Just So You Know...

If you think you'll eat less ice cream by grabbing the carton and using a baby spoon, you're wrong.

What this does mean of course, is that the dishes desperately need to be done.

Who Writes this Stuff, Anyway?

When I first found out I was pregnant, I ran to the library and took out a stack of books on pregnancy, labor, and delivery. I tore through all of them...and wanted to cry! What had I gotten myself into??? Everyone knows about stretchmarks, but how about these other weird pregnancy-related issues with unpronounceable names! I was a mess. I swore I'd never touch What to Expect When You're Expecting ever again!

So, the other day I was reading What to Expect the Toddler Years and came across the lovely tidbit that the reason my sweet 2 year old can say the alphabet and count to 20 is simply because he watches too much TV. Excuse me?!? Okay, like I don't feel bad enough about the days when I struggled with morning sickness and guiltily popped in a Baby Einstein video for my little guy to watch. I promise - I'm not THAT mom! And anyway, who can blame us every once and awhile?

Then I read a book about getting your newborn into a schedule so they'll eat and sleep well, and allow the rest of the family to do the same. It went on to outline, in great detail, every mistake I had made with my son and let me know, with no sympathy mind you, that I had basically ruined him for life. He won't make friends easily, he won't retain information, he'll struggle with eating disorders, and he'll probably want to sleep in my bed until he's a teenager. And that was best-case scenario.

Can I tell you something? I KNOW I've made mistakes. I know I could have done things better. I know that someday one of my kids will tell me I've ruined their life. But please - let them tell me. Because at least then I can reply: I only messed you up because I love you.

Kill the Bugs...not the Baby!

I once spent the summer in Calcutta. I saw rats the size of cats and cockroaches like you wouldn't believe. In fact, not only did I trip over one on the sidewalk, but I once let out a primal scream as I stomped my flipflop-clad foot down on top of one. And after all that, I still hate the teeny bugs we have here.

The other day I found an army of ants infiltrating our kitchen by way of our back door. I immediately went ballistic. I ran for the insecticide spray and crazily sprayed the door (inside and out), doorknob, wall, floorboards, and everywhere else the ants might possibly think to go.

Of course, the ants may have been thinking, but I clearly was not. Soon I started coughing and gagging and my nostrils felt fuzzy. Thankfully my little guy was in the other room, but I'm pretty sure I may have done serious damage to my unborn child just by inhaling that poison!

Unfortunately, this was not the first time I almost killed my kid while trying to kill a bug. When my son was just an infant, I found a wasp in our kitchen. Again without thinking, I grabbed the closest thing I could find - bathroom deodorizer this time - and sprayed half the can on that stupid bug.

Somehow we all survived. Well, not the bugs. But I hate them anyway.

Joining the Mommy Club

In college, I became a Resident Advisor after seeing the terrible job my own RA did. I just knew I could do better. Thankfully, that's not why I became a mom. My own mother did a great job and I have so much more respect for her now than I ever did growing up. I think the one thing she probably didn't teach me enough about though, was how to handle motherhood.

I didn't know how stupid I'd feel - all the time - during those early months. And I had been a nanny AND a school teacher! But nevertheless, I felt way in over my head. Fast forward two years and I can readily admit motherhood is seldom black and white. I never knew I could worry so much about someone so little. And in the end, what I largely feel, is guilt.

I didn't teach him to go to sleep on his own early enough. I nursed too long (or maybe not long enough?). All those cute baby clothes were the wrong brand for our new town. He isn't involved in enough activities. No, I don't think he's going to go to preschool.

And now baby #2 is on the way and I hate taking prenatal vitamins. The pregnancy journal I've started for her is sorely lacking compared to the first. She still doesn't have a name. And no, we won't tell you what it is when we pick one.

I'd be remiss not to ask the forgiveness of all those mothers out there I judged before I became one. At times you'd seem cold and callous, or overly-protective and strict. Your kids had too many toys, too many clothes, ate crap all the time, were overweight, underweight, mouthy, or undisciplined. You hovered (helicopter mom!) or weren't involved enough, you spoiled them rotten, or let the grandparents do it for you. You only wanted to talk about your kids and never seemed to have anything interesting to say.

So I apologize. Because now I know what it's like. I joined the "mommy club" and realized it can be frustrating, lonely, tiring, and boring. You probably lacked sleep and good food, your house was a mess and you couldn't keep on top of it. You desperately wanted adult conversation but forgot what it was all about.

I know all that now. I'm a mom too. And this is my first confession.