Miguelina

The Woe of Motherhood (updated thanks to the NYTimes)

I don't know if it's just me, but lately I feel picked on by the media.  Apparently, modern parents are really annoying to some writers - just look at what they're saying:

• Women who have children are trend-following airheads who have children only so they can buy those trendy maternity outfits - just like Angelina and Gwen Stefani! - and are then shocked, SHOCKED, that raising children is, like, hard.  (This was just plain dumb.  Think about it - people having babies to be cool?  Give me a break!)

• Today Show segments that imply that moms who drink socially, especially with other moms, are pathetic alcoholics who turn to the bottle in a desperate attempt to break the monotony of their lives - and endanger children in the process.  (Just like anybody else who has a drink at the end of a long work day.  Happy Hour anyone?)

• Breastfeeding moms are perverted exhibitionists who must be banned from MySpace.  (MySpace!  The land of underage exhibitionism and lecherous old men is suddenly too prudish for babies eating?)

• Et tu, New York Times?  (I guess Mr. Brooks doesn't like chickpeas.)

• And, most offensive of all, that parents should be seen and not heard because raising kids is about "subordinating yourself."  (Right.  I thought parents are in charge.  You try disciplining a two year-old by subordinating yourself.)

Clearly, people that become parents, and especially women that become mothers, have lost their minds.  Our generation of parents are clueless hipsters that absolutely refuse to grow up.  We should get serious and do things their way. 

Excuse me if I don't buy this condescending crap.

Of course, becoming a mother is one of the biggest changes a woman will go through in her life.  Of course, kids are hard work.  Of course, parenting requires sacrifices.

Of course.

But if having children was so terrible, then none of us would be here, would we? 

Yes, parenting requires a lot of tedious boring work.  So does most of life.  Sitting in an office working on budgets and powerpoint presentations is hardly inspirational or self-actualizing.  I would venture to say that it requires some level of sacrifice.  Doing your laundry is tedious, whether you have children or not. 

But motherhood also has many rewarding moments.  It doesn't have to be an isolating experience.  It doesn't mean that you have to lose yourself.  And you most certainly don't have to become a parody of a 50's sitcom parent.  You will change, sure.  But that's not necessarily a bad thing.

Don't listen to these people criticizing the style of your parenting.  What matters is the substance.  No one is looking over your shoulder, telling you what to do.  You're the boss.

That might be scary to some people.  I find it liberating.

This idea that there's a "hipster parent" movement is ridiculous, about as ridiculous as the idea that once you're a parent you've bought a one-way ticket to squaresville.

Baby Shopping

One of the nicest things about being pregnant with your second child is that you are much more relaxed about everything.  In fact, and I am not exaggerating (much), the only preparation I’ve done so far for this baby’s arrival is popping a pre-natal vitamin every night.  Clean newborn outfits?  Check.  Bassinet?  Check.  Lansinoh?  Car Seat?  Changing Table?  Check.  Check.  Check. 

I admit that while we have approximately 600 size 5 diapers at home we only have one measly Newborn diaper – and that is only because of the generous people at Pampers who presciently (and just a little bit creepily) sent me one just two weeks after I found out I was pregnant.  But you now, now that I’ve been doing this for two years I know that the hospital has diapers in stock and that the nurses will send me home with samples and newborn pjs and those little blue and pink blankets that newborns seem to love.  Also, CVS carries diapers, or so I hear. 

So maybe we’ve kind of been slacking on the whole “preparation” thing.  And by preparation, I mean shopping.  At some point during my first pregnancy, I went from refusing to even set foot inside a Babies-R-Us to full-on Type A organizational freak.  I had lists and lists of things we needed to buy, things I needed to pack for the hospital, things to buy-buy-buy.

For example, here is one of my lists - one that I had labeled my “bare essentials” lists.  (Every item on this list was purchased by my seventh month of pregnancy):

• Infant Car Seat
• Stroller Frame
• Carrier
• Car Seat Cover
• Crib
• Dresser
• Rug
• Bassinet/Playard
• Mattress
• Crib Sheets
• Lap Pads
• Extra Playard Sheets
• Arm's reach extra mattress*
• Sleep Aid
• Mobile
• 6 Undershirts
• 4 footed coveralls/sleepers
• 3 Knit Caps
• Sleep wear
• Cloth Diapers
• Boppy Pillow
• Nursing Pads
• Nursing Bras
• Lanolin Cream
• Changing Pillow
• Changing Pad Cover
• Diapers
• Cleansing Cloths
• Desitin
• Diaper Pail
• Diaper Pail Refill
• Sink BathTub
• Hooded Bath Towel
• Bouncy Seat
• Batteries
• Video Camera

       

Is there anyone more anal-retentive than a woman pregnant for the first time?

Of course, I do have a list of things that we absolutely must purchase before baby #2 arrives.  Even an experienced mother such as myself can't escape the reality of an expanding family.  And for our family, our list consists of this:

• A car. 
• Where we all fit. 
• Car seats and all.

We're in the market for a car that will fit 2 car seats (and maybe, someday, a third.)  We need seating for at least two people other than my husband and myself.  We do have family and friends that come to visit occasionally.  I don't think they will be happy if I make them jog besides the car as I'm zipping down the Mass Pike.  So for those of you keeping count, that means that we need a 7 passenger car.

If anyone says "minivan" I will start to cry.  I know that it's the sensible choice, but, but - I don't like big cars!  I want a big family, but thinking of trying to parallel park a 200+ inch-long vehicle is making me lose sleep at night.

