Fly Away

My baby has spread her wings. After six months of toddling along beside me she finally got the courage to let go and walk on her own. It's wonderful...and sad. The Bean is my last baby, and she is quickly growing out of her baby ways. Soon I will have only a house full of big kids. Later (but soon enough) I will have a house full of teenagers. Eventually I will have an empty nest, and nothing makes me sadder than the idea of being a Mama bird with no babies to snuggle.

Hopefully by the time my Beanie is eighteen I will have grandbabies to cuddle with-hey, Monkey will be 23 by then and I had three children by that time!

Thinking of Monkey at 23 makes me need a glass of water.

This new adventure is going to be so wonderful for her-The Bean is going to be able to find out new things about the world around her. She will have new experiences, some painful but most of them good. She is just at the beginning of one of the most wonderful times in life-her childhood. I am so proud and happy for her...I'll just have to take as many pictures as possible and try to remember everything as clearly as possible so that I never forget how sweet she is and what it was like to have my littlest baby holding tight onto my hand.

Unconditional Love

I thought very long and hard before posting about this, because I know it's controversial but I really feel like it's important...Moms, sit down-we need to talk about gay bullying.

I'll start by saying that I'm not telling you what to believe. If you believe that being gay is not okay for any reason, that is your right and I would not change your mind but I will say this-would you rather have a gay kid or a dead kid? Suicide is a serious and growing concern among LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) teens, mostly because gay and lesbian kids get bullied two to three times more often than their heterosexual classmates. Bullying can lead to depression which, for many, leads to suicide. Even if you dislike the idea of having a gay child I think we can all agree that we don't want our babies to suffer, or to commit violence on themselves.

Gay bullying starts where all bullying starts-at home. According to one study, 26% of teenagers who come out to their parents are kicked out of their homes and approximately 1 in 5 homeless youth are LGBT. Another study tells us that 62% of LGBT teens experience discrimination within their own families (as opposed to 30% of heterosexual peers) and we know that between 320,000 and 400,000 LGBT teenagers face homelessness every year. We as parents need to evaluate our own actions-What are our attitudes toward LGBT people, and how do they show up in our children? Are we examples of unconditional love for our children as well as for our neighbors, who may be different than we are? If our children were gay, could they come to us and know they would be safe?

As mothers, most of us accept that it is our privilege and duty to love our children unconditionally. When they poop on us, we love them. When they lie to us, we love them. When they dye their hair blue and listen to nothing but music which sounds like monkey death wails we love them. When they come home only to do their laundry, we love them. Through better and worse, forever and ever, we love our children...so we need to let them know that being gay is just one of a million things they can do that we wouldn't stop loving them for, no matter what our feelings on it from a personal or religious standpoint. We need to show them that it is not something we mistreat others for, and that it is unacceptable to treat lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or questioning peers with anything less than the common decency they are expected to show everyone else.

It doesn't have to be a scary prospect. Our kids don't have to live in fear, and we don't have to change our political or religious feelings. We can make a difference in the lives of LGBT youth-all we have to do is show them our unconditional motherly love.

*****

If you are the parent, family member, or friend of an LGBT child or teen you can visit the PFLAG website to get support and information about how you can support your loved one.

If you are a child or teen who is struggling with sexual identity issues, you can visit the YouTube channel for the It Gets Better Project to find inspirational stories from adult members of the LGBT community.

Dance Lessons

Baby Bug is getting to the age where she is starting to hold whole conversations that make just over half sense. I love the way her mind works, and I love the fact that I can connect with her now as a person-a little walking, talking ball of personality that I can watch grow and learn and think. As far as I'm concerned, that's one of the most amazing parts of being a mother.

Just today, I shared a wonderful moment with her. She decided she was going to teach me a dance. She ran up to me while I was making dinner and pulled on me,

"Mommy! Mommy! Dancey dance dance dance. You dance, okay?"

"Uh.......okay. What do I do?"

"Go circle" [spins in circle] "Mommy you go circle!" [I spin in a circle]

"Yay Mommy! See-clap clap clap. Mommy clap clap okay?"

"Like this?"

