Despite of the disaster of the last vacation, my husband and I just booked a trip for all of us to go away again the first week in August. (Dramatic pause)
Wait for it….Wait for it….
ON A PLANE.
I think the beers I drank while watching the Cubs game last Saturday are still floating around in my cerebral cortex somewhere. Because? A plane? Will probably equivocate to Dante’s version of hell, except instead of wasps there’ll be toddler temper tantrums, thrown Cheerios and formula sprayed all over the poor saps in front of us.
Mind you, we knew all of this fully when we hit that Book Flight button. But, we figured we deserved a vacation, it wouldn’t be that bad, maybe he would behave…blah, blah, blah. I believe I’ve just set the premise for every comedic movie involving what was sure to be a “fun-filled family vacation” that goes horribly awry.
It’ll be like National Lampoon’s Satanic Toddler Vacation.
Oh, did I also mention we have a two-hour layover in Atlanta? I’m sure my eleven month old will TOTALLY understand that connecting flights were much cheaper than direct flights and thus, we have to endure two boardings, two landings and two sets of people who will hate us from the moment they lay eyes on us.
And I’m sure he’ll be just FINE with the fact that the flight crew generally doesn’t like it when crawling babies block the aisles, stopping only to turn red-faced and grunt out a good, smelly poop, so he’ll have to stay on my lap.
He’ll definitely understand when I remind him that it’s not polite to rip out the hair of the person next to you, no matter how much her hair resembles something a bird would live in.
I mean, right?
(Oh, and to anyone who is traveling from Chicago to Savannah in early August, may God have mercy on your soul.)
Why does it seem like every mother of a large brood, with the exception of me, is in denial? I’ve yet to hear one of these mothers come right out and say, “Fuck you, uterus, or damn you, Ortho Novum! You both royally screwed me too many times!” Why do these large quivered mamas feel compelled to only say sickeningly sweet things about the fact that they are a walking fetus factory? Just once, I’d like to hear one echo my sentiment that it sucks to be helpless against repeated, ill timed pregnancy. What are they so afraid of? Do they fear being called a bad mom? It is a reality that not every child of a large family was a planned baby. Trust me. Seven of mine were “Oh shitballs” moments. Yes, all seven. You can choose to argue with me on that, if you want, but it is the honest to goodness truth. I tried, like a son of a gun, to stop. When I realized that stopping was not an option, I decided to settle for spacing them out. Nope, it obviously wasn’t going to happen.
Our first baby was the result of a total drunken moment of passion. So, I’ll take responsibility and admit that we were just idiots. Marlie is proof that even stupid moments can yield wonderful results. After our first, I converted to Catholicism and agreed to use NFP. Unfortunately, Natural Family Planning is a two person effort and only one of us was really doing it. Voila, baby number two, Daniel Jr.! Then came the “pull out” method. Uh…that does not work for a man who pre ejaculates. Sorry for the over abundance of information, but it is true. We call that lesson, Trenton. He is a cute little accident! Next came the nursing pill. I was pregnant the month after starting that, with Phillip. Condoms? They break and I have a two legged, sass mouthed, four year old Aiden to prove it. Those female condoms and that foamy spermicidal stuff are both jokes. Maybe God knew that I needed the fireball that is Ella. Even an IUD was no match for my body’s mission to pop out a record breaking amount of babies. My uterus spat out that little plastic and copper device, like a child rejects brussel sprouts. Unfortunately it spat that sucker straight through my uterine wall and into my rectum….but that is another story. Luckily, the end result was a healthy little Reed. My point is, birth control doesn’t work unless your body allows it to. My body would not allow anything we tried to interfere with its procreative recreation. Finally, my husband went in for the big V, much to his resistance.
Do I regret my kids being born? No. At least, not 98% of the time. There are those days, however, when I’d like to jump ship. Who doesn’t have those? Am I thrilled that I was unable to stop my baby factory of a body? Hell no! I did not enjoy the shitty side effects of seven back to back pregnancies. I was relieved to return to an ungestating state and cried when it ended in yet another pregnancy. Call me selfish. Call me a bad mother. At least I have balls to say it. (I’m seriously looking into that possibility, since sometimes I ended up pregnant when we didn’t even have sex during ovulation!) I wish that more fertile Myrtles would stand up and admit to being pissed when the little pregnancy stick turned up with two pink lines. I want to know that someone else threw that test at their husband and threatened to cut off his balls if he did not go get a vasectomy. It is okay to love your children and simultaneously curse the fact that your uterus failed to respect your wishes or that birth control was useless in giving you a rest. I say it and I’m still a good mom…or at least a mediocre one! Call my kids frustrating accidents or call them joyous blessings, I say they are both and I sure wish more moms in my boat, would verbally agree.
