My Kid Stole My Cool

My Kid Stole My Cool

Posted on Nov 14, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

My Kid Stole My Cool 5

Welcome to my new blog!  It took a little longer than I expected, but it’s ready now, and I hope you like it.

Thanks to everyone who sent in blog name suggestions.  I got a lot of good suggestions, and several that gave me a good laugh.  I appreciate it!  Turns out though, that I came up with the name on my own.  Who would have thought it possible?

The child in question.  Don't let her cuteness fool you.

The kid in question. Don’t let her cuteness fool you, she can be a little terror sometimes.

Now, about the new blog.  Before anyone that knows me calls me out, I was never “cool”.  Hardly.  But on the scale of Coolness, I definitely ranked higher pre-kid than I do post-kid.  Can any other moms relate?

-The sleep deprivation that turns you into a character out of The Walking Dead?  Not cool.  (I’ve never actually seen the show, but I imagine new moms are even more terrifying than flesh-eating zombies.)

This is often how I feel

-The yoga pants that become acceptable day-wear?  Not cool.  But hey, they’re the only thing that fits.

-The jumbo diaper bag that’s replaced all your chic handbags?  Not cool.  Even if it’s designer, it’s still a diaper bag.

-The spit-up in your hair?  Not cool.  Oh, and when was the last time you washed your hair?  You can’t remember?  Me either.

-The wasted hours spent browsing Pinterest in the quest to become the perfect mom?  Non cool.

-The peanut butter smeared all over your clothes? And everything else?  Not cool.

-The minivan? *Shudder*  So very not cool.

Much of this blog is about how my expectations of motherhood were stupendously off.  I thought I could retain – if not my coolness – my pre-mom attitudes and appearances.  That I would effortlessly transition from a fun, fashion and fitness-loving, jet-setting childless woman into a fun, fashion and fitness-loving, jet-setting mom.  And while I strive to maintain my former sense of self as a mom, it certainly manifests itself in different ways.   In my personal favorite post, The Christian Bale Scale, I wrote: “I always thought I’d be that mom that everyone hates because she always looks put-together: cute outfit, coiffed hair, bright-eyed.  But no.  Sadly I’m the hater, not the hatee.” Everything I thought I’d be as a mom, not to mention everything I thought my child would be, was comically wrong.  I can’t tell you how many times I swore I would never, NEVER own a minivan.  But alas…

The dreaded minivan

The dreaded minivan

 

Of course, in the big scheme of things, yoga pants and minivans register pretty minutely in importance.  Becoming a mother was the best thing that ever happened to me, and I love my daughter more than words can express.  She surprises me and challenges me every day.  As I am about to celebrate my her 2nd birthday (with a perfect, Pinterest-inspired party, natch), I marvel at how much I’ve learned and changed in those two short years.  And here’s where I write about it.  There’s a lot of frustration and a lot of tedium – especially with a husband who is gone about half the year – but there is a lot more joy and laughter.  I hope to find the humor in the everyday things that can sometimes bog us down.  Because when you’re driving a minivan, wearing slippers because you forgot to put your shoes on, hair a mess, wearing a shirt that probably has baby poop on it, child throwing Cheerios at you from the backseat, what else can you do but laugh?

I now have a Facebook Page that you can “Like” to get blog updates.  If you like the blog, please “Like” the page!  You can find it here.

I’ve also joined Twitter (scary thought), and you can follow me here.

Lastly, if you followed nonommom.com, you’ll need to re-follow me from this page.  Scroll up to the top of this page, check out the “Follow Me” icons at the top of the sidebar, and click the RSS feed.  That should get you set up to begin getting my posts again.

And I am always grateful to those who pass along this blog to others.  Thanks for sharing!

 

If you’re new to this blog and want to get a sense of what I write, here are a few of my favorite posts.  Hope you enjoy!

Everything I Said I’d Never Do

When Staying At Home Sucks

It’s All About Poop. And Other Lessons I Learned My First Year of Motherhood.