"Okay, Mommy. Go a tiger roar! Mommy-tiger-ROAR!!!" [claws the air with her hands]

"So like this?"

"Good Mommy! Go see-boop-boop-boop your toes...the end!" [does a little bow] "You go!"

"Okay, so I spin in a circle, clap clap clap, tiger ROAR, boop-boop-boop, the end?"

"Yaaaaaaay Mommy!! Give me snuggles!"

Did our little dance lesson interrupt me while I was making dinner? Sure-but those five minutes with the Bug, with her giggling and playing and snuggling, are apart of a whole series of five minute memories that will make up her childhood. Adding that little bit of magic and fun to the memories she will have for the rest of her life, and bringing that little bit of sunshine into my life, are worth a late dinner any day because it's moments like that which I will hold in my heart forever and which make me realize how blessed I am to be a mom.

Join the Club

Welcome new inductees to The Mom Club, including my little sister in law. I'll be your guide today as you join the exhausted, yet honorable, ranks of those who have changed their name to Mommy. After 9 months of picturing yourself holding your precious little one in your arms, gazing into their eyes and rocking serenely in the soft light of the nursery, it's time to zoom in on that picture a little bit.

When you look closer, you'll notice you're not actually gazing into your baby's eyes so much as slumped back against the headrest asleep while nursing your baby for the eighth time in as many hours. Note the serene sounds of your snores and the way the soft light bounces off the drool collecting on the corner of your mouth. Now don't feel bad-every woman in our ranks has fallen asleep while nursing at least once. In the first few weeks, probably once a night. You'll be fine though-new moms develop their own startle reflex. You'll find yourself waking up even in those brief hours when your baby is actually asleep and you won't know why-but it's the mom startle reflex reacting to your baby's eyelashes fluttering or them making sucking noises in their sleep. Go ahead and check on them-you won't be able to sleep otherwise-but at least try to resist the urge to wake them up just to make sure they're okay. You'll really be sorry if you do.

I know what first time pregnant women and men are thinking-why would a new mom want to wake up their baby to check on them? It's all a part of the package I assure you. The sleepless, neurotic, loving, attentive, exhausted new mom package.

That's why I have to share this to save your nerves new moms-don't fret when your baby cries. I would never, ever tell you not to tend to your newborn immediately, but don't end up like I did once-bawling too hard to nurse because your heart broke at the sound of your baby's cry. Try to think of crying as baby language. As newborns, it's not that they're sad or angry-crying is just the only language they know at that point. I realize it's hard, but if you can keep yourself from taking it personally you'll save yourself a lot of stress.

My last piece of advice, and the biggest stress reliever I can give you, is to remember that you're not perfect...but neither is anyone else. You turned out okay, right? Well at one point your mom was just as crazy and panicked as you are now. Mother Teresa's mom was neurotic and high strung and sleepless once upon a time-leaving whole gallons of milk on the counter to rot, walking into rooms and immediately forgetting what she was doing there, praying for ten minutes of sleep uninterrupted by the cry of the baby, her husband asking what to do if the baby does XYZ, or the mom startle reflex...and look at Mother Teresa. Great lady. Your baby will turn out great too, no matter what mistakes you make or how exhausted you are, because the truth is babies only really need one thing from their mothers...

LOVE.

If you trust in your love for your child and make every decision with their best interest in mind, nothing you do is going to mess them up too much (no matter what they say to you as teenagers).

Trust yourself. Love your baby. Sleep with you can.

Welcome to motherhood.

Those Baby Blues

I don't want any more children. Really, I don't. I know this because (A) we just can't afford any more children and it's not fair to have more than you can afford and (B) I can't imagine where I would find the time or energy to be pregnant and then actually parent a fourth child while I am busy homeschooling three children/designing websites/freelance writing/doing quality assurance/going to school full time. It's not even close to possible-that's why I don't want to have another kid.

Except for that teeny-tiny completely irrational part of me which does.

It is probably just a bit of fret over the fact that Hubby will be getting his vasectomy next month and then it will all be really final, but it feels like I am living under big, bold letters:

THERE WILL BE NO MORE BABIES IN THIS HOUSE.

