Independent Woman

Every time my daughter learns something new I start singing a Destiny's Child song from my high school days.  I sing mostly to myself because 1) I barely remember all the words 2) I can't really sing all that well and would prefer not to scar my child 3) I'm not actually all that happy about why I'm singing.

You see, Elly is only 10.5 months old and the writings on the wall.  (I'm really hitting the DC lyrics hard tonight!  It's about to get Jumpin' Jumpin' in here!) I can tell that I have an extremely rocky road ahead of me as I try to raise my incredibly stubborn, headstrong, independent woman in this world.
 

 

How do I already know this is going to be as fun as traveling over landmines?  Because she already throws fits when you try to help her do something.  She's been walking 2 months already.  When we were in the airport earlier this week and she was starting to walk into stores or other places she shouldn't I responded with a stern "No thank you, this way please" and tried to hold her hand and walk her in a different direction. 

Her response? A full-blown tantrum, complete with arm flailing and writhing out of my hand so she could walk by herself and go where she wanted to go.  She didn't need my help to turn around, she could do it herself.  And there was no way she was going to let mama walk hand-in-hand with her.  She's a big girl and can do it herself.  In fact, she's begun to walk like a model, one hand on her hip, the other extended in the air (Ok, so it looks more like she's about to bust out in song and dance about a little tea pot who's short and stout... but still.)  I'd like to blame the trip to New York City, but no, this is just her spirit.

Another example of her desire to do it her way and refuse help: she had her sippy cup this morning and it was pretty much empty.  Stoofy, myself AND Ms. B all tried to change her sippy cup and give her the other one (the exact same kind of cup, just a different color) with water in it that just happen to be sitting right next to her.  NOT GOING TO HAPPEN.  She at one point swatted at Stoofy when he tried to take the empty cup out of her hand and swap it with the other, full one.  Nope. 

And Ms. B reported today that Elly threw herself to the ground and had a mini-tantrum because she was not allowed to climb up the stairs by herself.  She's been learning how to go up them with Stoofy helping her, but clearly since she's not even a year old yet, climbing stairs on her own is a big no no.  Especially because half our steps in the house are the open back kind.  She could easily squeeze through and fall head first to her demise.  Not really my style of fun. 

But does she care about the scary death trap?  No.  She doesn't want your help going up the stairs because she's already freakin' learned how to do it and can do it herself damn it!!!!  If she could talk already she’d say, “Just stop holding my hand mom and let me do it on my own!”

And that right there is the problem.  Her not wanting to hold my hand in the airport while walking around nearly broke my heart.  I actually felt it break into tiny, little pieces.  (Don't worry, "I'm a Survivor" and I'm not going to give uh...), Yes, I know she's still a baby and she will need me for lots of things for many years (especially since she can't reach the food yet and will need me to at least feed her for awhile longer.  Although today she learned how to feed herself with a spoon.  I'm quickly becoming as obsolete as a payphone). But it kills me to watch her grow up so fast.  It's like I blinked and she's almost an adult! 

I don't know how it even happened.  And because she's so independent I worry she’ll stop needing  me so much sooner than other kids.  Or at least she'll THINK she won't need me so much sooner. 

It looks like I've got two options here: 1) learn to accept the fact that my baby is independent like her mother and doesn't need me in her life anymore or 2) change my parenting technique and hover over her and make her so damn co-dependent that she'll never leave my side. 

Option 2 is sounding less and less crazy every day she learns a new skill. 

Temporary Vegetarian

Every so often I end up in a discussion about pregnancy and how much it sucks.  I work in an office with almost all women.  A couple are a little younger than me and the rest are a bit older than me.  Those of us with kids (I'm the youngest with a kid, and Elly is SIGNIFICANTLY younger than the other people's kids) talk about what our experiences were when we were pregnant or in labor.

And these conversations remind me about the things I've pushed out of my mind a bit about being pregnant with Elly.  I haven't forgot these memories yet, hence one of the reasons I blog.  I don't want to forget all of the hell she put me through.

