Facebook Rage

I seriously have some wise people in my life, specifically those that work in the profession of Speech Pathology, because their intelligence on the subject really helped to calm my fears, and get Harrison right on track! Since my last post, Harrison has started to make consonant sounds, like "da", "ga", and "ba", and has on a few occasions, even strung together a couple syllables. Nothing I would officially deem as a word yet, but he's getting there! See, I told you I was a nut, worrying about nothing on the reg! At least I still haven't laid claims that my 13-month old is not only speaking words, but stringing together entire sentences and has begun to master Spanish.

Mastering the Prime of his Asian, though.

But speaking of things that people do that piss me off, I came across an INFURIATING post on Facebook the other day, and thought- why not get the anger off my chest and vent on a public forum? I can't figure out an easier/shorter way of posting it, than by just copying and pasting, so feel free to skip right on down to my commentary after the jump.

Here is the original post, that I was able to see because one of my Facebook friends reposted it from the author:

Dear Mom On the iPhone,

I see you over there on the bench, messing on your iPhone. It feels good to relax a little while your kids have fun in the sunshine, doesn’t it? You are doing a great job with your kids, you work hard, you teach them manners, have them do their chores.

But Momma, let me tell you what you don’t see right now…..

Your little girl is spinning round and round, making her dress twirl. She is such a little beauty queen already, the sun shining behind her long hair. She keeps glancing your way to see if you are watching her. 

You aren’t.

Your little boy keeps shouting, “Mom, MOM watch this!” I see you acknowledge him, barely glancing his way. 

He sees that too. His shoulders slump, but only for a moment, as he finds the next cool thing to do.

Now you are pushing your baby in the swing. She loves it! Cooing and smiling with every push. You don’t see her though, do you? Your head is bent, your eyes on your phone as you absently push her swing. 

Talk to her. Tell her about the clouds, Mommy. The Creator who made them. Tickle her tummy when she comes near you and enjoy that baby belly laugh that leaves far too quickly.

Put your eyes back on your prize…Your kids.

Show them that they are the priority. Wherever you are, be ALL there. I am not saying it’s not ok to check in on your phone, but it’s a time-sucker: User Beware!

Play time at the park will be over before you know it.

The childhood of your children will be gone before you know it.

They won’t always want to come to the park with you, Mommy. They won’t always spin and twirl to make their new dress swish, they won’t always call out, “WATCH ME!”

There will come a point when they stop trying, stop calling your name, stop bothering to interrupt your phone time. 

Because they know…

You’ve shown them, all these moments, that the phone is more important than they are. They see you looking at it at while waiting to pick up brother from school, during playtime, at the dinner table, at bedtime…..

I know that’s not true, Mommy.

I know your heart says differently.

But your kids can’t hear your words, Mommy. Your actions are screaming way too loudly. 

May our eyes rest upon those we love, first and foremost, and may everything else fall away in the wonderful, noisy, sticky-fingered glory of it all.


So let me start off by reacting to the post itself, and then I'll get into the fury I had at the person who actually shared it.

I get that the message is one of care, and a message that we should not take what we have for granted. But I must first point out that the author was a male. Not that males can't love children the way women do, all I'm saying is that I can't know for sure whether this man even has kids of his own, or if he is a stay-at-home dad. The woman he refers to though, seems to be a full-time caretaker of her children. So for the purpose of this example, let's compare a working parent (assuming the author is one), to a stay-at-home one (the Mom on the iPhone).

Meaning, he does not realize actually how much this mom does watches her children. How much her eyes are on them, watching them to make sure they are playing safely, or eating their lunch. And no matter how intently she watches them, no matter how good of a mom you can be, your eyes CANNOT be on your children at every waking second in the day. Because you will, at times, need a break. Yes, you love your children like no other, but the full-time job of parenting is a tough one, and no one understands that better than the fellow mommies and daddies that stay at home with their kids. So, my message to that Mom on the iPhone, is to go ahead and take your much deserved break. Because your kids are exhausting, and if checking Facebook for a couple minutes helps your brain to decompress, in order to be more alert with your children after those two minutes are over, go right ahead.

My other pet peeve after reading that little tidbit, is that I firmly believe that no parent should judge other parents. We all have a hard job, probably the hardest one out there, and whatever way we choose to deal with the challenges that we face, is our decision. Just because you may choose to deal with the stress and exhaustion and demands in a different way, doesn't mean the other way is wrong.

