NYC Moms

With the Death Toll Mounting, I Try to Pay Down Survivor's Guilt

...cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

I have all kinds of cute things I'd like to write about today -- how 4-year-old Nutmeg stayed in her own bed ALL NIGHT and credits the help of her (now!) three bedmates, Genevieve the Friendly Ghost, Alphabadouble-u the Cat, and Pumpkin the Cornsnake. How Nutmeg now fearlessly jumps into the pool at swimming lessons and bobs right back up again, and, oh yes, 15-month-old Pebbles' ascent to the ponderous weight of 17.5 pounds. And how dyeing my hair blue was fun and easy and actually led to me getting carded when buying beer at Dominick's yesterday. Yes, you, the lady with the kid in the plastic truck on the front of your cart, struggling with the toddler over your coupons. Let's see some ID, because no one mature enough to buy beer would have pigtails tinted After Curfew Blue.

(Note to checker: Thank you, thank you for mistaking my midlife crisis for bona fide youth!)

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When Enough Is Enough

....cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

I was watching Oprah yesterday when Barbara Walters, of all people (I can't stand her), says something that just struck me to my core. She was talking about her special needs sister and how hard it is for parents of children with autism and that, although they love their children and would do anything for them, sometimes they think "it's just too much."

It's just too much.

I tear up as I even type that right now because really, what is so difficult about saying, "it's just too much" ? Why do I feel like I can't say it out loud when that's really how I feel? And so I did. I said it out loud. And it felt good. I am not the parent of a child with autism. I have been through my share of rough times. But it's just life in general right now that is overwhelming me. Whether it be as a Mother, wife, friend, or plain ol' human being. And I feel like I should pull up my big girl panties and just get over it. Toughen up. Get through the day. But I'm wiped out. I'm exhausted. I'm barely making it through the day and I have to say that this is no way to live, just barely getting by. I've had enough.

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Why Is Texas Punishing the Victims in the FLDS Case?

....cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

I've been watching the case of the children removed from the Texas compound Fundamentalist Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints with a heavy heart and conflicting opinions. As much as I abhor the practices of the FLDS community, my heart breaks for those mothers and children being separated. At least, I told myself, they're letting the smallest children stay with their mommies.

Today, they took the mothers away from the babies ages 12 months and up.

I don't like this group, a radical sect disavowed by the Mormon church that embraces polygamy and under-aged marriage and motherhood. I don't think we should just live and let live when it comes to communities where teenage girls are abused in this way.

I read Jon Krakauer's "Under the Banner of Heaven" and I have seen FLDS escapee Carolyn Jessop speak about her experiences. What she describes is child abuse, not just a cultural difference.

Yet I cannot understand how separating toddlers -- some still nursing -- from their mothers is going to help them. I cannot imagine what kind of experience hundreds of children had in that coliseum without their parents.

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Man (woman) Is Pregnant

Cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.....

Okay. I have serious beef with this bun in the oven (applause for triple-pun use). I was on a business trip, in a bar when I saw the news clip: "First pregnant Man." Whaaaat? I swiveled my chair, tuned out the salesman and paid attention. I have always wanted this (when I was puking every 30 minutes and had to take Zofran for 5 months, I kept warning my husband this day would come, and I would throw him into the vast test trials.) I find it fascinating and frightening what the medical arena is churning out. (stem cells from teeth...c'mon,who thunk that up?)And..surprise, surprise. It's a big-media spin. Sigh.

Look, I get it. I understand the need for generating interest, perhaps even sensationalizing things to compete with 24 hour news channels, but can we get serious here? This is a WOMAN who had her boobs removed, took testosterone to be a he, but kept her uterus. More power to him. They want a family, and they have that right, as they should. But not only is describing it to you a pronoun nightmare, it is a waste of my time. Don't get me wrong. I am annoyed for reasons you probably aren't imagining. Would it be difficult to explain to my child? Sure, but that shouldn't effect what someone else wants to do with their.....

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So How Do You Like Being A Mom?

....cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

That was the question somebody asked me during my travels over the holidays, when my son was 10 months old.  The woman who asked me was not a close friend, relative, or anybody else looking for a long and drawn-out insight into my deepest feelings on motherhood.  She was just a random acquaintance trying to make small talk.  I guess since we were in Southern California and the weather wasn't an interesting topic, she had to ask me how I liked being a mom. 

"Oh, it's good," I muttered nonchalantly.  Immediately I felt anxious about not gushing out words like "great" and "amazing," with rainbows coming out of my mouth.  So as to justify my lackluster response, I said something about sleep deprivation, the only parental setback that's socially acceptable to complain about.

I guess if I really could have been honest, I would have said something like this when asked how I like being a mom:

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I got bit by Karma, right in the...

....cross posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

I'm sure none of you have ever done the following bad deed, but I did last week and it came back to bite me. 

xxxx

I was sitting in our pediatrician's waiting room with my very sick two year old and I saw a magazine I had been wanting to read.  Only once in his life has being sick slowed him down so I was too busy chasing him around trying to keep him from pulling all the tissues out of the boxes to glance at the magazine.  One article in particualr caught my eye and peaked my interest so I grabbed the magazine and stuck it in the diaper bag (GASP!!).  In my defense, they had at least 4 copies of the same issue laying on the table.  Also, in the past I have wanted to read an article I saw and was told by my pediatrician that it was o.k. to take it with me.  But, this time I didn't ask for permission.  I just stuffed it in my bag so that I could read it later.  (I know...GASP!!)

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Text message remorse and rules to remember

In trying to figure out the best way to make, contact and keep new SAHM friends, I have to remind myself that everyone's communication preferences are different.  My preferred method of communication is still e-mail - a holdover from my working mom days. But e-mails are harder to come by and typically the slowest method of communicating with an SAHM. (Unless such SAHM has a BlackBerry, and although the devices are picking up in popularity with the mommy-set, they're still few and far between in my circle of friends.) So that leaves me with two options of communication: calling by phone or sending text messages. If I could avoid the phone I would.  Thus, if given the option, I'd rather text first and call later.

But texting is a very different animal than e-mailing as I'm finding out the hard way. An incident earlier this week has left me with a sinking feeling about creating, sustaining and maintaining friendships through text messaging. Have you ever sent a text you regretted?

My funny, small and frosted Valentine

This is cross-posted from our sister site, Chicago Moms Blog.

A lot of people who love me have asked me if I am worried about Valentine's Day and if I am sad not to spend it as I may have expected. The answer is not at all. I am perfectly happy this Valentine's Day.

I don't needed too much to celebrate. My mom makes a big deal of it and I love the pomp and circumstance of balloons and heart-shaped pizzas or pink pancakes and cutesy panties gift-wrapped in metallic red packages. All of these little, personal and quirky touches are more fun to me than roses or big cards decorated with velveteen flowers and calligraphied poems my brother rolls his eyes at and says defiantly, "Too much to read!" I'll pass on the inflated-prixe dinner out or the pressure for an overdone romantic present for something small and sweet.

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