Category:

Confessions

Cocktail Play Dates; Keeping Mommies Sane since Prohibition

by Deborah Cruz 2011/08/03

Cocktail Play Dates They say necessity is the mother of all invention and mother did we need something invented to make tolerable the ordeal of being held hostage with strange women as our children licked, bit and chewed on one another ( all in the name of socialization). I’m not saying it’s always going to end in disaster sometimes you may actually salvage a friendship amongst the rubble of the biting, licking and whining( and that’s just the moms). For years, we’ve been drinking coffee during play dates. Isn’t coffee considered a gateway drug? Whether it was the white noise effect our children provided in the background as we gossiped ( as we kept one very suspicious eye on that 3 year old baby Huey about to hit our little princess with a toilet brush) or as we caught up with our most favorite Mommies. Then we’d go home, behind the closed doors of suburbia and drink ourselves into a small stupor at #wineparty after the kids finally passed out from exhaustion. While coffee has it’s place, let’s face it…it leaves something to be desired in the breath department and on an empty stomach can cause quite the scandal at someone else’s loo. Not even Starbucks has figured out a way to remedy that situation. But then the two were merged, play dates and drinking.

Cocktail Play Dates Anyone?

Many people like to have a social drink now and again to loosen up or unwind. This is no secret. A glass of wine to be heart healthy. A Bellini with brunch. A wine spritzer to cool off by the pool? People drink on dates, correct? To calm the nerves? With that being modern culture, it would be no great leap that one might have a nip of this or that to relax and enjoy the date…the play date that it. Do moms get drunk, stumble around dropping kids and play spin the bottle with one another? I’d hope not. Do they do it every single play date? Probably not ( who has the time or energy). But I don’t see the harm in an occasional drink, in moderation, if drank responsibly. It’s been argued that by having these cocktail play dates Mommies are advocating underage drinking or being a “bad” example. I agree, if you are fall down drunk or have a cocktail in your hands at all times, you are probably projecting the wrong impression…functioning alcoholic anyone? But really by having a glass of wine at dinner or the occasional sangria on the back porch, aren’t we teaching our children to drink socially and responsibly?

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I would NOT suggest drinking this particular cocktail around children..EVER! Should come with a fire warning.(stock xchang)

Cocktail Play Dates the beginning of the End

Obviously, if your kid is an infant and you are still breastfeeding steer clear of the alcohol. If you are driving your children even a block, no alcohol for you. If your children are young enough to need you to wipe their asses, noses and hold their hand because they are too shy and/or afraid to socialize..having a drink is probably not an option for you. But if one summer afternoon you find yourself with a couple other Mommies from the neighborhood, your 9 and 10 year olds are together running through the sprinkler, I see nothing wrong with the host Mommy pouring everyone a nice regulation sized glass of Pinot Grigio ( Mimosa, Bellini, Wine Spritzer) coupled with a plate of fruit and cheese ( let’s soak it up as to not make asses of ourselves, Ladies). Everything in moderation. I wouldn’t recommend doing body shots off of one another. I know in my neighborhood, the home association frowns on that sort of behavior. It has something to do with the whole lewd and lascivious behavior or something of the like. Apparently, Mommies gone wild doesn’t have the same appeal as Girls gone wild. Go figure.

In the end, you have to go home to your family, look yourself in the mirror and be OK with how YOU parent. No one else can make that decision for you. They can look at you with judging eyes and disappointed hearts but really who are they to judge? What do you honestly think about mixing the two? Would you? Could you? Have you?

*To clarify, I’ve had one Cocktail during a Play Date in my entire life ( nothing even remotely like those gals in Florida). It consisted of drinking a Mimosa while my mom responsibly chaperoned my daughters’ play date with the neighbor kid. It was brilliant in the way that eating carbs at your leisure is, just a little taboo. Not something I would want or be able to do all the time. Let’s face it, having my children has reduced my tolerance for alcohol to that of a gnat.

Cocktail play dates anyone?

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2011/08/03 9 comments

tampons, free bleeding, kiran Gandhi,feminism, periods without tampons, patriarchy

Confessions

Tampons, Treatises and the Toddlerish set

by Deborah Cruz 2011/07/19

written by Deborah Cruz

Have you heard the one about the box of disappearing tampons? Can you explain it to me?

