The Ups And Downs

I have been seriously thinking about getting help for PPD (that's postpartum depression, if you're not initiated).

My anxiety is (quite obviously) out of hand. I sometimes don't feel interested in engaging with my son, and also have a hard time connecting to him when my anxiety gets really bad. I have a pretty short fuse most of the time, and almost anything can set me off. I feel guilty for wanting to take breaks from my son.

In short, I feel like a bad mom.

But on the other hand, I have great days too and sometimes think that it's just the exhaustion of being a single parent, coupled with the anxiety that I've had my entire life.

Either way, I'm uninsured so I'm feeling kinda screwed. Living off my savings right now makes it worse, because any money I might spend at a clinic is money that should be going towards baby stuff.

GOD THIS POST IS EVEN BORING ME.

Anyways, that's where I am, and why I'm not big on the blog-o-sphere right now. I'm doing what I can to deal with it, and for now I'm just kinda hoping it passes. I just have to tell myself to enjoy every second I have with my son, because time is really flying by and he'll be pushing me away soon enough. And in all honesty, he's the most amazing person in the world to me, and I love him more than I ever thought possible...and since those two statements are true, then it's also true that it's worth every bit of effort I have.

This little monster is the most precious thing in the world.

What Can't Your Kid Do?

One thing The Boy can't do is sleep. NO SLEEP AT ALL. For real, yo, this kid hates naps and hates night time (and as a result, I'm starting to feel like he hates me).
Sure he's had a few good nights (seven, to be exact).
But for the most part we're up 4-6 times every night and I get so cranky that I feel like a horrible mother.

It's to the point where I feel guilty for wanting him to sleep more, and I feel too tired to want to play with and love on him all the time. I honestly feel like if I keep having these thoughts, he is just going to die in his sleep and it will be my fault, because I'm the one who wanted more sleep.

Obviously, being rational is not something I'm especially good at.

I tend to keep myself up, thinking I need to kiss him as often as possible and keep saying "I love you" because when I wake up he could be dead. I find myself thinking "is this really what I want to remember doing or thinking about the night my baby dies?" Or I think "when he dies of SIDS, I'm going to feel really guilty for that."

Yes, Interwebz, you read that right. I am officially Bat-Shit-Crazy. Does knowing it's not logical help?
Not really. Maybe a little bit.

All I know for sure is that I need to sleep.

Does anyone else have thoughts like this? I know you're out there, readers.

And side note: I know it sounds like I have postpartum depression. I know I might benefit from therapy/Zoloft. I also know I don't even have health insurance, so me getting any help is highly unlikely...I am not a rich person. Were it my son needing help, I would make sure he had it...but this is me, and my money is better saved for him...especially since I'm living on my savings.

You've Got To Be Kidding

I'm at my wits end.

I have been trying to lose 10lbs for the past month. That's 30-60min of exercise every day, less than 2000 calories a day, on top of breastfeeding and losing unbelievable amounts of sleep.

I have not lost a single pound.

My pants fit me the same as they did a month ago (see: just barely). I want pasta and bread and cookies and to stop paying so much damn attention to every calorie I take in. I want to eat fast food.

The lack of sleep and the breastfeeding make it even harder because I'm starving, and craving food I can't have. I'm going to lose my mind.

Any suggestions, interwebz?

Go Eff Yourself.

This post is dedicated to all the people who need to screw off. Yes, I'm talking to you.

Jillian Michaels, you top my list (if only because I want to throat punch you, while I simultaneously want to do naughty girly-sex things to you). You are a (kinda hot) pain in my ass. Your 30 Day Shred killed my knees and ankles so now I gimp around like an 80yr old. Sexy. Thanks.

To all people involved in taking any Joss Whedon show off the air...you are a douchetard. The days of Buffy and Angel were glorious. Dollhouse rocked my world, and you ruined it. TV is lame now. Good job. And just when I needed it to be good, as I sit here for numerous hours a day with a three month old.