You see, I am a meat eater.  (Take that however you want you sick perv!) I enjoy a giant, medium-rare steak, I love sausage and bacon both for breakfast, and I love to eat turkey sandwiches.  A meal isn't complete without meat.  Without it, it's just a snack. 

That all changed when I became pregnant.  Aside from the fact that EVERYTHING made me blow chunks, meat especially did.  I couldn't walk past the meat counter in a grocery store unless I had my trusty "air sickness bag" with me.  (The grocery store as a whole was pretty dangerous grounds for me, but especially in the meat department.) 

I practically became a vegetarian.  I couldn't stand eating any kinds of beef, chicken, or pork.  And I couldn't eat too much fish (which I didn't want much of in the first place) because of whatever crazy science article I was reading that week and the effects of the fish on my baby.  (My policy was, why bother fucking the kid up in utero?  I needed to wait until the kid was fully baked and then I could start screwing it up... because, you know, it's always the mother's fault.)

It was so disappointing to not even be slightly interested in any of the things I loved to eat.  I actually lost weight before gaining weight while pregnant!  Who knew dividing cells into a new human being would be the best diet around?!?!?!

The only thing I could stand to eat was bacon bits on my pizza (which I ate nearly every other day).  No other meat could be found in my house. 

Fast forward 10 months and I'll wolf down a steak in 5 minutes flat.  I eat hamburger like it's going out of style.  And I pile on extra turkey on my sandwiches.  My herbivore days were just temporary.  THANK GOD!

But Elly, she's still a vegetarian.  No matter what we try to feed her by way of meat, she's not interested.  But that kid will horck down apples, lima beans, broccoli, and strawberries by the fistful.  If you don't speed it up while cutting up the kiwi she'll let you know she's not pleased.  But offer her a bit of pot roast and there's no touching it.  She instead works around the roast and eats the potatoes and carrots.  So for now she's a vegetarian.  (Don't worry, the dog's still a carnivore.  Elly share's the pot roast with the dog!)

I just hope she grows out of it.  I don't know if I could handle a meal without meat!

Pumkin Pie and Jail Time

Fall is by far my favorite time of year.  I love the cooler weather, the clothes, the sights and sounds, and most importantly I LOVE the food.  Fall food means the best of the best: squash, pumpkin anything, apple pies, and the big kahuna: THANKSGIVING DINNER! It's like a fat kid's delight! 

And this time of year brings back a very strong memory for me.  It's something that I did about this time last year.  I'd like to say it wasn't me, but then it wouldn't make for a very funny blog.  It's a little something involving pumpkin pie, my hormonal rage, and me... nearly beating a woman up and a punk-ass teenager. 

About this time last year I was about 4 months pregnant.  I had cravings, but my cravings consisted of people who had food needed to leave my smelling radius because everything made me want to puke.  I was sick nearly every day until about the 6 month mark.  So the fact that one night I even got an actual craving that wouldn't pass after the thought of it made me dry-heave was a little extraordinary!

It was after 10pm and Abby had just left to go back to her place.  Stoofy was in Kuwait in the midst of his contract out there.  So I was on my own and I needed pumpkin pie.  And I mean NEEDED it!

So I climbed into bed thinking, I can let this pass.  If I fall asleep, I won't want it anymore and I'll be fine.  That lasted all of 5 minutes and then I climbed out of bed, put on something decent to go out in and hopped into my car.  I was on the hunt for fresh baked pumpkin pie.

I knew that being the end of September meant there would be pumpkin pie available. (It’s fall time for God’s sake!) I knew exactly what store would have it too.  Harris Teeter.  Because I had been there the day before and saw the pies lined up for display at the front of the store. 

At 10:10PM I arrive at HT and walk through the door.  I can't wait to get to the pies all sitting there waiting for me to snatch up and eat on the car ride home.  Except when I got there, they were out of pumpkin pies.  They had sweet potato pie, but everyone knows that's totally different.  Even if you smear it with whipped cream, I knew I would be able to tell the difference.

