A mother's work

It has been said that it is never done. A mother's work that is...or is that woman's work? Is a woman a woman at all unless she is a mother? Can a man be a mother? What is a mother anyway? What is a woman? Who am I? Where am I? Who said that?

See what happens when you are simultaneously making chocolate chip cookies, folding clothes, doing a load of diapers, making salsa, trying to get the baby to go to sleep, packing for the weekend and trying to watch Nate Burkus once again save millions of us from almost certain design despair!? You go crazy, thats what happens. I thank my lucky stars that we got a two story house because by doing so we are saving millions in gym fees and home gym equipment. I am gonna get a pedometer one of these days just to see how much I walk around this house I call home.

It is all worth it though. When the baby is asleep after the fortieth round of "Hush Little Baby" that included mama buying a pint of ale, the liberty bell and a cute call girl (when that call girl won't put out...etc.), and the sheets don't smell of vomit, and the bags are packed and the house smells of chocolate and cilantro, I can sit back, relax with my breast pump and a glass of wine and think to myself, what a wonderful world.

And to think, I make this look goooood.

25 Ways to be a Helping Lover

A friend of mine sent me an email today called "25 Ways to be a Loving Helper". I know she meant well, but as a new mom who can hardly find the time to poop, it made me feel inadequate, selfish and a little irritated. So I have decided to make a new list that better fits my life and our goals to have a realistic partnership.

Also, to be funny...



1. Try to ask your husband about his day, you won't be able to hear over the baby screaming, but he likes you to ask.

2. Pretend to be asleep but secretly, check out you husband's ass when he is getting ready. Catcall if you are feeling frisky.

3. Try and change your clothes and the baby before your husband gets home, this gives the illusion of competence.

4. Make a list of meals you can make for dinner. Give him a choice of three when you ask him what he wants to eat. Men like options they just don't want to come up with them on their own.

5. Read Car and Driver on the can. When you can talk intelligently about cars, he won't notice you haven't showered in two days.

6. When you go to nurse the baby, hum a stripping tune. Bum shicka bum shicka boom boom boom.

7. When your husband calls to ask if he can bring anything home, always say "diamonds".

8. Let your husband have hobbies, but when the baby is crying non-stop and it is after 5pm, hobby time is over!

9. 10 minutes is all you need to clean the house just enough to cover up the fact that you have been sitting around all day in your PJs.

10. Try not to laugh out loud when your husband makes sexual advances at you. If you are less than three months post-partum, try not to scream.

11. If he complains about your cooking...never mind, with a new baby he won't have time to taste it and you won't have time to eat it.

12. Thank him for the baby's mouth/toes/whatever part of his is evident in your child.

13. When the baby is screaming or projectile vomiting remind him of the baby's mouth/toes/whatever part of his is evident in your child.

14. Go to dinner, just the two of you. Let him make all the plans because that way if something goes wrong, he can't blame you. Also, you won't have time to make plans.

15. Be the keeper of the money. Part of being a new mom is the urge to protect your baby's future. Part of being a new dad is wanting a new TV...apparently...

16. Learn how to kiss your partner again, it is important to give you children something to go "ewwwww!" at as they grow.

17. When you get up at 2, 4, 6 and 8am to feed the baby, don't insist on him changing the baby, let your husband sleep. Of course, mutter "Asshole" under your breath as you walk down the hall. He won't hear you over his snoring.

18. Support your husband through all the seasons of his life: pre-children, children, post-children...

19. Make sure your relationship comes first. When someone continually asks you what you do with all your "free time" kick your husband until he tells them.

20. Remember: Don't attribute conspiracy something that could be just as easily explained by incompetency. Men aren't mean, they're stupid.

21. Know that no matter what atmosphere you create in your home, it is the tingle you get when he calls in the middle of the day for no reason that makes your home a refuge.

22. Hold hands often, you will need the added support when the 3 hour night sleeps catch up with you both.

23. Remember funny, interesting and odd things that happen to you through out the day so when HE asks YOU about YOUR day, you have something to say.

24. A stream of breast milk to the eye is sometimes the easiest way of saying, "Not tonight dear!"

25. When your husband comes home, give him the baby and go take a shower. Alternatively, you can put the baby in the bouncy seat and ask him to join you.

Bonus Suggestion: Don't lose your identity as woman in your roles as wife and mother. Your husband didn't fall in love with a wife or a mother, he fell in love with you.

Things That Make Oliver Angry

1. People who don't like him to eat when he is hungry. Apparently some people take issue with babies eating in public. I guess it is because in their sicko minds, they can't separate sex from baby food containers. The same people who stare at babies attached to boobies are usually the same meanies who glare at you when the baby is starving to death and wailing.

2. People who want him to have a blanket over his head while he eats. This is an offshoot of the previous statement. Babies are about two degrees hotter than we are at all times. Add to this the combined body heat of the mothers body. Then throw an afghan over them both. Really comfortable I assure you. His table manners aren't even that bad! He chews with his mouth closed and never spills on the tablecloth. The next time I am at a restaurant and I see bad manners I am going to suggest that the person puts a blanket of their head. That is truly disgusting.

