My kid looks nothing like me. No, he’s not adopted. You see, even though I grew him and gave him half my genetic material, he is basically a tiny version of my husband. It’s like I wasn’t even there. (Though I remember the pregnancy and labour quite vividly.)
My son looks so much like my husband that the first thing the nurse said was, “Wow, he looks like Dad.” Yes, even as a newborn, when most newborns look like tiny, pink old people, mine apparently resembled my husband. No need to call in Maury Povitch on this one, folks. Continue reading
To the Mom with the rambunctious toddler at music class:
I see you chase your toddler around the room. Other children sit in the circle, clapping their hands, but your little curly-haired boy insists on running around the room instead. I see other parents watching him. Some are smiling but some are quietly judging.
I see your patience running thin. You are quietly trying to re-direct him into the activities, but he stubbornly refuses to do anything besides run. Some parents are openly judging now. They watch your son, shake their heads and continue singing, surely wondering why you are here if your son can not sit for the class.
Not me. No, I’m not a saint. I do my fair share of judging, like most of us. In this scenario, I just see something else. Continue reading
Everyone with small children knows that your life completely changes. Keeping your small human(s) alive takes priority, which leaves you with not much time for yourself. I think most new parents find themselves missing their old lives at some point.
What I miss most isn’t eating dinner at a regular speed. It’s not using the bathroom alone and it’s not sleeping in. What I miss most is playing the piano.
I have been playing the piano since I was seven years old. What started as a hobby turned into a passion, which turned into a career and an identity. I used to play for 3 hours a day. Now I am lucky if I play 3 hours a year. You know why? It’s not the lack of motivation and it’s not the lack of desire. It is because of kids – mine and other people’s. Continue reading
Today is my first day back at work. Before you offer me a tissue, I am actually very happy about it.
I have been on a maternity leave for 1 year with my son. I have enjoyed the time and feel lucky that my country allows me to take a year of leave. I feel a little nervous about heading back, but overall I am looking forward to going back to work.
This can be a hot button issue for new moms. I know that some new mothers will read this and be completely mystified about why I would want to return to work and put my son in daycare. They will stay home for a variety of reasons. Some will go back to work, but count the minutes until they can return to their kids. I am not this person. I make no judgements about how you decide to care for your children, but I don’t think I am going to be the mom crying in the car after dropping her son off at daycare on my first day of work. I want to go back to work, and I don’t feel bad about it.
Let me explain: Continue reading
It has been a year since the birth of Baby MB and I am finally ready to write about it.
First, he was super late. Super, unbearably late. You can read my other post on that part here.
I began feeling contractions for 3 days before his birth, which were irregular and got my hopes up, but each day passed with no baby. Finally the day after my own birthday I woke up feeling pretty sure I should call the hospital. When I did, I was absolutely shocked at what they said. Continue reading
Dear beloved son:
One year ago you were born and the world became a better place. You took forever to get here, but when you finally arrived you were tiny and perfect. Worth the wait. You are even more wonderful today.
In this last year, you have grown and changed so much. You learned how to lift your head, how to roll and sit and how to crawl. You are learning how to walk, and I’m sure that will happen any day now. You discovered that you love to move, and so you never stop. Continue reading
I don’t know about you, but there is a charity coming to my door at least once a week asking for money. As much as I genuinely support these worthy causes in spirit, it is impossible to support all of them financially. The person at the door may assume that I am selfish or don’t care about the cause. They don’t know that I have chosen two causes to support which mean a lot to me. Even though I feel terribly guilty telling the very nice representative that I can’t help the refugees/children/animals that their charity supports at this time, I know that it doesn’t make me a bad person.
I think parenting, especially in the early stages, is a lot like this. I wish I had known that going in. Continue reading