Sometimes I wish I were a mom in the 1800s

By today's standards, there are 1 million ways you can screw up your kid. Maybe you didn't read to them early enough. Maybe you didn't buy the right developmental toys or you let them watch TV, or you let them sleep in your bed, or let your little boy play with your heels. Maybe you did all of these things, and your child is fine.

My friend Katie is a wonderful mom. She reads to her 10 month old, she makes his food with her own ingredients, and she has breastfed him since day one, and will do so until he is at least 1. She reads the books and knows what to look for in milestones. And it works - he's practically walking already and a delightful child.

I don't do those things. Sometimes I pick her up from daycare, spend an hour with her and then drug her with gas drops, a soothie and a swing and pray she falls asleep because I'm exhausted from my day. I probably won't make her food. I barely have the energy to preheat the oven some nights for a frozen pizza, so the thought of opening a jar sounds great to me. She doesn't have any toys yet, because she's 3 1/2 months old and totally fascinated by her own feet.

Am I screwing her up forever? I doubt it. I think the developments in child studies have really improved everything, but honestly, I don't think all of it is necessary. My husband didn't have all of these things, and he's physically, emotionally, and educationally exceptional. He has perfect vision, and I'm sure he was plopped in front of sesame street a time or two in his life. He is even tempered, and I'm sure there was no book on how to teach your child feelings when he was growing up. He is very, very smart - the kind of smart that is really annoying (to me, who struggled with school, and was an average student in most subjects), and I'm sure there were nights when his mom was just too tired to read to him.

My point is, maybe my daughter won't work for NASA (and maybe she will), but I have no doubt that I'm doing all of the really important "right" things for her. She is fed, she is clothed and sheltered, she is loved. I give her gratuitous amounts of kisses in the morning, and I sing to her because it makes her smile. I change her diapers, and I hold her close when she is crying.

I think I'm doing alright, but the pressure to do all of the right things can be so overwhelming. We'll just have to see how it goes. I probably won't know for another 16 years if how I'm treating her now has affected her forever, and even then I'll likely blow if off to teenage hormones.

Happy Thursday everyone!

Love,
Dominique

10 ways I'm on my way to becoming the most momish mom ever (eat your heart out, Donna Reed)

1: The diaper bag always makes it to work with me on Mondays. It's hectic enough in the mornings without having to change everything back over to my purse, but I don't mind because I find stuff like this while searching for a pen and it's adorable:

2: I have ridiculous road rage. Like, much worse than it has ever been because the baby is with me. I have a particular hatred for :

People who ignore stop signs
People who pass me on the right without giving me a chance to even get out of their way
People who don't use their turn signal, especially when making a sudden right turn. Seriously, are you just driving with your feet?

3: I am obsessed with baby laundry. The way it smells, all of the colors and patterns, and how it only takes one fold to make it an acceptable size to fit in her drawer.

4: I have found a recent need to go to the gym and start gardening. Interesting how after nine months of growing something and taking care of my body, I have an overwhelming need to grow things and take care of my body.

5: I can get poop, boogers, pee and baby vomit all on me during any given day and I don't even flinch. Sometimes I live so dangerously that I don't even use a burp cloth (GASP!)

6: I feel like I can give newer parents than me advice. I've been doing this for what, ten minutes? Don't listen to me. Ever.

7: I talk to my baby and ask her questions, refusing to acknowledge that I'm really just talking to myself. "Have you seen mommy's hairbrush?" "What do you want to do today?" "Are you ready for your ba-ba?"

8: I  have broken up with my jeggings for good, and deleted their number.

9: I listen to children's albums, particularly Renee and Jeremy, even when I am by myself. If you haven't heard them, look it up. Genius.

10: I have never in my life cared less that no one wants to see me anymore. I'm going to Mobile this weekend and I just can't wait to show off my sweet little girly. I could be invisible and still be beaming with pride.

Happy Monday, ya'll! Enjoy your week!

Love,
Dominique

Happy Three Months, baby girl! (GIF style)

Hey Violet! You're three months old today!

And I just wanted to tell you that every day I get to wake up to you makes me feel like this:

And even though some days, you're more in this kind of mood....

99% of the time, you're doin' alright:

So go ahead and blow out those candles, you deserve it....

And dance until your heart's content...

Because you're the best little Valentine's gift I could have ever hoped for, and I love you!

Love you Sweet V! You're the coolest kid I know.

