Why Moms Are Exhausted. The Real Story.

Why Moms Are Exhausted. The Real Story.

There is tired, then there is pure exhaustion.  If you’re a mom you know pure exhaustion well.  Now dads, I can already hear your mental eye roll (no, you may not physically roll your eyes, but I know you’re thinking it… stop it), but this has absolutely nothing to do with you or how much or how little you do around the house or with your kids.  Chances are, dad, you’re as much a part of household functions as mom is, BUT… and this is a big but (stop snickering, I know I said “big but”), moms typically tend to “run” the household.  By “run” I mean schedule, plan, organize, get people to practices, games, school, family functions, llama meet-and-greets (alright, I made that one up, but I would go to one…), and generally make sure all bases are covered.

I never really thought much about it until a friend and coworker posted an article and comic about the mental load working mothers bear (head on over to Working Mother if you’d like to see the original article).  I’m going to stop right there… working mothers?  Uhhhhhh… hold up.  Working. Mothers.  A bit redundant?  Whether you work OUTSIDE the home or INSIDE the home it is work.  Working full-time before kids, full-time with kids, and part-time with kids, I can tell you it is ALL work.  Disregard whether or not moms work outside the home, I think the author and creator of the comic in the Working Mother article were spot on on one thing: the mental load of a mom.  For example, here is my stream of thought after waking this morning:

  • *alarm sounds* I hear rain.  Where is the neurotic dog?  I need to take him out before he hears thunder and won’t pee and poop in the yard.  If he doesn’t pee and poop before we leave I’ll have to clean his cage when I get home from work after getting two kids and all of my crap out of the car.  I really don’t want to have to do that before I start preparing dinner.  Wait.  I need to pee.  Ok, I’ll go pee, then take the dog out.  I use the restroom, take the dog outside in the pouring rain, he uses the restroom, we come back inside.
  • By this time the dog is shaking because, well, rain and neurotic dogs don’t mix.  I give the dog medication so he’ll at least be able to semi-function without having a heart attack.
  • By now I’m running late, so I hop in the shower.  In the shower I think about the dinner I need to make for the night, the dinner for the next night when we’re having company, and the work carry-in the next day.  I ordered groceries for a pickup the day before that my husband picked up, but I forgot the most important ingredient for the carry-in dish, so I have to pick it up from the store when I get off work.  I then realize a few other things that would be good to have, so I should probably try to get it all in in one trip.  I’ll need to remember to add that to the current list I have on my phone.  It’s trash night.  When I get home I need to empty our large trash can, remember to empty the diaper pail, because, well, poopy diapers stink.  I should also take the trash and recycling to the curb when I get home so we don’t have to do it later because I try to go to the gym to get my hour work out in for the week (I realize working out an hour a week does nothing, but hey… Swerking is fun-check it out!).  By this time I’m about finished with my shower.
  • Hop out of the shower, dry off, apply deodorant, face cream (because I’m over 30 now… those wrinkles won’t fix themselves in the future and btw… why do I STILL have acne at 31????), lotion, Bio Oil (because stretch marks).  Check on the baby real quick because he usually needs to eat by now, trip over the neurotic shaking dog a few more times.  Put stuff in my hair so it doesn’t look too much like all I did was let it air dry, which I did.  Put a little makeup on so I don’t scare anyone (again… wrinkles, acne… don’t nobody wanna see that hot mess).  Head to get dressed.
  • Crap.  What I thought about wearing in my head last night won’t work because it’s pouring outside.  What goes with my bright red Hunter boots?  Nope.  Not that… ok, that doesn’t fit anymore. Probably should add that to my Poshmark closet to sell (yeah… that’s not working out so great for me-apparently no one wants my pre-baby clothes).  It’s kind of a fat day so that won’t look that great, but oh well.  It matches and is comfortable.  I’ll only be at work half the day anyway. Throw it on, add some accessories, good to go.
  • Baby hasn’t eaten yet, so I start a bottle.  Turn off all of the outside lights, open the blinds in the family room-my succulents need light, guys!  Feed the fish who hasn’t been cleaned in 2 1/2 weeks (yeah… he should be cleaned weekly… hang in there, Sherman!), open the dining room blinds-more succulents need light.  And water.  They really need water-I’ll remember to water them when I get home.  Yep, I told myself that yesterday and the day before, too.
  • By this time my husband is up and is getting the baby dressed with the clothes I laid out the night before because I KNEW I would run late in the morning and things would just go faster if I made sure the kids’ clothes were ready for the morning.  Trip over the dog again and realize I hadn’t packed a lunch.  Then I remember there are no leftovers because the grocery was out of the main ingredient I needed for dinner last night so my husband ventured back out for Tropical Smoothie instead so now I don’t have a lunch.  Frozen dinner.  Oh no… only 2 of those left.  I’ll add that to the list of things I need to get at the store today.  What did I think of when I was in the shower that needed to be added to the list?  Dang it… what was it????  Oh, yeah-coffee.  I then realize I haven’t had coffee yet either.  Make the coffee, get our oldest out of bed, he starts getting himself dressed, feed the baby, put him in his car seat that my husband brought out.
  • Rinse some blueberries, put them in my lunchbox, gather all of my belongings, tell the oldest to get his shoes on, then I think about the shoes I meant to buy him because his are worn out and he has no Velcro shoes when preschool starts this month.  He also needs to start learning how to tie his shoes.  We’ll work on that soon, I tell myself for the millionth time.  I carry everything out to the car, forget my frozen dinner, pull one out of the freezer, put it in my lunch box.
  • My husband loads the baby into the car, the dog runs out the door, my husband gets the dog back inside, buckles our oldest into his booster seat, I get in the car.
  • We start pulling out of the driveway around 7:30.  I woke up at 6:15.  All of this in an hour and 15 minutes.  This is just the START of my day.  Haven’t been to work, haven’t even dropped the kids off at my mom and dad’s house for the day (yes… I have the best mom in the world who hangs out with our kids all day while I’m at work 3 days a week-you rock, mom!).  This is just getting ready for the day.