Cookie Hell. Or, That Time Girl Scouts Turned Me Into a Dealer

And Then I Bought a Minivan

 

 

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Everything I Said I’d Never Do

Posted on Oct 6, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

Everything I Said I’d Never Do 3

I’m sorry.  I’m sorry I’ve neglected this blog these past couple of weeks. I have no excuse, except that I’m crazy tired.  Every day I wage war against a stubborn almost-two year old, and every day I lose.  It’s exhausting. Eating breakfast.  Getting dressed.  Getting into the car seat.  Eating Lunch.  Napping.  Playtime.  Cleaning up.  Eating dinner.  Getting out of the bath.  Brushing teeth.  Night-Night time.  All battles.  Sometimes I think Elisabeth is literally trying to kill me.  That one time that she took the napkin to wipe my face, just like she did hers?  Sure, it seemed cute at first.  But then I realized that she might actually be trying to smother me.  Or that time she “dropped” her sippy cup on my head as I was cleaning up the floor beneath her high chair?  I’m pretty sure she was trying to take me out. In an effort to maintain any iota of sanity, I’ve turned into that mom.  The mom I swore I’d never be.  The mom who turns on Sesame Street so I can cook dinner in peace.  (Although “peace” now means Elmo and the gang singing loudly in the next room.)  The mom who shoves an iPad in her daughter’s hands to keep her quiet on a train.  (To be fair – have you been on a Japanese train?  They are silent.  Fidgety, crying toddler on Japanese train = super awkward.  You’d totally use the iPad too.)  The mom who bribes her child with cheese sticks or gives her the pacifier THAT’S ONLY ALLOWED IN THE CRIB so I can finish the last 10 minutes of a run without a tantrum. I was going to have a strictly non-electronic household for baby, until at least two years old.  I was going to feed my child exclusively healthy snacks, on an appropriate meal schedule.  I was going to have her weaned from the pacifier by 18 months.  She was going to be the child that thrived on my routine and rules, and should the occasional tantrum occur, I would not give in.  I am the boss,...

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Up! Up! Upchuck.

Posted on Aug 2, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

Up! Up! Upchuck. 0

I think moms should earn badges, like Girl Scouts.  There would be the “Labor and Delivery” badge (kind of a required one), the “Leaving the Child at Daycare Without Crying” badge, for a military spouse, a “Parenting with a Deployed Spouse” badge, and then there’d be the badge I earned last night, the “Surviving Your Child’s Stomach Flu Without Throwing Up Yourself” badge.  That’s a toughie to earn, because dealing with a vomiting child is really, really gross. Without getting too graphic, Elisabeth’s diapers had indicated that her tummy was giving her trouble all day yesterday.  But she was acting like her normal, happy self, so I wasn’t worried.  At around 11:15 PM, I heard her tossing and turning in her crib and went in to check in on her.  Her stomach was making all sorts of unnatural noises.  Oh no, I thought, she’s gonna blow.   She woke up, and I attempted to comfort her.  We moved from the crib to the rocking chair to the changing table and back again for the next 45 minutes.  Seated in the rocker, she pointed to the changing table and said, “Poo-poo!”  She knew what was coming.  She wanted to be prepared.  Admirable of her, really. I took her back to the changing table because she demanded so and she lay down, fighting to stay awake.  I waited, listening to her tummy rumble, knowing an explosive diaper was inevitable.  But when?  As she drifted in and out of sleep I decided to move her back to her crib for comfort’s sake (hers and mine).  As soon as I put her down, she sprung to her feet. “Lay down, Sweetie,” I coaxed.  “I’ll lay down next to you.”  I crouched next to the crib, one hand through the slats trying to cajole Elisabeth to lay down. She leaned over the crib.  “Up! Up!” she exclaimed.  And then… upchuck. I was caught off guard, to say the least.  I certainly had not anticipated or prepared for anything coming out of that end.  And let me tell you, crouching beside  a crib, peering up...

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Toilet Water and Other Toddler Fun

Posted on Jul 27, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

Toilet Water and Other Toddler Fun 3

Kids are gross. A few days ago Elisabeth pooped in the tub during her morning bath.  The tub in my parent’s house is quite deep, so bathing her is a two-person job.  I stand in the tub to clean her and then hand her off to one of my parents to dry her off, lest I kill myself trying to get both myself and the wet, wiggly toddler onto dry land. So there I am, scrubbing her down, and she poops.  Now baby poop is nothing new for me.  But baby poop in the tub is.  It totally paralyzed me.  “Uh, I don’t really know what to do about this,” I said to my dad, waiting to dry Elisabeth off.  Then I realized I was standing in the poopy water and quickly extracted both Elisabeth and myself from the tub. At that point, you kinda think, Well, that’s the grossest thing that’s going to happen today.  But then it isn’t. Hours later, I noticed the house had gotten eerily quiet, which obviously meant trouble.  I found Elisabeth in my parent’s bathroom, dunking her sippy cup in the toilet, and then drinking from it.  There you have it – something grosser than a little poop in a tub. I thought I was off the hook when it came to icky-kid stuff – Elisabeth is a total priss.  The first (and only) time I tried finger-painting with her, she had an epic meltdown as soon as her hands touched the paint.  When we went to Hawaii last Christmas, she was terrified of the sand.  And the water.  And the grass.  When we visited Nagano for a ski vacation, the snow reduced her to tears.  I figured her for an indoor girl. Whenever she gets something (food, usually) on her hands, she reaches her hands out to me, completely disgusted by the utter filth that is covering her.  “Eh! Eh!” she whines.  Translation: Get it off me!  And if I don’t wipe her down quickly enough, she has another meltdown of finger-painting proportion.  Should she find so much a fleck of dust...