The most exhausting

For example, sometimes when I couldn't get Harrison to stop screaming crying for the first 8 months of his life, I would scream back at him. Like, bloody murder, right in his face. Was that an acceptable method of dealing with the situation? Probably not. Did it work? Nope. But it was what I needed to do to let my frustrations out, so that I could cope with the crying baby in my arms.

Sure, I make fun of moms who are delusional, because they deserve to be made fun of for some of their outrageous claims, but if it makes them feel better to share on Facebook that their 8-month old runs AND says 20 words, then by all means. As a parent, I try my hardest to not judge other parents, so I would hope that my ways of caring for Harrison are not judged either.

Like the times when I dress him in women's necklaces

Now, I will get into the part that actually pissed me off the most- the person that posted this on Facebook. This person shared the link, with the caption "READ." This particular person is not a parent. I mean, unless they have some illegitimate child running around somewhere that I am unaware of, this person has no known children. So why was this Facebook friend of mine reposting a commentary on parenting, something he/she knows NOTHING about? If there is something that pisses me off more than parents judging other parents, it's non-parents judging parents. Please- I don't pass judgments on the way you conduct your career, because I don't know anything about ______ career. So do not post an article about how parents should interact with their children when you have none.

I may not have hand-grown and hand-made Harrison's baby food, and I sure as hell didn't forgo a glass of wine while breastfeeding, and I will be the first to admit that I probably am a little addicted to my iPhone, but I do not need non-parent "friends" of mine judging me for any of that. Have a child first, then talk.

Any Facebook posts of lately pissing you off?

Follower-Mom

When it comes to my parenting, I tend to be a follower. Not in the crazy sense, where if I hear that some lunatics out there refuse to vaccinate their children, I'll follow suit, but more just the little things.

For example, when I heard that other moms had started turning their children's carseats from rear-facing to forward-facing sooner than the recommended age of 2, I was all like, "Yea, eff the American Pediatric Society! What do they know?" and proceeded to turn Harrison's carseat forward-facing right then and there. To be fair, the minimum weight requirement for a child to be facing forward in the car is 20 pounds, and he was like 21. So that was that.

Worked like a charm

Or when I heard that breastfeeding is God's gift to babies and formula is the devil, my decision was a no-brainer. Formula-fed babies are clearly under-developed and less intelligent than breastfed ones.... HA! But no really, not that I had a real specific devotion to or opinion of either option, but my mom suggested nursing because she was a fan back in the day, so there I was, easily convinced and lactating away. Wait, no now that I think of it, my decision to BF was solely based on how many calories it burns a day. You all knew that already though.

Really though, really?

So now that I have an almost-13-month-old on my hands, who barely makes 2 consonant sounds a day, I find myself becoming a follower once again. Sure, every mom freaks out when their child is "behind" developmentally, especially now with the glories/horrors of the internet to instill it even more in us that every other mom has a child-genius, who is saying "mama" and gesturing at their Giver of Life at 6 months old. Sidenote: Impossible. Sidenote: can you tell how frustrated I am with the Moms of Social Media lately?

Not that Harrison is really showing a lack of brain function, since he was ahead of the game at walking and motor skills, and the rumor is that boys tend to develop language more slowly than girls. Even so, there are Internet sources and blogs that have 15-month old children getting evaluated by speech therapists. This is a frightening fact. Even Harrison's pediatrician said at his 1-year well visit that it was perfectly normal for him not to be making consonant sounds, or showing any signs of speech. That made me feel a lot better... until she said that at his next well check-up, if he hasn't progressed, they might need to look more into it. And a month later, we are still at NOTHING.

Being the follower-mom that I am, I consulted my friend, who is a Speech Pathologist, about Harrison's status. While she assured me, as did the pediatrician, as well as my mom, that Harrison is fine and his speech will come in time, I am still having a minor freak out. Because if there's anything you need to know about moms, it's that we are bound to freak out about our children on some issues (some moms more than others).

I have conversations with my bear... Does that count?

The moral of this story is that Harrison needs to talk soon, for all of our sakes. I can tell he gets frustrated when he wants something and can't convey it, and I need a break from the crazy thoughts that float around my head like, "What if Harrison needs speech therapy?", or better yet, "What if Harrison is deaf in one ear and can't hear us talking, which in turn is preventing him from learning to talk himself?!?!" You get the picture. I'm a freak.

joke's on you. 

In life, are you a leader or a follower?

Excuses are the way to go

I'm really good at making excuses, so here are my various excuses for why I haven't been blogging:

1. No internet.

Still. You may be wondering how I'm even writing this, since I have already established that it's not coming from my phone, and that will remain my little secret. No internet also means no TV, which logically would mean I would have more time to blog, but I've actually been extremely productive at important tasks (cleaning, cooking) without the TV to distract me.