*TMI alert! Tampons

My girls do everything with me. With the Big Guy out of town, the attachment parenting has been taken to an entirely different level. I want boundaries. I want to wax my lip in private. I want to change a freaking tampon without having to make it seem like a magic trick where no one sees anything.Oohhh, its an illusion. My littlest once caught a glimpse of something and gasped and almost fainted because apparently she thought I had cut myself and was bleeding out.I went with it. Yes, Mommy has a booboo. I’m OK, I just have to use one of my special Mommy band aids. So, the girls KNOW that those are Mommy’s special band aids.

Imagine my surprise when I went to find one of my “special” band aids and NONE were to be found. I was getting flashbacks of the missing toothpaste incident. Oh wait, I know..look in the garbage. Remember where I found the girl’s missing hair? There they were… an entire boxes worth of applicators. APPLICATORS!!! Where were the cotton balls attached to string? Nowhere to be found that is where. What was going through their mind when they did this? Are they anti Tampon? Pro Diva Cup? Trying desperately to save me from a gnarly case of Toxic Shock Syndrome?

Tampons and Treatises

I interrogated those two littles for almost 2 hours. There was a lot of ” I didn’t do it”s, “Ask her”s and “I don’t know Mommy” followed by tears, hyperventilating and finger pointing. But still NO FREAKING COTTON. Those kids are unbreakable! They should bypass kindergarten and go straight to the CIA. Let’s be honest, I’m not married to David Blaine or David Copperfied and I sure as hell don’t think that Tampax can evaporate. So, as I sit there bewildered with my Diva Cup in hand wondering where the hell all the cotton in my house has gone to, I go for the last ditch effort to get myself an answer.

“Tell me where the cotton balls are Abbi?”

Abbi,”The Ones with the strings”

“yes!”

“Uhhm, Me no know!”

“Tell me or I’m taking away your tv for a week”

“Mommy, how long is a week?”

“7 days!”

“One, two, three, ….seven. Me can do that!” and with that she skipped off into the sunset.

I just hope the next person who comes to my house for a showing doesn’t open a closet or drawer and get attacked by an army of zombie Tampax tampons wondering the world aimlessly searching for their applicator counterparts.

Tampons, Treatises and the Toddlerish Set

2011/07/19 16 comments

Confessions

Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

by Deborah Cruz 2011/07/03

written by Deborah Cruz

Have you ever thought something in your head and in your head it’s really freaking funny? Lacking the discipline to keep it there, you say the words out loud and are met with the ” Is she F to the bomb out of her mind” look? No? Just me, eh?

So, let’s just say that your kids are being complete crack ninjas (of the cutest kind mind you) and you think to yourself, jeez…I’d really like to return these little maniacs to the baby store. But we never say such things out loud because we’d be seen as horrible people who are at the very least social deviants and at the most not fit for parenting at all. DCFS would be called immediately. Instead, we stand there in silence, biting our tongues while our hair falls out in clumps from stress and we develop ulcers…. and we smile. You know that ridiculous ” I have no clue what the hell to do and I can NOT control these ninjas without medicinal help!” look. And as our children misbehave, we simply take a deep breath and pray for time to pass quickly. Believe me, I know adults sometimes need a time out too.Nobody’s perfect, right?

In reality, what choices do we have? In a calm and quiet voice, bend to their eye level and try to reason with children beneath the age of reason? Have you seen anyone ever actually do this? I have and while it is perfectly PC and I wish I could be more like that Mama, it seldom works and is usually met with a resounding “NO!” which really translates in baby speak as a forceful “F*ck YOU!”

Perhaps, you could send them on their way to a nice long (age appropriate= 1 minute per year of life) “time out”. Excuse me but if the time out is under 2 minutes, foggedaboutit. It’s simply not going to work. If your child is too young to walk, time out won’t work. Aside from the fact they will just crawl away, the child will flee out of sheer incomprehension. I tried this and ended up chasing a giggling toddler around the room like Benny Hill. She thought it was a game…. catch the baby. I am the one who ended up in tears and apologizing.

Image More4Kids

If the child is too old for time out, they sit there ignoring you and waiting out the time out. They are content with this time to gather their thoughts and plan their bedtime revolt.

