The 21st Century SAHM

Boys and guns

November 6, 2014

You know that moment when you look over and notice that your 5-year old son has drawn a picture of a monster holding 2 guns along with an army of “minions”, also ready to shoot at any enemy in their path… and you are in CHURCH? And that he drew this masterpiece in the coloring book from one of the children’s bags that belongs to CHURCH?

I have blogged several times about my fears and struggles with raising a girl in this princess-centered body-image warped world. But I also have 2 boys. Yikes! And I am constantly at war (pun intended) within myself with the whole boys-love-guns thing. I don’t love guns. I don’t even like them. At all. And I don’t have a brother, so I did not grow up with “Hi-Ya! Pow! Pow!” screaming through the rooms of my house. But I live in that world now. For being quite a book nerd and computer lover, my kindergartener is a boy. And he is fascinated with guns, violence, swords, enemies, good guys, bad guys… the whole gamut. Usually my husband handles it better than I do. He grew up playing Mortal Combat and did not turn into an adult who beheads others, so chances are, if we are the best parents we can be, and instill proper morals and values in our boys, they will also grow up to be properly functioning adults. However, for all the times he tells me “not to worry about it” when my son attempts to chop down Darth Vader in his Wii game, even Daddy found it disturbing that our little guy drew this lovely image in the church’s coloring book. I think his words were: “Ummm…. buddy? Not okay in church.”

We do believe in the importance of discussing violence with our kids. We are proud of our soldiers and thankful for their service. We know that violence has served a purpose and will continue to serve a purpose in many corners of our world and in many circumstances. We also teach our kids to stick up for themselves. We do not want them initiating violence, but if someone pushes them down, or pushes one of their siblings down, we give them free reign to open up a can of their best whoop-ass on that kid. We also talk about guns. We talk about how guns kill people and are not funny. This is hard as many of my son’s idols (Luke Skywalker, Han Solo) use guns. “But it is okay, because they are good guys, right Mommy?” Ummmm…. ???? Are guns okay? Sometimes…. I guess??

So for all of the battles I fight for my daughter, I fight twice as many for my 2 boys. Guns scare me. Violence scares me. Teenage boys shooting up classmates in the school cafeteria scare me. But, like my daughter’s love for princesses, I guess there is a certain love for guns that I have to accept in my household.

But I think next Sunday morning we may just stick to the crossword puzzles, okay little guy?

Out of buckets

The 21st Century SAHM

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October 29, 2014

In many MANY ways, I was unprepared for parenthood. Oh sure, I knew good sleep was over. (I miss being able to take Nyquil when I am sick.) I knew happy hour was going to become very rare. And I knew my marathon gym afternoons would turn into quick when-I-have-time workouts.

But for all the stuff I thought I knew, there are 10 times as many aspects of parenthood that have thrown me curveballs throughout the past 6 years. (Holy crap. I have been a parent for 6 YEARS?!)

One thing that I did not know, but I know now: little girls collect little things. All things small and/or pink and/or glittery are coveted by little girls. Tiny seashells, miniature stamps, erasers, little shoes for little dolls, hair bows of various sizes, plastic rings, little tiny stones that fall out of plastic rings but must be saved because they’re sooooo pretty, tiny purses and hats for the mommy who lives in the dollhouse (I wish I had that many purses and hats), and stickers… oh so many stickers.

I used to painstakingly file all the tiny things away in specific buckets:

dollhouse items in the red bucket
kitchen food and utensils in the blue bucket
arts and craft supplies in the yellow bucket
jewelry in the pink bucket

etc…

But I ran out of buckets. And sanity. Cleaning her room today, I found, on her floor: a nailpolish, 2 necklaces, 5 crayons, a plastic tomato, 4 legos, and a rock. I put them all in one bucket (the green one), turned her light out, and left the room.

Moms: help a girlfriend out. If your friend is having a girl, please, warn her of the tiny things. Tell her the truth. Tell her that at some point, (in my case it was around year 3), she will give up and start throwing all of it into any bucket or bag in the room. (She need not worry — her daughter will have 17 bags and backpacks and purses for carrying the tiny things). Sorting and organization will eventually serve no purpose. Play food will live alongside Elsa dolls and bracelets will be thrown together with seashells.

Tell them, because that is the gloriously pink and glittered life of living with a 3-year old girl.

My favorite person

The 21st Century SAHM

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September 23, 2014

I have a friend about to have a baby. AT HOME. Like, in a pool. I sort of think she is a crazy person.

Me: Hospital. Drugs. Tubes. More drugs. 87 people traipsing in and out of my room every 11 minutes.

Her: Pool. No drugs. Midwife. Husband. That’s it.

Yikes!

She and I obviously have a complete opposite mindset about birthing. Her favorite person through her birthing experience is probably her patient, soothing midwife who gives her the confidence and strength to make it to the finish line. Or maybe her husband is her favorite (or at least a close second). My favorite person during labor and delivery? Yes, I adore my nurses, and yes, my husband is an excellent coach. I also greatly appreciate my OB who usually appears for the last few minutes and endures my screaming and thrashing about. But my FAVORITE person is the epidural fairy. LOVE me some epidurals.

So yes, there is a huge range of “birth plans” women can choose or attempt to choose because sometimes things don’t go as planned. So when I heard about her pool party birth, I think my reaction was something like “Whaaaaaaaaaaaaat??” And although I felt confusion about her choice and I worried for her, do you know what I also felt?

Proud of her. For doing HER thing HER way with HER body and HER baby.

Know who else I am proud of?

Myself. For doing MY thing MY way with MY body and MY baby.
And to the mom pushed into an unexpected c-section: I am proud of you and I admire you. That must have been scary, but you did it.

To the mom with the planned c-section? I applaud you for doing what YOU think is best.

To the mom who had a VBAC: I applaud you for doing what YOU think is best.

To the mom who labored at home until the last minute and pushed that baby out with 4 minutes to spare at the hospital: Holy crap, I admire you. I hope you are proud of yourself. You are incredible.

To the mom who could not conceive naturally and used fertility treatments: I admire your courage.

To the mom who could not have children and chose to adopt: I admire your strength. I am in awe of you.

To the mom who CAN have children and still chose to adopt: Thank you. You are truly amazing.

To the mom with 1 kid: You are doing an awesome job.

To the mom with 4 kids under 5: You are an inspiration. Have an extra glass of wine tonight.

To the newly pregnant first-time mom: You got this. Your body will know what to do.

To the post-partum mom who still looks pregnant: You look beautiful when you are staring at that little baby.
And to my friend about to birth a baby in a pool in her living room: You are an incredible mama!

To the epidural fairy: I love you.