I know that I should feel like celebrating. Most people do when they're done having kids, right? They're glad that they won't have anymore years of interrupted sleep. That eventually everyone in the house will be able to wipe their own butts-right? Well, I don't feel like celebrating. Not really. I accept it, because I know that it's just not practical for us to have any more children-I know all of the reasons we need to be done...but I feel a little sad.

Sad that I will never get to bring another little one into the world. That I will never get to meet that new little person, and smell their new baby smell, and watch them grow and learn. It makes me sad to know that The Bean will always be the last. The last to crawl. The last to walk. The last to read. The last of all of my children's firsts are right ahead of me, and it makes me a little blue.

I know that it has to happen eventually-I can't just keep having children forever. And I know that The Bean is not the very last baby I'll ever see-our siblings are just starting their families and we'll have many new nieces and nephews. Someday our babies will have little ones of their own who I can snuggle. Still, they won't be mine in the same way. I guess I always thought that being done having babies meant that you wouldn't feel sad. That there was just this absolute sureness that every woman had when it was time to stop-that's how everyone I've talked to has made it sound. "You just know", "You feel like your family is complete and you don't even want any more babies".

That's really not been my experience. I wish it were. Of course Hubby has no idea what to say to me, and I can't even tell him what to say. He asks me if I want to try to have another baby, and the answer is no. Then he asks me if I'm happy not having any more babies and the answer no. Then he asks if I think we should wait and get the vasectomy later and the answer is no-I don't want to risk getting pregnant between now and "later". Poor Hubby-I just don't think there is a right answer for this one.

I think this one is just going to take a lot of time.

Do NOT Let Them Eat (This) Cake!

Okay, so remember how I mentioned on my UBP '10 post that I was going to tell you how to make a super awesome party cake today? I lied. Well, not so much lied as failed all over the place. My cake was one giant, massive, epic FAIL. This normally does not happen to me-I'm a pretty adept baker and I know how to compensate for mistakes-but this cake was so truly awful and gruesome that I cannot even post a picture of it for fear that you would lose all respect for any recipe I post from this day forward.

Let's just suffice to say that while it was technically edible, it certainly didn't look it.

So today instead of writing about how to make a cake I'm going to tell you a secret of Mom-ness that I have learned over the years. It is cool to bake cakes from scratch, but it is JUST as cool to buy them. No kid on the planet is going to care if the chocolate they are hoovering came out of your oven or out of Isle 5-a sugar rush is a sugar rush and the cake provided is just a means to that tiny junkie's end. Your kids will still love you if you bought their cake and their friends will thank you for it and continue spinning around until they puke it back up (hopefully in the car on the way home).

It's just not always feasible to lovingly make your child's cake from the ground up. You have kids-you have things to do that are far more important than baking a cake! Not to mention that most moms have other jobs, hobbies, and interests. Maybe you even just wanted to catch a couple extra moments of sleep-trust me it's totally worth getting a store bought cake. Besides, even 'domestic-er-than-thou' moms don't make it really from scratch. I don't know a single person who mortar and pestles their own wheat-we all get our cakes from the grocery store, the only difference is the degree of completion you purchase it in...and I say if you're short on time but have a bit of extra money spring the five bucks and buy a cake that's 100% finished rather than hauling it home in flour form.

I promise you, the only people who care about whether you made it or bought it are going to be you, Competitive Mom (but seriously-who cares what she thinks?), and your in laws-but don't worry I have the world's best come back for critics. When they ask you if you made it tell them in your chipperest voice "Yep-I bought it myself!" Hey, it made my MIL momentarily speechless-and that is a rare (and precious) thing.

So, in conclusion, learn from my example my good friends-you can be a good mom and still know that tragicomic epic cake FAILs are easily fixed by a little bit of magic (and a little bit of cash spent) in the local bakery.

Bedtime Stories

Today was a really hard day. The kids were all awake and downstairs by 6:30 in the morning, so naturally they were all tired and cranky beyond reason. They refused to sleep during nap and so only got worse and worse as the day went on. By late afternoon their horrible attitudes had rubbed off on Hubby and me-we were snipping at each other, the kids were crying and screaming and stomping at every turn, and bedtime couldn't come fast enough. Baby Bug goes down at 7, by which time The Bean is usually asleep and was today, so that helped, but by the time it was Monkey's turn at 8 I was so ready to put him to bed and try to relax.

