Sugarlaws: Living Sweetly.

Entries Tagged as 'life'

the perfect parenting pipe dream

August 13th, 2014 · 11 Comments

A few weeks ago, at my postpartum checkup, my doctor asked me what about being a new mom most surprised me.

I answered her completely honestly, and told her that I was surprised at how much I loved it, how wonderful it was. Even despite the 3 a.m. feedings and the grocery store meltdowns, all it takes is one lopsided little grin from our baby boy, and I just melt.

I love him so much more than I ever could have imagined; it brings me to my knees, every single day.

But there’s a second thing that surprises me, one that I didn’t mention… and it’s a lot less wonderful to talk about.

There is so. much. pressure.

Oh my gosh, you guys. The amount of pressure on moms to do their job completely perfectly is so prevalent and so pervasive that it’s completely overwhelming.

Baby doesn’t sleep? There are literally five thousand books you must read.

Want to change something about the baby’s schedule or diet? Search the internet for seven straight hours. Read every forum post on TheBump and BabyCenter. Don’t give up until you find the answer, even if the answer is comment #463.  You must read the first 462 to know for sure.

And you know what kind of a culture this creates?

In a world where you make a million different choices every single day, it gives you the information and opinions to second-guess every single one of them.

I’m a perfectionist.  I’ll admit it.  My whole life, I’ve shot for the A+.  In high school, after getting an SAT score that was thirty points shy of the perfect 1600, I told my parents I wanted to take the test again.  I wanted that perfect score, and I wanted more than anything. (Yes, I realize now how totally insane that was, and thankfully, my parents talked some sense into me.)  But that’s just my personality.

And here’s what’s scary: I want to make the right decisions for our baby boy a million times more than I wanted that perfect SAT score.

And so I have been making myself completely crazy for the last three months.

I have been trying so hard to make everything perfect. To give him the perfect schedule, the perfect food, the perfect set of developmental activities, the perfect amount of one-on-one time with mom, and everything else I can think of. If there is a perfect way to raise a child, I have been determined to raise our baby that way, exactly that way, with no compromises whatsoever.

I have been treating parenting the way that I treated high school, and college, and law school, and my legal career: with single-minded determination to be the best.

And do you know what is a quick and easy way to make yourself completely insane?

Doing exactly that.

But, you know what? I realized it. This week, I had a moment where suddenly I realized just how hard I was being on myself, trying to be the perfect, A+ mom.

Because the reality is this: I am doing my best, but I am probably making mistakes as I go. There are some things that I don’t do by the book, because they don’t work for our son. I am trying as hard as I possibly can, and I am putting a ton of pressure on myself to make all the right decisions, but sometimes life gets in the way.

Case in point: this past week, I kept Bear up past his bedtime for a totally selfish reason.  I was sitting at a cafe with a friend and we talked a little too long and by the time I get him home, it was half an hour past his usual bedtime and the kid was cranky.

Stinks, right? Sure. But then I got him to bed, and once he was peacefully sleeping, do you want to know what I did?

I beat myself up over it! I thought about how if I were a better mom, I’d have him in bed at 7:30 on the dot, every single night. I worried that skimping on a few minutes of sleep would cost him precious brain-development resources at this early age, and I made crazy resolutions like, “I will never meet a friend after 6pm ever again because it is not fair to our son to cost him half an hour of sleep.”

Yes, I do. Because he is my #1 priority, and when I do something, I do it perfectly.

Even when expecting perfection is making me completely miserable.

So here is my resolution, three months into our son’s life:

I will recognize my tendency toward alpha parenting.

And I will nip it in the bud.

I will spend time with our son engaged in activities he enjoys, and not just plow through a list of “recommended” and “right” things to be doing with him.

I will breastfeed him, which we both love, but I won’t make myself crazy if he has a few ounces of formula occasionally when I can’t be around.

I will not stress if his bedtime includes one or two “sleep cues” and not all the sleep cues that any baby book has recommended, in the world, ever.

I will make his life as conducive to sleep as I possibly can, but I will not burst into tears if the doorbell rings during his nap.

I will keep him away from germs, but my head won’t explode if Rambo licks his face.

I will do what works.

I will do my best.

And I will let perfection slide.

I think we’ll both be a lot happier this way.

Because motherhood isn’t something that’s graded. In a few years, when our son hits high school, he won’t score my performance. It’s not something that I can get an A+ in, and it shouldn’t be. 

There are a million different ways to do it right. And the way I choose, the best way that works for our family, is just fine.

So instead of worrying about whether I’m doing everything perfectly, do you know what I’m going to do?

I’m going to look into our baby’s eyes. And watch him smile. And sing him songs and read him books and sometimes keep him up a half hour past his bedtime.

I’m going to spend my time enjoying his company, not reading parenting books.

We are going to have adventures.

We’ll probably make some mistakes.

And, you know what?

That’s ok.

In fact, it’s better than ok. 

It’s perfect.