Now, part of this is personality.  Ok, ok… most of this is personality.  It’s how I’m wired.  My guess is that most women are wired this way.  Is that wrong?  Nope.  From my observations there’s a reason-moms try to make sure all of the bases are covered.  Are people fed?  Are they clothed?  Are they clean?  Am I two steps ahead so I’m not three steps behind in 5 minutes?  Moms are multi-taskers.  They have to be to anticipate everyone’s needs.  Dads?  I’ll do the task I’m doing and don’t interrupt me until I’m finished because I can’t even chew gum and walk at the same time.  Guys, this is not an insult.  I repeat, put your weapons down, this IS NOT an insult.

This is where I disagree with the comic and the article’s solution: there is no “solution”.  Personalities, families, and people in general are all different.  I can’t say enough about how much of the load my husband shares.  I now work part-time, so I feel it’s only fair for me to do a little more around the house than he does.  I’m at home far more than he is, but when he is home he’s either keeping the kids occupied, taking care of them, or helping clean up, so he definitely does his share without being asked, then asks what else I need when he doesn’t know what to help with.  The problem isn’t even “doing more”… it’s how can I think less.  That will never happen for me-I constantly plan, think, and compartmentalize in my head, which cannot be changed.  What can change is to make sure I communicate when it becomes too much to handle and I start to burn out.  I think everyone deals with this differently.  I have friends who run/jog, work out, binge watch TV, craft, read, write, color, paint, you name it.  Find what it is that helps you decompress and DO IT.  Let people know when you’ve hit your mental limit.  How can you pour from an empty cup?  If your cup is empty, do what you need to do to fill it!  Keep up the great work, moms!  Even if you think it goes unnoticed, it doesn’t.  Your kids see you-they may not notice it now, but trust me, they’ll realize it when they’re older.  You rock, mom.

 

Fed is Best. The End.

