Author: Julie

We are a family of achievers. My immediate core family growing up – Mom, Dad, Brother, Me – we like to get shit done. We feel like the day is wasted if shit doesn’t get done. We are list-makers. I personally have a weekly list that I like to stare at every day. It’s a challenge – can you get all this shit done before Sunday?! Me to self – if you work super hard at the beginning of the week you could relax at the end of the week! You know why this doesn’t actually work? Because I add shit to the list. If I think of it, it must go on the list. There is no “waiting til next week” or just ignoring the thought. If it entered my head, IT MUST GO ON THE LIST. If it goes on the list, IT MUST GET DONE. Needless to say this concept usually ends up causing more stress than easing it. But I can’t stop. I would feel completely overwhelmed and panicky if I didn’t have my list. It’s a security blanket. Your day matters because you have this shit you have to get done. Your husband, child, and step-daughter cannot function without you because they don’t understand the importance of the list. I like to think they are in awe of my super-list, but they really probably just indulge my eccentricities.

This brings me next to the concept of THE NOTHING BOX. I have trouble sleeping at night. I am sure this surprises none of you. I can’t stop thinking – I can’t turn off my brain. It can take hours for me to go to sleep. And if I get woken up in the middle of the night (which happens every night) it more often than not means another sleepless hour or two in which to think of new things that need to be added to my list. My husband of course says “I’m going to sleep now” and less than five minutes later he’s totally out. HOW THE HELL?!?! Well, he says, he doesn’t think about anything. He just goes straight to sleep. What do you mean you don’t think about anything? That is not even possible. Well, it is, actually, he says. Look man, don’t piss me off. I’m telling you it’s not possible! He says – no really, I just go into my Nothing Box (a concept he got off some comedian somewhere I have to admit) and I go straight to sleep. He can even do this during the day! OK, I’ll bite. I’m gonna try going into this Nothing Box and see if it works. Here I go…

Here I am. Middle of my Nothing Box with my sleepy blanket and my pillow. Ready to chill-ax. Aaahhh. Hey this is cool. There’s nothing in here. I don’t have to think at all! 1… 2… 3… 4… Hmm I wonder if Baby Girl will sleep all night tonight. If I fall asleep NOW and she sleeps all night I’ll get to sleep for 7 hours, 34 minutes and um, 16 seconds. 15. 14. I wonder if it will be cooler tomorrow. I hope it doesn’t rain. We have a horseshow on Sunday. Crap, if it rains that means no $$ this weekend. Damn. Please don’t rain, please don’t rain, please don’t rain. And if it rains we have to wait AGAIN for it to dry out before the gravel can be delivered to fix the road. Sigh. Is that Baby Girl crying out? Please please please just go back to sleep!! Phew, yay. I really need to go get some melatonin for her tomorrow. And I need to find a ENT for her, I really need to get that done. OK I will do that. Tomorrow. Time to sleep now. HEY! WTF? How the heck did all this stuff get in this damn box?! Sigh. I knew there was no such thing as a Nothing Box.

Owning a business, keeping a house, keeping up with 9 acres, a barn, and an arena, keeping 9-12 horses fed, clean and happy, acknowledging my husband, keeping my step-daughter on her toes, and loving on my Baby Girl all take a shit-ton of time and energy. Some days I have to force myself to take a step back and remember that this Baby Girl will only be tiny for a short period of time. She will only want these paccy-kisses (kisses while still keeping the paccy in her mouth) and sticky, snuggly baby hugs for awhile before she’s Big. She’ll only find joy in sitting in my lap opening a random piece of mail because she can tear the envelope to pieces for a couple more years at best. So yesterday I took a time out for myself and for her and we finger painted. We actually put paint all over our hands and her feet and painted on paper. She thought I was the coolest mama ever, for a little while.

For those of you who, like me, find it difficult to sit down and relax I know you will understand how almost painful it is to stop and play with your kid. It was a skill I had to actually learn. After 38 years of doing what I wanted, when I wanted, and spending every day trying to get shit done, I had to actually learn how to stop. How to just chill. How to ignore my list. At least for an hour or so.

