Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Working out... a thing of the past?

Colton is one month old.... wow... four weeks since I had a bowling ball in my tummy.  Giving birth is the best diet ever.  In a mere matter of minutes, you can lose up to 13 lbs, including your new bundle of joy and all the lovely sauce he or she had been marinating in for 9 months.  But, what of the other 20-25 lbs? 

Depending on the amount of reconstruction you have going on downtown,  it can take a while before you can get to the gym to work out.  But Mother Nature in her infinite wisdom created a Baby Bootcamp that can be done at home, with neither the expense of PX90 or any other workout videos. 

These simple moves will guarantee quick results in no time at all.  Watch that baby weight just melt away in mere weeks...

1.  Shed lbs running back and forth from your bedroom to the nursery "double checking" to make sure junior is still breathing, even if you see him/her moving in the monitor... maybe it's broken...

2.  Tone those arms by lifting the 40 ton infant car seat in and out of your car 4 times a day.  

3.  Strengthen your calves by sprinting back and forth from the car to the house getting the extra diapers you forgot, or the diaper bag, or the extra blanket, or your cell phone you left in the seat cushions, or .... heaven forbid, the baby.

4.  Work your lats as you pull off and on 4 different t-shirts a night to rid yourself of unwanted stains from breastmilk, spit up, throw up, poop, pee, and any other unsightly mess.

5.  Tone your thighs as you squat 50 times a day, holding a baby while trying to retrieve that pesky pacifier that constantly drops to the ground.

6.  Let the baby work out your pectorals.... enough said on that point...
So, until I have been given the all clear to head to the gym, the Baby Bootcamp will have to suffice.

Friday, September 24, 2010

Pride: It was nice knowing you....

One thing I am learning is that modesty is completely thrown out the window once you become a mother.  I don't know if is was having a complete stranger send a catheter through my pipeline, the revolving door of nurses and doctors parading through our recovery room every 2 hours, or the lactation nurses who felt the need to squeeze and manipulate my "girls" any chance they got, trying to show me what to do... but somehow my modesty was sacrificed on the alter of motherhood.

You know your pride has gone south for the winter when:
  • you find yourself breast feeding beneath a blanket in a booth at Culver's
  • you catch yourself daydreaming about the practicality of a minivan
  • the stains on your shirt are no longer from wine, but spitup
  • your legs begin to resemble the amazon
  • you find yourself watching TMZ in the middle of the night while feeding your child
  • you occasionally have to brush the crumbs off your child's head when you are trying to eat dinner while breastfeeding
  • you realize the sour milk smell in your nostrils is not coming from the two weeks of garbage that has been accumulating in the kitchen, but from your own shirt
  • You find yourself changing a dirty diaper on a park bench in front of a restaurant
I am honored to be welcomed into the Humility Hall of Fame.... thank you, fellow moms for allowing me access into this exclusive club.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Dear Abby: Advice to New Moms...

Why was "Dear Abby" such a popular advice column?  My theory is that Abby was super popular pre-internet days.  Were Abby to start her "advice business" in our current instant gratification, techno-savy world, she would have been booted to page 30 in the speed at which a text can be sent and received.  (Kind of a lame simile, but it fit the theme of the sentence)

Point being, we want advice and answers instantly.  My question is... why do we solicit advice anyway?  In the "days of yore" (blanket term for an ambiguous time in history for those not truly interested in the accuracy of sources) women simply relied on their mothers and grandmothers to give them advice on being a wife, pregnancy, and motherhood.  Now days, our grandmothers and mothers are simply not expert enough for us.

We turn to websites and a library of books for parenting advice.  And here is the kicker... every book seems to contradict itself.  Case in point:

1.  One book says that holding a baby too much can spoil them and lead them to dependency on their mother
  • result:  these kids will grow up to be 45 year old men still living at home and having their mother's do their laundry as they play Dungeons and Dragons in the basement and create fake facebook accounts under the name Astronaut Mike Dexter.
2.  The other book says that if you do not hold your baby enough, they will suffer trauma from the lack of attention
  • result:  these kids are the ones who dress in black and "rage against the machine" while stealing $20 from your wallet and flipping you off.
3.  Another book says that you should never rock your kids because they will never learn to sleep on their own.
  • result:  the rising issue of mothers sneaking into their student's dorm rooms to rock them to sleep at night and the recent Senate bill to outlaw rocking chairs.
4.   One book states that you need to "simulate" the womb for infants because they really need a 4th trimester in the womb and were born too early.
  • result:  100 % of babies around the world who missed the memo and arrived too early and the increase in 25 pound babies.
According to these books... every mother in history has messed up their kids... hummm kind of makes sense with the whole idea of a "fallen world".

