Ever since becoming pregnant with our third child I have been asked the inevitable question, At first I answered yes to that question every time. I mean, I had two boys, I really did want a little princess to spoil. Then I had a miscarriage. Everything changed. I decided I didn't just want to try for a girl, I wanted to try for a third child. I wanted to be pregnant again and it really didn't matter whether it was a boy or a girl.
So we tried again, and succeeded shortly after my miscarriage. We were elated and truly did not care what we were having.....at first. As the pregnancy progressed we both wished for that little girl again. And friends, family members, and even strangers began to make that age old comment, "So, you're trying for that girl, huh?" My mother went as far as to buy a little girl outfit and a good friend of mine gave me her little girl's bedding set. On both occassions I had a nagging feeling of dread...would this be a girl? Would my mother be disappointed if it wasn't? Would my husband? How would I react? I had gotten my hopes up and convinced myself that my second son was a little girl and then been slightly devestated when he wasn't. I didn't want to do that to myself again. Plus, this pregnancy was a miracle in my eyes after what had happened only months before with the miscarriage....I didn't want to regret it at all or for one second think that it wasn't worth it because it was another boy.
My strategy became to let everyone know that I knew this was just going to be another boy so they better accept it. I even used the line, "If this isn't a girl, so be it. We are done."
So when we went to our 20 week ultrasound and the tech asked if we would like to know the sex. I responded, "Yes, even though we are pretty sure you are going to tell us it's another boy." She moved the wand over my belly and without hesitation I said, "Those are more boy parts." She chuckled and confirmed my suspicions. We were expecting boy #3. My husband and I handled it pretty well. I, of course, kept pointing out the fact that I knew it was another boy. He took it a little harder voicing his concerns with, "We already have two boys, what do we need another for?" But since then, the idea has grown on him. He has even proclaimed that he is all done. There are no girls in our future. Our family will be complete with three.
Now everyone says, "Another boy?!" Like it is a bad thing. I love my two little boys. They pick me flowers and tell me I am the "bestest mommy." They tell me when they grow up they want to marry me. They watch my favorite old movies and tv shows with me and even sing along to the tunes from Annie and Punky Brewster. They buy me things that are pink and have fairies and princesses on them. They are forever telling me how good my lotion smells and how pretty my toes look when they are painted and how soft my legs are when I wear nylons. They have taught me to love camp fires and sticky smores. They have taught me more than I ever thought I would know about trains, lincoln logs, and Super Mario. They have convinced me that it's okay to get dirty. And they love to do the things that I had dreamed of doing with a little girl, like baking and singing country songs and reading books from my childhood.
My boys are loud. They are messy. They fight with each other all the time. They are aggressive. They are physical. They have very little desire to help clean the house. But they are also silly. They are sweet. They care deeply about others feelings and they always try to find the best in people. They don't embarrass easily. And best of all, they are never too busy to give their mommy a hug and a kiss.
Each night at bedtime, after they have been tucked in and kissed, I am required to ask them their favorite part of the day (I say required because if I forget, they don't let me leave the room!) Each night, my 3 year old responds, "When I got home and I hugged my mommy." And at that moment, all of the fighting, the yelling, the messes seem to melt away. All of the problems and tantrums we encountered throughout the day are gone and I fall in love with their two little faces all over again.
Do I still wish that there was a little girl somewhere in my future? Sure I do. I would love to have the relationship with a daughter that I have had with my mother. But I have been given a very important job. I have to raise three little boys. I have to teach them manners, how to treat a lady, how to do their own laundry and make their own meals, and how to take care of themselves. I have to transform them into men that the world will be proud of.
So yes, it is another boy. But I am not sad, I am not disappointed. I am sure that I will adore this baby just as much as I adore his brothers. I am excited to welcome a new little boy into our club. After all, I have been elevated to the status of Queen in my castle and what woman wouldn't love all that adoration?!