You can’t spank your child no more than you can kick your dog. You just can’t so just let that idea slip right out of your head.

Sure, you have your thoughts of effective discipline but never actually do them and you NEVER speak of them. These are the dreams of medieval discipline that we fantasize about when 7 children under the age of 5 are screaming and ignoring while we curl up in a corner crying in the fetal position.The key is NOT to speak of them in polite society.

Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

“Come here you little punk, I bet a good dose of water-boarding will make you pick up those damn Polly pockets and Legos!”

“Oh yeah, NO to me? NO to you! NO dinner! No toys! No clothes! No play dates! I’m taking it all away!!!”

“You hate me? Well, I don’t like you either!”

“Why? Why? Because, I said so that’s why. Now stop asking me so many flipping questions!!!! ARGH!!!!!!!”

“Please, for the love of GOD, GO THE FUCK TO SLEEP!!!!!!!”

Then there is that one comment that you think might be acceptable to say out loud, funny even in the right context. When my hairdresser asked why I would get my girls names tattooed on my wrists:

“Well, I figure since they are the ones who make me want to slit my wrists perhaps if I see their sweet names there on my wrists it could give me something to live for. Or get a sharper razor.”

I was joking OBVIOUSLY but her face told me that that was one of those statements that most definitely should have stayed INSIDE MY HEAD!

Discipline~ Using Your inside Voice Outside…your head

So, now I have two problems, she thinks I’m an asshole and I have to find a new hairdresser. I should have exercised some discipline of my own filter.[/fusion_builder_column][/fusion_builder_row][/fusion_builder_container]

2011/07/03 9 comments

Confessions Guest Posts

What Really Happens when Curious Kids Burst through the Door Unexpectedly

by Deborah Cruz 2011/06/11

written by Deborah Cruz

Curious Kids~ My girls are curious to a fault. They have to know, see, and hear absolutely everything that goes on in the house.

2011/06/11 4 comments

Confessions

The Best White Lies I EVER told my Girls

by Deborah Cruz 2011/06/01

written by Deborah Cruz

We all know that I am all about the truth but occasionally I’ve had to stretch the truth a scoatch to bend the little ones to my Mommy will, in the name of the greater good, of course. Have you ever had to do this? If so, you may identify with the Best White Lies I EVER told my Girls.

Best White Lies I EVER Told my Girls

I told my girls that if they didn’t eat their asparagus, their hair would all fall out. It would start with small bald spots; like a dog with mange. (This came at a time when I actually had a small bald spot in my own hair. Timing is everything.)

Elves are real and they are Santa’s henchmen. They teleport back to the North Pole each night during the Christmas season to report indiscretions perpetrated by naughty kids. They are eager to break some kneecaps but Santa is usually pretty forgiving. (To make the story believable, you must move said elves around nightly and they must appear in unexpected spots i.e. the toilet, the fridge, the tub, school backpack, etc.)

Once when the door burst open to the “conjugalorium” (Child’s unoccupied bedroom because we have two co-sleepers and are forced to get inventive with our “adult” time), we told our 3 year old “Daddy was telling Mommy a secret, that’s why we were so close”.

While driving back from my Moms house in Chicago, we passed a refinery spouting billowing puffs of pollution. My then 4 year old asked “Mommy is that a cloud factory where all the clouds of the world are made?” I said, “Yes, yes it is” How could I not?

If you stay in the bathtub too long, you will shrivel up and turn into a raisin. Their eyes both turned into saucers, I could see fear and disbelief. I had to seal the deal, “And then people will eat you in their oatmeal!” They both promptly exited the tub and have not stayed for prolonged periods in the tub, since. They are also no longer interested in raisins in any way, shape or form.

Bambi is a narcoleptic. Recently, my girls had their first ever experience with road kill, a beautiful, freshly deceased deer. The deer was lying at the side of the road, looking very peaceful and not moving. My 3 year old, with tears in her eyes, asked what the dear was doing. I told her the dear had narcolepsy. (P.S. This does not work if you see a random deer leg on the side of the road!)

The Prayer Closet. A friend once told me that I needed to get myself a “Prayer” closet. My interest was piqued so I asked, “What’s a “prayer” closet?” Apparently, it is a walk-in closet that you can go to have marital relations. OK, but why the name, you ask. So did I. It’s called a prayer closet because once when she was in the closet calling out “Oh GOD!” She walked out to be greeted by her small child asking, “Mommy, what were you doing in there?” Her answer, “Honey, Mommy was praying. It’s Mommy and Daddy’s prayer closet.” The closet has since been soundproofed.

