I Can Finally Admit I’m Not Good At Being A Mom…Or At Least That’s The Story I Keep Hearing In My Head

Now that it’s over I can finally let you in on my big secret.  I’m not a fan of Mother’s Day.  There could be a lot of reasons for that — I don’t love being “celebrated”, I don’t love being forced to do things in the name of being “celebrated” when I really just want to go to a yoga class, or maybe because I feel torn as a mother and a daughter.  Or it might be because I’m super lazy and lame.

But if I am being honest, I probably don’t love Mother’s Day because the journey to motherhood has been a rocky road for me.  I struggled to get pregnant the first time, I was in the hospital with the “Royal Disease” (hyperemesis gravidarium) during my second pregnancy, and I flat-out sucked as a new mother with my first.  I couldn’t get him on a schedule, I couldn’t get him to stop crying unless he was being pushed around in a stroller, and I couldn’t get him to sleep…ever.

But that has changed.  I hit a stride when Gavin turned one and then a year later, Chloe was born as one of those mythical “easy babies,” so I haven’t really had a tough time as a mother in years.  Yet I still identify most with those first really hard months.

Today I have a feature up at Mommyish talking more about this strange feeling I just can’t shake.

I’m Convinced There Is No Comfort Zone In Parenting

Since suffering through that impossibly difficult first year with a challenging baby, I have never really allowed myself to get into a groove as a mother.  This isn’t a sob story about how kids constantly change and ruin your perfectly laid plans. I gave up those expectations years ago. I have learned to really go with the flow in practice. Yet in my mind, I find myself always waiting for the other shoe to drop.  Four years and two kids later – despite many more good days than bad – I constantly wonder “when is it going to be like that again?”

Read more on Mommyish…

And don’t forget, I publish a news story with a parenting angle every weekday at 9:30am (today I’m jumping for joy over the fact that someone asked “that question” to a man).  Like the WTTM Facebook page here to get my newest news piece in your feed every morning.

My Greatest Fear

I enjoy seeing what the gang at WordPress serve up every day in their Daily Prompt and I found today’s particularly intriguing after the events of the past two days in my life.

You’re locked in a room with your greatest fear. Describe what’s in the room.

My room is empty.  There are no spiders, no airplanes, no clowns.  All my fears lie within. Continue reading

To know my son is to love my son (it gets better)

It took me a long time to get to love my baby boy.  Unlike some moms, I was not engulfed by feelings of love the minute he entered the world.  And not because he tried to kill me (I don’t hold that against him).  Sure I felt something, I think, though in hindsight it is hard to remember.  Any feeling I had was completely overwhelmed by how much he needed me.  Nursing 24/7, colic, a disdain for sleep that he carries with him today – he was a high maintenance baby.  Or maybe I was a high maintenance mom who had just spent my entire pregnancy doing what I wanted when I wanted.

In any event, his dependence on me was crushing.

You might be shaking your head right now, little Miss “I-Have-All-The-Answers” and “it’s-all-so-simple.”  You probably think this was my doing.  That somehow I made him this way.  Maybe.  Maybe not.  But I have seen enough first time moms at this point to realize something was off.  Not everyone had as hard of a time as we did – me and Gavin.

It’s true!

Now that he is 3, I realize he is just a particular person.  He likes things just so.  Without being able to communicate those preferences, I can imagine infant-hood was like prison for him.  These days, he communicates like a champ.  We can talk about things, I can reason with him, and we can generally come to a mutually acceptable agreement on any matter (except why he can’t have Italian Ices for breakfast).

And the fact of the matter is, I adore him.  My heart explodes with unconditional love at some point almost every day.  Making him laugh is like a drug to me.  His hugs warm my heart and soul.  Hearing his enthusiasm while singing invigorates me.  Watching him overcome a fear inspires me.

The beauty of wonder

One of our favorite things to do before bed is watch one of the HBO “Classical Baby” series.  Typically it’s the Art Show or Classical Baby 2.  On a rare but delightful occasion we watch The Poetry Show.  The last poem, narrated by my dear dear stalking target friend Gwyneth Paltrow, brings tears to my eyes each and every time.

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

It took us some time, but our bond is air tight.

Love – pure and simple

Even when he drinks all my orange juice:

Let me tell you, this was a treat for me during Father’s Day brunch. An orange juice in NYC can cost more than $5! For a small! Please applaud my restraint here.

So to any new moms out there who might be struggling with this parenting thing I can assure you of three things:

1.  You are NOT alone; and

2.  All the pain you are enduring is SO worth it; because

3.  It gets so much better!

My forever baby love

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This caterpillar tells me Mila Kunis should fire her agent

I cannot physically leave my apartment without walking past the Gansevoort Park South hotel.

If you live under a rock (or live a Bravo TV addiction free life), you might not know this hotel is home away from home for many reality show shenanigans.  Bethenny and her friends had a girls night in one of the suites last year (does anyone else find her tedious this season?).  More recently, Ryan of Million Dollar Listing NY held his model search photo shoot in the lobby (that guy is a compelling piece of dogshit).  The most notorious of residents were, of course, the love parallelogram of Kim, Kris, Kourtney and Scott who spent their time there while “taking New York.”

As a result of such fanfare, the sidewalk outside usually looks like this:

Yes, that resourceful pap actually brought his own step stool

Today I was walking by and spotted something odd on the ground in front of me.

Hmmmm, what's this?

Now just to get you in the right mind frame, I was still reeling from having read this post where Kristine is being attacked IN HER OWN HOME by various and sundry creepy crawlers.  I have a serious phobia that one of these devil’s creatures will find their way into my ears or nose while sleeping.  I’m still shaking with disgust.

So as I step a little closer I am certain this thing will just jump up and deposit itself directly in my mouth or circle my head until it finds an appropriate place to nest in my hair.

Blister beetle? Carpenter ant? NO! It's just hoochie gear!

You can imagine my relief when I realized I was not suddenly under attack by Hardwood Stump Borer beetles.

Relief quickly turned to joy.  Do you think this belonged to a famous hoochie?  Let’s investigate.

Could it be Kim lost this eyelash while shedding tears of joy upon hearing a song written about her called Theraflu (yes, Theraflu)?

Probably not, since we know they’ve been spending their time downtown.

Anne Hathaway?

She clearly shed the fuzzy eye insects but it’s doubtful she would have left one just laying around the streets for anyone to pick up and sell on ebay.

And then I read this.

Those kind of tears would cause anyone to lose an eyelash.

First Friends with Benefits and now the starring role in Bethenny Frankel’s thinly veiled “novel”.  Sarah Marshall is officially forgotten.

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