2. Big, rented house.

Because we are renting, I have developed a new OCD-like tendency to clean. Prior to moving into this house, I was not one for cleaning. Not to say I was the messiest person ever, but I could definitely tolerate slight-to-moderate messes (ask any/all of my life roommates). However, I feel an overwhelming responsibility to make sure the house is spotless at all (ok, maybe most) times.

Actually, I'm the clean one around here

I have this fear that the owners are just going to show up one day to evaluate the state of the house, which would never really happen because the owners are Dave's cousins, not psychopaths. In any case, I find myself unable to do other activities, such as write a blog post, until all the cleaning tasks have been completed. Not a bad compulsion to have developed, and yet, I can still whine.

3. Harrison.

Obvi. He really puts a damper on my freedom, I'll tell ya. He's always been a crazy human, but lately, his craziness has reached new levels. What I mean by that is that he runs. He runs now. So he runs around the house wanting me to chase after him, he runs around the lawn ready to throw himself in the creek just to make sure I am on watch, he runs from one toy to the next because his attention span is like 5 seconds, he just runs.

Too busy running to care

You'd think this would mean he is tiring himself out more, leading to more naps, but actually, he has begun to resist his afternoon nap entirely, and that's a problem. I couldn't blog when the kid was taking two naps a day so... get ready for absolute hibernation over here. But really, Harrison is just such a ball of energy now, that I think I get more exhausted running after him than he does running himself. And I hear it only gets worse.

4. Employment.

That's right. After a year of the bliss/house arrest of being a stay-at-home mom, I have returned to the work force. Just part-time. I got a serving job so that we won't have to worry about childcare, since I'll be working nights and weekends opposite of Dave. This obviously means I will be seeing Dave a lot less than previously, which sucks, but the awesome part is that I get to leave for work exactly when Harrison's witching period begins. I've dealt with that shit for a year and now it's time to pass the torch. It really is perfect- just when I'm ready to either throw Harrison out a window or pull a Britney and shave my head off, I get to leave!

You don't love me anymore?

Now that I have an income, we will finally return to the civilized world of TV and internet.

TV?!?!?!

Hopefully I will learn the skill of time management better, so that blogging will not be put on the back burner. Mainly just so that I don't have to hear you people whine about it :) However, I am running my first-ever Fantasy Football team this year and I get pretty competitive about stuff, so all of my free time could possibly be devoted to that.

The Grassroots recap that never was and a Wine Tour recap

Sometimes I'll write a whole post up during one of Harrison's naps, then he wakes up, and instead of just posting it without any pictures, I scold myself that a real blogger would always have pictures, so I save it as a draft and promise myself that I'll come back to it with pictures ASAP and post. Sometimes that actually happens a lot, so in my head I think, "Oh yeah, I've blogged recently", when really, I failed and did not.

That happened with my post about Grassroots. I came away from Grassroots with only two pictures, and have since deleted one, so in the above theory, it's not even worth publishing. The takeaway from my summary is this: everyone needs to experience Grassroots. That is, everyone who likes to dance and listen to music. Grassroots is just a mingling of all types of people, all ages (literally saw a baby within weeks of the womb, and then a 70-year old man dancing like he was on acid), who all just want to have a great time relaxing, dancing, listening to amazing tunes. So there you have it. I had fun.

I can't say I had any more fun at Grassroots than I did this past Saturday though. Saturday was some of the most fun I've had in a while, probably because it reminded me more of my days at Geneseo than anything else... except for going back to Geneseo. All of my friends from Geneseo participated in our "annual" wine tour. However, it was my first, since surprise surprise, the first year I was at Grassroots, and last year I was about 39.3 weeks pregnant. So all in all, I had been looking forward to this experience for three years, no biggie.

From the years past, I had heard wild stories of the happenings of the wine tour, so I was very optimistic that this year would bring the same results. When you start drinking champagne at 11am, and don't stop until 6pm, that can happen. My highlights from the wine tour are as follows: dancing on the limo to some awesome 90s jams, the collection of like 70 corks given to me by one of the wineries for a wedding project,

The only proof that I was on a wine tour

 and getting accosted by the limo driver because of the members of our party got us "kicked off the property", which in actuality, no one believes happened.