Tuesday, January 18, 2011
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Confessional
Bless me father for I have sinned it has been.....a LONG time since my last confession. I am guilty of:
1. Mixing loads of laundry..I just never seem to have enough whites for a just whites load!
2. Making frozen pizza/raviolli/grilled cheese/chicken nuggets to feed my children when I am left home alone with them.
3. Handing my children a Pop Tart and a juice box and saying, "Watch a movie" (or two) in the other room when they wake me up at 6:00 on Saturdays.
4. Skipping the gym when I am tired.
5. Encouraging my children to play upstairs so it's quiet downstairs where I am.
6. Drinking caffiene while pregnant (and eating lunch meat, feta cheese, and chocolate..)
7. Singing (loudly) in the car.
8. Turning above mentioned car radio up loudly to drain out the whinning of above mentioned children.
9. Throwing out,er, RECYCLING! papers that needed to be graded several weeks ago..
10. Letting the dishes pile up in the sink for a day.
11. Staying in my pajamas all day and doing nothing every once in a while.
12. Eating hot fudge straight out of the container.
13. Making my children get me something if I just got comfortable on the couch.
14. Suggesting a favorite movie for family movie night just because I would like to watch it again!
15. Matching socks only once or twice a year and letting my three year old wear mismatched socks, which he loves, because it makes me feel better about my lack of motivation to match them.
16. Putting the kids to bed early when I am left alone with them so that I can squeeze an extra 20 minutes or so of me time out of the deal.
17. Buying things for my children that they don't need.
18. Reading young adult novels and enjoying them.
19. Reading an extra chapter during story time because I want to know what is going to happen.
20. Laying in bed snuggling my three year old when I should be showering and getting ready for the day.
How many Hail Mary's will that be?
1. Mixing loads of laundry..I just never seem to have enough whites for a just whites load!
2. Making frozen pizza/raviolli/grilled cheese/chicken nuggets to feed my children when I am left home alone with them.
3. Handing my children a Pop Tart and a juice box and saying, "Watch a movie" (or two) in the other room when they wake me up at 6:00 on Saturdays.
4. Skipping the gym when I am tired.
5. Encouraging my children to play upstairs so it's quiet downstairs where I am.
6. Drinking caffiene while pregnant (and eating lunch meat, feta cheese, and chocolate..)
7. Singing (loudly) in the car.
8. Turning above mentioned car radio up loudly to drain out the whinning of above mentioned children.
9. Throwing out,er, RECYCLING! papers that needed to be graded several weeks ago..
10. Letting the dishes pile up in the sink for a day.
11. Staying in my pajamas all day and doing nothing every once in a while.
12. Eating hot fudge straight out of the container.
13. Making my children get me something if I just got comfortable on the couch.
14. Suggesting a favorite movie for family movie night just because I would like to watch it again!
15. Matching socks only once or twice a year and letting my three year old wear mismatched socks, which he loves, because it makes me feel better about my lack of motivation to match them.
16. Putting the kids to bed early when I am left alone with them so that I can squeeze an extra 20 minutes or so of me time out of the deal.
17. Buying things for my children that they don't need.
18. Reading young adult novels and enjoying them.
19. Reading an extra chapter during story time because I want to know what is going to happen.
20. Laying in bed snuggling my three year old when I should be showering and getting ready for the day.
How many Hail Mary's will that be?
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
Mommy Guilt
For the past six years, 2 months, and 4 days I have suffered from a chronic disease. It plagues thousands of women every day and causes severe anxiety, depression, crying fits, sleepless nights, and exhaustion. It's mommy-guilt, a serious problem that starts the moment your first child is born and, apparently, never ends when you are a working mom.