Tags: baby · life

five year anniversary!

July 10th, 2014 · 5 Comments

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I sort of can’t believe this, but today is Chad and my five year anniversary!  So, in honor of that very exciting milestone, I thought I’d share our makeshift-wedding-video with you guys.

The back story: We hired a fabulous photographer for our wedding, but decided against a videographer — I was worried that it would be too intrusive to have both, and really wanted to focus on experiencing the day as much as I possibly could.  But, a few days before the wedding, I started having serious second thoughts — video is a totally different medium than photos, and what if I wanted to see those real, live moments in the future?

So I created a backup plan: at the rehearsal dinner, I gave my little Flip camera to my friend Loran, and asked him to capture some of the big moments — walking down the aisle, our first dance, cutting the cake, etc.  And he did an amazing job!  The camera quality wasn’t great (I would have given anything for an iPhone 5 in those days!) but he captured all those moments so I can remember them forever.

And about 18 months after our wedding, I finally turned those little clips into this video:

I’ve probably watched it a thousand times since then — it’s so wonderful to be able to relive that special day in a tiny way.

Five years later, I realize that our wedding day was just a day — a wonderful, incredibly special day, but still only one single day in our many-year marriage.  But it was the day that we pledged to share our lives, forever, in front of all our family and friends, and that’s something incredibly special.  Even if it was just one single day.

Everyone always says that marriage is work, and of course it is — but it’s also, by far, the single most wonderful aspect of my life.  In this huge world with billions of places and people and things, I feel so lucky to have found this person who makes me better every single day, who cares about me and our dogs and our son so deeply, and who never fails to make me laugh, cheer me up, or fill me with the most intense gratitude for our wonderful life together.

So happy anniversary to my amazing husband.  Five years down, at least fifty more to go.

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Tags: life

how i broke our freezer

July 7th, 2014 · 2 Comments

Ice Cream

Here is the thing about having a newborn:

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation.  Maybe it’s the crying.  Maybe it’s just frazzled hormones left over from growing another person in your body.

But, whatever the reason… it makes you a little nutso.

Not in a bad way, necessarily.  But in this way: If my child is crying, there is literally nothing on this earth that is allowed to get between me and me ability to make him stop.

Unfortunately… our freezer tried to.

Remember how our first grocery store trip was fraught with peril?  Well, baby Bear is several weeks older at this point, and we’ve had a couple of successful trips in between.  So, at the beginning of this week, I took him to the grocery store, once again.

And you know what?  It was fine.  He was fed and lulled to sleep by the drive over, and I spent a solid twenty five minutes grabbing things off the shelves, piling them into a cart, and then paying for them without a peep.

I was feeling quite proud of myself, to be honest.

But… then we got in the car to go home. 

And let me throw in a bit of background here: I have a new car, which is very exciting, but it’s not a car that I’m familiar with — it has this push-button to start, which apparently doesn’t work if you haven’t properly closed the trunk, which is not a big deal in 99.9% of situations, but when you are sitting in a hot car with a newborn in the middle of a Texas summer and your car won’t start, you get a little frazzled.  To put it mildly.

So, in case you haven’t guessed where this story is going… I couldn’t get my car to start. 

And when it finally did, baby Bear’s grocery store nap was decidedly over. 

Cool, ok, right?  Five minutes home, I can put away the groceries and feed this little baby.  Everything is fine, I told myself.  How far can he devolve in five minutes?

Fast forward to our arrival home, at which point baby Bear is starting to scream in the carseat, telling me in the clearest possible way he can that he is hungry, RIGHT NOW, LADY.

But I still have a carload full of groceries — including a whole bag of frozen items that had already sat in my hot car long enough to start melting.  And, obviously that’s not the worst thing that’s ever happened… but this girl loves her ice cream.  Preferably unmelted.

So I decided to put the frozen stuff away, as fast as I possibly could.  I’d made it all the way to the grocery store; I really didn’t want our ice cream in my car trunk for another an hour. 

So I started. 

And let me tell you, putting away a single bag of frozen food takes literally twenty seconds, but do you know what I managed to do in those twenty seconds?

Pull our freezer drawer off its hinges, and then dislocate the plastic cover.

Yes, I single handed-ly trashed an entire freezer drawer in twenty seconds.

Because the baby was crying.

Last week, we had a similar incident: Chad came into the baby’s room at night and realized that one of our curtain rods had been pulled halfway across the room.  When he asked how I possibly used that much force to open a curtain, I looked at him helplessly: “The baby was crying.”

Because, you see, when that baby cries, I lose my mind a little.  (A lot.)

And here’s the thing, you guys: I am not normally like this.  I’m more of a laid-back, calm and relaxed, go with the flow type of person. 

But when it comes to that baby crying?  I am suddenly like a wild beast, tearing down everything in my path.

So, this is being a mom, I guess.  Blissful newborn caretaker half the time; Godzilla the other.

Tags: baby · life