Fed is Best. The End.

Really nothing more to say on this one… feed your child, keep your mouth shut, move on.  I really don’t know when it became everyone else’s business how you choose to feed your child, but as a mother of two I’m appalled at the reactions of moms.  MOMS.  You guys, get it together.  Momming is hard.  Really, really hard.  It’s a darned if you do, darned if you don’t job being a mom and everyone (I mean the cashier ringing you up at Target kind of everyone) has an opinion on how you should do your job.  You know whose opinion matters?  Yours.  Period.

Nursing moms-props to you!  It’s hard-been there, done that, got the… nothing.  I didn’t get anything for it-it’s a thankless job, but hey… my child benefited from it… maybe? You see, here’s the problem with the “Breast is Best” campaign.  It is best, until it isn’t.  It is best when your child is receiving the proper nutrition, the correct amount, and mom and baby are harmoniously intertwined in the ever perfect, natural nursing bubble.  How often does that happen?  My guess is almost never.  What is awesome is when you produce enough nutritious milk for your baby and you know what?  That is AWESOME!  You go, nursing diva!  On the flip side, some of us aren’t as lucky.  I nursed my first for 7 months.  7 months of what I refer to as “the period of which I have no recollection”.  Why do I refer to it as this?  Because I have literally blocked that 7 months out of my mind because of the torment that was breastfeeding.  I hated every second of it.  I didn’t produce enough which meant I had to supplement anyway, he didn’t gain all that much weight in those 7 months, and overall it was a nightmare.  He ate every hour on the hour until he was 6 months old.  Now, throw in a full-time job on top of that and hopefully you’ll understand why I blocked it all out-I was too exhausted and sleep-deprived to have the mental capacity to even remember anything.  I existed.  Survived.  Barely.  I had mastitis that landed me in bed for a full week when he was 3 weeks old and I never was able to maintain a perfect balance.  I either had way too much, or way too little.  I constantly worried if he was getting enough, if I was producing too much, and never was able to maintain a balance.  He would eat for about 30 seconds and fall asleep.  Every. Darn.  Time.  Once he was fully formula fed that little nugget gained weight like crazy, was happier, healthier, and so was I.  I could actually enjoy my child.  I held him because, well, he’s adorable and I love my child.  Before?  Nope… the only time I had time to hold him was to feed him, then put him back down because at any given time of the day he was attached to me and I couldn’t even function as a human being.

Flash forward to my second child.  I figured I’d give it another shot.  This time latch seemed to be a bit of a problem.  I’ll spare you the details on this one-he seemed to be getting plenty, but it was painful to say the least.  About a week after he was born I landed in the ER with mastitis and clogged ducts so bad that I had a 106 fever (yep… that’s not a typo) that would not decrease with any medication I took.  I was borderline hallucinating and could barely walk myself into the ER.  Now, throw in the fact that I now had a 3-year-old to care for in addition to a newborn.  Easy decision on this one-formula for this little guy.  Best decision I’ve ever made for everyone involved.  I was actually able to hold my child, feed him, care for him, not worry about the nutrition he was getting, or if I would end up in the ER again.  He sleeps through the night, is a happy and VERY healthy, chunky little 6 month old, and I’m able to cook dinner, function normally at work, and just generally be functioning adult (well… as adult-ish as I can be normally).

I have friends and family that nurse like champions-I am SO happy for them.  They have amazingly healthy, happy babies and are nursing pros, which is indescribably awesome because their babies are getting nourishment with all of the added benefits of mom’s milk.

Now, for all of you nursing-selfie-takers out there, no one is hating on you that doesn’t want to see your child sucking on your boob.  Nurse away-grocery stores, parks, wherever.  Feed your child.  Move on.  No one cares.  Not in a negative way, but we really don’t care.  Does it offend me that you’re having what seems to be the time of your life nursing your child while I struggled?  Nope-not one bit.  You’re taking care of your child and from one mom to another, you’re doing great!  What is concerning to me is that some feel the need to make this their identity, their battle if you will, to draw attention to themselves (yep… I went there) for their “cause”.  It isn’t a cause, moms.  Do your thing.  Feed your child, share in your success even-we’re rooting for you.  It’s a hard job!  Momming is hard period.  Focus on your kids, their well-being, and supporting moms in their mom journey.