Who is this little girl who has replaced my baby? All of a sudden, my Baby Girl is talking in sentences, running around the house entertaining herself (mostly), answering questions (not just saying NO), refusing to put on clothes, changing her mind 14 times over one article of clothing, and all together acting like a little girl instead of a toddler. Potty training is imminent. I am dreading it.

I love diapers. I know I’m in the minority, but it’s just so EASY. You put a diaper on and you go about your day and you don’t have to find the nearest bathroom or patiently wait for someone to go poo whenever they manage it. Especially with my daughter. She doesn’t care when her diaper is wet. She’d go all day with it wet if I didn’t force the issue. She tells me anytime she’s “stinky.” We take care of the “stinky” and life goes on.

And the real issue is this… I have NO IDEA how to potty train something. Cats are easy. You stick the paws in the litter and scrape a few times and they’ve got that shit figured out. Literally. Horses don’t get potty trained. They go whenever, wherever. Their biggest problem is making them keep going forward if they poo in the middle of the flat class. And I don’t remember my own potty training – I bet I was born just using a toilet – so there you go. What on earth do you do?!

I have been avidly avoiding the issue for some time now. Grandpa sent money for a potty for his “fu fu.” There’s a Minnie Mouse one at Walmart that looks promising. I actually bought a book or two for Baby Girl on the subject. We read the “I wear panties” book every day. I point out that Mommy wears panties when she watches me go to the bathroom (I’ve already told everyone that I just leave the door open so we might as well move on to the fact that yes, she does indeed, watch me.) We discuss what toilet paper is for, we say “bye bye” to the toilet paper as it gets flushed. I keep the toilet lid down at all other times to make sure that other things don’t go “bye bye” too, like my phone that she’s fascinated with.

I have not read the toilet training section in the “Everything the Toddler Years” book. I know I need to. I did read an article somewhere that said back in the 50’s babies were generally potty trained by 18 months old because they didn’t have disposable diapers and the babies got annoyed enough with wet, dirty diapers that they eagerly embraced potty training. Well maybe not eagerly, but that’s the image I got in my head. Like they were also already talking in complete sentences and able to tell their parents exactly how they felt about the whole thing.

I have not bought tiny little panties for her yet. I am unsure what Pull-Ups are really for. My Baby Girl might be acting like a Big Girl in most ways but she can’t pull her own pants up over her diaper. So do you just go straight from diapers to panties and say good luck to ya Kid? I mean, does she even know when she has to pee? Do kids really figure out that if they have to pee they should pull down the Pull-Up (which is for all intents and purposes, really just a glorified diaper) and sit on the potty? She can take off her own diaper if she’s so inclined so what’s the point of Pull-Ups? I imagine that if she took off her own diaper to go pee in the potty that she would then just strut around naked until I did something about it.  And if she has a diaper on, why would she take it off to go pee in the potty? She’s a smart kid – I think she would realize that peeing in the diaper is a whole lot easier. And what about at night?! I do not fancy waking up and having to change the sheets because of not getting to the potty fast enough. I don’t even have another set of Peppa Pig sheets for her bed. The more I think about it, the more I realize that this enterprise is getting even more daunting. And expensive.

I’m just so glad she’s a girl. I think teaching a boy would be a nightmare. On the other hand, if she was a boy I could just claim ignorance and pass the whole thing off to Daddy. But since that is clearly not an option I guess I should take the plunge (get it? Ha Ha) and dive right in…

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Raise your hand if you have ever wanted to have temper tantrum like a toddler. Oohhh Oohh Me! Me! Can I please just throw myself on the floor and scream at the top of my lungs and bang my fists and howl, just because I have to actually get dressed and not wear pajamas all day? To be specific, the Peppa Pig pajamas. Day in… day out.

I have recently discovered that a toddler can have a monumental tantrum at any time of the day for any reason. I did not truly understand or appreciate this until the past few months. I thought Baby Girl had entered the terrible two stage way before her second birthday. Let me tell you… I WAS SO WRONG. One year old tantrums are nothing like two year old tantrums. At one, you can still typically pacify with some other idea – like hey! How about we wear the mickey mouse shirt today? Or you can just pick them up and move them as they cry, and they will snuffle and be sad but then get distracted and be totally over it. At two, there is no such thing as a short display of dissatisfaction. There is no bargaining, there is no cajoling, there is nothing to do but stand and watch in admiration as this tiny sweet child of yours turns into a wretched, writhing, howling monster.