As I put Monkey to bed I saw Baby Bug hanging out next to her baby gate (which we use in front of her door now that she can open and close it on her own) saying "Up! Up! Up! Mama Up!" and thought with a sigh this is going to be a long night. I helped Monkey into bed and asked him,

"Are you ready for your bedtime story?"

He looked at me, and then at Baby Bug, and said, "No, Mommy. I want to tell Baby Bug a story tonight. Can I?"

"Sure," I said, and we went over to the baby gate. Baby Bug's face lit up with delight. She turned her little face up and puckered her lips at her big brother and made a "muah" noise, signaling she was waiting for a kiss, and he leaned down and kissed her.

"Love Ooooo" Baby Bug said.

"Love you too," Monkey replied and brushed her hair out of her forehead, "Do you want me to tell you a bedtime story?"

"Yeah! Yeah!" She was so thrilled. She put her little cheek down to rest on the baby gate and looked adoringly at her big brother.

"Okay," Monkey started, "Once upon a time...." and then he paused and looked at me. "Mommy, you have to go now. This is just for Baby Bug from her big brother."

"Well, alright," I said. I kissed them both and exchanged I love yous.....and went around the corner, hiding a quarter of the way down the stairs to listen.

Monkey told Baby Bug a story about the man in the moon, and how he listens to all of your wishes. He listens to the wishes of big brothers, and baby sisters, and mommies and daddies too, and then he sprinkles moon fuzzies on you.

Baby Bug oooohed and aaaaahed at all the right places, and Monkey's voice was so animated excitedly making up the story as he went along. He ended it with a big "Theeeeeeeeeeeeee End" and Baby Bug clapped. Then monkey said to her,

"Alright baby sister, it's time for bed now. Give me a hug and a kiss."

Baby Bug made the "muah" noise, "Love you", she said.

"Love you too", replied monkey, "now go crawl in bed."

He paused, and I could hear the rustling of Baby Bug crawling into her toddler bed. "Good job Baby Bug," Monkey said. "I love you all the way up to the moon and back, baby sister."

"Night night" said Baby Bug.

"Night night, baby" said Monkey.

I heard him crawling into his own bed then, and I sat and strained to listen. All I could hear was the sound of the kids whispering quietly to their stuffed animals, and I started to cry. Next to the day my husband asked me to marry him, those were the happiest tears I have cried in my entire life. Heck, I'm crying just thinking about it. I am so proud of my boy, caring for his little sister-so proud of my sweet daughter, adoring her big brother so much. My children-for all of their noise and grumpiness-are the sweetest, most affectionate, loving children a mother was ever blessed with.

It was a wonderful day after all.

Selfish Mom

Selfish is a four letter word in the Mom world. It is the ultimate insult to any woman who loves her children, worse than a physical slap in the face, and that's why no one wants to go there. It's touchy, and it's probably going to hurt someone's feelings, and no one wants to go there.

But I will.

I think it's an important topic. On the surface there seem to be two distinct camps of mothers-those who believe that their children come first and those who believe that they come first. It can be easy to judge one as 'better' than the other, but the truth is the appropriate level of selfishness is a very complicated topic.

On the one hand there is the argument that all things should be sacrificed for your children. Their needs and happiness comes first-after all, you decided to have them and they are yours to take care of. You have been entrusted with tiny people who need you to teach them and care for them and love them and that should be top priority at all costs.

On the other hand there is the argument that you have to put yourself first in order to be capable of taking care of your children. As an example, the oxygen mask instructions on airplanes tell you to put your mask in place before assisting your children....after all, if you pass out from lack of oxygen your kids are on their own anyway. So moms on this side of the camp put their metaphorical oxygen masks on first for the future benefit of their children.

See? It's not black and white. There is one thing for certain though-people with extreme attitudes on this topic end up with extremely bad results...let me tell you a story about two moms I know who embody these extremes.

