Mommy Brain

I could picture right where I left it. Fat lot of good that did me. I needed the credit card so they could credit my account when I made the return. But it was at home. By the computer. Where I left it yesterday and saw it this morning!

One more thing to add to my list of "Reasons to be jealous of friends without kids."

Mommy brain is this ridiculous phenomenon where the female brain ever-so-slowly shuts down. It begins in pregnancy and continues on, well past the times when you make goofy remarks your grandkids giggle over. At least, I think that's why my grandmother sounds goofy.

You forget things. You act without thinking. You can't comprehend adult conversations.

So there I was in Wal*Mart begging the lady to give me any option other than a $90 store credit. To no avail. So I did what any other pregnancy-hormone-laden mom would do. I spent the $90 on more Wal*Mart junk.

I tell my husband all the time, "I know I used to be smarter than this!" But maybe not. I really can't remember anymore.

Babymoon

It's the latest craze. Couples running off for one more adventure before baby comes along. I figured I needed one too. Get away for the weekend with no little one around? Sounds great!

I found the perfect opportunity last weekend. With my brother getting married (which just seems impossible because I'm pretty sure he's still five), our family was helping to plan the bridal shower. So away I went to visit with the family and prepare for the big event. Leaving baby #1 behind. For the first time.

The ride up was strange. No kids' music blaring. No stops for diaper changes. I kept looking in the mirror and seeing the empty carseat. Weird. But then I arrived and things got busy. We helped decorate the hall and ran to Target for a few last-minute items. Noting the time, I decided to call home and say good-night to the little guy. See how he was faring without me.

Bad move. Baby is screaming in the background when Daddy answered the phone, "Mommy hold you! Mommy hold you!" Immediately I choked up. In Target. With a cart full of shower doo-dads and people milling about. "It's okay baby, it's okay! I'll see you tomorrow!" I'm basically begging him to be all right. But there's no convincing him. I can't stand it. I start pacing and seriously consider driving home right then. I beg Daddy to go in to him - hold him - rock him - WHATEVER IT TAKES! But Daddy is calm and I need to get off the phone before I lose it. Just then a little girl walked past, wailing. I want to scoop her up and tell her it will be okay - Mommy loves you! But I don't think her parents would have appreciated it.

So I choked back the tears and made it through my first night away from my son in over two years. He ran into my arms, begging me to read a story when I arrived home the next day. [Sigh] We had made it. And unlike me, he's probably not scarred from the experience. Just one more milestone in this epic journey called motherhood.

To Sleep, Perchance...

My son has never been a good sleeper. When he was six weeks old, I wrote in my journal that he'd napped for 2 hours and I was ecstatic! At six weeks old! How sad. By six months, he was down to one nap a day. And he screamed in the car - he didn't sleep like everyone swears their kid did. Now fast-forward two years and you'll find us with quite a few of the same issues. Baby doesn't want to sleep.

We've read all the books, heard all the advice. "You should do this - don't do that. It's because you did this - and didn't do that." We've talked to the pediatrician and emailed specialists. And yet, at five o'clock this morning, our little guy was screaming in his crib and I found myself hitting the wall. Not literally. Literally I screamed his name and my husband went running so that I could sob uncontrollably for the next 45 minutes.

We used to ask things like "Do you think he's gassy?" "Maybe he's cutting teeth?", and more recently "Could it be that he's anticipating the transition with baby #2 coming?". They're all fair guesses. But that's all they are. And the thing that drives me craziest is that all those sleep books start out by telling you how important sleep is and all the problems people can have later in life if they don't have good sleep patterns at a young age. Yeah, thanks. Why do you think I'm reading this book?? JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO!

I know we can't special-order our kids. But I'm really hoping for a sleeper the second time around.

Junior High, Revisited

We used to live in a city. Everyone around us worked full days for not enough money and rented apartments. We fit right in. Then we moved to a new state and found that our home-owning neighbors seemed to work fewer hours and have more money for, well, everything. After almost two years here, I still feel like an outsider. The worst is probably the mall. Which mall you go to is actually a matter of importance here. And of course, what you wear to the mall. Never in my life have I dressed up to go to the mall. Now I at least think about it.

I realized fairly early on that I wasn't dressing my son right. He'd look all cute in his Carter's or Circo outfit, but we'd walk through the mall with barely a glance. Then one day I walked with a friend who had her little one in Lilly Pulitzer. The women in one store practically fell over themselves, exclaiming "Look how cute she is in her Lilly's!" I took matters into my own hands. One day we walked through the mall with our heads held high. My little guy had on a beautiful coat from Baby Gap and a pair of new Merrells on his feet. Underneath was a sweet Gymboree outfit. The comments were glorious!

But then I realized how junior high this all is. Do I really want my son to grow up feeling that he doesn't measure up if he's not in the latest and greatest? Not really. But I too have found myself lured into this trap. I was the kid who didn't wear jeans until 6th grade. I just didn't care. I also never asked Mom & Dad for a brand-name just-about-anything. So why do I find myself getting all caught up in wanting to fit in?

My parents did their best to help me fight all of that by sending me to a Catholic school where I had to wear a uniform. But don't worry. Private school kids have their own ways of torturing each other.

Mommy Wants a Minivan

Neither my husband nor I have ever bought a car. Between us we've had five cars in the years we've been driving - and they were all given to us. This of course means that we've never had a NEW car - hence five cars in the years we've been driving. On the other hand, they've been a total blessing to us and have helped us out tremendously. We will forever be grateful to our family and friends who gave to us so generously.