The Boogie Man. I made the fatal mistake of using the word “BOOGIE MAN”. Previous to this, I have never used the concept with the girls. Nonetheless, it slipped out. My 3 year old heard it. “Mommy, what’s a Boogie Man?” This is where I went brain damaged. “It’s just a little fairy who comes out at night, if you don’t behave, and sucks the boogies out of your nose.” Why I thought this was less traumatic than the real story, I’ll never know.

I told my girls, on New Years Eve, that their sparkling cider was actually champagne. I had them so convinced that my 5 year old had 2 glasses and swore she was drunk. Lightweight.

When my daughter was 3 she was extremely afraid of chickens and lemurs. Don’t ask. Let’s just say Julian, from Madagascar, is persona non grata in our house. She is absolutely terrified. After many nights of her jumping out of bed because she swore chickens or lemurs were under her bed, I took a canister of Febreeze and transformed it into Chicken/Lemur spray. I went so far as to cover up the logo, wrote Chicken/Lemur Spray on the label with the words “Kills Chickens/Lemurs Dead!” complete with chicken skull and crossbones. Then, in Catholic priest fashion, I blessed the room and sprayed the entire room down. Then she slept. That was 2 years ago. Occasionally, she still has me spray the room down. Just to be safe.

I’d love to hear any white lies that you’ve had to tell your kids to get them to do what was best for them. How inventive have you had to get in the name of healthy food and a good night’s sleep?

*This is a piece written by me that was originally published on Momversation.com on January 2011.

2011/06/01 27 comments

Confessions Throat Punch Thursday

Judgy Moms Suck

by Deborah Cruz 2011/05/13

written by Deborah Cruz

As many of you know by now, this month I am celebrating my second blogiversary by having some of my bloggy friends share their Truths about Motherhood.I started this blog ,in part, because I wanted to share the truth but I also really wanted a place where other moms could come and see that they are not alone, that none of us are perfect.Perfect parenting is a myth! After reading the Truths of my fellow moms, their bravery,willingness to share and the vulnerability they have shown I am convinced more than ever that judgy moms deserve a really big throat punch.

I know we all have our preconceived notions as to what motherhood is supposed to look,feel and be like from the outside. The damn parenting books do absolutely nothing to prepare us for the real thing. It’s easy to sit way up on a judgmental petal-stool when you have been spoon fed bullshit. But once we actually experience it, are in the wake of it, then we should change our way of thinking.

It’s become the norm to mercilessly judge our fellow Mommies, while behind closed doors we secretly feel their pain…in triplicate. Wouldn’t it make more sense if we could all just be honest with one another in the first place and share our war stories; good and bad. If we could be honest, we could be supportive,we could lend an ear,we could build one another up instead of tear each other down. Life would be so much better for all of us.

So to all you Mommies, who haven’t figured it out yet..sisterhood is so much better than isolation. I don’t know about you but I’d much rather be having a party with my peers than be stranded on an island by myself. So this weeks throat punch, well more like a slap on the wrist goes to judgy Mommies. You are only getting a Chuck Norris slap because I think you know not what you do. Come read some of these truths of my guests or read my daily ones…this is the way it;s supposed to be. We support one another through motherhood. We share our ups and downs. We help each other make it through the rough patches and we are one another’s greatest cheerleaders in our parenting successes. Don’t fall victim to another throat punch…come join the party.It’s a lot more fun with a little help with your friends than being in the ocean of parenting without a life preserver.

Also, to see the sisterhood in action. Go check out Bruna at Beeswithhoney.com; every Friday she features a blogger to share with the rest of her community because she is awesome at the sisterhood through motherhood. She is a great blogger, with a lot of insight into motherhood and a wonderful all around person. This week I have the distinct pleasure of being her featured blogger. Go check it out.

