Hey buddy, 

When did you get so big? 

Sometimes I catch sight of you and see it. It's right in front of me. The longer legs. The bigger feet. The growing up. 

My breath is quiet as it comes back. You are suddenly so much bigger. It's no wonder you ate hand over fist for a week. It takes food to grow. And it's clear now that you were growing. A lot. 

You are so long and lean. And dude, your hands and feet are enormous. Does that mean you will sprout taller than daddy? You know, like a puppy with giant paws? 

Bud, you are so strong. Sometimes we call you the pit bull because of your superhuman muscles. You can even take down your dad if you want. He loves that. 

You need to know that the sun shines on you wherever you go. You are sandy and dirty and scraped up every day. You are my big boy. And my baby. You will always be my baby. Don't forget that while your busy growing big, ok?  

You're turning four years-old tomorrow and I just can't believe it. It feels like yesterday that you were snuggled to my chest sleeping. Our heartbeats in sync. You would sigh really big when you were comfortable. I loved that. 

It was on this night four years ago that I was so close to meeting you and I was a little anxious. I was worried about being your mama. Because I wanted to be the mama that you deserved. I lay in my bed that night thinking about what you would be like. Your voice. Your face. Your personality. I was so excited to meet you. That was the last night I felt you moving in my belly. The next day you were in my arms and you made my dreams come true. You are perfect, little dude. You are just perfect. 

Thank you for choosing me to be your mama. It's an honor that I don't take lightly. I never will, bud. You have made me a better person. You really have. You have shown me what unconditional love is. You have shown me that we can do this big job of raising you. And you have shown me that there is nothing more powerful than my child's love.

Happy Birthday, Mr. Pants. You are the shining light of my heart. I can't believe you are mine. 

Love, Mama

So my best friend Jessica does a little interview with her daughter on her birthdays. I think it's the best tradition ever and decided to steal it. Pants wasn't big on sitting down and answering my questions. He was fidgety by my third question and then absolutely bored to tears by the fifth. I was astounded that I got ten questions out before he decided my "fun game" was not as fun I told him it would be and refused to talk to me anymore. Below you will find his answers. A little peek into his world...

I wasn't going to write about this. Not yet, at least. Then my friend Kelly from Excitement on the Side wrote a great post on Angelina Jolie's decision to have a double mastectomy and I was certain  that I didn't need to write about it. I had nothing to add. She did a great job.  Then I began reading the comments. And tweets and general ass hat-ery on Facebook.  Like this....

 I would like to say a GIANT "FUCK YOU!" to all those posted above. AND THIS IS WHY...

I've had a doctor look me in the eye and say, "It's cancer" 

It's just as fucked up as you think it would be. There is a moment, scratch that, hours where there is nothing but white noise. Fog. No ability to hear or even see. There is an echo in your brain that keeps saying, "You are going to die". There is a nothingness that consumes you. A quiet. I can't even describe it right. It is its own void. A vacuum. Your face is frozen. Your voice isn't actually your voice. Your movements are purely functional. There is no real sound. You are going to die. 

My doctor held me by the shoulders. "Let me call someone for you", she said. Silence. Blank. Just blank.

"I'll just go to my mom", I finally said. "I'll go to my mom. It's ok. She's home. I know she's home", I said. And my doctor took her phone number down to be sure that I reached her. She lived just ten minutes away. She asked me to call her before I left. 

"Mom? <silence> Something bad, mom. I want to come over. OK? I'm coming over right now. Ok? Mama?"

I left out of the back door of the office. My doctor hugged me, so tight,  and promised that she was going to guide me through kicking this Cancer out of my body. She kept saying that I could "do this" that it was "early" and that I would "beat it". 

I thought to myself, 'I am going to die". Over and over again.

She opened the back door of the office. My keys in my hands felt like bricks. My feet, numb. My eyes, so blurry.  I remember thinking that this must be the way all women leave this office when they are told they have cancer or that they have miscarried or some other horrifying news. "This is the easy way out. So that no one sees the pain", I thought to myself. No one knows this kind of fear. It goes out the back door. 

I reached my car. I turned the keys. It hit me. My mom! I have to get to her!

I drove straight to her. I had no idea that there was anything else that I could do. I needed her. I needed her to tell me that I wasn't going to die. I will never forget the feeling of her words whispered in my ear as I sobbed into her breast. 

