Becoming a good mom, one hour at a time
Motherhood is much harder than I thought it would be—but not in the clichéd ways you hear about before giving birth. I could care less about changing a million diapers, no matter their contents. That’s a breeze.
Even giving birth was a totally different kind of difficult.
What I found was that the challenges and trials of early motherhood were intense and awful enough to make me question my fitness as a mother.
Last week, I drove toward our weekly mom’s group with Edith in tow. But when we approached the exit, I kept going. When Edith turned six months old, we graduated from mom’s group.
Graduation felt like being pushed from the nest before I thought I was ready. Yet here I am, flying.
Right before she turned six months, Edie began to roll from her back to her front. We missed it the first few times: She’d be playing happily on her back, but then we’d look away—and when we came back, she’d be on her tummy! Finally we witnessed a roll so could confirm she was doing it herself (without the help of, say, Finn).
Edie looked a bit bewildered at my excited congratulations of her newfound skill. But along with my enthusiasm I felt dread.
We had to give up the swaddle.
As my husband observed, being a mom means taking care of everyone else while you’re sick.
So true.
After all, when moms get sick, they still have to be moms.
Last week, I caught the flu or norovirus or plague. On the first night, I finished puking my guts out, fed Edie and then went back to hugging the toilet. That cycle repeated itself for her five wakings. Later in the day when I couldn’t get her down for a nap (just try to bounce a 14 ½-pound baby to sleep when your insides are like a Tilt-a-Whirl) I lugged her and her car seat, along with our dog whose ear infection was so bad it ruptured his ear drum, down to the car in the hopes that driving around would end her nap strike. (No dice.)
Yeah, it was a fun week.
Sleeping—both at night and naps—has been a tough issue in our household lately. Edie goes on a napping strike periodically and we’ve been flirting with the practice of sleep training when we’re not desperate enough to do whatever. it. takes. to get her down.
The other day, I finally got Edie to fall asleep with white noise (both a fan and audio of a burbling brook), nursing, rocking, singing and bouncing. It’s exhausting for me so it’s no wonder it usually helps her drift off, too.
I had a million things to do during her nap, from trying to set up our internet to unpacking boxes. Based on her track record of the last week, I knew I had between 10 and 45 minutes to get anything done.
Instead, I sat down in the rocking chair and held her.
I just saw this article on The Huffington Post, which featured a dad’s response to a day care questionnaire about his 11-month-old’s personality. It cracked me up, and I decided to do one for Edith, too.
My name is Edith Mae
My strengths are
Biting, gnawing, chewing and leaving two tiny teeth marks on just about everything
Furrowing my brow
Anticipating the moment my parents are about to set me in my crib and crying
Blowing spit bubbles and raspberries
My interests are
Smooshed bananas
My dog Finn
Mirrors
The ABC Song
The friends I like to play with are
My hands
My parents’ hands
Anyone else’s hands
My goals are
Finally picking up the print on my parents’ bed sheets
Scooting more and more
Squirming out of the damn car seat
Chewing on everything ever made ever
This morning as I was feeding Edith in bed, I switched her to the other side. Evidently I didn’t get boob number two to her quickly enough because she rolled over, got up on all fours and lunged at me.
Welcome to having a six-month-old!
You know when a recipe includes the instruction “stir like the devil” that it’s going to be good.
My grandma (on my mom’s side, Edith’s daughter) baked and sent my family two tea rings every Christmas since I had memories of carols and presents under a tree. We all knew what treat was inside the box addressed with carefully printed letters that arrived on our doorstep every December.
We never dug into the homemade pastry until Christmas morning. We each ate a slice—or several—as we unpacked stockings. I carefully licked my fingers before pulling out a toothbrush, lotto cards and an orange so I wouldn’t smudge my stocking with sticky cinnamon filling.
For me, the soft bread made gooey by butter and baked brown sugar is the taste of the holidays. So when I learned that Grandma wasn’t planning on baking tea ring this year, I knew I had to step up. (Recipe below.)
Last year Eric and I went to a New Year’s Eve party, where we announced to friends we were having a Peeper. I drank water and checked the labels of certain cheeses to see if they were pasteurized. We left by 11. I had gotten into my pajamas and was washing off my makeup when Eric popped his head into the bathroom and kissed me. “Happy New Year,” he said.
This year, I managed to get Edith to sleep just shy of 10pm, and I followed as soon as I could after that. I woke up when the neighbors at our beach rental lit off fireworks and banged on pots and pans—which is how we used to celebrate the beginning of a new year when I was a kid.
What a difference a year makes.
2013 was challenging, confusing, tumultuous, painful and tiring.
It was also the best year of my life.
May the New Year bring us all happiness, opportunities to grow, adventure and chances to make lasting memories. Oh, and a good deal more sleep.
Happy 2014!
Every month, I take stock of the milestones and changes I have seen in Edie over the previous 30 days or so. I always marvel at how much more grown up she is, the new things she can do and what she’s trying to master. Marking each month’s “birthday” is a way for me to keep track of time and celebrate her accomplishments.
Edie will be six months old in a few days. I’m excited, in awe (how is she almost a half a year already?) and ready to try new things, like feeding her solid food. But I’m also feeling down because of the approaching landmark.
I thought things would be easier by this point.