So I scoured the rest of the store.  I went through every pie in the bakery section.  Checked behind random loaves of bread just in case some jerk tried to hide one for themselves until they got off shift.  I'd show that asshole!  But alas, there was no pie.  I checked the freezer section thinking, ok I'll just find myself a Sarah Lee and pop it in the oven.  That bitch creates pies that take an HOUR to bake! Uh, I needed my pie fix immediately!

What's a hormonal pregnant woman to do?  Search the store and buy cinnamon rolls for breakfast the next morning, juice and lemon poppy seed muffins because they've got the best ones.  And that'll hold me over until I get to the next store.  I did pass the baking section and thought, damn, it'll take too long to bake my own pie.  I'll just go to Giant and get a pie there.

As I check out, the cashier asks if I found everything ok.  Uh no, you do you have any pumpkin pies left in the back? I'm seriously craving them and I want one. 

And the pimple-faced douche bag bagger turns to me and says, "I bought the last ones about an hour ago.  (ha ha) If you want a slice I'll sell you one in an hour when I go on my break. (HAHAHAHA)."

To which I respond, "Listen here you fucking asshole, I'm pregnant and I want a fucking pie now.  Don't be a prick and tease me."

I quickly paid and left the store before the manager, who was headed my way, could escort me out. 

Now I'm just pissed! I want a fucking pie and if I could figure out which car was that kid's I'd consider breaking in for a slice.  Then I decide going to jail tonight wasn't going to be the best decision... so on to the next store.

10:35PM- I arrive at Giant and make a beeline to the bakery section.  I leave no slice of pie unturned in my quest for pumpkin.  They've got cherry, apple, sweet potato, pretty much everything but pumpkin.  And nothing is going to do until I get a slice of pumpkin.  So I start sprinting (as fast as a pregnant woman can go) to the freezer section hoping I can find a pie that doesn't take an hour to bake.  But as I get to the freezer section I start to search people's carts as I pass them, hoping to find my pot of gold.

Low and behold, I do!  There is a woman with a pumpkin pie in her cart.  So I rush up to her in a panicked frenzy and ask her (in my mind it was with good, friendly intentions.  It came across as scary and abrasive) if I can have her pumpkin pie.  She says no.

I explain to her I am pregnant and I really NEED that pie.

She says no.

I dig in my purse, pull out a $20 and start shouting I'LL GIVE YOU $20 IF YOU GIVE ME THAT PIE! I'M FUCKING PREGNANT AND I NEED THAT FUCKING PIE!

She starts to walk away scared.  I take a few steps after her yelling... it did me no good.

Back to the freezer section.  And yes, they do have pies that take only 25 minutes to bake... but they’re all out.  I'm nearly in tears and I want to scream at the top of my lungs (which I already had at the woman with the pie). 

I storm back out of the store feeling defeated.  But across the street I see the hazing red light of a bulls eye sign.  FUCK YEAH! Target is open until 11PM tonight!  And it's only 10:50!!!!  I zip across the street and throw it into park.

I don't think I've ever hustled as fast as I did to get into the store.

I run to the freezer section and find a pumpkin pie, and it only takes 25 minutes to bake!  FINALLY, VICTORY IS MINE!!!  But it's a bittersweet victory.  Because deep down I know it's not going to be a great pie.  I know that with the time it took to track down this pie, I could have baked one in my house already and be sitting in my bed with a warm slice topped with crumb topping like I like and a dollop of whip cream on top.  But I don't fucking care.  I just want the pie.

So I purchase the pie (and vanilla ice cream… ala mode, DUH!), speed home and throw that sucker into the oven.  25 minutes later (plus the time it took to preheat the oven and the time it took to cool and set), I dish up my pie slice and dig in.  Only to find that it sucks just as much as I knew it would.

I go to bed even more pissed and in tears that I didn't have good pie, that I nearly accosted a woman and teenage kid.  And I'm even more pissed that I didn't just buy the ingredients and make my own pie.  Because now that it’s nearly midnight, going back to the store to buy the ingredients and bake another pie is just flat out CRAZY!!!!

Lesson learned: when you have a craving, it's just easier to make it yourself.  And it's less likely to get you arrested. 