"You are NOT going to die. You. Are. Not. I swear to you, my love. You will NOT"  

Her words  saved me. I said to her in a voice almost inaudible, "Mommy, I am so scared. I don't want to die. Mommy, I'm so scared." 

"You will not. You won't."

She held me in her arms for so long. I never wanted her to let me go. I felt safe. I felt like she could take away the word. Cancer. Fucking CANCER. She could destroy it. She is my mama. She can take this away. Please, mama, take this away. 

I was 30 but I felt like I was 9. Her arms created a bubble of protection that is only possible from a mother to her child. And in that moment I trusted her. It was easy. She made me believe. She made me believe that I wasn't going to die.

Before my final surgery, I knew that this was "it". If they couldn't get the cancer, my dreams of being a mother naturally were over. Because the next surgery would mean a radical hysterectomy. My anxiety had me in a vice grip. I was suffocating the morning I walked into the hospital. I could not breath. I lay in the bed with my brave face on and my mom came to me. She held my hand and said to me, "They will get it. They will." 

I wasn't so sure. My brothers were there. My dad. My grandparents and my godmother. All there to tell me that it was going to be ok. All I could think was "What if I die. What if it's too late? Oh my God, am I dying and I just don't know it yet?"   

They hugged me and held me and joked with me and smiled at me and kissed me and promised me that no matter what, we would kick this Cancer's ass. I wanted to believe. Then I was under. When I came to, the anxiety came flying back with amazing speed. There was no forgetting. Not even in an anesthesia haze. 

I was to wait for 2-5 days for the results. 

I was lucky. SO FUCKING LUCKY. I came through. They got it. I wept so many tears. Releasing the throat gripping fear. Rejoicing the margins but unable still to wrap my head around the fact that they found fucking CANCER in my body. Unsure that they were right when they said it was gone. What if they were wrong? What if they missed something? Happy that I could still carry children. Unsure that I would. Praying that I really could. Knowing that if any ONE of the tests (every 90 days) came back even slightly off, the next surgery meant the end of my dreams for motherhood the way I wanted. Not because my doctor would force me to have a hysterectomy, but because I wanted to live and to have peace of mind. That was the next step. Take my legs, arms, a kidney and my breasts. Take my uterus and my hair, Dye my skin purple. Whatever it takes. Just do it. JUST TAKE THE CANCER RISK AWAY. Away from me. From my LIFE. 

So I come to this post, with some anger and sadness over the bullshit I have read on these here internets about Angelina Jolie's  decision to have a double mastectomy because she carried the BRCA 2 gene. And I am more than incensed at those of you waxing like you know what you would do in that situation.  Making some kind of joke about it or pretending you know what it's like. Let me tell you from someone who knows what it is like to hear "You have cancer" from a doctor that they trust. The only thing you are thinking is "get it out" and "do what you have to do" That's it. If it means you take my boobs, my uterus and my legs, then do it. They are things. They are not all of me. 

To those so willing to joke at her expense or to judge her for some imagined slight against the common woman, please listen up. You most definitely DO NOT know shit unless you have been in her shoes. Or mine. I live every day knowing (waiting?), for the day I will have to say goodbye to my uterus and ovaries. I will say goodbye to them without a thought or regret because I want to be here. I want to live. I want my children to not have to bury their mama before her time. I want to live this life with my beloved husband for as long as I can. I want to be here. And I suspect that is all that Angelina wants, too. Not because she is a celebrity and wants publicity but because she is a woman and a mother and a wife and she wants to live her life and be here for her children. I get that. And if you do not get that and are busy judging her (or me) for "mutilating" her body, well then I say to you that I sincerely hope you are never in the position to have to make that decision. I really do. Because it would mean that your life is on the line. I wish that on no one. Not even assholes on the internet. 

Please let go of your positions. Let go of your opinions and ideas and assumptions. Stop  arguing the decision that Angelina Jolie made for her body. I promise you that you  just. do . not. know. 

And I hope you never do. I really do. 

Emotions can be a minefield for anyone. But for Mr. Pants they are still pretty confusing. 