One mom is Martyr Mom. She puts her children above everything in her life. She cooks their meals from scratch. Everything in her home is hand sewn. She's on the School Board, the PTA, she coaches Coach Pitch, and she is a Den Mother. She tirelessly works for her children from sun up to the wee hours of the morning with never a complaint, and her children think that the earth revolves around her. This is very admirable (I complain all the time and I do half the work she does on a good day)-but in order to survive this, this woman is on a pharmacy of drugs. Since having her children she has suffered with depression, anxiety, OCD, panic attacks, phobias-you name it she's experienced it. She is suffering, her marriage is failing from lack of attention-but her children are tended to with absolute care.

The other mom is Oxygen Mask Mom. She puts herself above her children because she believes she is entitled to after her recent divorce, which caused her a lot of pain. She feels that she needs to take time by herself, doing things that she likes to do. She was a very young mom who never got to spend time for herself, she's coming out of a mediocre marriage, and she wants to spend time relaxing claiming a relaxed and happy mom will be best for her children. This is an absolutely valid point-but she takes it to the extreme and her children are suffering for it. She enrolled her children in as many programs as possible so that they could be shipped to and fro by bus and she could be alone most of the day. She spends only a few hours at home with them before they go to bed and then three to four nights a week she hits the bar. She reaches for alcohol and the company of strangers, bringing them both into her home after her children are sleeping. She feels that the holidays are too stressful for her this year because of her delicate emotional status and has decided that she and her children will not be celebrating them...it's too hard for her. She is bouncing back from her marriage and is, at this point, happy and relaxed-but her children are suffering.

Obviously, none of us want to be either of these moms. Common sense dictates you must balance somewhere in the middle---but where? And how?

Where is the line between self preservation for the benefit of your children and selfish behavior that is harmful to them? At one date night a week? At two martinis? At a nap extended to benefit Mommy? At frozen dinners?

How do you walk that line, respecting your needs as a person while carefully attending your children and fulfilling your role as Mommy? Do you do something for yourself once a day? Once a week? Once a year?

How do you become a self-preserving mother, devoted to the health and happiness of her children?

That is the million dollar question...and I have not figured out the magic formula yet. My own parents were high on the selfish scale, and as a consequence I fear selfishness to an almost irrational point. Sometimes I do things that, even when I look at them, seem ludacris-like staying awake the entire time The Bean is awake at night even if she isn't crying, just in case she needs me. Like going days without a shower because I don't want to leave the kids in nap longer than the agreed upon time period. Like leaving the house only once a week to pay bills so that I don't take time out of the time I spend with the kids, even for one day. I push myself so hard that I eventually flop from exhaustion and then I go over into the other extreme-I've made entire meals out of a combination of boxed/frozen/canned items-I've made dinners with only one item! I've fallen asleep on the couch while the kids were playing right in front of me. My house has been so dirty that I have seriously questioned it's safety.

Still, there are times when I'm not too exhausted and I'm not too stressed about being entirely selfless that I seem to hit that sweet spot. The one where the house is disorganized but clean, the meals are cooked and balanced but simple, I get out a few times but still manage to spend equal time with all of the kids, and I get a nice hot bubble bath to boot. How does it happen? Luck mostly-though I do have one little secret.

My list. I make a list in my head of things that I would like to do for myself, and each thing has a different time requirement and level of involvement. Then, when I have a spare minute I see what on my list I can fit in. If I have an hour during the day I'll probably read my blogs. If I have an hour at night I'll take a bubble bath. If I have twenty minutes during the day I'll do the crossword, at night I'll watch something off the DVR.

So I'm curious-what do you do for yourself? How do you balance your Mom time with your Mom responsibilities? Where on the spectrum of selfishness do you think is the best place to be as Mom? I'd love to hear your thoughts.

It's A Mom Thing

Like every mom in the world I have had about 10,000 things going in the two weeks (hence the sporadic blog posts...sorry!). I had my SITS day, we celebrated our 7th Anniversary, I started a long term work at home job (which I'll talk about later), I've had two contract web design jobs, I've been gathering together prizes for my upcoming Christmas giveaway (It's a surprise-details coming soon!), the kids and I have been a bit under the weather, we've been trying to set plans for the holidays....yep, true to Mommy form I'm running around like a headless chicken collecting a lot of awesome blog fodder. Maybe even too much blog fodder-I have so much to write about I hardly know where to start!