At first it really bothered me, and I would watch her scream and wonder “what can I do to fix this?” The answer is NOTHING. Walk away Dearie, just walk away. Because that tantrum is going to last as long as the child wants it to and not a second less. I have watched her scream and roll on the floor in the Old Navy bathroom for about ten minutes while I contemplated exactly what kind of germs she was picking up by doing so. The poor lady in a stall when we came in had to gingerly step over the howling mess that was my child so she could wash her hands. She kindly did not say a word as she left the bathroom. Baby Girl finally stopped and I said ok let’s go and she calmly took my hand and was perfectly fine for the rest of the shopping excursion. I wasn’t fine though. That was the last time I have taken Baby Girl on a clothes shopping excursion. Maybe I’ll try it again when she’s 10. Or 20.

Of course the best tantrum of all is in the middle of the night (or at 5:30 am) when you both are supposed to be sleeping. Holy Mother of God, WHY won’t the child just snuggle in and go back to sleep when she wakes up instead of throwing a massive fit and demanding to watch EE? (T.V. for those of you not versed in toddler language). And WHY do I have to sit in the chair in her room while she demands me to “Wock, mama, WOCK!” until she falls back asleep? Why do I have to rock the damn chair when she’s not even in it with me?! And then sneaking out only to have my knees crack and her stick her arm out and say “noooooo!” so I have to sit back down and WOCK until she is snoring. So. Much. Fun.

Anyways, fellow mamas, don’t despair. Watch in admiration and amusement instead of distress when your two year old throws a tantrum over wanting gummy bears instead of toast (or whatever you are serving) for breakfast. The other evening Baby Girl refused to come sit and eat dinner with me. So I sat down and started eating while she screamed in the other room. She eventually decided she was rather hungry after all and came in the kitchen and calmly sat in her chair and started to eat. I didn’t say a word. We ended up both eating peacefully and happily while watching House Hunters on EE. Totally worth the 10 minute screaming fit, over the 30-60 minute battle it would have been if I had decided to engage. I have learned a lot these past few months, my friends. Some good, some bad, it’s all about that toddler and winning the war of motherhood.

But. Holy Jesus, please don’t tell me Three is even worse.

We’ve all been there. We’ve all lost a friend or two along the way of our lives. As a Riding Instructor, I’ve lost clients over the years of course, and some of those have broken my heart. People come into our lives for a reason, it’s said, and sometimes it’s just for a short period of time. But each and every one of them leave some footprint – something that will make us think of them from time to time. It’s especially difficult when that line between client and friend merges. When it’s hard to tell where one ends and the other begins. You tell yourself that you are not going to be friends with your clients – it’s just business. But that never works, does it? Some people are just meant to be your friends, and that’s probably why they became your clients in the first place. Same way of thinking, a lot in common, sense of humor and so on.

I look at my Baby Girl sometimes and wonder if she realizes when someone just disappears, if at two years old, she can conceptualize the difference in the people around her. Sometimes I think being two would be really nice. It seems like she just enjoys her life, doesn’t get overly concerned with who is there and who isn’t (except for me, her mama, of course). Sissy comes and goes, in and out, of Baby Girl’s daily life and she doesn’t seem to be too upset when she’s not there, but is truly happy to see her when she is. Same with Grandma and Grandpa and all the other people close to her.

I know someday she will get her heart broken and she will be truly devastated when someone disappears out of her life. But for now she’s happy with the people around her, whenever they are there. I am amazed by that. I wish I could be so content with the way things are. But memories and words get in the way. Somebody once said that you will forget what people say and you will forget what people do, but you will never forget the way they made you FEEL. And that is so true. That is what you hang onto, that is what causes the pain and makes you sad and angry. Don’t hold onto that they say, you must learn to forgive they say. Forgive yourself and don’t worry about that other person because they most assuredly aren’t worrying about you. I’m not sure that’s true though. I think only very self absorbed people simply move on and never think about what happened between the two of you.