I don't talk about his sensory processing or development here on the blog much anymore. Not because his struggles are gone, but because they are just normal for us now. If you are new to reading this blog you may not know that hisexperience of his senses  is different from yours and mine. His processing and integration of them is different. Unique. Designed for him, by him. And I gotta say, he's kind of nailed it. He is mostly a very comfortable kid.

Mostly.

Recently, though, he has become increasingly stressed by new, loud or busy situations. The upside to his discomfort is that he is finding ways to deal with it. It's an upside because life is big and noisy and change-y. So he needs to discover for himself how best to cope with it. And as his parents we need to allow for him to explore the possibilities without pushing too hard. Instead we gently nudge him out of the comfort zone so that he can do the work he needs to do. We don't force him into uncomfortable situations that don't matter in the long run. Ya know, like a monster truck show. I'm not gonna take him to one of those.  Because there are plenty of uncomfortable situations that he does have to figure out. Like gym class. Or coffee hour between church services (see below). 

At his I.E.P. meeting last week they once again told us that he is a solitary little guy and won't initiate play with the kids at school. And I know why. It all comes down to those pesky emotions. It's because he likes the predictability of playing alone. Playing alone allows for him to control the environment and for him to feel safe. Playing alone is not confusing. See he needs to be able to predict as much as possible especially if he is away from his comfort zone  (our home). He is still trying to read our emotions and fully understand them so it's too much for him to try and read the kids at school all at once, too. Heck, he's still figuring out his own emotional responses to life. He needs alone time and he takes it whenever he needs it. He's amazingly self aware for an almost 4 year-old.  

But don't get me wrong, he is not disconnected at all. In fact he is all kinds of attached to his family. He expresses his emotions beautifully to us and others he is close with. I just think that he is not ready to share that part of himself with too many other people (and he may never be). 

****************

So emotion is still confusing for him. But he's on the case. He attempts to discover how our feelings are working several times a day. 

"Mama, you happy?"  he will say when he sees that I might not be. "Mama is frustrated right now, bud. But it's ok." "Mama, you be happy soon? You be happy tomorrow? You be fusstated now? You feel hot?"  

If I'm reading something and I laugh out loud.

"Why you be funny, Mama? You get tickle? You happy? Why, you be funny? Why?"

If he does something funny and I laugh.

"No be funny at me, mama. You be happy. No funny!"

If I stub my toe and cry out he will come running (as long as it's not actual crying. That makes him run and hide. Hands over ears). 

"What happen? You get so mad?" "No bud, I hurt my toe. But I'm OK." "So you get happy now, mama? Oh, you sad? You not happy. You scared, mama?"  

He's not upset when he asks these questions. He's even keel. He's almost clinical. Investigating. Like he is socking away reasons, gathering information on how long it takes to be happy again. Then he will go  on his way, returning in a few minutes to see how I'm feeling and ask more questions. Often he even stays to quietly observe the change in emotion if it's a new emotion he has yet to get a handle on. It's kind of amazing to watch, really. I call him the research scientist. He is always thinking. Taking notes. Comparing outcomes. 

This kid. I used to be afraid for him but I'm not anymore. He shows me every single day that he can figure this life out as it unfolds. It may take him longer. His methods may be unconventional. But hey, if coffee hour between church services is too loud and crowded, who am I to force him out from under that chair? He knows what he is doing. 

So I was a little crabby (read: dramatically depressed and angry all rolled in to one) when Daddy said he had to work on Mother's Day. I was all, "But it's MY day! MINE! I need pampered and loved and the WHOLE DAY OFF, dammit!"  It is entirely possible that I sulked. My feet may have been heavy to the ground too. I also plead no contest to the accusation that I was putting the dishes away loudly. Ok, fine, I deep sighed a lot too. But then,  moments later I was given the perfect reminder that I needed to zip my lip and get a hold of myself. 

Mr. Pants had been doing what he does best (getting into things he's not supposed to) when he sauntered on over to me with something in his hand. He gave it right to me the first time I asked. It was an old CD. One that was very important to me.

Seven years ago I went to Grand Central Station with my best friend. We wanted to be a part of StoryCorps, an awesome living history project that began recording stories of survivors after 9/11 and eventually expanded to become an oral history project filled with the voices of any and all Americans who wanted to record an interview. Preserving life, one hour at a time. Below is an excerpt of the interview I did with Jessica, my best friend of over 20 years now. There were three of us in the room that day. Jessica was pregnant with her amazing daughter. After talking about what it felt like for her to be pregnant, she asked me a seemingly simple question. Have a listen...