3. "Its a Fact" statements when they are really just opinions or falsehoods. An example of this comes from the email updates I get from BabyCenter. "It's a Fact: Because breast milk doesn't contain enough vitamin D, breastfed-only babies need vitamin D drops (200 IU per day) starting at 2 months of age." Oh really? The vitamin D we get from the sun? I live in Texas people, the sun is out 363 days a year! Actually the supplements are only needed if you are: A. From the North B. Dark skinned C. Never take your baby outside D. (and I quote) NOT FROM A WESTERN COUNTRY!!!

4. Circumcision on the basis of looks, hygiene or because babies don't feel pain. This one really peeves Oliver off. He is very attached to his foreskin. Know why? Because it is attached to him, that is why! Some doctors don't even use pain numbing medication, did you know that!? Did you also know that they strap the babies down on boards to do it? That parents can not watch the procedure and that they hold the babies until they stop crying so the parents are none the wiser?! Penises aren't pretty anyway, don't cut your son so that they have a more pleasing package. If you are concerned about hygiene, teach your son to wash. Having an extra fold should not be a reason for infant surgery, if it was, all women would be circumcised as well and I don't know about you but my women parts aren't going nowhere. Its called a washcloth people, use it!

5. Waking up from a nap. This isn't a political statement, he just really hates it. Don't we all?

6. Those nose suckers. While I tend to really enjoy the feeling of accomplishment when sucking a particularly stubborn booger out of my baby's nose, he is under the impression that we are actually trying to vaccum his brains out. He would rather suffocate than have that plastic tube stuck up his nose. Fortunately for him, I would rather he not. It took me too long to create the guy to let a snot ball get the better of him.

7. A parked car. Don't ask me how he knows that the car is stopped, but he does. He could be sound asleep but once that light turns red, the wailing begins. I have taken to begging traffic lights to stay green just for me. They never listen.

8. Low altitude. Give him a shoulder or give him death.

9. Tummy Time. He must have been reading all of the literature there is out there about SIDS because he believes that everytime we place him on his tummy on his cute little playmat, we are trying to kill him slowly. It probably confuses him to why we enjoy watching him suffer in such a way.

10. The flash of a camera. Can't help you here kid, better get used to it cutie!

You Gotta Have Friends

Sometimes, when I am feeling blue, I like to sit in my "Shaky Chair" and chat with my friends, Ellie, Schnappy, and Ziggy. Sometimes we listen to music. I have a few favorite songs at the moment, among them is "The lalala song", "The hmm hmm song", and "Sounds of the Rainforest".

On this particular day, it was a bit hot so The Boob did right by me and stripped me down to my drawers before setting me in my recliner. As usual, the fellas were already there. They always seem to get there before me. Its not my fault The Boob takes forEVER to change me. And then she wants to cuddle, jeez, can't a guy get a moment alone to hang with his buddies!? Leave me in peace woman!

As usual Ellie was talking about food. I am pretty sure she has some kind of eating disorder. You don't get that big just because of a glandular problem. I mentioned my theory once to Schnappy when I thought she wasn't listening but apparently she overheard and our relationship hasn't been the same since. She is sort of a know it all and even though I continually apologize for what is most likely the truth, she keeps reminding me that an elephant never forgets. Yea, whatever, a baby doesn't forg...huh, what was I saying? Sorry, there was a bit of lint in the corner of the room.

Anyway, as I was saying, Schnappy is a bit of a downer. He is always talking about the war, and global warming, and winning the Nobel Peace Prize. Wait, no, thats Al Gore. Same sad eyes, I get them confused. I think the reason Schnappy is so sad all the time, is that his parents never had enough money to get his teeth fixed. They are a bit scraggly and pointy. Please, that whole goth vampire look is SO 1995.

Ziggy is my favorite. I am entranced by her use of stripes of contrasting colors to minimize her flaws and accentuate her assets. She is the motor mouth of the group. It really is hard to get a word in edgewise when she starts in on a topic. You know how people say it takes two to have an argument, well, those people didn't know Ziggy. Once she starts going, all you can do is just watch the show.

These are the friends that makes the endless minutes between eating, pooping and sleeping bearable. They may have personal space issues, I have yet to touch any of them, but they are my friends, and with friends like these, who needs teddy bears. Or as they are known in the infant world "SIDS bears".

Ta ta for now, I am expecting company and I must splash on the Powdre du Bebe that my Aunt Britty likes so much. What I do for the ladies...

My Little Gentleman

Though he might only be 7 weeks old, he is already a man about town. It seems that the only way I can get him to nap is to take him out of the house and parade him around strangers. I suspect that this is because he wants people to think I am insane. When I complain about him never napping while he sleeps peacefully in a friend's arms (preferably a cute blond, apparently), it causes more than a few raised eyebrows. This proves that making a woman feel crazy is something that men come out knowing how to do. Another nature vs. nurture question answered. You're welcome science.