Before becoming a mom, I was a devoted 2nd year teacher. I spent hours and hours at work and I loved every second of it. But that changed as soon as Liam was born. He became the center of my universe. And for 18 weeks, I gave up my day job for diapers and nursing and long sleepless nights followed by naps at 8 and 11. And I loved it, and hated it, all at the same time. I felt like I didn't have any idea what to do with this little person and I was MUCH better at handling sixth graders with an attitude than a screaming infant who seemed to want to literally suck the life out of me. I remember actually spending a week at my mom's house. I needed to be around other people, people who had done this before, because I didn't want to screw up this perfect little being. This was where the guilt started. Guilt that I wasn't doing "it" right. Guilt that I actually HAD the thought, " I am way better at working than I am at being a mom." Guilt that I slept when he slept instead of cleaning up my house or making a nice dinner for my husband who was working and going to school at the time. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
But we adjusted eventually, just in time for mommy to have to head back to work. Then I began to feel guilty about EVERYTHING. There was work guilt, "I can't give the job all that I used to." There was baby guilt, "I am going to miss everything! He's not going to know who I am." Self-image guilt, "How do I find the time and energy to get my body back." Spouse guilt, "I'm so tired. I just want to tune everything out at the end of the day. But I should be connecting with my husband." Guilt, guilt, guilt.
Then our second child came along and the guilt worsened. I really knew how to do this mommy thing now so I felt more confident and I had a balance. I also took an extended maternity leave and I had no desire to go back to work. But like so many others, I had to. There was no way, with a house, a car payment, and several outrageous credit card payments, that I was going to be able to stay home indefinitely.
So all that I could hope for was to make the best of the time that I had with them. It isn't like I work in corporate America with crazy 60 hour weeks to put in. I am a teacher. I am home by 3:30, I have weekends off, every holiday (even the made up ones like Columbus Day), and a crazy amount of vacation time! My children are always off on an adventure with us. My mother points out all the time that we "always keep the kids so busy doing stuff." Plus, my kids have developed relationships with some really amazing people, relationships that they wouldn't be as strong as they are if I was home with them every day. My parents, my aunt, my sister and my cousin treat my children as if they are their own. And the adoring realtionship goes both ways. Those things help to ease the guilt, but it is always hovering just below the surface.
As my children have gotten older and have begun school and have activities that they are involved in, the guilt has eased up because they are just as busy as I am. And they aren't always that interested in being around just mommy and daddy anymore. It has made working more bearable. Not there aren't still days when I wish that there wasn't a mad rush to get out the door in the morning, or when I wish I didn't see the worst of my children every day because they are so exhausted by dinner time. When I wish that my yelling voice was not the only voice that they heard from me. My guilt hits me now when I take time for myself, when I don't spend every second playing with them, when I count down the minutes until bedtime for some peace and quiet, when one or the other of them drives me so crazy that I actually find myself standing in the line at Barnes and Noble (on a brief, run in by myself moment that occured recently) noticing how quiet and peaceful it is there and wishing for the days when my husband and I would sit for hours sipping lattes and reading magazines and travel guides fantasizing about the places we would travel to. And then it's there again..the guilt. Guilt that I would even ever have such a thought because what good mother thinks that?!
Maybe the guilt will never be gone. Although it has lessened, I have found another emotion rearing its ugly head, jealousy. I find myself constantly annoyed with comments from stay-at-home moms, a direct result of my jealousy, I am sure. There is an ongoing battle that rages in our society, working mom vs. stay-at-home mom. Working moms feel the need to glorify their ability to juggle it all, stay-at-home moms feel the need to point out how complete their lives are because they are with their children all of the time. The truth is, neither side is better or worse than the other. Each has its own pluses and minuses. Each has its own "dirty" hidden secrets. And yet, I am in a constant battle with myself about which is better and whether or not I am a bad mom because I work.
So this is why I have started this blog. I want a place to express and defend myself. A theraputic outlet for all of this guilt and jealousy, and a place to connect with other mom's and let them know that they are not alone in their crazy thoughts :) We spend so much time trying to prove ourselves to each other that it gets quite exhausting. I'm too tired to prove myself, I'm ready to just BE.
