Things I Didn't Understand Until I Birthed A Child

Pass the wine coolers.

18 May posted by heirtoblair

This week has been kind of funk-tacular for me. I think it has to do with the four days of clouds we’ve had in a row & that really messes with my brain.

Harrison is entering this stage where he’s kind of a punk & I mean that with all the love in my heart. But as I said before, it’s like he did lines of pixie sticks & rage. My voice is worn from saying “Do not bite!” & “Knees or bottom!” or “Do not spit!” & then having him laugh hysterically & then do EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT I ASKED. This phase stole my obedient baby from me. While daycare is having some incredible benefits, it’s also forcing us to realize how sheltered he was for over two years. He’s learned to say “mine!” & unfortunately doesn’t realize yet that while it’s okay to stand up to his peers over who gets to play with the toy firetruck next, standing up to Momma & Daddy is not okay. So when I say “Harrison, it is bathtime. Would you like a bath or shower?” & he stands stiff & screams “NO!!!!!!!!” at me & I swear to God that I want to drown myself in a bottle of tequila. Because that’s after he’s spit ravioli & been asked to leave the table & then kicked over his trains & chased the dog with his toy lawnmower.

The biggest problem is that my parents aren’t huge drinkers, which means they keep their Merlot in the fridge & I’ve had to drink berry wine coolers all week.

On the other hand, I’ve found that toddlers are a lot like dogs. If they start disobeying, just take them out for a walk where they are burning that aggressive energy but being forced to obey. I don’t put a leash on Harrison…yet.

We’re going to Carowinds tomorrow, courtesy of BlogHer, so I assume my Twitter feed will either be “THIS IS AMAZING!” or “SEVENTH CIRCLE OF HELL!” depending on Harrison’s mood tomorrow. I’m hoping it’s the former because Doug loves theme parks & I’m really looking forward to a family day together.

These are my friends who are pretty & sarcastic. They took me out for a beer to save me from the wine coolers.

friends Pass the wine coolers.

HeirtoBlair500x150 v41 Pass the wine coolers.

35 Comments
Filed Under: Harry in General, Life in General, Outsourcing Parenting Skills, Things I didn't understand until I birthed a child, Toddlers eat your brains

Let’s talk about Diana.

2 May posted by heirtoblair

Dear Diana,

Don’t be mad, but I honestly don’t remember how we met. I don’t remember whether it was a comment on a blog or Twitter or a message board, but I do know it was friendship-at-first-site. (Get it? Site!)

I have sat down to your words & life for the past two years, feeling like we might as well be sharing a cup of coffee together over the kitchen table. That’s what your writing does & why you are so talented - you take the joyful & the ugly in life & turn it into something we all feel & relate to as a friend. Remember that first morning of Blissdom where we sat cross-legged on the beds & talked so long that we almost missed breakfast & the opening speaker? It was like reading your blog, but in real life with real words. Funny. Honest. Self-depracating in the most humble way.

What’s happening isn’t something you dreamed or asked for, but you are handling it with such a strong grace that I am honored to be your friend.

You are reminding mommas of our love & devotion to our babies.

You are reminding us of our job as protectors, as champions, & the momma bear we all have within.

You are facing the war on women head-on, whether you realize it or not, by challenging our ideas on the right to choose, the right to life, the right to receive compassionate care.

mediana Lets talk about Diana.

& you’re doing it the most unassuming, graceful way…like always.

Thanks for being you, friend.

follow diana’s journey here

Filed Under: I have real-life friends, Things I didn't understand until I birthed a child

Lessons of Three Months Time.

23 Apr posted by heirtoblair

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This kid, he bear-hug loves his momma.

& his momma loves him back.

I came alive as Harrison’s mother over the past few months. The doubts & lack of confidence & inability to focus simply shed away & I’m not sure whether it was from the sunshine in the backyard or being the boss of my own day or his incredible tiny grin. But I came alive in the happiest & most fulfilling way possible, all the way down to my toes until motherhood felt like a calling to my soul. Driving through town with the windows down & groceries in the backseat, I’d flick my eyes to the rearview mirror & catch Harry’s smile & I would think to myself YES.

Yes, motherhood.

Yes, incredible joy & worthwhile sacrifice & overwhelming love.

Yes, I’ve finally got it.

I’ve always been a little off-beat but I think the oddest thing is that the longer I’m with Harrison, the more I mother, the less tired & overwhelmed I feel. Two hours can bring me to my knees but three months home can be a balm to the soul where we’ve figured our quirks & my patience surprises me with its ability to simply roll with the tide, even when there’s a gallon of milk on my floor. To where he’s the beat of my heart & being without him feels like I might as well leave my right arm with him, too. Here, take my kidney too.

Only three months & already I feel lost without his little arms wrapped around my legs but the penchant is still there to count everything & it’s a private joke that only I know when I lift the second half of my sandwich & think “two” & I smile. My new boss must think I’m strange & maybe I am, but I’m a momma above all, even with my fingers flying above a keyboard.