Running: Still Hating Life

So, after a couple weeks of running, I still pretty much hate it.  I mean, I truly hate its stinking guts.  It's awful. 

Listening to Abby telling me about how her boyfriend went on a run before his race just makes me want to pull a Tonya Harding on his Nancy Kerrigan knee.  I mean seriously.  Who the HELL RUNS BEFORE A RACE?!?!?!

Jerk. 

Makes all the rest of us look bad.  Me in particular. 

Because no matter how hard I try right now, I am not exactly getting any faster.  I will say I am going further, but we're not talking by leaps and bounds.

And then this morning on a friend's status update (which by the way, I hate the fancy Facebook update) I come across this little gem:

                                                  (And I still hate everything about it!)

And my first thought is: Jackass! I am bitter because I am a turtle and a mile is a long, long, LONG distance.  Two miles is twice as long, three sucks thrice as much and well whatever the 5K is, 3 point whatever miles, sucks even more.  And no matter what I do, a mile's measurement is never going to get shorter.  Unless somehow I can take over the world and be THE world leader, it's just not going to happen.

The only thing that is going to happen is I'm going to just have to suck it up and run more and find some kind of motivation.

Lucky for me, I came across this touching story. 

Really kid? Now you're just making me look bad.  Because not only am I crying over how touching it is that this kid had so much compassion for another athlete, he also had the ability to carry him a half mile, then continue on his damn race. 

I feel like a slug.  I better not see a double amputee on skates again today (I say again, because a couple weeks ago I met one at a hockey game for wounded warriors), or I might want to off myself, which is the same feeling I get when I run.

Basically, I'm still waiting for that so called 'runner's high' everyone's (my running friends that is) talking about. 

Losing my hair... and my marbles

Before I got pregnant I had read that pregnant women have beautiful hair.  And for me, that was true.  My hair became so shiny and lustrous! It was beautiful and felt amazing!!!  I was already "blessed" with thick hair, but once I got pregnant, it was like I had a fortress of hair it was so thick!  And I couldn't stop petting my own head.  I must have looked like a freak, or P.Diddy stroking the furry wall.  Either way, my hair was gorgeous!

What the books forget to mention is that after you have the baby, all your hair falls out.  And when I say all your hair, I mean ALL YOUR HAIR!  Every day I find myself checking to make sure I don't have a bald spot where I just brushed.  My shower looks like Big Foot just got attacked by Edward Scissor Hands.  It's bad.  I've gotten to the point where I just collect all the hair in a little giant ball, rather than let it go down the drain because otherwise we're going to have a huge pluming problem! 

And then when I get out and actually brush my hair... forget it.  It's everywhere.  I feel like the sad, pathetic duckling that's molting and thinks it's the ugliest thing on the planet.  The problem is, I'm pretty sure I'm not about to emerge as a swan.  My swan hair was during pregnancy.  This whole ugly duckling thing is going in reverse for me and it sucks. 

On top of the "Great Shed of 2011" I'm also starting to grow some of the hair back.  So now I have all these crazy, wispy hairs that are half curly, half straight sticking out of my head everywhere.  They almost look like wayward pubes.  Sick! I have pubes on my head!!!!

To top it all off, I'm also losing my mind.  I also read during my pregnancy that women usually get "pregnancy brain" and can't remember things.  And I was told that this usually lasts for awhile after the baby is born, or can possibly be permanent.  Terrific!  So not only am I losing my beautiful hair and growing pubes instead, I also can't remember why I'm so upset about pubes.  Or remember where I just put the check book that's sitting in front of me, or remember that I have an appointment at some point sometime this week somewhere for some ailment that's been bothering me but that I can't remember what it is for the life of me today.  And the calendar I was doing so well at tracking everything in? Yeah, I have no idea where it's at so I'm now completely lost. 