I can still feel that turn in my stomach as I fought those tears. The flush in my cheeks. The feeling of my breath leaving my body and not coming back quick enough. The pause of my heart. I remember it like it was just yesterday. What if I never become a mother?  I remember when my heart started to beat again. It sped up too fast. When my breath came back it hurt. This moment in my life was so powerful. It's one I will never forget. 

I want to go back and give that girl a hug and tell her to take a deep breath. And that there are two babies waiting for her. That belong to her. They are already a part of her. She just doesn't know that yet. And it is even better than she thought it could be. It's harder too. A much bigger job than she thinks it is right now. 

I want to tell her all about her kids. That her first born will be a son. That he is an awesome ball of energy that will challenge her to be better.  He will help her find her way with him. All she has to do is let him. I want to tell her that her daughter will come 21 months after her son. And that her emotions are sometimes bigger than she is and it overwhelms her. But she knows how to help her through that. After all, she knows the feeling. 

I want to tell her that it's coming. It's just a few years away. To hang in there and not worry. But I know that she will worry for years. Waiting. Hoping. Loving her future babies. Almost giving up hope so many times. 

But I cannot go to her and tell her. So instead I tell myself that the holiday I so desperately wished would someday be mine to celebrate, is not about a day in May to run away from them. Maybe next year I will spend the day at the spa being pampered. But this year is a reminder that my dreams have come true. I waited a long time for sticky fingers and slobbery kisses. I have waited what feels like a hundred years to hear those sweet words come out of the cracker filled mouth of my toddler. I wuv you, mommy.

Oh, My loves, I will love you forever.

So this Mother's Day I'll be at home soaking up the gift I have been given, the love of these babies that are mine. Finally. And I can't think of any spa that can compete with that. 

Happy Mother's Day. Especially to those of you still waiting for your babies. 
May you find them. Keep believing. 

A note from Mama: I wasn't going to publish this. But he told me to. Life is messy. Love is hard. I like being honest. So here's your Pearl. Even though this one might just be for me. 

The Mister and I went on a date yesterday. It was long overdue. So very long overdue.  We had dinner at a wonderful Mediterranean restaurant where I took one of those pictures of my food like people seem to always do.  It looked like this. 

That was the last picture I took. Even though I had planned to document the date (I can't help it! I'm a blogger). But  to my surprise the camera never came back out. We walked around downtown after dinner and checked out a few stores and then sat at a bench for a few minutes right in front of a popcorn joint. Our conversation came after a few moments of silence. "Man, we have been through some shit this year, huh?" "Marriage! It's freaking hard, man!" "Oh and parenting? It's so hard!" "I'm proud of you" "I'm proud of you, too" "I think we can do this" "Me, too." "Let's go shopping" "OK!"


Something very interesting is happening to us. We are finding our way back to each other. 

<needle scratches off the record>  Say what? You were lost?! 

Yep! Yepper! Yup! Lost like Jack and Kate. Poor poor dead Jack and Kate. 

My tendency to hold the kitten too tight until it suffocates is well documented. His tendency to dive inward is too. There is no such thing as a marriage without issues.  I'm not going to detail ours here or anything because that's not your business even though I love you and usually have no problem barfing out all of the information here on the webternet. No, I'm not going to detail them because they are ours. Mine and his. The important part is that we have them and I know we are not alone. Because, and I might have said this before but, marriage is freaking hard, man. 

Recently I eased up my grip on our fuzzy kitten of a marriage. I am learning that I cannot control it all. That sometimes, it will suck. That's life. It's not real to never have a bad day. It's not real to be shooting rainbows from your face 24/7. But what was very real was my vice grip on that precious kitten. What was very real was our disconnect.

I am learning that hard times do not signal doom. Hard times are not a reflection of me. Of him. Of us. Hard times are just that, hard times. We go through them. We go through them working our hardest to be our best self.  We go through them hoping for the outcome we want. We go through them. We can get through them.