2011/05/13 13 comments

Confessions Mom Life Parenting

Mean Mother Focker

by Deborah Cruz 2011/04/11

written by Deborah Cruz

This morning, I was all excited walking around the grocery store.You know, it was Monday..my favorite day of the week.I was in desperate need of replenishing the fridge, since we had been gone all of last week. I was walking around, patting myself on the back because I was buying all organic and free range this and that. I spent a small fortune in the grocery but no worries. I was trying to find redemption with the food gods from all the hydrogenated, greasy, fat that I had put in my girls bodies over Spring break. That is nothing to speak of the damn burrito as big as my head that I consumed. (Shhh, it was totally worth the 1.5 pounds I gained.) That thing was sinfully delicious.But I digress…..yumm….burrito.

So,I’m walking around the grocery all head up my ass in a great effing mood for a Monday and then it happened.As Gabs and I were perusing the cereal aisle, contemplating which cereal would be the best tasting and the healthiest ( because today that was way up the list)and a mommy with a newborn happened toward us.She looked haggard and exhausted.Oh how I remember that feeling.Of course, I extended the Mommy olive branch and gave her the sympathetic “I feel your pain” smile and said, “Hi,I’m sorry are we in your way?” Which we clearly were not but I was trying to segue into “How old is your baby?’ “OMG, she/he is so freaking adorable”

What did she say? NOTHING.She completely ignored me and to add insult to injury pushed past me with the “You are such an asshole” look. WTF? I was flabbergasted and then I set straight to finding the “it’s not you, it’s me” scenario. Because clearly, it was HER!This is what I came up with:

Perhaps, she was deaf and did not hear me speak to her.

Perhaps, she doesn’t speak or understand English.

Maybe, she was so exhausted that she was incoherent, on Mommy autopilot.

Maybe she had a raging case of explosive diarrhea that was about to erupt.

Perhaps, she was heavily sedated.

Maybe she was rushing to get outside because her 3 year old was locked in the closet at home?

Maybe her dog was projectile vomiting in the car?

Maybe she was part of some weird scavenger hunt in which she was supposed to collect peoples happiness and dash hopes.

Maybe the baby was stolen.

Or maybe,she was just a mean Mother Focker.

Either way, you never know what’s going through someone’s head or in their lives so I can only worry about me. I was annoyed for a minute ( maybe a couple more) but I went home and had a fabulous free range, grass fed, organic lunch with my girls and replenished my joy knowing that as she rushed passed me she carried with her a trail of toilet paper.I told you maybe she had explosive diarrhea. I would have told her but ,you know, she was so busy being deaf and making ugly faces at me that she probably wouldn’t have heard me anyway.

In case you missed it…I was featured on SheKnows Top 10 Blogs that will make you think. I am so thrilled and honored to be on this list among so many great bloggers and it was written by one of the bloggers who I respect the most, Naomi AKA Cool Whip Mom.

2011/04/11 28 comments

Confessions Home

How Bree Van de Kamp Ruined Motherhood

by Deborah Cruz 2011/03/14

written by Deborah Cruz

Ever wonder how Bree Van de Kamp ruined motherhood? She was a fictional character on Desperate Housewives but there are women out there who strive to be her. Everyone knows that trying to base your life off of an imagined character will only leave you falling short and disappointed. Isn’t being a mom hard enough all on its own?

Anyone who has ever read my blog knows that I am a huge advocate of sisterhood. I think that cat fights between women are ridiculous and that if we all spent a lot more time being real and supporting each other, life would be so much better for all of us. Why does motherhood and being a domestic goddess always have to be a competition? Can’t some of us be do-our-best mommies and domestic good-enoughers and that be it? Can’t we all just get along?

“My kid does this, does yours? My husband makes this much money, what does yours make? My house is bigger than yours. It truly is a pissing contest for women! I can keep the house immaculate, my kids listen to everything I say, sleep in their own beds, go to bed at a reasonable hour with no drama, they are reading at a 5th grade level @ the age of four, I eat but can not gain weight, my husband just keeps getting better looking, and my kids are absolute perfection, did I mention they eat absolutely everything I put in front of them. The laundry seems to do itself, I love to cook gourmet meals for every meal, I am completely organic, I made all the baby food and my babies only wore cloth diapers and drank organic, non tainted by caffeine or alcohol breasts milk. P.S. My shit doesn’t stink! I live in a mansion on the corner of bliss and perfection…or was that delusional and insanity? And you?” Yes, in my head competitive/ judgy moms speak in long, drawn out run on sentences. Take a breath already.