Before becoming a mom, I was a devoted 2nd year teacher. I spent hours and hours at work and I loved every second of it. But that changed as soon as Liam was born. He became the center of my universe. And for 18 weeks, I gave up my day job for diapers and nursing and long sleepless nights followed by naps at 8 and 11. And I loved it, and hated it, all at the same time. I felt like I didn't have any idea what to do with this little person and I was MUCH better at handling sixth graders with an attitude than a screaming infant who seemed to want to literally suck the life out of me. I remember actually spending a week at my mom's house. I needed to be around other people, people who had done this before, because I didn't want to screw up this perfect little being. This was where the guilt started. Guilt that I wasn't doing "it" right. Guilt that I actually HAD the thought, " I am way better at working than I am at being a mom." Guilt that I slept when he slept instead of cleaning up my house or making a nice dinner for my husband who was working and going to school at the time. Guilt, guilt, guilt.
But we adjusted eventually, just in time for mommy to have to head back to work. Then I began to feel guilty about EVERYTHING. There was work guilt, "I can't give the job all that I used to." There was baby guilt, "I am going to miss everything! He's not going to know who I am." Self-image guilt, "How do I find the time and energy to get my body back." Spouse guilt, "I'm so tired. I just want to tune everything out at the end of the day. But I should be connecting with my husband." Guilt, guilt, guilt.
Then our second child came along and the guilt worsened. I really knew how to do this mommy thing now so I felt more confident and I had a balance. I also took an extended maternity leave and I had no desire to go back to work. But like so many others, I had to. There was no way, with a house, a car payment, and several outrageous credit card payments, that I was going to be able to stay home indefinitely.
So all that I could hope for was to make the best of the time that I had with them. It isn't like I work in corporate America with crazy 60 hour weeks to put in. I am a teacher. I am home by 3:30, I have weekends off, every holiday (even the made up ones like Columbus Day), and a crazy amount of vacation time! My children are always off on an adventure with us. My mother points out all the time that we "always keep the kids so busy doing stuff." Plus, my kids have developed relationships with some really amazing people, relationships that they wouldn't be as strong as they are if I was home with them every day. My parents, my aunt, my sister and my cousin treat my children as if they are their own. And the adoring realtionship goes both ways. Those things help to ease the guilt, but it is always hovering just below the surface.
As my children have gotten older and have begun school and have activities that they are involved in, the guilt has eased up because they are just as busy as I am. And they aren't always that interested in being around just mommy and daddy anymore. It has made working more bearable. Not there aren't still days when I wish that there wasn't a mad rush to get out the door in the morning, or when I wish I didn't see the worst of my children every day because they are so exhausted by dinner time. When I wish that my yelling voice was not the only voice that they heard from me. My guilt hits me now when I take time for myself, when I don't spend every second playing with them, when I count down the minutes until bedtime for some peace and quiet, when one or the other of them drives me so crazy that I actually find myself standing in the line at Barnes and Noble (on a brief, run in by myself moment that occured recently) noticing how quiet and peaceful it is there and wishing for the days when my husband and I would sit for hours sipping lattes and reading magazines and travel guides fantasizing about the places we would travel to. And then it's there again..the guilt. Guilt that I would even ever have such a thought because what good mother thinks that?!
Maybe the guilt will never be gone. Although it has lessened, I have found another emotion rearing its ugly head, jealousy. I find myself constantly annoyed with comments from stay-at-home moms, a direct result of my jealousy, I am sure. There is an ongoing battle that rages in our society, working mom vs. stay-at-home mom. Working moms feel the need to glorify their ability to juggle it all, stay-at-home moms feel the need to point out how complete their lives are because they are with their children all of the time. The truth is, neither side is better or worse than the other. Each has its own pluses and minuses. Each has its own "dirty" hidden secrets. And yet, I am in a constant battle with myself about which is better and whether or not I am a bad mom because I work.
So this is why I have started this blog. I want a place to express and defend myself. A theraputic outlet for all of this guilt and jealousy, and a place to connect with other mom's and let them know that they are not alone in their crazy thoughts :) We spend so much time trying to prove ourselves to each other that it gets quite exhausting. I'm too tired to prove myself, I'm ready to just BE.
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