Dirty 30? Flirty 30? How about just plain ol' 30.

Guess what I get to do in less than two months? Say farewell to my 20's. I can't tell you how many TV shows or movies I've seen that portray a 30th birthday as the death of all your childhood. Something to be feared and anticipated with anxiety.

Here's my little secret: I've never feared my 30's.

I always hoped that by that time I would be mostly settled and have at least some control over my life. Sure, I'm not *totally* there yet, but let's look at my fact sheet:

• I have a totally awesome boo. That's right, I managed to get my act together long enough when I was 26 to trick someone into marrying me. And he bought it. 
• I own one half of a piece of property. While this is pretty standard for a lot of America, in the 1800s I would be a total bad-ass. 
• I have a good job, and more importantly, good benefits. Who gets excited about health insurance and 401(k)'s? I do. This stuff matters now. 
• I have a pretty adorable, healthy kid. You may have heard me talk about her. She's awesome, and she makes this face a lot:

Now, I'm not saying this to brag. I'm still a hot mess in many, many categories. But as far as the bulk of my life, I feel pretty good about where I am. I am thankful for what I have, and still excited about what is to come. So what should I do to celebrate this milestone in my years? I've never been big on my own birthday, but I feel like this one is special. I'd like to really "do it up right." Any suggestions?

Love, 

Dominique

PS- whatever I do, you're all invited!

The Numbers Game

Happy Monday, ya'll!

Man, have I got a case of the Muuuuuuundays today. I've been battling a cold that developed at the tail end of a stomach bug last week, so my already-barely-there energy has taken even a bigger nose dive.

Today I was thinking about how I've never realized how obsessed I am with numbers. Numbers are what, in my mind, dictate my life goals, and can sometimes cause anxiety if I don't live up to them. Here are some of the numbers I've been striving for in the past few weeks:

3 - the number of months I'm determined to keep giving Violet at least a little breast milk each day
11 - the number of weeks I think we're actually going to make it
30- the total minutes of tummy time I force my daughter to do on weekends each day even though she just lays there with her face in the mat making pitiful noises and flailing her arms
7- the number of pounds me and my sisters decided to try and lose by the time we all go see Wicked in New Orleans over Memorial Day weekend
4-6 - the age in months where I've heard my daughter will start becoming more fun, as if on the day she turns 4 months she'll all of sudden start sitting up on her own and giggling uncontrollably
5- the number of ounces I hope to pump each time I sit down to do it
3 - the number I usually end up getting

These are just a few examples, but you can see - I'm constantly doing mental math. Chris actually laughed at me the other day because he saw me adding 4+4+4+4 and so on on my phone calculator. He said "You could always just multiply." I had to explain to him that I was actually thinking back mentally to how many times and how many ounces Violet had eaten since 4am that morning to see if I was giving her enough in a 24 hour period.

This can drive a person batty. Obsession at any time is not healthy, and the health of your child can easily become an obsession. The truth is, I have little control over any of it. I can't make my milk produce five ounces every time. I can't say whether or not I'll even produce enough to give her an ounce after the end of this week. I can't say I'll lose 7 pounds because I am not even close to watching what I eat and I never have time or energy to exercise. My V may still be a little bit lump-like at 4 months. Maybe she's a late bloomer like her Mom.

I can only keep doing what I'm doing. Simple math says that if I'm giving her 4 ounces at the same time every day as I have been, she's getting plenty to eat. If I don't get pregnant the moment she turns 18 months, who cares? (Although, wouldn't it be awesome if I did? That would take some crazy planning.) My point is, I can't obsess over everything. And sure, I still will. I can't just turn it off. But I'm hoping to relax about a few things as time goes on. A number is just that - a number. And everything will be fine if it changes.

food for thought, people. Now I'm going to eat my food for nourishment and taste buds.

Love,
Dominique

I'm hip. I'm "with it." Ducka ducka ducka...

Happy Friday!

Recently I have learned that I am exponentially uncool. Now, I've never been one of the "cool kids," but I did have somewhat of a nerdy chic thing going on for a while there. Now, with  life revolving around life insurance, mommyhood and my lack of cable, I have found that I am generally at least a month behind everyone else when it comes to trendy things. 

I've had the song "Thrift Shop" stuck in my head for the last hour. Have you heard it? Of course you have. Every one has. Thrift stores were quoting it on their signs months ago. People are sick of it. I'm not. I'm just now into it. I learned about Gangnam style from my friend Katie's facebook, and had to text her to ask what it was. I still don't understand twitter. 