OK, Bree friggin Van de Kamp…you are not real, you are some convoluted conjuring of what some crazy tv exec thought real life is…not even in the 1950’s, my brother sister. If we’d stop trying to make the other moms think we have it all under control without even breaking a sweat, maybe, just maybe we’d have some back up in the trenches instead of one more enemy trying to kill our spirits and crush our souls.

Bree Van de Kamp, desperate Housewives, how bree van de kamp ruined motherhood

As if that is not bad enough, that we are all running around lying to each other about how perfect and easy our lives are, we are inadvertently (or maybe purposefully) making other women (Mommies, specifically) feel like they are losers because they don’t think life is easy or perfect and neither are their kids and their husband. I mean, myself, I’ve actually winced at the prospect of having to go to the grocery store, been brought to tears trying to figure out what the hell to wear out in public to drop my kids off at some class or other, the dishes make me want to kill someone (actually just myself..I truly hate dishes! I am not above existing on paper products!), my girls still miraculously end up in our bed in the middle of the night, I have actually been reduced to feeding them cereal for dinner (only once..I promise)….though, I must confess, my kids are pretty perfect….to me! All kids are perfect to their parents! My point is my fellow desperate housewives, we would not all be so damn desperate if we could all just get along.

Next time you feel overcome with the need to blow crazy smoke up your own ass, in a coffee-induced fog of meanness, please remember the Mommy that you are making feel 2-inches tall would probably serve you better as a cheerleader than as a doormat. Stop spending your cocktail playdates talking about the new mom having a rough time disciplining her toddler; you used to be her.

PSA: Please be kind to your fellow mommies. She is not your enemy, she is your sister, your friend, your confidant, your tether to sanity.

I am bringing this post from the archives to remind us all that we need to support one another and grow a sisterhood through motherhood, not hurt one another by judging and pointing fingers.Moms could be the strongest group out there if we could only love and support one another. We are Mommies, hear us roar.

2011/03/14 3 comments

breastfeeding, breastfed, breastfeed, lactation, feeding infants, breast-feeding, nursed, feeding babies, breastmilk, benefits of breastfeeding

Confessions

Breastfeeding Sucks

by Deborah Cruz 2011/02/27

written by Deborah Cruz

Is breastfeeding really always best? I was reading, my friend, Jennifer Brandt’s blog Perfectly Disheveled tonight and was reminded of something that I had buried deep within the recesses of my mind…BREASTFEEDING! Oh how it sucked! No pun intended. It was one of the most awful things I have experienced thus far in motherhood. I know its not PC to admit that breastfeeding sucked for me but hey, that’s how I roll. I am honest to a fault. I always thought that breastfeeding would be something beautiful and magical; a sacred bond between mother and baby. And it was but it was also something else. It was what most Hollywood actresses look like without their hair and makeup done, no stylist standing by, no PR person to spin their words into weaved gold. It was raw, it was painful , it was ugly and, on most days, it hurt me deeply. Breastfeeding kicked my ass physically and emotionally. Worse than that, it was humbling. From the beginning, breastfeeding made me feel like the world’s biggest freaking loser Mommy! Amen. I’m divulging the truth that it was for me.

I remember coming home on that first day, driving 15 miles an hour with our blinkers on trying our best not to damage or mess up this most perfect being that we had just been given. We cooked this baby good and read all the books but when it came down to it, we couldn’t believe these people were going to let us take the baby out of the hospital. After all, what the hell were they thinking? We didn’t know what to do. We could barely keep one another alive, plants were dying all over the house, I’d lost a dog but these assholes wanted me to keep an entire human being alive! WHAT?? Panic set in but there was no turning back. We were going to hold onto this halo/fog of new baby splendor as long as we possibly could. The key was to keep the baby in tact.

We arrive home. Hello baby! This is your new house. The whole world, in its entirety, will be forever changed. You will be the sun and we will rotate around you forevermore. Time for a nap. Gently we place the baby into the bassinet and then its time to turn off the lights, pull the room darkening shades and SLEEP. But wait. That won’t work. If the lights are off we can’t see if she’s breathing. If we can’t see that she’s breathing..maybe she’s not. No! Sorry this plan will not work. Abort mission. Abort mission! Turning off the lights won’t do. Instead, we collapsed in exhaustion laying across the bed, with our heads half in the bassinet, with the ceiling fan light turned all the way on! Just about the time my brain and heart gave way and allowed my eyes to close, the baby woke up..starving. Let the breastfeeding commence. No lactation nurse, no holds barred. Let’s do this.