On the auspicious ocassion of this Father’s Day I think it only fitting to bring up a rather touchy subject. What’s a day that’s all about family without bringing up something sure to piss nearly everyone off anyway?
Recently, I have begun to branch out in my daily newspaper reading. Now that I have discovered the birth announcements, I am no longer confined to the police blotter to keep up with the myriad ways humans can commit crimes against the innocent. When it comes to giving children outlandish names designed to say (about the parents, mind you) “look at ME” I really do think there ought to be a law.
Don’t believe me? Just read your local paper’s birth announcements. There you will see for yourself that there really are people who name their children “Alltruism” and “Hayllheigh.”
Welcome to parenthood! It’s a bitch, but I already warned you about that one, didn’t I?
Oh, that’s right…you didn’t listen.
You refused to believe my prognostications about stocking up on coffee, wine and Valium to get through the first six weeks.
You were convinced you’d be a “natural” mom and your child would be an “angel baby.” Well, after our conversation last night discussing why your baby wouldn’t stop “fucking crying” (your words), let me be the first to say, “TOLD. YOU. SO.”
Seven weeks ago, you brushed off any suggestions or tips I so eagerly offered. You waved your hand when I shared my coping mechanisms for quieting a child with colic. I believe your eyes may have even rolled your eyes when I told you about the wonders of a swaddle blanket, white noise machine and swing.
I offered you a canteen of water before you even set foot in the desert, which you refused. Now, gasping for breath and dying of thirst, you beg me for a drop to drink.
I wasn’t sure if it would come to this. Especially when your child was two days old and you said, “He just loves to sleep! He only woke up once to eat last night!”
I began to secretly question my experience as a mother: “Did I just end up with a really crabby kid? Why isn’t her child screaming his head off like mine did for eight weeks straight?”
Then, last night. Your phone call.
Your baby finally woke out of his “newborn daze” and announced his presence to the world with two solid hours of crying.
Welcome to hell. Look around, get used to the surroundings. You’re going to be here for awhile. It’s OK though, you’ll have lots of company. It’s like a sorority. A sorority of pain.
Just because I’m nice, I’ll give you one last tip: Hit up the local liquor store and join their wine club. We earned so many points during our son’s first few months, we’re now platinum members and receive a gift certificate every month. (Which really, really helps once you move into Teething Hell.)
I was cleaning out my closet the other day and came across about a million shirts from college that I no longer wear. Tangled up together in a rope-like mess, the mere wisps of fabric went straight into a garbage bag to be given to my nineteen year old sister. As I held up one low-cut, strappy tank top, my first thought was, “Didn’t I get cold?” but then I remembered it was college, and drinking six beers was usually enough insulation for the entire evening. Anyway, as I gathered the sparkly, strapless shirts which I no longer have any use for, I remembered my vow to be a “cool mom” when pregnant. Now, I might not wear bedazzled shirts anymore, but I do make an effort to brush my hair and put on makeup occasionally, which I consider accomplishments since having a seven-month old and working full-time seems to suck the energy from every proton in my body.
So, for those moms who wish to remain “hip,” I present my commandments:
I will not wear jeans that have a zipper longer than six inches and/or are tapered and end right at the ankle. Those qualify as Mom Jeans. (However, this does not mean you should dress like Britney Spears. Find the happy medium, people.)
I will not wear any kind of crocheted or appliquéd vest.
I will not wear plain white tennis shoes. (especially coupled with Mom Jeans)
I will not cut all my hair off while pregnant in preparation for the Blessed Event. Many women’s rationale is that they’ll need a simple hairstyle so as to avoid baby-food-crusted strands. What they don’t know? Is baby-food-crusted strands are much more attractive than that pseudo-mullet.
I will wear a bikini. Yes, it will be uncomfortable. However, we should all wear the stretch-marks and saggy skin as what they are: the battle scars of a war-weary general.
I will resist the urge to continually whip out pictures of my children. Yes, they’re cute. But trust me: NO ONE wants to see five million pictures of your child with farm animals at a pumpkin patch.
I will not feel guilty when leaving my spouse with the child(ren). You had to be pregnant and give birth, remember? I think a few hours of Dora and that weird show with the sock puppets is nothing compared to the dignity-erasing horrors of labor and delivery.
I will make an effort to remain educated and watch the news and read the newspaper and keep up on world news. The fact that Susie went poo-poo in the potty is not a current event.
I will not wear a scrunchy. I don’t care if it’s while working out or gardening or soaking in the tub. There is no asterisk for scrunchy-wearing. It’s a deal-breaker.