All of these books have some merit, but need to be read through a filter...some filters need to be thicker than others...  The same thing goes with the advice of friends.  Everyone want to tell you how they raised their kids and that their method was fool proof.  However, every child is different and every parent is different.  The answer is somewhere in the middle....

Dear Abby;

I am a new mom and so many people are giving me advice.  What should I do?

Unable to Think for Herself

Friday, September 17, 2010

Back in the Saddle Again

Well, it's been three weeks since having our little bundle of joy, Colton Read.  The adventure was incredible to say the least.  It was an amazing experience surrounded by so many loving friends and relatives.  The birth of Colton was nothing I could have possibly imagined.

Like many new mothers-to-be, I had done my homework.  I had read the books and attended the classes and asked my many veteran mom friends.  But, I still was unprepared...

Here are some things that I was not prepared for:

          People always seem to focus on the contractions during labor.   They tell you have painful they are and how you must be prepared emotionally.  I was living in a happy dream world knowing that I would get an epidural and not "feel" the pain of the contractions.  I was doing just peachy until they told me to start pushing... really... now why did that slip people's minds.  Pushing is the most horrible experience of my life.  They tell you to take a deep breath and hold it for 10 seconds.  Now, I have been an experienced time keeper in my 32 years.  I daily use clocks and timers, but for some reason, the counting system of the labor and deliver nurses are quite different.
          So, while you are holding your breath for infinity, they tell you to push.  No one explained to me that it would be a sensation equivalent to your eye balls popping out.  I thought I was about to turn into a cartoon and bug out my eyes. 

             I was unprepared for the joyful experience of stirrups.  Not only did I have to start pushing in one room and then have a sheet thrown over me and wheeled down the hall way to an operating room, I have to be thrown on a table and have my legs contorted into some ill fitting stirrups.  As wonderful as the nurses were, I think they played hooky from school the day they learn stirrup protocol because I distinctly remember my legs splayed in a abnormal directions.  One knee was pointing southwest, while the opposite knee was pointing northeast.  When the doctor walked in, he promptly said, "What's going on with her knees?".

            I had no idea that in just 12 short hours my whole view of modesty would change.  From the moment you put on the latest hospital fashion, your modesty (and not to mention your pride) goes out the window.  You have friends and relatives walking in at all times as you try and circumnavigate your jungle of i.v. tubes to hobble to the bathroom while trying to hold the back of your hospital gown together.  Well, that problem gets solved very quickly by another gem of an experience... your catheter.  Nothing like a small tube slithering its way us your business to make you feel fresh and clean.  Not to mention to wonderful friends and family spilling through the revolving door of the hospital room... and if you get caught off guard, what a treat they get to experience.  Don't know how many of my male friends unwittingly caught a glimps of my "back porch".

Joy of Isolation:
         I have a tendency to want to be the center of attention, or at least in the midst of all the actions.  For nine months you are the center of everyone's questions and conversation.  You feel like you are in a petrie dish under the microscope of your community.  In the hospital, you are treated like a queen, as if you are the only women who has ever gone through this experience before. 
         However, as soon as the little one pops out, you are chopped liver.  Even my husband "peaced out" on me as soon as Colton made his appearance.  All of a sudden, you are left absolutely alone... and by the way.... it is marvelous!!  I loved being left by myself in the recovery room for a short while.  It's amazing how wonderful you can feel just seconds after pushing out a grapefruit through the eye of a needle.

Destruction of the "South Pole":
         Nothing more to be said about his other than... really... no warning at all... come on generations of women before me... help a sister out!!!

The Beauty of your Baby:
          I had a huge reality check...  no one warned me that my precious baby boy that I had cared for in my womb for months would come out looking like Sly Stallone at the end of Rocky.  It looked like he had gone a couple of rounds with a heavy weight champ.  His poor little face was bruised and he have scratches and red whelps all over his little head.  Whoever said that all babies are beautiful must have forgotten their glasses in the car.

All in all, it was a wonderful adventure that still continues... I am back in the saddle again (well, not really the saddle due to my being just a tad "saddle sore".