Post wine-tour, we ate, had some coffee, some of us napped, and then we were ready for Part 2 of the night. If you read anything in this post, it's that I like to dance, so after hopping around a little, we ended up at the kinda-sketchy, kinda-scummy, but plays-great-tunes dance club, and I danced the night away. I definitely felt it the next morning, and actually I think we all did. Let's just say that Geneseo taught us well.

So now it's Monday, and this is Harrison's last week as a baby, aka a human less than the age of 1. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? I probably can't even bring myself to write a full post about his actual birthday, or about how I have a 1-year old, because I'm in denial and my only solution is to just pretend the growing stops now.

Are we laughing at my toupee of hair or... ?

In reality though, we are throwing a party for him on Sunday and I am really, really excited. Food, drinks, and frosting. I have a huge fear that he'll hate the cake, or be too fussy and swat it away, or just something preventing him from going to TOWN on that shit. Is it not the cutest thing when the babies bathe themselves in the frosting at the pure joy of tasting something that delicious? Because watch, my son will not grant me this joy and I'll forever be depressed. That, or I'll disown him, since Miller spawn MUST LOVE FROSTING (See Chocolate is my Life).

Are you as excited for Harrison's 1st Birthday as I am? If you're not, leave this blog and never come back.

This picture has no relevancy, just wanted you to all witness that perfect little hiney 

No Internet = No pictures = Boring Post

Just incase you were wondering, the move went well and yes, I'm still alive. However, we do not have internet or cable at the new house yet, so I don't want to get any texts about why I haven't blogged. I'm just a devotee who is spending valuable time that I could be using to sit around and watch all the shows I've missed, to blog to you from my parents'.

We enlisted the help of three of our friends to assist with the moving, as well as the babysitting skills of my parents to help with Harrison-duty. We whipped that shit out in mere hours, then sat around on our back porch drinking beers and eating cheeseburgers. Despite the food coma, I still had high hopes for myself to go out Saturday night. It was the big summer festival in the new town, meaning probably the one and only night it would be acceptable/exciting/fun to go out to the rinky-dink bars. However, the move took it right out of me, and I think I was in pajamas by 8pm. The only good that came from that was that I was up at 7am the next morning feeling (partly) well-rested to start the dreaded task of unpacking. My inner-Superwoman came out of me, and I finished up the unpacking by 2pm in order to go meet my very preggo bestie for lunch. Win win.

The next huge step in my motherhood career is about to be upon me. I am leaving Harrison for a whole weekend. Previously, I had left him for one night to attend the most magical event known to man, and that basically gave me a nervous breakdown. Somehow, I'm not as nervous about this one though.

Dave and I are going to the Grassroots Festival of Music and Dance. If you think that sounds like a haven for hippies, you are correct. It's three days of peace, love, and happiness... oh, and dancing. I have been looking forward to this festival since we went in 2011. Due to my 38 week pregnancy last year at this time, we were unable to go, but this year, I am dropping Harrison off at his grandparents and never looking back. Until Sunday, when we go pick him up.

Surprisingly, I think this will be an easier parting with Harrison than the last. For one, he's no longer nursing, as you know, and will drink milk from a cup, so that helps. Secondly, he is, I think, getting over the separation anxiety. Praise Jesus. Finally, he is actually more familiar with Dave's parents' house than our new house, so there's that too. And if worse comes to worse, we are only 2 hours away so I can put the pedal to the metal if I need to.

Most importantly, I am ok with leaving Harrison for a few days because I need a vacation, and the lovely Trumansburg, NY is it. So for those of you who go to Florida every 3 months but complain that you never get a vacation, read this, and think again...

Carnies and Cows

Over the past two days, I have been at a very interesting place, to put it nicely. I was subject to the Jefferson County Fair. Dave's family is basically maniacal about the fair, because they show cows, and never in my life have I witnessed anything like it.

I had attended the JeffCo Fair once before, BH- Before Harrison. Listen to all of the tortures I was put through: scooping up cow feces, not once but three times, getting to peasant-child level of dirty, and almost having a cow trample me. To some people, these occurrences are fun, but to me, not so much. After the first time scooping poop I decided right then and there that it would be my last trip to the fair.

Oh how wrong I was.

Dave is still needed every year to help with the fair, prepping the cows, milking them at 3am, etc etc.. so I thought I would be a very nice baby momma and go with him. I was prepared for a full two days of torture in the form of Harrison's crying. Something worse happened, though. He actually went crazy for the fair, as in, LOVED it. He loved running around in the dirt and hay, watching the cows as long as they didn't get too close, and being one with the carnies and cow-obsessed.