So he's proud of me because I have been working hard. I am proud of him because he is too. We had crawled into a cave when we became parents. Our lantern burned out while we were in there. We are awesome parents (what!what!). But the darkness made us unable to see each other. To see the marriage. The awesome, exhausting and enormous job of raising people gave us an excuse to stop caring for it, too. But recently these two crazy kids lit up that cave for us, held up a mirror and showed us our reflection. And it's because they did, we could see each other again (How's that for an off the hook metaphor? Nope, it sucked. I'm tired).

We are working on us. And the faith in my heart for us is gigantic. Gigantic. Basically it's Gigantor. 

So your Pearl is this... 

Marriage. It's so freaking hard. But nothing worth doing is going to come easy. Somebody, somewhere said that better than I just did. But it's late and I don't have any more time to write. The Mister is coming home from a well deserved night out and I am excited for him to come home.

*Sunday's Pearl is something kind of like wisdom wrapped up in an  idea or random bit of something or another. It might be something awesome, something awful or a lesson that I learned during the week. Every Sunday I put that lesson here. Let my wisdom words inspire or frighten you. xoxox, Mama Pants *

Dear Parents of Older Children, 

I've been wondering some things. Well, a lot of things but I have pared them down to avoid being here for days. Nobody has the time to answer my original 268 question post. So here are the top twelve.  Thank you for your wisdom in this matter as I am at a loss on some of these. 

1-3. When do you stop picking your children's boogers? And for that matter, why does it come so naturally that I might even grab snot from their nose when there is a tissue box within reach? What is my problem? 

4. I need to know when the exact day is when I know that the children are awake but I get to stay in bed and keep sleeping. I will know this because no one will empty the contents of the fridge onto the floor or climb in the washer and dryer. I need to know so that I may start a countdown calendar. 

5. When do you stop worrying that they are going to starve to death? Does preparing food for them become more or less stressful as they grow? Follow up question: When will they just cook for themselves? 

6. When do they stop letting you hold them? Obviously this answer is "never" but I thought I'd check.

7. When do they actually clean something? Anything. Anything at all. 

8. When do they actually participate in the ritual of getting dressed? Specifically do they ever stop using "fish-flop foot" and "noodle leg"? What about the phenomenon of them forgetting how to hold up their own bodies while the pants are getting pulled up? Follow-up question: Is there a time when they actually get dressed the first time you ask? 

9. When do they actually hand you things instead of throwing them at you or dropping them and running? (Example: When will "Please bring me the wipes" no longer sound like "Please pick up the wipes, chuck them at me as hard as you can and then run to your room"?)

10. When do I get to close the bathroom door? When does taking a poop become less of a family affair? Follow up question: When will my toddler stop trying to escape the bathroom stall at Target while I'm still peeing?  Asking for a friend.

11. When will I be able to stop hiding my deodorant, the sugar, salt, raisins, mustard, shampoo and body wash due to the fact that the children no longer find them to be perfect artistic mediums? Related: When will they enjoy using actual art surfaces that do not include the walls, floors, their beds, windowsills and their own bodies? 

12. Finally, please be specific, when is the exact day I will stop busting out into the Dora the Explorer song"We Did It" and doing that ridiculous dance? It's beginning to cause some social anxiety for me. 

Thank you kindly for your answers. Have a wonderful day. 

xo, Mama Pants

"Go away, mama, pweeeeese! No grabby me, Mama. No grabby me." ~Mr. Pants (today)

I wasn't trying to grab him. I was trying to hug him. To help him off the floor where he lay after falling. I wanted to hold him in my arms and kiss his boo-boo. But that's not what he needed. So I walked away but not until I told him I'd be in the next room if he wanted my help. Walking away is mega-tron hard for me. It almost feels like I'm trying to walk through a protection spell on Buffy. Every cell in my body is screaming at me to go scoop that baby off the floor and smother him with my love. But my brain pushes me forward reminding me that it isn't what that baby wants or needs. "There is no blood. There is no broken bone. He asked you to leave him be. Stop being an exposed nerve of weepy feelings and do what your kid needs you to do. Get gone, mama."


The trainer becomes the trainee...


Before I was a mom, I worked with moms and their kids. I also trained staff on how to interact with children. So, if I had a dollar for every time I said the words "Every kid is different", I'd be living in a penthouse overlooking Central Park. It's so very true and logical and obvious and all that. But you know what? I could kick myself in the shins for not developing that idea further. But that knowledge would have come from experience. An experience I was yet to have. Until now. 