Moving on is sometimes easy, and sometimes very difficult. If you are a strong person you close your eyes for a little bit and take a deep breath and find a new way. You hold yourself together and you tell yourself you don’t care. You let other people think you don’t care. Only the people closest to you will know how very much you do care. You cry a little and let your Baby Girl crawl up in your lap and wipe your tears away and you tell her you are sad right now but you’ll be ok soon. And then you are. You have to be – for her. She needs a strong mama, a mama that cries but then moves on. A mama that isn’t afraid to let people go when they’ve hurt her. A mama who can tell that Baby Girl that sometimes life is hard, but it’s never too hard. That she can handle anything that comes, that she will always be ok. And that her mama will always be there for her, no matter what. Just like my mom taught me.

The hardest apology you have to accept is the one you never got. And the hardest thing you’ll ever do is apologize for the way you made someone feel.

Here is a fine example of how we deal with food and mealtimes in our house: Baby Girl sees banana on counter. Starts trying to get it for herself. Then yells “reach! reach!” at me. Baby Girl, you don’t even like bananas. “Reach, Reach!! Pweeeezzeee!! WAAAAAA!” Ok fine, here have a banana. Sit in your chair please. No, let me peel it first. Baby girl takes one tiny lick…. “BLEH! NO! DOWN!!!”

Me to Grandma – Mom do you want this banana? “No I never liked bananas.” Sigh. Me neither.

I have read of people (moms) who actually make their own babyfood. Like puree it themselves. Absolutely unbelievable. Baby Girl ate bonafide baby food from plastic Gerber cups only until she figured out that none of the rest of us ate that shit. A friend of mine told me that I should use only glass baby bottles and jars, not plastic. That bit of advice went in one ear and right on out the other. The “What to Expect the Toddler Years” book explains in detail how you should feed the child according to the “best odds diet.” I started reading that section once and closed the book almost immediately drowning in guilt because there is no way. Some of the advice from that book (I shit you not): Grow your own organic garden. What a great idea! I think I’m going to just run out and do that because I have nothing else to do! I bet the toddler will be an excellent help mate with a garden! And an example of a toddler mid-morning snack: 1/2 slice of whole-grain bread spread with cottage cheese. Laughing my ass off over that. “WAAAHHHH what are these dark spots in the bread?! EWWWWW get it out get it out get it out!” And cottage cheese? Please. Not this princess.

Here’s my parenting style when it comes to food:

If she’ll eat it, it’s what’s for dinner. 

This includes anything from grapes to yogurt (all time fave) to chips on the floor, to cereal under the couch cushions to fruit snacks to rice to cat treats to what the hell ever. Anyone who has ever watched us feed the horses together will immediately point out “Oh my God she’s eating HORSE GRAIN! Is that ok?!” Well I don’t know, but she’s made it this far. I look at it this way – horse grain makes her thirsty. She’s learned how to drink out of the hose because of this. And she stays hydrated. Sort of like electrolytes. And the cat treats you ask? Well we’ve at least progressed to feeding most of them to the actual cat.

Seriously, meal planning for toddlers is the most asinine thing you could ever do. One day they think strawberries are manna from Heaven and the next day they’re like “whatcha talkin’ about Willis?” And why will the kid turn her nose up at mashed potatoes but I’ll find her sitting on the floor quietly ingesting a wax birthday candle?!

I remember wondering if I should get a chocolate cake for Baby Girl’s first birthday because, according to the “What to Expect” books, young children should never eat chocolate. But then a friend told me that she’d had her child eating brownies since before she was one. What? You mean I don’t have to follow what is in this stupid book? Revelation!

It’s quite simply beyond my understanding – how some people get their toddlers to eat really healthy things, like raw red pepper or zuchinni strips by choice. One thing is true, though, if a mom is actually successful at getting her toddler to eat healthy, she will endlessly brag and act all smug and in your face about it. And honestly, who can blame her? I have a feeling it all starts with enjoying that type of food yourself and never offering your toddler anything but that weird, organic fare. So they have no idea that sugar is the best tasting thing in the universe. Baby Girl learned early on that chocolate is mommy’s favorite food. She knows what a donut box contains. On our way to her school we pass by Chicken Express as she yells “tea! tea!” Makes me laugh every time.