FDA, you suck balls. I have been grocery shopping lately and may I say...you sure don't care what people put in their bodies. The quantity of junk food, the incredible selection....you know there are CINNABON toaster pastries?! You can make everything in a microwave. I wonder why we're so unhealthy. Bastards (oh and also, the self control required for me to NOT eat that stuff is ridiculous. Nom nom nom).

Now, to my housewife sister...you can really go eff yourself. Do not tell me that I should get a job and go to school at the same time, and leave my kid with other people. I set myself up in this situation so that I could avoid that. You like working so much? GET YOUR OWN DAMN JOB.
KTHXBAI

Three Months

I just can't believe he's already three months old.

I feel like I just pushed him out a few weeks ago. Or maybe that's my exhaustion and feelings of inadequacy talking. Shouldn't I be better at this by now?

He's incredible. I can't even believe all that he can do now.
He gets on his elbows.
He copies our sounds.
He copies our hands (open/close, punching motions).
He grabs and shakes his toys.
He puts things in his mouth.
He grabs at his feet.
He blows raspberries.
You know...just to name a few.

I think it's just that I'm his mom that makes me think he's a genius. But you never know.

I love you more every day, little man.

What The Frack?!

For realzies, I could easily have a heart attack.

You'll recall my post about the Angelcare Monitor and how incredible it is...

Well, as much as I love it, it almost killed me when it went off three times today...all within minutes of each other. My son is fine...wasn't turning blue, was breathing and reacting just fine...but it scared me so badly I thought I would lose my mind.

I don't understand what caused it, and that's what freaks me out. Prior to this I had only had one false alarm ever, and that one had me on edge for days.

But this is why I got it...to be warned if something is wrong. The chances are minuscule, but the fear is paralyzing. The fact is, the thought of anything happening to your child is enough to make any parent break into a sweat and feel nauseous.

I'm scared half to death. But thank God I have something to warn me...I couldn't stand it otherwise.

Business, As Usual

So I am going to have to admit, my kid really faked me out. I thought I had it made for a few days there. What can I say? I'm gullible.

This post is a bitch-fest. If you don't like that, stop reading now.

The Boy has always been a difficult baby at night. Generally not gonna sleep more than 1-2.5hrs at a time. But for a few glorious days last week, he slept through the night. I thought that meant there was a light at the end....I thought it meant something in his sleep pattern was changing for good.

But we're back to being up consistently 4-6 times during the night. If your kid does this, I'm willing to bet you know what I mean when I say it pisses me off. Like, I have to set him down and punch the bed/scream into a pillow/cry every few nights. It's normal for us, and I think that I'm entitled to being a little crazy since my son has had only 6 good nights in his three month life (by good, I mean 5hrs or more straight). Add in the fact that I'm single and have not ever had someone help in the middle of the night, and you've got THE CRANKIEST mommy ever.

Luckily, every 2-4 weeks or so, my mom will watch him for a few hours so I can take a nap. It has been three weeks since this has happened, so I could really use a little help right now. But unfortunately, she's sick and there is probably no end in sight.

But for all the moms out there who know how it feels to wake up and feed EVERY hour...who wake up after only a few minutes of dozing, terrified thinking they have fallen asleep holding the baby (because God knows you're too tired to remember when/how you got up to put them down)...all you moms who know that you sometimes have to talk yourself out of being upset with a baby, who couldn't possibly be at fault...

You are SO not alone.

If any other single moms out there know what it's like to only have one "mommy break" in a three month period, and be solely responsible for an infant 24/7, know that I commend you. This job does not stop for a single moment.

Thank God for our little ones, making it worth it every day.
Here's a picture of our nigh time adventures. Say "hi"!

OMG Y'all Will Not Believe This Shizzzz!!!

How does he go from just barely being able to control his hands, to grabbing and hitting things in just a couple days?!

Believe it or not, this video captures the exact moment he learned this because I just had a feeling I should start recording him.

Intuition? Yeah, it kicks ass.