TOO CLOSE, TOO CLOSE

What this means for me is that now, every year, I will be forced to go back. FORCED. And in a few years, Harrison will have to (or want to) show the cows, which means I will have to help him, and that requires poop-scooping. I realize that parents have to make sacrifices for their kids, but WHY?? I cannot handle this one.

If nothing else, at least I'll get some cute pictures out of it.

I'm definitely not saying that I don't like the cows, because I do. Especially after a year of the commiseration we had. I feel for ya lady cows, lactation is no walk in the park. Yesterday, I watched one lady leak milk for over two hours and I wanted to cry for her, because I understand how uncomfortable it is. I also really enjoy milk and dairy products, so actually, I might even love the cows.

Cute from afar

I just want no part in cleaning them, wiping their asses, or collecting their BMs in a bucket. Good thing I'm marrying into a family of dairy farmers...

You're doomed, mommy

And speaking of dairy, I am officially done with breastfeeding as of yesterday. Actually not done yet, because I am about to explode with milk at the moment. I cannot move because, well, it hurts. It's been a good 50 hours without nursing. Just use your imagination. Please lord, make this torture end soon.

I probably picked a really horrible time to engorge myself because tomorrow is the big move! If my boobs don't sort themselves out by tomorrow, I'm in for a really fun, painful experience. Everyone pray. Please. Now.

Recollections of Lactation

The weaning has begun. Any male readers might want to skip this post.

So basically, it's been a pretty good run with breastfeeding. We got off to a rough start, where Harrison decided he wouldn't latch at the hospital until the very last second. At which point, they shoved us out of that place, and off we were with hardly any guidance or success.

However, we made it on our own, with the help of a nipple shield for 4 months. It was fun when I would lose that thing and Harrison would be screaming for milk, yet would not latch without it, and the closest store that sold them was 35 minutes away, and I would be crying that he was crying. Good times.

We've come so far

Once the era of the nipple shield was over, we had a pretty smooth run, until we hit the era of the biting. This was about a month ago, coinciding with the arrival of his two front teeth, so he obviously felt that he needed to bite down on anything and everything. Don't worry though, he only drew blood once, and that injury only bled for a couple days. It's fine, I'm over it. (Sarcasm... will never be over that). The sight of my pumped breastmilk with a pinkish tint from the blood, is one I will never get out of my head.

And throughout all this hardship, was the most terrible hardship of them all: when Harrison decided he was too good for a bottle. Straight from the source, only. This was quite literally like being handcuffed to my child. I couldn't leave him without the fear of him going hungry, and when I did leave, the fear of him going hungry consumed my every thought.

Psh.. I'll eat anything. I'm an angel

With all this complaining I'm doing, you would think I would be 100% ready to be done nursing. In some ways, I am, but in others I'm not. For one, I complain about being starved at all times and never being able to feel satiated, yet I'm sure as hell going to miss the calorie burning. Exercise is no friend of mine, so I have a feeling that once my nursing career is over (for now anyway), and I might be forced to work out more than once every 3 months, I'll miss BFing, a lot.

I'll also miss the closeness. As you know, Harrison hates being touched. Not just by strangers, by everyone, including his dear mother. I can't even rub his little head without him immediately grabbing my arm and forcibly taking it off his head. He's stronger than he looks. So, nursing is my only chance to cuddle/be close to him, and let's face it... I am a mush about the cuddling so I will be a little depressed that it will be gone from my life.

Despite the parts of BFing that I will miss, the things I gain definitely outweigh. One word: Caffeine.  Being able to consume as much caffeine I desire for the first time in like 21 months is extremely exciting.

Also, to be able to fit into all of my old bras is basically going to be like being freed from shackles. Now, I'm on a rotation of three bras. Let me rephrase that for you, for 11 months, I've been on a rotation of 3 bras. I'm complaining about this as if I didn't have a single penny to put towards purchasing more bras, but I could never find the same ones I have, and I was afraid of change. Listen, nursing is an uncomfortable activity and finding the right bra is essential. First world problems, I think.

I also can't wait for... and pardon me sounding like an alcoholic here.. to consume the occasional 5pm happy hour beverage. I usually wait til after Harrison's last nursing of the day, or until after I had pumped, to have a drink, but soon, I can just have one whenever I damn well please.

I am trying to keep my outlook about the end of BFing positive, and not dwell on the things I will miss. Who would have thought I would have turned into one of those addicted-to-breastfeeding crazies?

Please someone, save me from the crazy lady!

 In any case, I need to focus on the here and now, and that is the weaning process. The soreness to come is paralyzing me with terror.