I've decided to start with something fun and relaxing-I have been tagged by Samantha of Apple Juice and Milk to talk about 5 experiences that have helped shape me into a Theta Mom (a true, authentic Mom).

1. Of course first on my list is pregnancy and childbirth. I know, shock. Still, I think nothing says trial-by-fire like the whole "making and birthing a tiny human" thing. With each of my pregnancies I "enjoyed" new opportunities to experience motherhood in all new ways. With my first pregnancy (Monkey!) I experienced the damning judgment that comes with teen pregnancy (even though I was emancipated!), 9 months of crippling hyperemesis (I was hospitalized on average three times a week), and the joy of delivering a child with a 14 1/2 inch head (thank GOD for epidurals!). With Baby Bug I was introduced to the most excruciating experience of my entire life [yes, even more painful than childbirth] as I passed gallstones for 14 weeks before they induced me (and then for six more weeks after that). With The Bean I got to UNWILLINGLY experience the natural child birth of a baby with a 13 1/2 inch head.

Yep. Trial by fire I tell you.

2. Next on my list is the emotional experience I had with Baby Bug. When the hormones kicked in I became crazy. When we found out that she was a girl I was terrified-my experience with my mother was so profoundly awful, and I was so terribly hormonal, that all I could do was cry for weeks. Then, just as I came to a kind of peace with the fact that just because my mom was a dreadful mother to her daughter didn't mean I would carry that on, I began to absolutely obsess over the fear that Monkey would feel abandoned by his Mommy. I began to feel like a Judas-as if I were trading in our son for another baby. The guilt was crushing. I was devastated. How could I possibly love them both at once? How could I willingly betray our precious son by having another baby that would steal me away from him? WHAT KIND OF A MOTHER AM I?! All of these thoughts swirled in my head so furiously that on the night before we were induced I was a giant sobbing wreck. I bawled my eyes out all over Hubby, traumatized, absolutely certain that giving birth to Baby Bug would be no less painful than driving a dagger through our son's heart.

Then Baby Bug was born....and I waited for that moment of instant bonding that happened when Monkey was born, and it didn't happen. I had twice the guilt-not only did I betray our darling first born by having a second baby, but I was neglecting our newborn daughter because of my inability to instantaneously bond with her. I did everything I could to try to force it, but it just wasn't happening and I felt lower than pond scum. Then one day I just let it go. I relaxed-I figured even if we couldn't bond the same way Monkey and I did that I still loved her and that was all that mattered...and you know what? It happened. I relaxed and let go and that bond between my oldest daughter and I snuck right up on me. Now she is my heart's sunshine, and I couldn't even imagine not adoring her in every way-but that experience certainly shaped me as a mom.....I learned that every child is different, and every relationship is different, but there is enough love and enough bonding experiences to go around for everybody if I just let my relationships with my children grow and develop naturally at their own pace.

3. Another thing that has made me a true, authentic mom is my lifestyle. What is so weird about being a stay at home, minivan loving, homeschooling mom? Nothing....unless you come from a family of career driven, Harley riding, public school teachers like I do-in which case you're the black sheep. [Baaaa!] I have spent Monkey's entire life defending my lifestyle choices to my family and I fully expect that I will need to do so until the last of our children leaves home, but it's worth it. I love my kids, and I will do what I think is best for them and I will defend that decision to the ends of the earth. A mama bear takes care of her baby bears.

4. To me, being a true authentic mom means being honest about being a regular person. I'm the first one to tell you that I'm not Super Mom-no matter how hot I think the boots are, I could never fill them. Nor could I be some uber serene Little House on the Prairie mom. I am not the freestyle Hippie Mom or the Donna Reid incarnate. I'm just me. I'm just a normal person, with a slightly elevated level of patience and the ability to work really hard.......by necessity and training, not virtue I assure you.