Yesterday I was watching a talk show. Baby was asleep, I was tired. Can you hear me trying to justify this? Anyway, they gave a brand-new car away to someone who lost her home in Hurricane Katrina. Very nice gesture - very happy lady. But it made me want to deserve a brand-new car too!

I watch shows like Extreme Makeover: Home Edition and wish they'd knock down my house. But then of course I realize I don't have a kid suffering from some terrible disease (thank God!) and I don't really do anything amazing enough to be recognized! So why would they ever pick me? I'm pretty sure they don't choose people who are young, healthy, and reasonably well-adjusted.

You know, your mom and dad tell you you're special - but obviously, you shouldn't really believe them. Well, not unless you're the one getting the new car. Just be sure to pass your old one to me. I'm pretty sure I deserve at least that.

To My Little Man: An Apology

Dear Baby #1,

When I found out I was pregnant with you, I cried. I was so happy I started journaling right away. I read updates on your development every week and was fascinated by the whole experience. Daddy took a little longer to warm up to the whole idea, but that's his story to tell. When you first started moving, I was thrilled. When I could finally wear maternity clothes, I was on cloud nine. Then we had our ultrasound. I just knew you were a girl! I'd dress you up all cutesy and do your hair, you'd tell me everything and would be a friend when you were grown. It was going to be wonderful.

I was in complete shock when they told us you were a boy. All I could think was "He. Him. His. His toys. His clothes. His friends. What do you do with a 12-year-old boy? They're ALL weird!" As soon as we were done, I made Daddy take me to Babies-R-Us so I could make sure they actually sold cute boy clothes.

Now that you're here, we think you're amazing. Which is why I need to apologize. All these wonderful days of cuddling and snuggling, of Mommy's undivided attention - they're about to come to an abrupt end. You know about your little sister and you're very sweet about kissing my belly and trying to give it a bottle. But Little Man, this baby will be here to stay.

All that great one-on-one time we have will be reduced greatly. You'll be relegated to the big brother role with lots of "share!", "you need to help your sister", and "the oldest sets the example." That was always my favorite. You'll be our guinea pig and we'll make sure we don't repeat our mistakes with your sister. You'll go to bed earlier, have to come home sooner, and be restricted in more ways that you can count. All because someone else came along.

I know how being the firstborn will shape you, will anger and frustrate you. I know having a little sister around who wants all your toys (and time too) will make you scream. I think it's because we're all supposed to learn that we're not the center of the universe. But it still makes me sad for you.

I hope you don't feel forgotten or left out. I hope you will always know how special and adored you are. I hope you never question Mommy's feelings for you. Because no matter what, I love you. You made me a Mom. And for that, I am thankful.

To Baby #2: A Confession

Dear Baby #2,

In the beginning, I was in total denial. "I've been pregnant before! I don't have any of the symptoms!" But then, "Oh no, I have all the symptoms!" Your poor Daddy learned about you in the car when I picked him up from work. But at least this time he didn't ask if we purchased a 'magic box' of pregnancy tests.

I desperately wanted you to be a boy. Two little brothers would be so cute! But when they did the ultrasound and couldn't figure things out for sure, I knew you were a girl (and that you'd be breech, and I'd have to have a c-section, and that you'd hate me when you turned 13...). I sobbed uncontrollably - but only because they couldn't tell me for sure, not because I knew you were a girl. I promise.

You're going to be here in just a few short weeks. You'll have hand-me-downs from your brother and have to sleep in his pack-and-play for awhile. Your baby book will probably never have the same amount of detail that his has. We'll hold you and cuddle you, but know enough to put you down when you sleep. Your every gurgle and coo will be precious, but probably often missed due to peanut butter and jelly sandwich-making. You'll most likely be covered in the kind of dust bunnies and fuzz that were banished from our house when your big brother was born. I can't even imagine what you'll find to put in your mouth. You may grow up wondering if we think you are as smart, funny, athletic, or cute as your big brother is. You'll ask where all the photos of you are. But honestly, I know we'll ask ourselves what we ever did before you came along.

You'll be Daddy's princess, but struggle with Mommy. I'll be the one you yell "no" at, and "you ruined my life!" to, before stomping away and slamming your bedroom door. You'll cringe when people say you look like me or talk like me, and you'll tell them they just haven't met your Dad yet.

But deep down, I'm hoping that you'll talk to me at other times too. When your best friend finds a new friend, or your boyfriend breaks your heart. When you think you're ready to wear a training bra or shave your legs. And then, years (and years!) down the road, when you have a daughter of your own, I hope I'll be the one you come to and say "Now I know why you wanted another boy."

Whose Body Is This, Anyway?

A friend once told me about how her best friend had dropped a ton of weight. She kept doing double-takes at the mirror because she couldn't believe how thin she had become. That's me too. Only in reverse. I'm that thin girl inside a big body who just can't come to grips with reality.

I still seem to think I have my pre-baby size, but the mirror won't let me to live a lie. Case in point: the other day I was at a book store with a friend and our little ones. There were these great Adirondack chairs in the kids' section and I thought they'd be perfect for a rest. Except I wasn't going to fit in one by a long shot. Too bad I didn't realize that before I tried to sit down.

It probably has something to do with that ice cream confession....

I recently turned and smashed into the grocery cart handle - with my pregnant belly! I seriously thought I was going to bruise. Or at least do some serious damage to my unborn child.

Oh, and then there was the time hubby tried to squeeze past me, but ended up bumping my bump. When I complained, he replied, "It was sticking out!" Yeah. No kidding.

**Only 51 days to go!**