So far we've driven the Mazda CX-9, the Honda Pilot and the Mountaineer.   All were nice, but I'm torn between the Mazda and the Pilot.  Unfortunately, both of these cars require some creative body movements if someone wants to actually get to the third row.

Next up, a Saturn Outlook and maybe a Toyota Sienna.  (I need a minute here.  I'm considering a Saturn.  And a van.  Because, maybe someday we will need to have a car seat strapped to the third row.  Is that crazy?)  Three years ago I was driving a coupe.  Just take a look at me now!

Does anybody out there drive a 7 or 8 passenger car?  Any recommendations?

The Hunt

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Hi!  I'm still sick, so much so that the new OB-GYN at the practice refused to shake my hand today.  (Pffft!  Amateur!)  I'm back at home cocooning and trying to get some rest.  Needless to say, there is nothing exciting to report in the past two weeks.  I've turned into a hermit.  In the meantime, I dug this up in case you need something to help you procrastinate.

Stay warm.  And don't shake germy people's hands.

*****************

Few things have tested my sanity like trying to buy a house in Massachusetts.  I have a toddler, so that’s saying a lot.  We’ve been searching for a house for over a year now, and I see no end in sight – even in this buyer’s market.  The only reason we haven’t given up and moved to a state where sellers of little old mildew-infested houses with plaid wallpaper and one tiny bath don’t expect a million dollars (ha!) is because of the optimism of our real estate agent - The World's Most Patient Realtor - who dutifully digs through the MLS for us even though he knows that my husband and I are convinced that a decent 4-bedroom house does not exist in our price range.  Looking for one is a fool’s quest, like looking for leprechauns at the end of a rainbow, an activity solely for the very young or naïve.

A few months ago we went to see an antique colonial so perfect that it brought tears to my eyes.  It did!  While the house was built in 1847, the kitchen is a marvel of modern technology, with a Wolf stove and Sub-Zero refrigerator, a prep island with a sink, a sunny sitting area for six and a huge family room.  The living and dining rooms have floor to ceiling windows, and the house is surrounded by a white picket fence.  I could walk to a coffee shop and bakery within 2 minutes, drive to a major shopping area within 5, and be in downtown Boston in 20 minutes.

This city woman didn’t even mind the fact that the location is more picturesque than urban.  My husband, however, completely freaked out at the sight of farm animals, even though we would only be 15 minutes from where we currently live.  It doesn't bother me as much as it does him, because as far as I'm concerned, if this town is good enough for Neiman Marcus and Whole Foods, it's good enough for me.

Despite my husband's hesitation, he couldn't hide his excitement at the beauty of this house.  The best part is that we've seen houses at this price, houses that are a fraction of the size and dumpy and smelly.  Not this house.  This house has been cared for, lovingly restored and maintained.  Unlike most of the other houses in our price range, this was a house where I could see us really living.

“ This is a great part of town.  You get the best of both village and city life.”  Our realtor was clearly sensing our interest and was having high hopes of his own.  Maybe he would finally be rid of us and be able to move on with his life.

“I know!”  I replied.

“They must have invested at least $50K in the kitchen.” He was impressed too!  I was already dreaming of having my morning Cheerios in a $50,000 kitchen.  “The amazing thing is that the basement is dry even after all the rain we’ve had this week.”

I tried to act cool,  “Yes, this house is nice.”

“However,” (our realtor always points out the negative), “this house is next door to a cemetery.  Do you know what that means?”

“It means that we would have really quiet neighbors,” I said, desperately, as I fondled the French doors leading to ‘my’ sunroom/office.

He looked at me for a second, then pointed at me, and said, “You!  You should go into real estate!”

Ah yes - I forgot to mention the fabulous deck with a view to the great beyond.  (Which, interestingly, the seller’s agent forgot to mention as well.)  But after months of touring houses that I just wasn’t that into - I was finally in love.  And who’s going to let a few tombstones come between them and true love? 

Of course, real estate is more complicated than love.  I tried to be positive (“just THINK of the Halloween parties!”) but my husband wasn’t buying it.  So we passed on the house.   I was heartbroken, but time has healed the wound, mostly.  And the search goes on.

Lather. Rinse. Repeat.

Lather.

It begins innocently enough.  On Monday, you notice a little trickle of a runny nose and you wipe it, without giving it a second thought.  What kid doesn't have a runny nose?  And then, before you know it, a flood of pestilence is unleashed upon your home - soon you are crashing against endless waves of green mucus and trying to keep your head above the waters of assorted bodily fluids.  And after a few days braving it alone, your child has a painful night filled with tears that Motrin can't stop and you know it's time to see the doctor.

And off you go.  Finally, you get to leave the house after four days, only to hear from the doctor that it's a double ear infection...and a nasty one at that.

Rinse.

So you stop at the pharmacy, crying child in arms, and fill up the prescription for antibiotics.  And you start the regimen.  And you have a few more nights of late night crying.  And you continue to cancel appointments and lunch dates.  And you cancel your Saturday night plans, the ones for which you hired a new sitter - yes, you had finally found a sitter - and you stay home and watch the endless Anna Nicole Smith coverage.  You become an expert on inheritance law and DNA tests and are horrified by the greed and the sadness of the whole thing and by married Europeans with fake princely titles.

And then, then it is Sunday.  And your child wakes up happy.  And the gushing nose has slowed down to a trickle again.  And he is smiling.  And there is hope.

But then it is Monday.  Again.  And you're the one with the sore throat and the clogged sinuses.  And you can't breathe.  So it begins, again.

Repeat.