You Learn as you Go...a.k.a. Winging Mommyhood!
So in the past few months, a lot of things that I was told to expect have most certainly come to fruition. I have been peed on, spit up on, there was a crib escape attempt involving a certain Pottery Barn bumper and mostly, everytime I get comfortable in general...something changes. I was forewarned about these events and therefore they are managable. In the midst of the accurate, not so psychic predictions, there have been a number of things, however, that I most certainly did not know before having a baby. In fact, I was only made aware of these situations as they have happened to one chubby, roundfaced child of mine named Sam. I've spent a lot of time wondering if it was normal, if other mothers struggled with these things, or if indeed my child was special for reasons that aren't so spectacular. I wanted to list a few so that the next time I'm in the Walmart with another new mom, I can remember to ask if this has happened to her bundle of joy as well.
Costume Changes. I did not realize that putting on clothes was so traumatic for children. The shirt over the head...not so bad. The arms...what is it about the arms that makes my child scream like he's being cattle branded? There are days I feel like I should put a sign in the yard, "Shirt change...please don't call the cops." I've seen Sam go from a standing position, fall back and hit his head on the bars of his crib, which incidentally made me want to cry, and that did not elicit the reaction that having his "W" is for Whale outfit put on him before church seems to.
Baby food in the eyes. Why have I not predicted this situation? Babies get messy when eating, eating happens around bedtime, bedtime makes Sam rub his eyes. It is clearly a recipe for disaster (pun intended)...but it took the actual experience to make me realize we needed a chemistry lab type emergency eye washer installed in his high chair for such situations. As if wiping his mouth wasn't tricky enough and the fact that he already has territory issues with anything that is in his nose, I now have to delicately get the Stage 3 lasagna out of the corner of his eye whilst he is screaming and fighting? Why did I not see a kit for this by Johnson and Johnson when I was registering?
Pediatric Cross Examination. Which exact noises is he making now? Was I supposed to be taking note of this? I can remember the first few visits to the doctor, and she asked me specifically what noises he was making. I don't know? There were some "M's" and some "Th's" involved though. Let's put it this way...he made some noises. He didn't say the alphabet, he didn't recite the Gettysburg address and he didn't say my name. When he makes a recognizable sound I'll alert you, but for right now, we know he's not mute, so please don't make me recite the exact vowels he has used while chewing on "Roo", because I don't remember them.
The meltdown Clock. Apparently, everyone has nature's clock. For women it is the biological one, for men it's the one synchronized with football season and for babies...it has to be the meltdown clock. I don't know where Sam is hiding it, because I would love to get my hands on it, but one minute, in aisle 8 of Walmart...he's flirting with the lady looking at Cheerios and then suddenly, aisle 9 just pushes him over the very short edge of life and his mommy is looking for the nearest exit sign. There's no "yellow light" with the meltdown clock. It's green to red, it's 0 to 60. There is no warning and often no rhyme or reason to it's timing...it just is. You can have the sweetest baby in the world but one sideways glance from a stranger at Kohls and you have to call it a day or carry a screaming baby around for the rest of your errand list.
So there you have it...the things I have learned on my own. I'm sure it is a few in an ever growing list that is called life with children. I am up for the challenge and embracing the experience...I wouldn't have it any other way!
Shirt changing time, don't call the cops!
Sam's mommy
Costume Changes. I did not realize that putting on clothes was so traumatic for children. The shirt over the head...not so bad. The arms...what is it about the arms that makes my child scream like he's being cattle branded? There are days I feel like I should put a sign in the yard, "Shirt change...please don't call the cops." I've seen Sam go from a standing position, fall back and hit his head on the bars of his crib, which incidentally made me want to cry, and that did not elicit the reaction that having his "W" is for Whale outfit put on him before church seems to.
Baby food in the eyes. Why have I not predicted this situation? Babies get messy when eating, eating happens around bedtime, bedtime makes Sam rub his eyes. It is clearly a recipe for disaster (pun intended)...but it took the actual experience to make me realize we needed a chemistry lab type emergency eye washer installed in his high chair for such situations. As if wiping his mouth wasn't tricky enough and the fact that he already has territory issues with anything that is in his nose, I now have to delicately get the Stage 3 lasagna out of the corner of his eye whilst he is screaming and fighting? Why did I not see a kit for this by Johnson and Johnson when I was registering?
Pediatric Cross Examination. Which exact noises is he making now? Was I supposed to be taking note of this? I can remember the first few visits to the doctor, and she asked me specifically what noises he was making. I don't know? There were some "M's" and some "Th's" involved though. Let's put it this way...he made some noises. He didn't say the alphabet, he didn't recite the Gettysburg address and he didn't say my name. When he makes a recognizable sound I'll alert you, but for right now, we know he's not mute, so please don't make me recite the exact vowels he has used while chewing on "Roo", because I don't remember them.
The meltdown Clock. Apparently, everyone has nature's clock. For women it is the biological one, for men it's the one synchronized with football season and for babies...it has to be the meltdown clock. I don't know where Sam is hiding it, because I would love to get my hands on it, but one minute, in aisle 8 of Walmart...he's flirting with the lady looking at Cheerios and then suddenly, aisle 9 just pushes him over the very short edge of life and his mommy is looking for the nearest exit sign. There's no "yellow light" with the meltdown clock. It's green to red, it's 0 to 60. There is no warning and often no rhyme or reason to it's timing...it just is. You can have the sweetest baby in the world but one sideways glance from a stranger at Kohls and you have to call it a day or carry a screaming baby around for the rest of your errand list.
So there you have it...the things I have learned on my own. I'm sure it is a few in an ever growing list that is called life with children. I am up for the challenge and embracing the experience...I wouldn't have it any other way!
Shirt changing time, don't call the cops!
Sam's mommy
Comments