If this is what it's like to get old, just shoot me now.  If it gets worse, I don't know what I'll do.  Actually, I probably won't do anything because I won't even remember that I'm upset that I can't remember.  What really worries me is what happens if I have another baby?  I honestly don't think my brain can take another blow like that.  I know my pube-hair cant!  Could you imagine molting pube-hair? Good God! What grows back to replace that crap???  I can't even begin to imagine! 

If I would have known I was going to be losing this much hair and my marbles, I probably would have invested in wigs and post-it notes.  Ahhh, the things my mother, and pretty much every other woman on the planet that has a kid, forgot to tell me about.  Elly just better behave during her teen years, or I might just forget to tell her these important facts!  Enjoy your swan hair while you've got it because it'll turn into pube-hair, and you'd better get a good calendar/ post-it system in place and attach it to your body if you ever plan on remembering anything after you have a baby kido!!!!

Until later
~Betty

Where's the freakin' instruction manual?

So I just got my weekly baby update about my growing 4 month, 2 week daughter.  And the hot topic in my house and in the email thread this week is FOOD. 

Some parents say stick with exclusive breastfeeding until 6 months.  Others say add in foods earlier.  Other moms say forget all of that and do whatever the hell you want.  While others say make your own food.  It's enough to make you freakin' nuts.  Oh wait, TOO LATE!

I decided while pregnant that I would breastfeed for as long as I could and my goal would be to get to the one year mark if I could.  I'd be happy if I could make it 6 months but I wanted to hit the year mark.  And then my mother-in-law started in on me when I told her my plan and that Stoofy and I were on our way to a breastfeeding class. (Insert Stoofy's groan here.)

Me: We're going to a class tomorrow.  I'm really looking forward to it!

MIL: I don't think you should even bother.  It hurts a lot and you won't like it, so I wouldn't even bother.  I didn't. 

Me: Well, I'm going to give it a try.  I knowingly made the decision to be a parent and I understand that for the rest of my life there will be some painful moments, literally and figuratively, but ultimately, it's in my child's best interest.  I think I'll be sticking it out with the breastfeeding if I can.

MIL: Well, good luck, but you won't like it and it's going to hurt.  Plus, then I can't feed the baby.

SERIOUSLY!?!?!  Who says that to someone, let alone a pregnant, hormonal Betty?!

Needless to say, we're 4 months, 2 weeks into it and haven't had a single problem!  Plus she's growing right off the height chart, so I'm obviously doing something right.

Well, that's up for discussion.  Back to the crazy parent forum.  I caved a couple weeks ago to add some rice cereal to her milk at night.  She was still waking up 3 times at night for feedings and she's not a long napper during the day (try 20 minute cat naps).  So I listened to my mom (and my entire office, my husband's coworkers and the moms on the online forum) and got some cereal and added it to her bottle.  I'm a terrible mother. 

Guess what?  It didn't do a damn thing but make her gassy and cranky at first.  Great.  Not the response I was looking for.  I was hoping I'd get what everyone kept saying... put cereal in her milk and she'll sleep like a baby.  HA!  Not my kid.  Thanks a lot everyone!  She just wanted more!  And I really am a terrible mother now!

I caved and after she got used to it, I started adding it into half of her bottles during the day.  Her last bottle of the evening has cereal and then I nurse her as she falls asleep.  It seems to be working for her.  But I'm a complete basket case!

I can't help but wonder if I'm the worst mother on the planet!  I have a million crazy worries that run through my head every day about being a good mom.  Did I start her on cereal too early?  Does it make her too gassy?  Should I cut back on it or just make sure she's had some gas drops?  Should I switch to barley or oat instead?  Is it messing up her poop schedule? Should I stop nursing her at night and only giving her bottles?  Am I coddling her because I'm nursing her to sleep?  Should I even rock her completely to sleep or should I just get her almost there and then place her in her bed so she can learn to soothe herself?  Is it selfish that I want to hold her as long as I can while she sleeps because I know these moments are precious, but if I do that, am I creating a monster by not making her get over it and learn to be on her own?

HOLY SHIT GET A GRIP WOMAN!!!!!!