I have to brag a little though. Baby Girl now eats only GREEK yogurt. Yep, score one for me. She eats a lot of yogurt, so this was a big accomplishment. But I’m not about to sneak veggies into mac and cheese that she may not eat anyway. Or whip up a veggie smoothie that’s going to get poured on the cat’s head. I don’t have time for that shit. I’m too busy digging around in my organic garden that I planted yesterday.

Hey all you Mom Introverts out there – have you ever sat in a closet in the dark just trying to re-group and make some sense out of the world? I’ve done that – before I had a kid. If I tried to do that now I’d hear “mama! mama! Mama! MAMAMAMAMAMAMAMA!!!” and hammering on the door non stop til I gave up and came out. Sort of like when you try to go to the bathroom alone. I’ve gotten to where I just leave the damn door open when I pee. So if any one comes to visit – you’re forewarned. Of course, being an extreme introvert, it’s very unlikely that a invitation to visit will come from me. It doesn’t mean I don’t like you, it’s just too much damn effort right now. My dad walked into my house yesterday (I wasn’t home yet) and texted me that he was “sitting and watching to make sure another bomb doesn’t go off.” Yep. That’s life with a toddler. Bombs go off multiple times a day, cleaning up is fruitless and alone time is not an option.

As all introverts know, Energy is a priceless treasure and something to expend with great reserve. I could spend days alone and not mind it. I remember the first time my husband took Baby Girl somewhere for the weekend – I hardly moved from the peaceful, silent solitude of my couch. I just breathed it in, absorbed the atmosphere that dust and ghosts settle in. I was rejuvenated for about three days after they came home. Then it set in again – that desire, that need to be alone for awhile. And ten minutes does NOT cut it. Yeah, a bubble bath with a glass of wine while she’s asleep is lovely, but it doesn’t come close to being all the alone time I need. If you are listening for every breath and movement on the baby monitor, you are not alone. If you know you will be waking up at midnight, and 4 am, and 5:30 am to soothe baby, you are not alone. If you are rushing like mad to clean the dishes and do some laundry before she wakes up, you are not alone. If you are passed out on the living room couch while she’s napping and have that baby monitor right by your ear, you are not alone. If you are hurrying out the door before she notices and shopping like a madwomen through Walmart to get back while hubby takes care of baby, you are not alone.

And if you have the kind of child that barely slows down long enough to eat or bathe or sleep and you are constantly required to give, give, give your time and your energy – well – you are not, obviously, alone. I would love it if she would snuggle with me while watching a movie, or reading books. But that’s just not her. She’s way too busy discovering the world to do that. I admire that about her. She can be a little social butterfly a lot of the time. And I’m so glad. My heart would ache for her if she was as shy and introverted as I am. In the one way we are truly different, I rejoice that she doesn’t seem to need alone time as much as I do. I pray that it stays that way for her.

So if sometimes I seem a little anti-social when you are here at the barn, or if you see me at a horseshow and think I’m stuck up or rude, I ask you to kindly give me, and all introverted moms, a break. When you see me might be the only time that day that I am not giving of myself to a toddler. I’m probably giving of myself to a client, or a horse, or a colleague instead. If you send me funny clips on Facebook or tag me in a post and I don’t respond – it’s only because I just don’t have any more energy to give, or quite probably, I’m attempting to be asleep. Even though I truly appreciate that you thought of me.

I know I am not the only introverted mom out there – there’s quite a lot of you who will understand the panic you face when you just simply cannot handle any of it anymore. When you are rocking the baby with tears coming down your face because she just won’t sleep – and thus limiting the “down time” you have before your own bedtime. When all you can hear is Jennifer Garner’s reading of “Go the F**k to Sleep” in your head.

When your husband comes in and takes over even though he’s dead on his feet too, because he knows.

There’s light at the end of the tunnel introvert moms. Someday they will all be going to school every day. And while we revere and cherish the time we have with our toddlers, I can honestly say that I will probably really enjoy “momming” more when I have more time to be truly alone. In my closet. Or wherever.