Deleted my FB App. Not Sad About It.

Deleted my FB App. Not Sad About It.

Yep.  I’ve done it before and I did it again and I could care less.  What do I miss about the little blue square “f” in my “Social” iPhone folder? Not much, to be brutally honest.  Here is what is missing from my life now that I can’t simply tap my app: nothing.  Not one dang thing, y’all.

After opening Facebook and seeing suicide articles posted in my feed for seemingly days it was a fairly easy decision.  I started thinking about what my life was like before that little blue “f” on my phone existed.  Better.  That’s what it was like.  I talked to people.  I didn’t have a button that let me see EVERYTHING.  Guess what?  I don’t want to see everything.  I need to not see everything.  What I need to see is my work when I’m at work, my family when I’m at home, my friends when we’re having dinner, shopping, or going to a movie.  I need to do things I love: cooking dinner for my family, playing with my kids, watching my child hitting his first baseball off a tee then chasing the ball instead of running like mad to first base (true story… feel free to chuckle at that mental image), binge watching ridiculous things like old seasons of Survivor (thanks a lot grad school Roomie) and NOT compare it to someone else’s version.

When suicide becomes almost commonplace it’s time to reevaluate.  Reevaluate technology usage and what media you surround yourself with.  No, I did not delete my Facebook account.  Why?  Because I do think when used in the right way it is a useful tool to share your experiences with your close friends and connect with those that aren’t close enough or are too busy to connect with regularly.  Hear me, though: no one’s life is what their Facebook displays.  Life is not filtered to show your perfect.  There is no filter for struggling to find time to pull your weeds in your overgrown flowerbeds, prepare healthy meals, and always have laundered and neatly folded clothes when you work, are rearing two adorable little men, trying to be a supportive, caring wife, and are workin’ on your fitness (holla, Fergie!  Yes… I know no one says “holla” anymore, but I still do…).  What you are viewing is fake.  As fake as Tyra Banks’s weave on America’s Got Talent every week (don’t lie and say you haven’t seen it… I’m sure you’re reading this on Facebook, ironically, so I’m sure you’ve seen America’s Got Talent clips this week).  Social media is a constant comparison game that will leave you feeling less than a perfect human being, which is what social media portrays.  Delete it?  No, but not having an app that I can simply press mindlessly at any time?  Absolutely.

Thanks for a useful tool, Mark Zuckerberg, but desensitized, comparative, filtered view of reality fell to its death as your little “f” icon app shook in fear as it was deleted.

Coming Soon…

Coming Soon…

Keep an eye out for some new developments! Soon a recipe of the week section will be added with my full review. With it? Not worth it? Best recipe ever? They’ll be coming soon!

In addition to new recipes, everyone needs a good laugh every now and then. I will be adding a section entitled “Toddler-ese”. This is my take on “Kids Say the Darndest Things”. I’ve had some doozies, so I figured why nor document them all!

Potty Training 101

Potty Training 101

Photo Credit: childrensmd.org

Here is just a little advice I’d like to pass along to the mothers of toddlers or those of babies who will soon be toddlers. This list is a culmination of advice given to me, advice read, or advice from, well, me. Please be sure to follow every single one of my suggestions, because these suggestions are the only correct ones. No, I’m serious. If you don’t follow these guidelines you’re a horrible parent. Really.