Recently before our chosen loss of cable, my friends and I caught the MTV Music awards. None of us knew half of the people presenting/singing/winning. I am behind. the. times. 

If I weren't way closer to 30 than 20, this would be bother me. I once read a study saying that people generally establish who they are going to be by age 27. Now, I can't say that the moment I turned 27 I thought "I know exactly who I am, and what I believe in, and what I like." But I do agree to some extent that my opinions were pretty concrete by that point. Most of them my husband would tell you are silly. I don't like it when guys play the acoustic guitar. I don't trust people with Italian brown eyes. I'm ok with facebook being the last social technology I care to learn, and I hate it when Mark Z changes it up on me. I get disgusted when I go into a liquor store and the sign that says what date you must be born on or before to purchase alcohol is in the 1990s. 

I've actually said on multiple occasions that "music today is terrible." Honestly, most of the time the first time I hear of a song is if they cover it on Glee. I still haven't seen Les Mis. I tried to read a plot summary on wikipedia, but even it was too long to hold my attention. 

I guess I'm ok with how I am now. Sure, sometimes I miss being able to stay up all night, or catching Cocina's happy hour whenever the mood strikes me, but my new life of diapers and bottle sterilizing is ok too. I still have Glee. I still have wine. I still have Just Dance 4 for the Wii, even if I haven't had the energy to try it out yet. (This weekend, I swear!) I still have amazing friends who knew me when I could stay up all night, and could go on "Spring concert tours" (Now THAT I really miss!)

Happy Friday everyone! Be happy with the life you have in this moment, and be happy with the changes that will eventually come your way. Even if it too, makes you "exponentially" uncool.

Your life is your life, and my life is this life.

Happy Monday, ya'll!

This weekend had me thinking about our roles as parents. Chris was gone for a whole day and night for the first time since we had the baby, and if' I'm totally honest about it, I was bitter. 

He had been invited with about a week's notice to go to Auburn for the A-day game and last rolling of Toomer's corner. No wives or children allowed. I think one of the things that often causes resentment at times in any new parent's lives is the huge difference in roles each parent plays to a new infant. Especially for breastfeeding moms, the baby is almost entirely dependent on mom. Leaving for even a few hours requires careful planning to assure the baby's basic food needs are met, whereas dad can pretty much do anything on a moment's notice. 

I remember my dear friend Katie warning me these feelings would eventually emerge because "you'll notice their lives just don't change that much." Of course any father will tell you that simply isn't true, but to a new mom who is nursing every few hours, going on just a few hours of sleep, pumping three or four times while working and dedicating every night to establishing a routine, dad's life starts to look pretty carefree. Now you know I've started formula, which means Chris has been able to help me a whole lot more, but it's hard to let go of that feeling that I have to do everything for the baby. 

So as I was thinking about my role as a mother to my almost 10 week old daughter this weekend, I realized that a lot of the problem was me. I was harboring resentful feelings towards my husband for never watching the baby when he pointed out that I let him watch her once (a month ago, for a lingerie shower) and hadn't let him since. It's true, he did offer all of the time. But like a self-proclaimed martyr, I felt it was my duty to take care of my child, sacrificing my personal life and my friendships to do so. I've always been a little bit of a control freak, and I think deep down I like that she is dependent on me. 

She's almost 2 1/2 months old now, taking a bottle like a champ and going to bed at 8:30 pretty much every night. I've done my duty so well that taking care of her by anyone would be a breeze, so why am I still afraid to leave her? Am I afraid she'll start to depend on me less and less? That she will somehow figure out an as infant that she is a daddy's girl? And so what if she is? Chris is her father, and is willing and capable to provide for her whatever she needs. I need to trust him. I need to let go. I need to go get a margarita baby-free with my friends every once in a while. I also need to find a good sitter, so I reclaim my marriage. 

As we watched "This is 40" last night, (I know, who would think I could find meaning in a Judd Apatow movie?) I realized that our new family is meant to bring us closer together, not separate us apart. It's a trade off, and while an infant requires a lot of focus, my marriage requires some focus too. We had a life before baby, and we can have a life with her as well. It's just more work now. But I'm willing to do it. I'm willing to work hard to find that balance so we can all be happier. 

Love,

Dominique