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100 Posts Later – Still a New Mom?

Posted on Jun 7, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

100 Posts Later – Still a New Mom? 0

Oh hey there!  Guess what?  This is my 100th post!  And 100 seems like a milestone.  Like a cause for celebration.  I see some cheap wine and a box of stale graham crackers in my future. 100 posts.  I started this blog when I was pregnant and kind of freaking out.  Then I continued the blog as a new mom who was really freaking out.  Now my baby is, like, old, and I’m still freaking out. Which got me wondering: How long can I play the “New Mom” card? Then I decided: Forever.  Or at least until Elisabeth goes to college and moves out of the house.  Which is basically forever. So yeah, Elisabeth is a year-and-a-half now, hardly “new”.  But do I know what I’m doing anymore now then I did a year-and-a-half ago?  Um, no.  I’m definitely still as clueless as I was when Elisabeth was born.  Because here’s the thing: Babies change.  Fast. In my last post I lamented how my sweet little girl is now a scary toddler.  That’s new.  Someday she’ll turn into a scary middle-schooler.  That will be new.  (And cause for considering boarding school?)  Not to mention all those developmental phases between two and twelve or twelve and eighteen that will all be new.  Heck, if today’s college graduates are any indication, Elisabeth could move out, graduate college and move right back in with us!  That will be new!  (And scarier than anything that came before.) Even if I have a second child, everything will be new again.  I’m just going to wager that a second baby will be completely different than the first, just to make all the stuff I think I know (about sleep, routines, feedings, etc.) completely irrelevant.  And so child-raising – even the second time around – will feel new.  (Especially when dealing with a deviant older child!) Point is, I don’t think the “newness” of being a parent ever goes away.  Which is sort of terrifying, right?  I think I’ll go grab that wine now… Oh, thanks for sticking with me on this blogging journey!  Hope you’ll...

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So Now I Have a Toddler

Posted on Jun 2, 2013 in My Kid Stole My Cool

So Now I Have a Toddler 5

I’m going to throw this out there – 18 months, not my favorite age.  Don’t judge me. I’ve been in denial, but I finally have to admit that my baby is not a baby anymore.  Not even close.  She is a toddler. I think I first realized Elisabeth was really and truly a toddler, as opposed to just kinda/sorta a toddler, when I cut her banana in half and she had a complete meltdown.  A banana.  In two pieces.  Meltdown.  TODDLER. Now there is the crying for apparently no reason at all.  I take that back; it’s not crying.  It’s more like high-pitched yelling interspersed with drawn out moans of, “Mama!  Mammmmaaaaa!  Mammmmaaaa!” as if I am the source of all woe in her life. And there is the sudden inclusion of, “Mine!” and “No!” in her vocabulary.  Are these words just instinctual to toddlers? And there is the refusal to let me help her eat.  Which leads to food all over the floor, all over the walls, all over her, and naturally, all over me.  This goes hand-in-hand with a sudden rejection of most food I prepare for her.  If ever I serve her a meal that doesn’t please her, she will either a) meltdown or b) pick up the offending food, slowly and deliberately move her hand over the high chair, shoot me a look of defiance, drop the food on the floor, and laugh evilly.  Nice, Elisabeth.  Nice. And there is the inhuman strength.  That death grip on anything she holds dear (mommy’s wallet, mommy’s phone, mommy’s expensive sunglasses…) that I try to take away.  How she goes completely rigid when I try to put in the car seat or stroller.  No matter how hard I try, I just can’t get her to bend!  How did she get so freakishly strong?  She’s only 25 pounds! Oh, and there is the pounding on the laptop keys when mommy is trying to blog. And of course there is the getting into everything.  Everything except the baskets full of toys that clutter our living room and are there solely...

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