5. One of the personal hurdles I have overcome as a mom in the last five years is my disturbing addiction to sleep. I used to be a sleep junkie-sleeping 6, maybe 7 hours in a row some days. As a mom however the decision was made for me I decided that I needed to ratchet that nasty eyes-closed-resting-peacefully habit down to a minimum, and so I have. I haven't slept more than 5 hours in a row since before I got pregnant with Baby Bug...in JUNE 07. My average sleep time per 24 hour period is 3 hours, usually broken up into one two hour segment and a one hour nap later in the day. I have successfully pruned my sleep down to the bare minimum required to function on a slightly better than brain dead level.

Now that's a sure sign of being a real mom.

If you read this entire post, you're awesome and you should post too! I tag all of you, and I promise to read your posts even if it is obscenely long like mine is or even obsceneier. [Yep, obsceneier. That's what you get on two hours of sleep.] What makes you a true, authentic mom? Just link it in the comments and I'll stop by!

Motherhood-Down and Dirty

How has motherhood changed me? Just look at a picture of me before I had children....

As you may or may not notice, I am very well groomed in that picture. I mean coiffed. My hear is permed and styled. I am wearing make up in that picture. That used to be an every day occurrence...now I consider it a 'fancy' day if I have enough time to put on a bra and pants that have a zipper.

In this picture, though I know you are all far too polite to notice, I am also 40lbs lighter. And who are we kidding, that's not baby weight...that's roughly the weight of my five year old. Truth be told, I have gained 25lbs since delivering The Bean. Turns out eating one meal a day at nine o'clock at night after the kids have gone to bed is the equivalent of metabolism suicide.

Lastly, though you can't tell from the picture, I can assure you that I smelled like vanilla and roses. That was my 'scent' back before I had children. Now my scent is the sour stench of spit up with just a hint of peanut butter, since I have no desire to change my clothes 600 times a day after each time that I am used as a human napkin.

Before I had children I was put together, I smelled nice, and I was thin-but that's obvious. The real secret here is that I wouldn't change the way things are now for all the money-or vanilla bubble baths-in the world. Motherhood has changed me on the inside as well.

Motherhood has given me more patience, enough to answer every "why?" with a smile as I watch my childrens' world expand and their minds open to new things.

Motherhood has made me more compassionate as I realize now that every person on this planet is someone's baby.

Motherhood has shown me how to be more flexible, since nothing ever works out the way you plan it but somehow always works out okay in the end.

Motherhood has made me brave. Brave enough to face my flaws, and brave enough to fix them. Brave enough to say I DON'T KNOW, but I will learn. Brave enough to raise three children five and under on three hours of sleep a night....and if I'm brave enough to do that, there is no stopping me.

I am Mommy. The reader of the bedtime stories. The kisser of boo boos. The recipient of crayon art, couch snuggles, and the pure unconditional adoring love of three amazing children. Motherhood has certainly made some messy changes, but it is still the best thing that has ever happened to me.

[This is written in response to this week's Writer's Workshop. Visit Mama Kat to see more and participate!]

5 Minutes is More Than Enough

Over at Mama Kat's place they are talking about mothers, and it got me thinking. I'm not going to write about my own mother-she's a big ball of crazy, and I haven't spoken to her in four years. If I ever talk to her again it will be too soon. When I was small, my Nana (Dad's mom) was my mother. She did all of the Mommy things, better than I ever could have asked for, but she died when I was only 7. I do my best to emulate her, but unfortunately there have been many situations where her guidance was unavailable and sorely missed. I do have a step mom, a wonderful lady for whom I am very grateful, but I didn't get much time with her either. We only lived together a little more than 3 years and-while she is a terrific lady-we still don't understand much about each other and she always gave all parenting over to my dad.

And so, despite having had three female mother figures, I somehow ended up essentially motherless-and sometimes that makes me really nervous about my own parenting. Can you be a good mother if you don't really have a mother? I like to think so. Still, on days like today I wonder....

This afternoon I made a big mistake-I used the bathroom. I know, I know-I swear I'm not a rookie, but I'd been holding it for like five hours and it was an emergency. [Hey, after three kids your bladder just isn't the same.] I thought I'd be safe. Monkey appeared to be engrossed in coloring, Baby Bug was drinking her milk securely fastened into her high chair, and The Bean was asleep in her swing so I ran upstairs to enjoy the rare opportunity to pee by myself. I wasn't gone a full five minutes, but when I came downstairs it was anarchy.