I will not care about being a “hip” mom. I’ll just try to make it through the day without falling asleep standing up
A feature in the local paper as well as witnessing a toddler last night being forced writhing and crying into Santa’s lap for a photo op inspired me to dig up this picture of what was surely the most frightening thing I experienced within my first 11 months on Earth (and which also may explain my love of mustard on hot dogs):
What’s odd is that this picture is clearly not at the mall and is at someone’s house… unfortunately there is no one remaining on my side of the family to ask, so the real identity of the Santa with the awesome watch shall remain a mystery.
Here’s a bit of info for those of you with wee tots terrified of Santa — they get over it the very second they can even vaguely comprehend that this fat guy in the velvet suit brings them tons of crap on Christmas Eve. Commercialism soothes the savage beast.
Anyone else have crying, screaming Santa pics of yourselves or your kids that you wish to share? You can email them my way and I’ll put them up, or include a link to it on Flickr, Photobucket, etc. in the comments below.
It’s Sunday, so that means… football!! Oh, yeah, and an edition of the Imperfect Parent Radio for your auditory delight. This week we were inspired by Cristina’s great post on designer babies, and discuss the subject a bit more. Also, Jessica declares a jihad on the library. Why? Listen and find out!
As an infant feeding, pro-choice advocate I think this is great news.
Apparently, 90% of Philippine women currently formula feed their babies, and although that is a pitiful statistic, education is the key here, not prohibition of infant formula. The Philippines also suffer from one of the worst infant mortality rates, much of it blamed on formula use which has been blamed for diarrhea caused deaths. On the other hand, America also has one of the worst infant mortality rates, and depending on who you ask, a plethora of causes are cited, depending on that persons particular agenda. I have heard the large infant mortality rate in the U.S. being blamed on formula as well, and it just isn’t true.
In industrialized nations, a woman ought to be allowed to decide whether or not to use her body to nourish her babies or use an acceptable alternative. With both methods, education and medical monitoring should be a part of that baby’s health care. If fresh water is not available to properly mix formula (the number one reason for diarrhea related illness in the third world in infants fed formula), then the government should be educating women on that fact, not instituting infant formula prohibition. Granted, some countries populations cannot support the cost of infant formula, coupled with unclean water, but those populations have major issues outside of formula feeding, and unfortunately, as in HIV infected women, formula is the better option, just not a realistic one. That’s unfortunate, but not the fault of formula itself, but rather the conseqeuence of a poor and uneducated society.
Komfie Manalo - All Headline News Foreign Correspondent
Manila, Philippines (AHN) - Manufacturers of infant formula scored a major court victory Wednesday when the Philippine Supreme Court ordered the government to stop its absolute ban on the promotion and advertisement of breast milk substitutes.
The high tribunal issued a two-page resolution issuing a temporary restraining order against the ban.
The TRO is “effective immediately and continuing until further orders from this court prohibiting and enjoining the respondents from implementing Administrative Order 2006-012 or the Revised Implementing Rules and Regulations of Executive Order 51 or the Milk Code.”
But the petitioners must post a $10,000 bond within five days or the TRO will be lifted.
In May 16, the Palace issued the executive order and said breast milk substitutes or infant formulas “endanger the lives of infants by inadvertently misinforming mothers on their children’s health.”
EO 51 revises the Milk Code which regulates the use of infant formula. Read the rest…
In another part of the world, the world health organization (WHO) has recently revised their infant formula advertisement policies in Africa that restrict formula companies from misrepresenting the product and for health officials to represent formula companies. Seems pretty reasonable to me.
An infant has been admitted to Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia, suffering from water intoxication, a potentially fatal condition caused by giving a baby too much water.
Doctors warned Thursday that babies under the age of 6 months old should not be given plain water. Water intoxication happens when a baby’s body takes in more water than he or she can process.
“What can happen is they actually develop a dilutional affect. The water actually dilutes the amount of salt in their blood stream, and it can lead to seizures,” said Dr. Richard Scarfone.
Infants up to 6 months old should only be given breast milk or formula. Babies 6 months old to 1 year old, in addition to breast milk or formula, may have 4 to 6 ounces of juice and up to 8 ounces of water a day. Do not give infants water if they have gastrointestinal problems, Scarfone said.
“It is especially dangerous if the baby is having vomiting or diarrhea. In that setting, you would want to give Pedialite because Pedialite has salt and has sugar in it,” Scarfone said.
The symptoms of water intoxication can be subtle. They can include a change in your baby’s behavior, including extreme fatigue or vomiting.
No update on the babies condition has been given, but I think it’s important to note, a baby can easily over-dose on water. Adults can too, but babies are especially susceptible.
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June 25, 2008 at
7:27 pm by
Maureen 
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