He is a world traveler at heart, there isn't a better place to nap in his opinion than his carseat. He actually has the baby balls to yell at me if I don't start the car fast enough for him. Therefore, I am convinced that he is ecstatic about applying for his passport. Yes, at 7 weeks old you need a passport to travel outside of the country. Question: will it be small enough for him to carry it in his tiny back pocket? Sub-Question: How will he sign it? Follow-up Question: If it is not signed does it not make it invalid and therefore not usable? Anyway, they tell me even a tiny baby needs a passport. I asked just to be sure and the postman said that it was because of "all that" that happened "back then". I assume he is talking about 9-11 unless there was some invasion of tiny infant terrorists I didn't hear about.

Seriously, what is the rational behind the decision to make babies have passports? Are they afraid that someone might strap a Pampers on a bomb and try and sneak it on a plane? Tiny illegal immigrant midgets disguised in bonnets? Anyway, I digress. In October we plan on the baby accompanying us to a return to the land of our people. What people you ask, the white people? The drunk people? Both! Scotland! I wonder if they sell those kilts in size teeny. I am already planning the pictures I am going to take. "Oliver's First Hagis." "Oliver's First Pint." "Oliver Held by a Druid." "Oliver Herding Sheep." "Oliver's Return to Stonehenge." (That last one is funny, get it? Stonehenge, reincarnation, haha?)

Looking forward to the memories we will make with my Aunt, Uncle and cousin in October!

Goodbye Dairy, My Old Friend

A baby changes everything. I thought I knew what this meant. No more late nights closing down pubs with your friends (I actual ly shut a bar down once on $1 margarita night--they ran out). No more spur of the moment movie nights with the hubby. No more feeling sexy or even halfway human. These things I understood, these things I wasn't afraid of because to tell you the truth, we were a bit boring as it was, preferring to stay home as opposed to being out all night painting the town red.

What I wasn't prepared for is the loss of my first love. Something so important to me that is no longer a part of my life. I am, of course, talking about queso. Well, not just queso, that would be silly! Ice cream, milk, yogurt, and all types of cheeses. Don't roll your eyes at me young lady! This also means that I can't have (but not limited to) the following items: lasagna, pizza, most mexican foods, also most pastas, and anything else that tastes delicious.

How can something so good be so bad you ask? My perfect baby boy seems to have a very big digestion problem when it comes to dairy products. Six hours after I eat or drink anything that comes from a cow tit Oliver goes Linda Blair on my ass and ruins outfits by the dozen. Poor little guy, he can not yet fathom the glory of a jalepeno popper, the simple pleasure of cookies and milk, or yes, even a dollop of Daisy.

The things we do for love...

The Fear of a Mother

When I was a little girl, my parents owned a book called, "Parenthood isn't for Cowards". I asked my mom one day what it meant. She said that it meant that being a parent meant not being afraid easily. I thought, well, that makes sense because you don't want to be scared when your kids tell you about their scary dreams. This obviously is not what she meant or what the book is about but as a seven year old, dreams were the scariest thing there was in my life. Aside from the idea of New Kids on The Block breaking up that is.

Now that I am a parent, I better understand the courage it takes to raise a little one. Heck, just keeping the kid alive seems like a huge accomplishment. I find myself constantly dreaming up new terrors just around the corner, sending me spiraling into panic. For instance, just a simple trip to the gas station to fill my car up with liquid gold, I mean gas, can start me shuddering with fear. As I stick the wallet shrinker, I mean gas pump, into my college fund destroyer, I mean car, I read a sign that we have all seen at least 400 times before. "Static electricity can cause explosions". Before Oliver was born I would have rolled my eyes at the idea that the only thing standing between me and certain fireball death is a Bounce sheet, but now, all that has changed.

Upon reading the warning, my mind shifts into Mama Bear mode. I start thinking, what if the baby shifts unexpectedly in such a way that he causes a spark to ignite the fumes that are almost certainly destroying the ever depleting ozone causing him to burst spontaneously into flames. Looking quickly to the window washer bucket I note that those 50,000 flies that have taken up residence in said bucket must have drank most of the water, leaving me with a burning baby with nothing to douse him with. Aha! I see there is a field to my left. I can surely grab the engulfed baby and run to the field, stopping, dropping and rolling with him, saving his crispy yet precious life. Then, just as my heart returns to normal I realize, yes, I may have saved him but I have also cursed him to a lifetime of scorn and ridicule as a wrinkled faced burn victim. What kind of life is that!?

As the rape is completed, I mean the pump turns off, I glance into the back seat. There he is, perfectly asleep and silently jamming out to the Aerosmith that plays far to loud for an infant on my radio. Crisis averted. I breathe a sigh of relief as I start the car and drive off, leaving the death trap in my dust. But wait, what is that?! A homeless person seems to be lurking in the shadows of the interstate. Is it me or does he look shifty? Wouldn't SHE like to have a prop baby to play on the sympathies of passersby! And so with a heavy heart and an active imagination, it starts again...