Oh, and Also....

The Boy grabbed his foot for the first time tonight.

I almost pissed my pants with glee.

Holy Jesus

We have a tooth! At less than 3 months old!

er, well...kinda.

After a day of crazy bitchiness and drool (on The Boy's part, NOT mine), I decided that hey, it's my kid...I'm going to stick my fingers in that mouth and investigate what exactly has turned my son into the baby from hell. Slightly mortified at the thought of getting my fingertips nomed off, I entered cautiously, just pulling down his lip a bit and holymotherfuckinghell! WHAT is that white spot there?!

poke, prod, press, rub

Friggin tooth corner, that's what it is!

My excitement was such that I even considered waking up my mom (who, btw, had to be up at 3am) just to show her. I posted a FB update. I made my brother look at it. I obsessed over it until morning, when I looked again and yup, there it was...not a figment of my imagination.

So I couldn't contain myself, I called my mom...who promptly told me to brush his tooth-nub, lest it get all rotten before even coming out all the way.

So I did and guess what? Tooth went back into hiding. Gums got all swollen, and baby is still extremely bitchy. Today has been filled with tylenol, teething strips, and baby orajel.

And me? I'm exhausted. But completely OBSESSED with seeing that little white corner again. Ah, motherhood. Makes you bat-shit-crazy.

In Which I Cap A Bitch

You'll recall how I posted once about judgment? Well, this is along those same lines, so beware.

I never in my wildest dreams would have imagined how many people think they know how to parent my son better than I do. I know people always think they are the authority on parenting, and I was prepared to hear a lot of unsolicited advice. I never knew I would be getting the most judgment from people who aren't even parents.

Namely, my sisters.

I was offended when my little sister freaked out on me for taking my son out to see a friend. Granted, it's a friend I have a romantic history with (and one that I have admitted feelings for, still), and we were eating dinner in a hotel room but...come on. I have known the man for years. We are friends, and he has never hurt me (or anyone else that I know of).

Is this reason enough to tell me that I made a stupid decision, taking my son along? It's not as if I have an abundance of babysitters, or a desire to leave my son for any extended period of time. Hey, you 21 year old non-parent...back off. You do not get to tell me I'm an irresponsible parent.

I was shocked when I found that I can't have a drink without both of my sisters flipping the fuck out. Apparently it's a crime to have one glass of wine (or other drink) at night after putting my son to bed. 21 year old sister asked my mom if she thought my son was having sleeping troubles because I "drink so much."

This is the point at which I almost kill a bitch.

I do not breastfeed my son while I'm drunk. In fact, I have not gotten drunk anywhere near my son, ever. when I asked my twin sister to make me a drink, she hesitated and said "as long as you don't need to nurse him for a while..."

I am an adult. And I am his mother. I know better than you when I can and can't put my own son to my boob....and I have made sure that it has absolutely never been a concern.

Neither of these women are mothers. Neither has ever breastfed, and neither has had any experience that would give them any right to dull out parenting advice. I can't believe the stupidity and arrogance of people who have absolutely no authority on the subject of parenting.

So, in short...if you've got no experience, please do us all a favor and STFU. KthxBai.

What Price, Sanity?

When I came home with The Boy, I cried hysterically. I hadn't spent an enormous amount of time thinking about what the first few days or weeks with a new baby would be like (mostly because there is absolutely no way to prepare yourself). Like any new parent, I took care of what I could before giving birth. I made sure I had all of the practical things; the diapers, clothes, blankets, bed, swing, etc. I couldn't even attempt to do anything mentally or emotionally, because by the time I might have considered it, all of my energy was spent just wanting to not be pregnant anymore.

How was I supposed to know that the moment I realized I was the only person responsible for keeping my son alive, I would freak the fuck out? Suddenly, it was all OMGwhatifhechokesinhissleep or HolyshitwhataboutSIDS!?

There is nothing like realizing your baby could just be dead when you wake up to scare the freaking shit out of any new parent.