I mean seriously!  I just can't help but wonder whether I'm doing things right.  I'm a follow the instructions kind of girl.  When building Legos, I never skip ahead to see what's coming.  I just follow step by step and agonize over each step to make sure I haven't missed anything. 

Where's the freakin' instruction manual for motherhood?  Seriously?  How am I supposed to know if I'm fucking up my kid beyond repair or not?  Yeah, I can listen to my mom, but the evidence that says she succeeded in raising a normal kid is over here typing through a panic attack because I'm so beside myself with worry.  So maybe that's not the best confirmation.  Yes, I'm still alive and in pretty damn good health.  I have few scars from childhood, so obviously she made sure I survived just fine.  Too bad she didn't write a book so I could read it and follow instructions. 

Since there's no instruction manual, I guess it's back to searching the internet and winging it with a prayer for me.  Now I just have to decide when I suck even more and start adding solid foods.  Wish me luck and pray for Elly! 

Until later
~Betty 

Hormones

I've had crazy hormones since I hit puberty back in 6th grade.  And really, who hasn't?  But I never thought I'd be this wacky, crazy with hormones during and after my pregnancy.  Now, I'm a pretty intense Betty.  I like things done a certain way and done promptly.  This has caused some strife over the years with Stoofy, but he's finally realized that I'm just crazy and he's got to deal. 

But being Pregnant Betty took the crazy to a whole new level!  I was even more intense during my pregnancy.  I nearly accosted a woman for a pumpkin pie at a grocery store, I completely unleashed the furry of a rabid momma bear on my stupid apartment complex manager, and I made my husband's life a living hell.  It was like I became a schizophrenic person because one minute I'm pleased, the next second I'm mildly unhappy, and the next second I'm in complete rage.  And usually after that happened I started crying.  I just couldn't deal with everything racing through my brain and body!  All I could think was I must be impregnated with a demon baby. 

But I thought, as misguided as it was that after I had the baby, everything would be back to normal.  I thought I could watch whatever T.V. shows I wanted.  Heck, I thought that I could DO whatever I wanted and I'd be just my normal Betty self.  Oh how wrong I was!!!

Two days after being home with my daughter, I looked at her, started crying and exclaimed to Stoofy, "She's getting so big!  We have to have another one!  Because she'll never be this small again!"  Sobfest 2011 had begun.  He reminded me that maybe we should wait more than TWO DAYS before deciding when to have another baby.  Thank God he's wise and normal. 

The hormones have taken over my body like discount bargain shoppers at Walmart on a Sunday.  There's no stopping them and they just keep flooding in! 

Example two of Sobfest 2011- Crying on the ride home because I saw a plane.  Yup, a plane.  It was a low-flying plane and since I'm in the D.C. area I couldn't help but think... wow, I wonder if that's what it looked like as the plane came flying in and crashed into the Pentagon.  And what it would have looked like if the plane that crashed in Pennsylvania made it to the White House.  And just how heroic those people were to try and stop the terrorists and died trying.  And the people making calls from their cell phones to loved ones saying good bye.  And if I was in that same position what would I do... of course I would call Stoofy!  And then it dawned on me... I would have to say goodbye to Baby.  And BAM!  I'm sobbing, driving down the parkway and I can't see because I'm crying so hard. 

And then I just start laughing.  Because it's just that ridiculous that I'm crying so hard over something so unlikely to happen to me.  But that's not to say something less unlikely COULD happen to me.  And then I would be here to watch my beautiful baby girl grow up.  More crying.  More laughing at how ridiculous I am. 

Example three of Sobfest 2011- I'm three blocks from work this morning and realized that Defense Secretary Gates is no longer my boss.  I absolutely love him.  I feel like he's been with me my whole life, well nearly my whole military life. Now he's gone, back to retirement.  The waterworks turn back on and I nearly miss stopping at the stop sign outside my office.  Good lord, get a grip Betty!!! I'm going to be out of the military in just a couple more months and it's not like he's going to be my boss when I'm a civilian!  Geez!

And this is when I realize that this could all just be the beginning of the new Betty. A softer, more sensitive Betty.  Someone grab me a tissue!

Until later
~Betty