As I walk into the living room, my feet slosh on the carpet. Yes, slosh. The carpet is drenched-not just a spot either-I'd say probably 6 sq feet or more of carpet, entirely soaked. It seems that Monkey had decided he was going to press the automatic water button on the fridge.....and hold it down....until there was standing water in the kitchen/living room.

This is not all he managed to do in five minutes either. He also acted as an accomplice to Baby Bug, who in this same time had managed to unfasten her safety belt (how "safe" is that?), rip off her diaper and stand up butt naked in her high chair squealing with delight. The diaper itself was no where in sight, because Monkey had decided to hide the poopy diaper under the sink in the downstairs bathroom.

While this was all happening, The Bean-presumably awakened by Baby Bug's squeals of delight-had somehow managed to put one leg over the top of her swing's tray and get stuck. She's five months old...just old enough to get herself into these positions, but not big enough to get herself out of them.

So when I come downstairs after my only solitary pee of the day I am standing in the lake that is now my living room, watching Monkey throw a poopy diaper (aka the evidence) under the bathroom sink while Baby Bug shrieks and attempts to throw her naked body out of her high chair and The Bean thrashes back and forth in her swing and cries like she means it.

And for a split second my only thought was

WHO IS RAISING THESE HOOLIGANS?!

My House-It's Where the Wild Things Are
[Picture from Max and the Wild Things, by Maurice Sendak]

Oh yeah-that would be me....and Hubby of course; my conspirator in raising this roving band of destructive monkeys. As I spring into action to get the girls safe and clothed and start sopping up the water on the floor (with Monkey's help of course) I can't help but wonder to myself-did anything like this ever happen to my Nana? Does this mean my children are out of control? Will they end up in jail/in therapy/in the circus because of this? Am I really a good mother?

As I always do when pondering these things, I came to the conclusion that I can only do my best and pray for God to give my children sense enough to overcome the flaws in my guidance. I wish there was some kind of clear cut sign, some kind of step by step check list of good mothering that I could tick off one at a time (I'm pretty sure "allow children to flood the house and dance around naked" would not be on that list).....but I guess I'll have to settle for loving my kids the best I can in the way I think is best.

I think I'm going to need to look into water proofing the house.

Pregnancy: Is Age Just A Number?

Hubby and I just watched Away We Go tonight. The movie itself was so so, but it got me thinking. In the movie the main characters are 33 and expecting their first child and they are portrayed as being really young and unprepared-just kids, possibly too irresponsible to have children.

Really? At 33?

I'm probably biased, but I don't think that 33 is too young to be a parent. If you just base it on numbers alone it doesn't make much sense. The life expectancy in America is 76-which would make 38 exactly middle age...at what point did people who are 5 years shy of the mid point of their lives become too young to have children?

I think this movie is representative of a bigger cultural shift. I was browsing US Vital Statistics the other day (yes, I do that a lot-but I've warned you before that I'm a giant nerd) and it seems that in the past decade the birth rate among women under 30 has been declining at a steady pace-while the birth rate among women over 30 is rapidly increasing.

In 2003 the birth rate of women aged 30-34 jumped four percent. The birth rate of women 35-39 jumped two percent in 2003 and another two percent in 2004. At the same time the birth rate of women 18-24 has dropped 8% since 2000, and the birth rate among women ages 25-29 dropped by just under two percent between 2003 and 2005.

As I was Googling this phenomenon, I came across a surprisingly large number of message boards, websites, and support groups for women trying to conceive at 40+ years old-many of them for the first time.

It makes me wonder-why have people decided to have children so late? Why do people who do not have children at all until later decide to wait so long? Why is it so taboo to have kids in your 20s these days-after all, you're an adult by then.

It does seem that, by popular demand, 40 is the new 20 and 20 year olds are treated like children-why is that I wonder?

Obviously there are no magical, defined answers to my questions. Everyone is going to have different opinions-but I think I'm still forming mine. So tell me......

What do you think is the perfect age to have children and why? Why do you think society has decided that "40 is the new 20"?