Now, add to that the already overwhelming reality of being responsible for taking care of the baby, postpartum hormones, complete exhaustion and physical discomfort...you've got hell on your hands.

For weeks I stayed up crying at night, making sure he was breathing. My mother always told me that if anything happened to one of her kids she would die. I took this as just something a parent says. Little did I know, she probably would actually die. I know that if my son was gone, I would likely drop dead on the spot. I never thought loving someone so much would be so...terrifying.

So I sucked it up. I bought the Angelcare Monitor, set it up, tested it five-hundred-million times, and...what do you know....SLEPT. I have had exactly one false alarm, and all I really know about that is that he didn't wake up when the alarm went off. He took a deep breath the moment I got to him and placed my hand on his chest. And absolutely NOTHING in the world was better than feeling my son take that breath.

I know it's weird, but I keep the ticking sound on. Sure, it's freaky to have something tell me every time my son moves. But when I do wake up freaked out because he has slept for a while, all I have to do is listen to that ticking sound, and I know everything is okay.

What can I say? He is my entire world. And for the sanity and comfort it provides me, this damn thing is effing priceless.

So go buy one. You know you want to.

Unintended Consequences

So we've been over my love/hate relationship with Jillian Michaels. But am I getting results?

Let me just say, y'all...I could put on a bikini, and not feel bad walking around in public. Sure, my body is different. There are stretch marks and yes, I am still a bit heavier than I'm used to. But something about working out regularly makes you feel like you are a lot more attractive than you are.

An unintended side-effect is that I went from having absolutely no sex drive, to having the out of control sexual appetite that is characteristic of the women in my family. Seriously, if we actually get down to it, a lot of the women I'm related to have the same level of interest in sex as a seventeen year old boy.

I have to say, this makes things rather complicated. I was actually rather relieved to find that I was not at all interested in sex after giving birth. My thought process about this was as follows:

I don't want sex--->I don't need a relationship---->I can focus on being a mom---->I can change the way I operate in a relationship before screwing one up again.

Seems logical. But yet here I am, hosting a porno in my brain and fighting strongly against the urges I used to give in to so easily. No, I can't say that sexual thing to that person, because you can't take it back. No, I can't do that without thinking, because it will teach that person that they can treat me that way.

But damnit I WANT TO send that completely inappropriate, explicitly sexual message! It would be FUN! I would feel desired again!

But I have to stop myself. Funny how once you open a door of holding yourself to a low standard, it's hard to close. But I'm not insane. I'm sure that if I continue that behavior I will get the same results. And man, do I not want to live those results over again.

So here's the deal. I'm working on it. I would so much rather be respected and loved than sexually desired, but I'm hoping I can eventually have it all.

Until then, I just have to suck it up, and ignore the blue balls feeling.
*headdesk*

Changes

When you're single, you can have anything in the world. You can do anything in the world, you answer to yourself, and all of life's happiness...parties, education, careers, love, marriage...they're all yours, if you want them.

Of course, the older you are, the less socially acceptable it is to be single.

But when you're a single mom, it's easy to feel like the doors are...not quite as open to you as they once were. And the stigma that comes with...ack. yucky.

Speaking for myself, I seem to realize every day how much harder everything is when you're a mom. I do mean everything. You try taking a trip to the store alone, and then with a baby, and tell me which was easier.

Seeing your child grow and learn is the most wonderful joy in life. But anyone who tells you it's not exhausting, scary, lonely and very difficult is lying to you.

All of this should be common sense, right? I think it's a lot easier to understand these things conceptually than to find yourself living it. And I suddenly feel like I'm either one of two things; I'm a woman with a family, or I'm a plague.

Let me explain.

I imagine some people out there wouldn't mind a woman with a child at all. It's like insta-family. Just add water. Or something like that. The fact that The Boy is number one in my life wouldn't be a bad thing, it would be expected...and even highly respected.