My kids couldn't be more different. Plum, a social butterfly. Pants, a solitary man. This in and of itself is no trouble at all. I want my kids to be who they are. I respect them for who they are and I actually love that they are so very different yet care so much for each other. So what's the problem? Well, it's me.

I'm an extrovert. I'm huggy and touchy and feely. I talk a lot. Even to people I don't know. I'm a hasher-outer when things get tricky. I wanna discuss and get to the bottom and take care of things. And if my words can't help crate a solution, well, then my loving arms will start a-hugging and I will kiss it all away. Closeness and soft whispers of my love for you will help us both feel better. Right? Right???

For Plum, the answer is an easy and comfortable "Yes! Hug me! Love me with closeness! I feel better!!"  But for Pants? Oh hell no. Hell to the OH. HELL. NO. And it makes me nervous and weird and uncomfortable. It goes against my skill set. It makes me have to think of how to parent him all the time. I am always thinking. Always considering tone and eye contact when he gets hurt or in trouble or fights with his sister, over stimulated or is hungry etc etc etc. 

Shit, it gets harder...

As a baby this came fairly easy. He was our first and we knew no different so we were able to roll with the punches because we didn't know that it wasn't this hard for everyone. We thought we were just earning our parenting street cred and that eventually we would "get it" and it would all fall into place and we'd hit a stride that made sense. But the more he grows and the more independent he becomes, the more I am challenged to change me. Not him. It should have tipped us off that he was at his most comfortable floating in a bathtub with our hand placed just under his head and no other contact. 

He is who he is. And he is just fine being who he is. It's how we parent him that needs adjusting. I need to keep in check my extrovert Loud-y McLoud shorts while trying to parent this amazing and foreign (to me), introverted personality that needs space. He needs room to feel. To be alone. To process the shifts and changes that hit him harder than the rest of us. To relax, center and regulate without my grabby-grabby "come to mama" arms trying to kidnap him. So I have been doing just that. pulling myself back from the instinct to run to him and help. It's face-numbing at times that my version of helping doesn't help him. My way, is not his way. So I am learning. Day to day. I am adjusting and trying new things that feel weird to me but seem to be working for him. 

It's a waiting game...

I hate waiting. But this kid makes me wait. Of course he does, right? But if I wait, if I let him process his stress the way he chooses to, he will eventually come to me for that hug. But only if I wait. Only if I respect his needs first.  It's funny because I have always believed in listening to and watching your baby for cues. That babies know what they need and that they communicate those needs to you. It is then up to you to pay attention. It is how I mothered both of these babies when they where without words. When I didn't know what they were communicating, I remember thinking that I wished they could just give me a few words to tell me where it hurt or to tell me why they were sad. Well, they have them now. And they tell me all the time. It is still my job to listen. Even when the words are not the ones I want to hear. It's not easy being told to "pweese leave me alone". It smacks me in the heart sometimes. But he's telling me and I wouldn't be doing my job letting him be his own person if I didn't respect that. I might have to glue myself to the chair, but I am learning to wait it out. 

In conclusion, I have no idea....

So these days of almost four years old and all the independence it brings are filled with fine lines and constant reminders that even though I grew these two in the same body and they live in the same house with the same parents, it isn't fair to them if we streamline our parenting and force them both to be parented the same. Sure, the basics are the same. The rules are the rules, man. But it's important that we remember that their needs are not same. And shouldn't be treated as such. Now if I could just learn how to predict the future, I could tell you how this all turns out. But alas, that the fun of parenting right? It keeps you on your toes. 

To be continued...

Are your kids introverts? Extroverts? Both? 

Hey there mama, 

I'm writing to you because I remember how amazing it was to be expecting my babies. With your first baby there are the amazing months before finally becoming a mama when all the possibilities are in front of you as you feel your baby growing. It feels like it takes forever to get to nine months and you are just so excited to meet the tiny person who has made you a mother. Your next pregnancy,if you go for another, will perhaps, fly right by as you are chasing  around your first born.  