8b97f1148bfe11e1a39b1231381b7ba1 7 Lessons of Three Months Time.

18 Comments
Filed Under: Adult Club, All about BA, Finding Balance, Harry in General, Life in General, Potential for Doocing, Sorta Staying Home, Things I didn't understand until I birthed a child, Toddlers eat your brains

A call for responsible discourse.

17 Apr posted by heirtoblair

Last week it was suggested that I am an abusive & neglectful mother for letting my child play alone in our secure backyard, only feet away while I empty a dishwasher.

“So I unload the top of the dishwasher, then peek out to check. Unload the bottom dishwasher & peek out to check. Wipe down the counters & brew a cup of coffee & head outside for another 30 minutes.” ~from my Babble.com post

The comments poured in, different opinions & questions & then first neglect, then abuse. oh, the rage. It was strong. Not because someone disagreed with my parenting choices or felt they were wrong – I highly expect that for every decision I make regarding my child. I formula fed & suffered postpartum depression & don’t spank my child so if you think I still have a thin skin regarding parenting choices, try again.

My rage came from blatantly flippant use of the words “abuse” & “neglect.”

Definition of child abuse (per dictionary):
mistreatment of child: severe mistreatment of a child by a parent, guardian, or other adult responsible for his or her welfare, e.g. physical violence, neglect, sexual assault, or emotional cruelty

Definition of child neglect (childhelp.org):
Failure to provide for a child’s physical needs. This includes lack of supervision, inappropriate housing or shelter, inadequate provision of food and water, inappropriate clothing for season or weather, abandonment, denial of medical care and inadequate hygiene.

My child playing 10 feet away where I can hear & see him easily is not severe mistreatment. Him learning independent play in a secure environment where I am seconds away is not careless disregard.

It makes me wonder if those that throw those harsh words around so easily have ever seen true neglect & abuse first-hand. If they’ve ever lived with a nine-year-old boy that only weighs 40 lbs because his mother bought drugs instead of food. If they’ve ever had to carry a hyperventilating six-year-old out of a store because a piece of glitter landed on her hand & she had a flashback to years of child pornography. If they’ve ever sat with social workers for hours as part of a home study & heard a little boy say he was given to the devil. Because I have & those are memories that marked my heart forever to where the word “abuse” is as strong as a racial slur or the R-word.

Child abuse & neglect are powerful words, real words that are real in our society. They are the children that are starved & beaten & locked in closets, torn apart at the hands of people they know, molested & left for days. Every ten seconds, a report of child abuse is made. More than five children die every day as a result of abuse. Child abuse is serious & it is a serious allegation.

I beg you to be mindful of the words used to describe another parent’s actions. Are they truly abusing their child, causing danger to the child’s overall well-being? Or is it a simple heated discussion where you feel you are right, by golly?

Let’s talk about parenting. Let’s share ideas & concerns & hopes & fears. Feel free to disagree with me respectfully & accept that I may defend my stance. But let’s have this parenting discourse responsibly.

If you do see child abuse & neglect happening, please call the National Child Abuse Hotline at 1-800-422-4453.

128 Comments
Filed Under: Adult Club, Guzzling the Haterade, Open Letters, Things I didn't understand until I birthed a child, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts, Unpopular opinions

When I don’t understand but I just love him, love him, love him.

11 Apr posted by heirtoblair

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Our boy.

He doesn’t talk the way other kids his age do.

I’ve known it for over a year, watching him & practicing & my heart hurting the way he seems to struggle. The way he doesn’t quite form the words & I know that part of him being so quiet is the perfectionist trait he inherited from his momma, not wanting to try unless he knows he can succeed. The way my heart burst one thousand times when he put two words together on his own in January, saying “Bye-bye, moon!” when we went inside & I nearly cried. How many times I’ve cried, out of pure joy when he says a word clearly & in frustration when he is screaming & I’m begging him to please, please use a word or show Momma, but no screaming. How once & twice a week for the past six months, I’ve sat on the floor in speech therapy, taking mental notes for ways to play with him, read to him, teach him to use language.

I don’t understand it because language has always come easily for me, from talking to reading & writing. I may not always know what to say, but I always have something to say. It is so different with my boy, who sits quietly while we race monster trucks & bake wooden cookies.

I know this is a “common” thing, especially for young boys. I hear stories of kids that open their mouths for the first time with full sentences when they are four & stories of apraxia with years of therapy. There are people that tell me to wait it out, that he’ll speak someday. There are others that warn me against waiting too long, that push for a diagnosis. We are doing what feels right for our son. All other opinions are just unwelcome noise.

He is my baby & I am his momma & I love the parts of him that are hard for me to grasp.

Filed Under: Adult Club, Fears, Harry in General, I wish parenting came with a manual, Things I didn't understand until I birthed a child, Things that aren't perfect despite my best efforts, Toddlers eat your brains