On the other hand, some people would find out I have a son and run in the opposite direction. It's not part of anyone's fantasy...finding a woman with a kid or two, and marrying her. Or at least, if it was, I would be very surprised.

Gone are the dreams of being a stay at home mom forever. What are the chances of finding someone who would not only love and marry someone with a kid, but then support the both of them? I would actually like someone to calculate those odds for me.

I'm not trying to complain here. I couldn't love my son more if I tried, and becoming a mother is something I don't think anyone could ever regret. I have just been thinking about what I wanted before, and how differently things turned out.

Or maybe I'm thinking it might be me and my son alone together forever. Maybe...I'm thinking of all those people I might have been with, but who will probably never look at me the same way. And maybe that hurts a lot more than it should. But being a mother does change you, and your life forever.

And I guess it's time for me to start really dealing with that reality.

Coming Home

The year prior to creating this Blog, I did not write. Through getting pregnant, all of pregnancy, and the weeks just after giving birth, I didn't write at all.

In my life, writing has always been a constant. I have always been one to chronicle thoughts, feelings, events...perhaps afraid that if I didn't, I would forget the importance of the moments. But as much as writing has been part of my life, so has chaos. And in a feeble attempt to wean myself from narcissism (ha!), I decided that I would no longer afford myself the outlet.

See, I have a tendency to get caught up. Life is meant to be lived, but for me, life was meant to be felt. I needed to savor it. The moment I realized I was in love, the first kiss, the confusion, the scent of something and the flood of emotion it could recall...these things were dissected, distorted, drawn out and displayed in my writing. Not only did it become obsessive and intense, it became a huge bloody bore. And there is absolutely nothing like looking back at a piece of writing, and wondering why you were lying to yourself. There is also nothing like looking back and realizing that you don't like yourself very much.

If you want to find someone who is entirely too self-important, self-loathing and overly dramatic, look to a writer.

An ex of mine once forbid me to write. She said that it "allowed me to get too caught up in things, and not move forward or see the big picture." It took a bit of growing up to see that she was right. I was abusing a form of art, and when I realized that I was going to be responsible for another person's life, I decided that going without writing would force me to live it, learn it, and appreciate it. The last thing I wanted to do was drag it out, over analyze, kick around and become so wrapped up in myself that I would continue to always be "in" my head.

I think that this time without writing was very constructive for me. Every day is not a constant turmoil of emotion and sentiment and imagined importance...it's not a show, and I don't need to go to great lengths to make it beautiful.

My son's first smiles in the morning...that is beautiful. And it is every day. The feeling of accomplishment when I finish working out is every day. The flirty smiles and silly sounds during The Boy's bath time are exciting every single day. And it doesn't matter that during that one moment at 4am when I had gotten less than two hours of sleep all night, I felt like I was going to lose my mind. It doesn't matter that every day it gets both harder and easier. It doesn't matter that in some moments I don't understand my life, my decisions, or why I ever thought I could be a good mother. None of these things define my life.

It's those moments...the happy ones. The smiles, the cooing, singing songs and acting silly. I have them now, every day. And I have learned that they will be there, even if I don't write a two page essay about how that one moment reminded me of the importance of my job as a mother, or reminded me just how much it breaks my heart to love someone so much. I have learned to live it, and to appreciate it, every single day.

What A Fixation

So today, Jen over at What The Blog? posted a rather explicit guest blog at The Heir To Blair. Funny how I should come across this now, after a detailed dream or two on the same subject.

So. Blowjobs. Giving head. Call it what you will, it's all the same. Chris Rock once said that there are two types of women; the ones who don't give head, and the ones who "love nothing more than to suck a cock." I'm not so sure this is true, but either way I fall neatly into the latter category...much to the pleasure of my few sexual conquests.

Before you do it, you hear so many things about oral pleasure. That it's awful. It tastes bad. Guys always try to gag you. It hurts your jaw. Those are just a few things I was told (also once had someone pop a ball of playdough in my mouth, then tell me that's what semen tastes like...yum). So when I first decided to try it, I went in expecting to come to the same conclusions. In all honesty, I don't even remember the guy's name for sure now (Adam, maybe?)...I was a young teenager, and wanted to make sure it wasn't someone who A) knew my friends or B) would stick around to want it again (I'm practical that way).