The thing about being pregnant that I also remember is how perfect strangers and not so perfect strangers seemed to take the opportunity to offer me advice at every turn. Some people were very sweet. Some... not so much. Others were well-meaning but a bit over-bearing. While still others were just off the wall. I remember people in the store wanting to touch my belly. It shocked me at first but then I realized that there is something that stirs in people when they see you creating new life. I think it makes us feel connected to beauty. Connected to life. Because there is nothing more inspiring and hopeful than a new baby, is there? I think the instinct is to reach out and be a part of that amazing love growing right in front of them. I think it is basically human to want to be near it and somehow connect with that perfectness. And unfortunately for you trying to get your apples and milk at the store,  that can translate to stranger old ladies wanting to feel your belly,  but don't worry, all of that said, you don't have to let them. Especially if they don't ask first.  

So as I was putting my hippy-dippy spin on personal space invasion during pregnancy, I started to remember the other things people said to me when they found out I was knocked up. Ya know, after the pleasantries are done. The conversation will go like this...

Stranger: When are you due?
You: In 5 weeks!
Stranger: Awww babies are a blessing! Do you know what you are having?
You: Yes, a little girl.
Stranger: <insert whammy phrase from below list here>


"You will never sleep again" - I say, yes you will. There will be a day when you sleep well again. But in the beginning it's gonna be broken up a little. Sure, there will be long nights ahead but they won't always be, mama. All babies eventually sleep through the night, some sooner than others but they get there. And you will sleep well again. Yes you will. 


"Treasure the moments when they aren't mobile. Once they start walking you're in trouble" - I say once they start walking, the adventures begin. Once they start walking the whole world begins to open up to them and it's incredible to watch them discover the world. I also say, sure, wear your comfortable shoes. No one ever discovered the world staying home, right? 


"It's been nice knowing you" - Babies, toddlers, children and teens take a lot of work, it's true. There is no getting around that. But they grow fast. They grow so so fast. You will have a social life when you decide you are ready to have one again. Right away or a few months down the road or even a few years. It's up to you and there is no set way to do it. 


"Are you sure you're not having twins?" - Ok, we've been really nice up until now. But this one? It's ok to go on ahead and flick a stranger between the eyes for this one. Better yet, if it's a family member that has the nuts to say this to you? You just feel free to punch them in the neck. Right at the Adam's Apple because then they will be paralyzed with fear as they struggle to breathe. Then say this -> I know you didn't just call me fat, you punk. 

"Let me tell you about this one time when my kid had a blister rash and everyone in the house got it and there was a quarantine and we had to call the CDC" - I'm not sure why people do this. People love to share horror stories.  Another common  horror story is this one....

"Oh man, my labor was horrifying. They had to stop me from chewing through my own arm. Let me tell you all about it!" -   I say this, I wish you an awesome birth. Your body is doing amazing things.**

"Make sure you... breastfeed-baby wear-use pacifiers-don't use pacifiers-buy this car seat-vaccinate-don't vaccinate-use a crib-co-sleep-back sleep-tummy sleep-do this-don't do that- blah blah blah blah-wokka wokka wokka" - 

To this I say, parenting is an amazing and wild and awesome ride. There a million and one possibilities and many people will try and tell you how to do it "right". I say, feed your baby, love your baby, hold your baby and go from there. Listen to your gut. Do your own research and come to your own conclusions. Ask for help if you need it (All moms need help. All.) But seriously, listen to you. Your body and brain are hard-wired for this. Your instinct will guide you, you just have to listen to it. You are going to be great at this. Congratulations, mama.

Love, Mama Pants



** Note: People with horror stories for new moms can eat a bag of worms.

It's been such a rough week. I have no other wisdom this week than to please love each other and to always remember that the world is good in so many ways. People are good. Life is good. Love is good. Be kind to each other and to yourself. Not just when tragedy strikes, but every day. Hug some more people today.

Oh and this here Coca-Cola commercial? It made me cry my eyes out. I cried the love tears. It just might be the most inspiring soft drink advertisement of all time. I thought I'd share it here with you. Have a watch and have a smile...Happy Sunday.

*Sunday's Pearl is something kind of like wisdom wrapped up in an  idea or random bit of something or another. It might be something awesome, something awful or a lesson that I learned during the week. Every Sunday I put that lesson here. Let my wisdom words inspire or frighten you. xoxox, Mama Pants *