outside with him way longer than we want to just so he can dig in the dirt until he's done. We'll watch a Thomas the Train movie from start to end. We'll hold him in the middle of the night if he wakes up crying.

Really, he's got it made. And so do we.