Like those parenthesis, don't I?

So Mr. What's-His-Face had absolutely no idea what my curious and inexperienced teenage mind was up to when he came over to...I don't know. Watch TV? Must have been something like that, because the TV was playing some mindless MTV drama when I quite suddenly decided to get on top of him and unzip his jeans. I can only imagine now what must have been going through his mind. Maybe "holy crap, she's easier than I thought!" or "what the hell is this crazy slut doing?". Or maybe something in between. But suffice it to say, this was not an activity that was discussed prior to execution.

And the execution was...lacking, shall we say? But enticing and enjoyable enough to spark an immediate desire to be good at this. No, not good. GREAT. I wanted to give great blowjobs.

It is not a destination, it is a journey. An on-your-knees, choking, gagging journey that, despite the fact that it may make me rather unusual, is a very consistent and arousing part of my personal fantasies. My dreams create vivid and intensely realistic images and sensations and no, I can't be blamed for this. I can't help that I want to do it.

Shall I regress to teenage years and tell myself that oral sex is not "real" sex? Tempting, but inaccurate. So for now, I fixate in my dreams.
Over. And over. And over....

So Quickly, I Eat My Words

So that's being a new mom, eh? Things you said you wouldn't do, you find you must.

Just days ago, I was going off about my mother saying I need to let my son cry. No way, not my baby! He's too young, that's so wrong!

Well, folks...I take that back. My once happy baby turned into a screaming monster one day, and I was entirely baffled. They can't "manipulate" you until they're months old, right? Well, sorta. What they can do, is cry every time you put them down. Blue-in-the-face, soundless, straining screaming just because you thought "hey, my bladder is going to burst if I don't get to the bathroom RIGHT NOW," and dared to set them in the swing.

I'm not one to want to complain much about motherhood. After all, I am the one who decided to have a child. But after holding him, walking around constantly for days on end (because god forbid you want to sit down while holding him), I was at the end of my rope. I said "fuck this" and set him in the bouncer to scream.

And you know what? It only took him about two minutes to realize that the world was not going to end if I wasn't holding him. Then one funny song and dance from mommy, and the kid is actually smiling. It only takes one good smile from your baby for you to suddenly feel like the luckiest and best mommy in the whole world.

So, I'm basically saying I'm a jackass, and I will no longer throw away advice without proper consideration. Damn this new mom learning curve. And so I leave you with The Boy, picture proof that indeed, he is perfectly fine after a few minutes of screaming. Thank the Lord.

Sex Is My Frenimy

This is the conclusion I came to while talking to an especially put together friend of mine the other day. I told her that sex and I were really close once, then it stabbed me in the back, but I still really like it.

It is already abundantly clear that this will be an oversharing, not so witty post.

The last time I had sex, I got pregnant. It has been nearly a year since then. Being a single mom, I feel like I can no longer have any sex casually. That makes sense to me, because I'm not going to want my LO to see me as that type of woman. It also makes sense because I haven't respected myself enough to wait until someone really cared for or loved me. In all honesty, I didn't believe anyone would, so I said to hell with it, and had sex when I pleased, even when I knew I was not making a good decision.

I am bound and determined to change my behavior, but honestly...I miss the sexy time. Quite a bit, and I'm nowhere near a point where I trust myself to make the right decisions regarding sex OR relationships. So what's a girl to do?

I deeply wish that I had figured this all out before having a child. I can not be trusted to have a healthy relationship. I have never had one, so thinking that I can now, without any proof of having changed my thought process, my emotional stability, my goals and the way I view myself and others...well, that would be insane. And getting into a relationship without very serious consideration would be doing my son an incredible disservice. I don't want to be that type of mom.