I have basically had Baby Girl signed up for Mother’s Day Out since she was about 11 months old. We live in a small town. There are not many options for daycare, etc around here. So when I found a Mother’s Day Out program at a baptist church I pounced. Went that day to visit. It was May of 2015. Baby wasn’t yet One. They oohed and aahed over how cute she is (of course) and showed me around and said she had to be 2 to attend. Well Rats. Two is a long way away I thought. Then they said that all the kids who already attend get first priority and that their little brothers and sisters get first priority as new students. Well Double Rats. So I asked for an application. It will be due March 21, 2016 they said, to start in September of 2016. Baby Girl would be 27 months old by then. Perfect.

I took that application home, filled it out, and FILED IT. Waited not so patiently for March 21 to roll around. About March 10th I could wait no longer, so afraid was I of not being selected, and I mailed that sucker in with the deposit. Heard nothing. Check was cashed. Still heard nothing. Start panicking. Called up the Director. Yes, Baby Girl has been enrolled. Aaahhhhh! The most soothing words I ever did hear. You mean, in about six more months, I get to have some ME TIME?! Yes, they said. Tuesday and Thursdays. For five hours each day. FIVE HOURS. Amazing.

I cannot tell you the excitement with which I waited out those six months. September 6th could not arrive fast enough. Being a (basically) stay at home mom is the hardest thing I have ever done. It was time to take some time back for myself. I promised myself that the first day of MDO I would curl up in my office and sleep for five hours. Well I didn’t actually do that, although it was certainly tempting. I went to Target instead. I’ll bet most of you can understand what going to Target alone means to a mom. I pretty much danced through the aisles and sang Hallelujah.

Still, I was trepidatious about leaving Baby Girl on that first day. She had never been away from me and with strangers for five hours at a time. We got there early (because, of course) and we walked in and she looked around at all the new toys and it was like I just disappeared. About ten minutes into it I leaned over to her and said “OK Baby, mommy’s leaving now.” She barely glanced up and said “bye.” Well ok then. I guess you’re going to be fine.

About three hours later the Director called and was explaining that Baby Girl had somehow gotten all these bites all over her belly. I said “is she crying?” No. “Is she distressed in any way?” No, she doesn’t seem to be. In fact, we found the ant pile she must have somehow rolled around in and she never said a word, never cried or anything! Do you want to come and check her out or just wait til pick up time to look at her? HELL NO I don’t want to come check her out! She’s not crying, she’s not in any pain – she’s fine! She’s a tough kid. I think the Director was relieved that I wasn’t going to sue or something. And I didn’t really say Hell No to the Baptist church school director – I promise.

When I picked her up she was much more interested in some stuffed dog than she was in seeing me. Baby Girl never did complain about the ant bites. The poor teacher was much more freaked out than she was. Kept telling me how they were going to check for ants again and spray and probably just play in the gym on Thursday.  I was like, lady, she’s fine. Don’t worry about it. I promise I’m not going to sue anyone. She got in the truck all happy and smiles. Most of the other kids were bawling. It is a little unnerving that my kid is that independent at two years old.

So the report from the first day was that Baby Girl was quiet all day but played a lot and had a good time. On the second day of MDO I told the teacher that Baby Girl might be a little cranky that day because she hadn’t slept well. She answered “I can’t imagine her EVER being cranky!” I managed to keep the eye roll inside. You just wait teacher lady…

Second day went much like the first – Baby Girl was happy to be there and happy when I picked her up. Played her little heart out they said. Me too, I wanted to tell them. I had a great time with the horses in my backyard. Also, lucky for me, she was asleep within ten minutes of getting home both days!

This MDO thing is gonna be good for both of us. I might just be able to handle toddlerhood after all.

Body image is a tricky thing. Having a baby at almost 40 was a very unkind and “kick you in the stomach agony” thing to do to myself, as far as body image goes. I used to be considered tiny – people would actually say to me “oh wow you’re so tiny!” In my own view, of course, I did not think so and was unsure how to respond to this. Gee thanks? Even when I was pregnant people would say how tiny I was, how tiny my baby bump was.

I see celebrities online all the time that are a helluva lot tinier than I ever was.  And it’s crazy to me, to even SAY to someone how tiny they are, like you could win a prize for it. I mean, you wouldn’t tell someone who is fat “WOW! You’re so huge!” Same thing for being considered beautiful – people say Oh my gosh, you’re so pretty! But, Wow! You’re so ugly! is just not something that would ever pass our lips.

