An unpopular opinion.

& an undoubtedly controversial post. One that I may likely regret posting, but feel it is fair to address since I was shocked to find I was not the only mother that felt this way.

Last week, a girlfriend of mine & I sat down to chat babies. We were discussing the ins & outs of reflux, colic, incessant crying on both our parts & the babes. I laughed because sometimes, I do tell my child that he’s acting like a jackass, despite what some readers feel is inappropriate. Is it inappropriate? Sure. But if it helps me laugh when I’m home alone, floundering on very little sleep, staring at a child that has been screaming for 2 hours straight, then the word “jackass” that he cannot even comprehend yet is hardly a threat to my child. & in talking to my friend, we both agreed…

We, as mothers, understand Shaken Baby Syndrome.

Wait. Read on before you call Child Services on me, or write some hateful diatribe as a comment.

I understand where Shaken Baby Syndrome comes from. I am not condoning the action, supporting it, or saying that it is remotely okay to harm a child in any way, shape, or form. I did not say that I shake Harrison, or will ever shake Harrison, or that I ever lose my cool to the point of no return. & if I did feel that way, I promise you that he would be in his crib to scream alone while I locked myself in another room to call Nate before I ever harmed a hair on my child’s head. But when he is screaming at such a fevered pitch that I can feel the blood rushing in my ears & I start shaking from heart palpitations…yes, I compute where it comes from. I’m bite my lip, & tears run down my face as I stare at a little human who is red-faced & inconsolable, making me powerless over the own chaos of my life that I created. It’s unnerving. You have those moments where you stare into your child’s face & say, OH MY GOD, WILL YOU JUST STOP CRYING?! & when they don’t (which they won’t), you want to slam your head into the closest brick wall simply to escape. So I get why an uneducated teenage baby daddy with no support system would pick up the child & shake it in frustration. I get why a mother with severe PPD, lacking the logic to pull her back to rational thoughts past the emotional & biological reaction to the crying, would have urges to throw the baby out the window. I GET IT.

& the friend of mine & I agreed, most other parents would get it, too. & it makes you feel dirty & unnatural. So nobody would ever want to admit it.

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 An unpopular opinion.

I love Starbucks, but for the sake of maternity leave, I brew at home.

Nate & I have developed a new code to describe my day where he asks, “What does your coffee cup look like today?”

Translation: Is our child behaving & letting you be sane or is he being a jackass?

 I love Starbucks, but for the sake of maternity leave, I brew at home.

For when Harrison is an angelic little babe, he swings happily for a good 45 minutes in the morning while I clean up the kitchen, get a cup of coffee, & check my email. & then he goes down for a morning nap so I can shower, make beds, & start laundry. Fantastic routine, no? But when he’s a cranky little booger, I spend my entire morning juggling him on my hip, singing insane tunes about how I wish he would sleep, & pulling my hair out all while wistfully staring at my untouched mug.

This would be today’s cup of coffee. Notice how it’s still full at 11am, despite being brewed 3 hours prior? Obviously, we had one of those mornings that I’m sure Satan delivered himself. After a mere three (non-consecutive, mind you) hours of sleep last night, Harrison & I were up for the day. Where he fussed, screamed, ate two bottles, refused to swing, & basically tried to burrow himself back into my uterus via my neck. You know that feeling, where the kid is over your shoulder & ferociously kicking & nuzzling so hard into your throat that you say, “KID. I promise, you cannot physically get any closer to me!” After 2 hours of this madness, I wiped away all disillusions that the child would settle into a nap & I settled his Pampers-swaddled butt into the Moby:

 I love Starbucks, but for the sake of maternity leave, I brew at home.
and we had peace. & while part of me wishes I could pull him out & put him in his crib so I can catch a snooze since he’s finally sleeping, I dare not wake a sleeping baby. Which is why I finally have a moment to do laundry, blog, & make sure the kid has clean bottles for when he awakes.

& it takes me back two weeks, where Dr. Hottie complimented my calm in his office & then described this period as “Survival.” Plain, old-fashioned survival. & I looked at him like he had five heads because honestly, I didn’t feel like I was in survival mode. My kid was sleeping incredibly well. He was sweet, content, & easy to soothe. The only thing in survival mode was my house, which has not seen a vacuum or dust rag in over 2 weeks. But I was showering every day, even getting make-up on, & blissfully enjoying 4+ hour stretches of sleep.

MY GOD, WHY DID I NOT FULLY APPRECIATE HOW GOOD I HAD IT? Because it’s like Harrison woke up last week & said, “OH MAN, I’M NOT SUPPOSED TO BE THIS COOL YET.” & then let out a holler that they heard all the way in Bejing aquatics cube.

& I haven’t enjoyed a cup of coffee since. Self, welcome to “survival mode.”

Stealing is for losers. Copyright 2008-2012 Beth Anne Ballance