Becoming a good mom, one hour at a time
When people ask me how motherhood is going, I say, “Great!” and list what Peeper is up to these days—crawling, standing, making ridiculous faces when she eats peas.
If a good friend asks, though, my response is a little different.
“Great!” I might start out, then qualify with, “much better than before.”
When people ask me how motherhood is going, I say, “Great!” and list what Peeper is up to these days—crawling, standing, making ridiculous faces when she eats peas.
If a good friend asks, though, my response is a little different.
“Great!” I might start out, then qualify with, “much better than before.”
It has been a week since I decided to tackle the disaster that is our apartment. In the interest of creating a safer and saner home, I’ve dedicated time every day toward picking up, putting away, throwing out and clearing off.
I’m proud of myself. The dishes have been done and everything looks tidier—kind of like my mom has stayed for the entire week. (I’m joking, but not.)
I feel a little more comfortable with Edie’s crawling, too. I still have to keep a close eye on her—her all-time favorite thing to do is sprint toward the dog bowls—but I don’t have to worry about her zapping a finger off anymore.
On the other hand, all this cleaning and wiping and purging is taking time away from other things. I have been working on my writing and freelancing less this week. There are a finite number of hours in the day, and something’s gotta give.
My friend from grad school always looked snappy. Whereas I tended to teach in jeans and a sweater, Erica sported bow ties. So when she and her wife announced they were expecting, I knew exactly what I wanted to make them.
Their beautiful baby girl was born in December, but I just now finished her gift. Better late than never!
Behold—onesies with interchangeable bow ties!
The other night I felt an urge to get rid of everything. Everything. I wanted the books, picture frames, files, magazines, souvenirs, change jars and dog toys gone. I felt claustrophobic, strangled by our belongings. I craved clear surfaces and space.
I’d lost my cell phone for the millionth time earlier that day. Motherhood, or perhaps the lack of sleep that comes with waking with an infant throughout the night, has made my mind even more scrambled than ever. I become furious when I misplace something, which is often.
I also spent a frustrated five minutes looking for the glass of water I’d just refilled. I asked my husband if he’d moved it. “You mean the water glass next to the bed?” he asked. Yes, that one. Yes, I put it there. Yes, I’m a mess.
I don’t have the energy or time to spare searching for keys, coupons, stamps, bills and cell phones. Frantically looking in piles and under laundry makes me crazy. I need to do something differently.
The other night I felt an urge to get rid of everything. Everything. I wanted the books, picture frames, files, magazines, souvenirs, change jars and dog toys gone. I felt claustrophobic, strangled by our belongings. I craved clear surfaces and space.
I’d lost my cell phone for the millionth time earlier that day. Motherhood, or perhaps the lack of sleep that comes with waking with an infant throughout the night, has made my mind even more scrambled than ever. I become furious when I misplace something, which is often.
I also spent a frustrated five minutes looking for the glass of water I’d just refilled. I asked my husband if he’d moved it. “You mean the water glass next to the bed?” he asked. Yes, that one. Yes, I put it there. Yes, I’m a mess.
I don’t have the energy or time to spare searching for keys, coupons, stamps, bills and cell phones. Frantically looking in piles and under laundry makes me crazy. I need to do something differently.
This week my life flashed before my eyes: Peeper started crawling!
We went to a play date at a friend’s house on Monday. Her 9-month-old twins were motoring around the house, dodging plush toys and cross-legged adults sitting on the floor as if the living room were an obstacle course. At one point, her son used my left arm to balance and her daughter my right as Peeper rocked on her knees in front of me. It was happy chaos.
At one point a visitor from out of town who didn’t have a baby of her own looked up and said, “Wait, where’s the fast one?” For a second everyone stopped. Where was he?
Thankfully, he wasn’t off rummaging through the knife drawer: His mom had put him down for a nap. But with his crawling skills, he could have been anywhere.
I identified with that heart-stopping panic now more than ever.
Peeper started crawling the day after that play date. (She must have been inspired by the very mobile twins!) She suddenly figured out how to coordinate her arms with her legs. Now she has forward mobility, however precarious and wobbly it looks.
Faced with an overflowing toy box and fistfuls of receipts for baby gym classes, British mother Hattie Garlick committed to not buying anything for her toddler for a year. Rejecting kiddy consumerism is the subject of her blog, and she’s documenting the clothing swaps, no-cost activities and lack of store-bought baby purees over at freeourkids.co.uk.
This article about her experience made me think about how money and consumption could affect how I raise Peeper.
We don’t spend a ton of money on our daughter, in part because we just don’t have disposable income. Almost everything she owns and wears is either a hand-me-down or a gift. We buy throwaway diapers (reusables intimidate the hell out of me for some reason!), but they’re just about the only Edie-related expense we have, aside from the occasional necessity.
When we traveled to the East Coast in the fall, Peeper wore a sleeper given to us by a friend when I was still pregnant. “Handsome boy,” read a little label on it. The flight attendants got a kick out of it when we pointed out that our baby was actually a girl, and I still think the moment was funny.
Second-hand clothes may lose some of their humor when Peeper gets older, though.
My family didn’t have a ton of money when I was young. We shopped at resale stores, so I wasn’t always up on the latest trends.
I remember trying to hide my off-brand Keds under the school bus seat and the cheek-burning embarrassment when my used Hypercolor t-shirt didn’t actually change colors. Sometimes it was hard to not fit in.
Raising a child who isn’t materialistic or spoiled is important. But I’d hate to subject my loved one to unnecessary ridicule. Surely there’s a balance to be struck here.
I have plenty of time before kids at play dates look askance at my daughter’s wardrobe. But projects like Garlick’s make me think about how we’ll one day handle the protestations of “But everyone else has one!”
How do you teach your kids to do without? Do you find yourself spending a lot on your kids? Do you feel guilty when you don’t?
Mid-mornings are precious to me. After the first few hours of the day, when I change, feed, nurse, change again and play with Edie until her first nap, I have a few minutes to myself.
This morning, like usual, I take the chance to drink a cup of decaffeinated tea and tool around on the Internet. I catch up on email, check Facebook and read blogs. Today I came across the newest post from Deb at The Monster in Your Closet. She writes, “I don’t want to be or waste my time striving to be someone else’s image of perfection. I do want my kids to understand the beauty of human bodies–and faces–is not in how they look but what they do.”
Deb posted several selfies of her gorgeous pregnant self and linked to the inspiration for the post over at Square One Notes. Sandra from Square One invited other writers to post a photo of themselves. “I need to know it’s okay to live in a world where we like ourselves,” she says. “I want my daughter to grow up with a sense of self worth and confidence so that others will hold her in the same regard. Help me show her it’s okay to be in our own corner.”
Now this is something I can get behind.
I hope that today and every day you feel loved. Whether or not you have a romantic partner, a spouse or children, you do have friends who delight in you. They may marvel at your compassion. They may turn to you when they need a good cry. They may even laugh at your terrible puns.
Even if you think Valentine’s Day is a (sneer) Hallmark holiday, undermine its materialistic underpinnings by telling someone what he or she means to you. Pay for a stranger’s coffee. Give an extra-long hug.
Because actual love and kindness are never corny.
Happy Valentine’s Day!