So anyways… before I was pregnant I was pretty fit and trim – but not skinny. I rode a lot, cleaned stalls, wrestled horses. I stayed in shape without even really trying. Pretty much ate whatever I wanted. And I wasn’t totally thrilled with my body even then. So being pregnant while getting close to that magical age of 40, where everything starts to slow down, was the pits. I gained weight of course and I remember my Chiropractor saying to me “whatever you put on, you have to take off!” I wanted to slug him. Shut up! When you grow a whole little human inside of you then you can talk jack-wagon! Because he is an otherwise very nice guy, I just ignored these little tidbits of “advice.”

My self-image took a huge hit during this time. I was ecstatic to be having a baby, and very proud – took lots of pregnant pictures. BUT I was also very aware that I was no longer fit, trim, or tiny (reality is still sometimes hard to accept – that being pregnant makes you bigger… Duh. I didn’t even want to know how much I had gained. I refused to look at the scale at the OB’s office) So when I had lost almost all of the baby weight four months after she was born, I was thrilled! I thought I looked fantastic. I thought I would be one of those moms who just had the good fortune of the weight melting off and going back to normal without even trying.

THEN. I quit breastfeeding and BAM. Who the hell knew that breastfeeding makes you lose all the weight?!?!? Not me. What a cruel, cruel joke played on my body. After I realized what was happening, I actually had to go on an anti-depressant. I’m not kidding – it was that traumatic. I’m still nowhere near where I want to be. Apparently you have to actually eat less and exercise more. I read in a book about pregnancy that after the baby is born you should strap that baby on your back so it’s extra weight to carry, and walk or run every day to lose pounds and get back to your old self. Well let me tell ya, you’re never gonna get back to your old self! No matter what. And I didn’t want to exercise when I was carrying that bowling ball in FRONT in my belly – why on earth would I want to exercise carrying it on my back?!

When my husband and I discussed whether we would have another baby (it wasn’t really a discussion so much as him saying NO and me saying

ok) one of the main reasons I didn’t want to was because I didn’t want to gain even more weight! That might sound like a terrible reason not to have another kid, but it’s the honest to God truth and I don’t think it’s the worst reason anybody ever came up with. The child we have was a miracle to us, and I truly believe she’s the only one I was meant to have. (In other words, if you’re reading this blog please don’t ask if I’m ready for another one. It really stresses me out!)

These days, 27 months after the baby was born, I still feel sluggish most days, I still feel slow – even my brain has slowed down. I still feel fat and annoyed that I don’t look like I used to. I still want to fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans. I still can’t. I still hate the way I look in photos. I still look tired. I am tired. I still want to shout out to the world – “this ISN’T ME!! This ISN’T the way I am supposed to look!”

But, well, maybe it is.

Today we had to say goodbye to our Hannah, as she moves back to her home state of Colorado. Hannah has worked for me for two years, since Baby Girl was about 4 months old. She started out just working in the barn, feeding horses and cleaning stalls. I began to teach her horsemanship and english riding and she blossomed in front of my eyes. She started out as a 19 year old kid and is leaving today as a 21 year old woman. Tough times and tougher lessons were endured and learned during her time here, and her work in the barn was invaluable.

But what I am going to miss the most is the relationship she had with my daughter. “Hannah” is the first word that meant another person besides myself that she learned to say. And she would screech it and shout it and scream with happiness when she would see Hannah working outside. She would demand to go outside to see Hannah and she would run to her with outstretched arms. For her part Hannah was always happy to see Baby Girl and would play with her for hours. Hannah saved my sanity during those long days when I needed to get away, or go outside and ride. She was always up for anything I asked her to do, and she did it with all of her heart.

As an older mom, one of the absolute hardest things for me to do in order to have a child was to basically give up the life I had before. Because no matter how you think it will work out, the life you had before will completely cease to exist. My life was horses. Riding, teaching, training, cleaning, organizing, horseshowing. I still do all that to some extent but if before I worked 60 plus hour weeks, now I work maybe 20. When you have a child something has to give, and for me that something was the one thing I knew how to do.