  • They should be potty trained before the age of 2. If they aren’t, you are not disciplining them enough and they will be intellectually stunted the remainder of their life.
  • They should not be potty trained before the age of 3. It will psychologically damage them for life and they will have constant urinary tract infections for the rest of their life if potty trained before this point (yes, I really read this…).
  • Don’t use pull-ups.
  • Use pull-ups.
  • Let them go naked even when they’re not ready to be potty trained and let them ruin your carpet and stain every surface in your house.
  • Don’t use a potty chair, then they won’t go in a public place.
  • Only use a potty chair, a normal toilet will scare them.
  • Don’t potty train until they are out of a crib and into a normal bed.
  • If you are potty training, don’t let them wear a pull-up or diaper at night.
  • If you are using a potty seat, only keep it in the bathroom.
  • If you are using a potty seat, move it to a central location in the house.
  • Give them rewards when they use the potty, but don’t reward with food because they will reward themselves with food the rest of their lives and it will be your fault if they become binge eaters.
  • Don’t give them rewards when they use the potty, they will expect them every time and will regress if not rewarded.
  • Scold them when they know they should have used the potty, but didn’t.
  • Don’t scold them, it will frighten them enough to not want to use the potty at all.
  • Sit them on the potty every 30 minutes (wait… are we potty training or parent training?).
  • Don’t let them watch TV while trying to use the potty. They shouldn’t be watching TV anyway. At least until they’re 20.
  • Praise them and make a big deal out of going in the potty when they actually go.
  • Don’t make a big deal out of going in the potty, they want to feel like everyone else.
  • Don’t tell them big kids use the potty-it will make them feel inferior if they aren’t ready yet.
  • Don’t use bribes or incentives.

Now that you have obtained a wealth of knowledge, go forth and potty train, parents! It will be a cinch!

Fuller House, Season 1: Check!

Fuller House, Season 1: Check!

Fuller HouseWell, that went quickly!  After all of the anticipation surrounding Fuller House, it seemed to go by much too quickly.  As a child who grew up watching Full House every Friday night on TGIF (I was exactly the same age as Michelle), the only thing I’ve been looking forward to as much as the premier of Fuller House on Netflix is the premier of the four part Gilmore Girls comeback.

The show brought back all of the quirkiness of Kimmy Gibbler, the wild child, Stephanie Tanner (now “DJ” Tanner… yeah, that was weird), uncle Jesse and his awesome hair, and even the innocence of the ever hungry past boyfriend of DJ, Steve.  Although the show had the same feeling of Full House with its corny jokes and family centered plot lines, something has changed.  The girls have grown up-and I’m not sure in a good way.

The original show was squeaky clean and except for a few occasional expletives from the “have mercy” daredevil days of uncle Jesse, plot lines centered around family, always doing what’s right, and squeaky clean family fun.  While Fuller House is definitely mild compared to today’s sitcoms, it’s by no means squeaky clean.  I’ve searched the web looking for responses from fellow bloggers, friends on Facebook, and I hold back my thoughts on the series until I hear what friends have to say first to see if I’m the only one who sees the show this way.

I would be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy the first season-I definitely did.  It was a walk down memory lane, but the drinking, clubbing, and “I can’t decide between the guy I dated for years in high school and the new guy I just met even though my husband just passed away” was a little much.  I know, I know, everyone is saying “the girls are grown now”, which is true.  But are they really true to character?  I would say yes… for the most part.  Everyone except for DJ.  Wait… that’s definitely not right.  The show is all about her… I mean, come on… It’s called “Fuller” House for a reason.  Not because it’s now “fuller” (come on, people, “fuller” isn’t a word), but because it’s DJ’s married name.  It’s now her house, her family, and her life the show is centered around.

Tell me something, Full House fans-would DJ Tanner go to a club, get drunk on tequila while her three children (including a very young infant) are at home, and have a dance-off with Maks and Val from Dancing with the Stars?  I highly doubt it.  Even though she is all grown up, has three kids of her own, and is starting to find her place as a single mom, DJ is the one that would be telling Kimmy and Stephanie to be responsible for their actions, not following them like a lost puppy.

I do enjoy seeing the girls put their talents to work on the show-dancing, singing, and just generally being their quirky selves.  I enjoyed the light-hearted comedy of the first season and am looking forward to the second!