Being alone is good for me, now. I have tons of work that I need to do on myself before I can be with anyone else. But how does one do this "work"? Are their guidelines? Is there a twelve-step program? Is there any concrete plan as to how to change your ways, or will being alone and focusing on myself and my son just...do the trick?

So many questions, absolutely no answers.
Can someone please give me some answers?

Jillian Michaels Is A Sadistic Whore

AS PICTURED HERE, TORTURING AN INNOCENT VICTIM

Being one trendy SOB, I have begun doing the 30 Day Shred...as many of the previously pregnant, currently fat women of the internet have before me. I can not help it, I am drawn to the wonderful dyke-tastic, ass kicking mess that is Jillian. You know you can't help it either. She is sexy in a butterface kinda way.

Any-who, the point here is that she wants to kill me. Me, and many others. This is the most divine murder plot in the history of murder plots. She is going to make us kill OURSELVES!

My skinny jeans are a dream to me now, and muffin-top my cruel reality. You all know what I'm talking about, don't lie. For twelve days I pushed through Level 1 of the workout. The first day, I was convinced that I would be on Level 1 for the entire 30 days. But today I soldiered on to Level 2. Not happily, guys...I had previewed it, and knew full well that this was complete murder-suicide. But when it comes to working out, I am mildly..okay, extremely obsessive. It is dangerous.

I am going to have to be honest..I have not lost a single pound. Not one. My diet is pretty great. Thanks to an eating disorder acquired in seventh grade, I am very aware of what I eat. Annnnd thanks to pregnancy and breastfeeding, I eat often. I've got all the tools for success here, so what gives?

Despite the growing rage I feel when stepping on the scale, I can deal. I may be 13lbs heavier than before pregnancy, but I am not at a bad weight. I will keep plugging away, because I can't do anything else. But I will talk back to my TV, like any other powerless victim of Jillian's cruelty.
To all the other 30DS ladies out there...push it out.

My Mother Is My Husband

And no, this is not some sick-twisted lesbian/incest post.

You see, people...I live with my mom. I do this, because I am an irresponsible person who goes out and gets impregnated by idiot douchebags who do not want to be with me. Or something to that effect. And before you ask, yes I am disappointed in myself, and not proud of my decisions. But that is a whole separate post.

Now, because I live with my mom, I'm subjected to a whole lot more parenting than I would imagine the average grown person with a child is accustomed to. I understand that this comes with the territory. Being aloud to stay home with my son and potentially go back to school, without having to worry about rent/daycare/whatever, is a luxury that is not afforded to many, so I will try my best not to complain much.

The truth is, becoming a mother has given me a vast appreciation for my own mother, and the sacrifices she has made for me and my siblings. I often sit back and think about how wonderful and supportive she is, and can not for the life of me understand just HOW she did it all. She is amazing to me.

But living with her as a new mom leaves various openings for her to tell me how she would be "doing things differently." C'mon, he's two months old...it's not as if I'm teaching him to lie and steal. Because she's around for a lot of my parenting adventures, she gets to tell me that I'm not sleeping enough because I really need to learn to sleep with my baby, and sleep while breastfeeding, etc.
Excuse me for having a rational fear of sharing my bed with my baby, even with as much as I would like to be able to do this.

After being told repeatedly that I should "just ignore him" or "let him cry for a few minutes", I start to wonder what else she did with me or her FIVE other children that I don't approve of. Tummy sleeping is one of the things I refuse to let him do (until I can't keep him from rolling). We've already covered how I'm a neurotic, paranoid freak, so is it really a huge surprise that I don't want to do something with such blatant disregard for the fact that it's a SIDS risk? Nah, not so much.

Being a SAHM, and also a house"wife" to my own mother comes with an extra side of judgment. And while I count my blessings every single day for having her, and being able to live this fabulous life...I think maybe someday I might want a real husband who does not tell me that I am parenting the wrong way. Because this:is the face of a child who's mother does not "just ignore him" or "let him cry." And I happen to like that face quite a bit.