Hannah stepped in when I really needed someone. God has this crazy way of putting people in my path when I need them. He did the same thing right before Skylar was born, by sending me an old student to teach and do camps for me during Skylar’s first month of life. She was a literal God-send, and Hannah was too. Slowly, I began to trust Hannah with watching and babysitting Baby Girl and it didn’t take me long to establish a babysitting schedule of sorts with Hannah. She was what I needed in order to be able to occasionally feel like my old self again. And, Bless Her, because she never once complained. She NEVER ONCE said she didn’t want to watch my child, or that she’d rather do the barn work. This girl has a heart as big as Texas.

Perhaps this blog post isn’t as humorous as the others, and perhaps people will find it boring, but I could not let this day go by without telling Hannah, one more time, how much I will miss her. My daughter doesn’t understand that she won’t see Hannah from here on out and I hope that at 27 months old, it won’t have too much impact on her. But I absolutely know that she will remember Hannah and if Hannah comes back next summer (like she promised to!) that Baby Girl will run to her with outstretched arms, screeching with happiness to see her Hannah.

Things did not go the way I imagined. In a long ago time, when I was just a gal with no kids, I had visions of how parenting would be. I’m sure everyone does. What a laugh! Can you imagine if it actually turned out the way you have it in your head?! Perfect, beautiful children that never make messes, never scream, never stick their tongues out at you, behave in public and can play by themselves for hours on end – what a dream.

OK I didn’t really think that was how it would be. But here is what I did think…

I had visions of a little girl with perfect pigtails and pinafore dresses. Reality – a kid that will not let me do anything with her hair and a me that says here put on these shorts and tee shirt and LET’S GO. Where are your shoes?! Can you find your shoes please? Oh hell, just get in the truck. You don’t need shoes. We are NOT taking fifteen snuggies in the truck! 

Dream – it would be Me and Baby. Together always and operating as a team. She’d be with me while I teach lessons, we’d go shopping together and have lunch and have nice, happy days playing.

Reality while I’m teaching – Baby! Baby! Holy Shit, would you get over here please? You’re gonna get run over! QUIT RUNNING AWAY FROM ME! PUT THOSE FLOWERS BACK in the flower boxes! (Me to husband – would you PLEASE take her inside?!)

Reality while shopping – SIT DOWN IN THE CART! NO! SIT DOWN! KID YOU BETTER SIT DOWN. NO you can’t push the cart, NO you can’t lay on the floor and be dragged by the cart. NO you can’t have what’s in that box of cereal. SIT DOWN. QUIT GRABBING AT MY NECK (face, arm, leg, whatever). OMG I’m dying. Please quit staring at me. Where’s the damn exit? I just needed milk for God’s sake.

Reality while eating lunch (at home even, not going out. I can’t even write about that horror. At least not right now. I’ll break out in hives.) – What do you want to eat? Grapes? No. Yogurt? No. Peanut butter? No. Crackers? YES. Crackers. Well ok then. Sit in your chair please. Sit down please. SIT IN YOUR CHAIR. Ok here are the crackers. You want milk? Yes, good, here you go. No you can’t have cookies. Yes you have to put on the bib, sorry that’s non-negotiable. (Tears off bib – I struggle to force it back on.) SHIT. Ok fine no bib. She’s eating, Thank God. Yay I get to clean the kitchen, do some laundry, eat something myself maybe.

An hour later – ARE YOU DONE YET?! Holy moses can you please finish up?! Geez louise I am tired of being in the kitchen! As she smiles sweetly and eats a nibble off her second cracker. A few months ago we finally managed to stop her from throwing anything she didn’t want on the floor. I think I cried that day.

I do have to admit that Baby Girl will play by herself sometimes. And it’s amazing. Those are my happy days. I can do my work and get the laundry done and she doesn’t whine or cry or attach herself to my leg. This happens about twice a month. Every other day of the month I’m drinking wine by 3:00.

Dream versus reality of parenting is a serious let-down. The one dream that does come true though, is how much that Baby Girl loves her mama. So I endure. We ALL endure. Because those little baby hugs and kisses make all the other shit melt away.