To my teet I drew my baby. She suckled. She didn’t latch very well. I knew that my milk hadn’t come in yet, as the lactation nurse had already informed me of my ineptitude before I had even left the hospital. She, also, had set me up with a medieval contraption known as an SNS. Not familiar with this? Oh, aren’t you the lucky girl? SNS stands for Supplemental Nursing System which is basically today’s scarlet letter for you are a fucking loser who doesn’t have the capability of feeding your own offspring. That’s right, there are broads in the world breastfeeding their boobie nectar to chihuahuas and I can’t keep my own human alive. Fuck. It was the Chia pet all over again. I was panicked that I was going to have to be dependent on a breast pump that is electric. I was popping Fenugreek like they were the last tic tacs in the world. Anyways, those were my choices…Fenugreek and SNS…until my milk dropped. What does that even mean? It’s not like a gallon of formula is going to come spilling out of me. I pumped..barely a taste for my infant. So, I grudgingly hook myself up to the SNS. Picture, if you will, some sort of human type version of what is used on cows. Basically, it was a small container that you filled with formula, that hung around your neck. There was a very small tube attached to that which was then taped to the top of your breast and down at the nipple.For me, that meant atop the nipple shield. It was a pretty hostile site. Poor baby Bella. Why couldn’t her Mommy just produce like all the other Mommies? I don’t know baby. These fucking D boobs apparently are for fun and not function.ARGH! The humiliation.

Why had breastfeeding forsaken me? What had I done wrong?

As I sat there, her looking up at me, questioning what wrong she had done in a previous life to be saddled with such a worthless mom, was enough to break my heart. But I soldiered on because I wasn’t stopping until that milk gave in and came in. I was going to breastfeed this baby if it killed me or broke me. Oh, don’t you worry…it almost did. I called the nurse and she barked at me to only do the SNS every other feeding and only an ounce so that it forced the baby to suckle harder and force my milk to drop. I listened because, quite frankly, this is her job and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing. Then in that first 24 hour period, Bella fed every 1/2 hour. Do you know what that means? She was literally off my tit for about 5 minutes every hour for 24 hours. She was crying, out of starvation. I was crying out of frustration, humiliation and guilt. I felt like the biggest piece of shit Mother to EVER walk the earth..even lower than those broads who drove their kids off a bridge. By the next morning, constant crying ( on both our parts) and no sleep, I was at my most vulnerable. And the baby was looking pretty much like an Oompa Loompa. I’m not going to lie to you, I lost my ever loving mind when I realized I had broken the baby. The perfect little baby.

I called the doctor and he said to bring her to the hospital. I was raw. OMG. I was the most exhausted, vulnerable, crazed lunatic on the maternity ward. Oh yes, they made me return to the scene of the crime. The nursery. Immediately, they took one look at our Willie Wonka cast member and told us that our baby had jaundice caused by my malfunctioning bossoms! It was as if someone kicked me in my hemorrhaging crotch, smacked me in my sore raw nipples and yanked my heart out through my chest all while laughing at me. I left the room and ugly cried hysterically…uncontrollably. The Big Guy was freaked out, his baby was orange and his wife was out of her mind. The nurses knew it was hormones. They tried to soothe my fears but it was impossible.

The moral of the story is even after all this, I continued to nurse for 3 months…with the SNS system because I NEVER produced enough milk to sustain my child. NEVER! But that damn lactation nurse kept telling me to keep taking the Fenugreek, it will come in. Then she told me to withhold formula, then I lost her number. I have never felt like such a failure. To this day, it still makes me hang my head to know that I couldn’t just breastfeed. It’s like being 30 and still riding a bike with training wheels. If you’re expecting a child, I would suggest you prepare for your breastfeeding journey. You may search for a breast pump covered by insurance along with other equipment and supplements you’ll need.

But because I would have been ridiculed by everyone I knew and scowled at for not trying my damnest, I did it again with my second child and again we ended up in the hospital with jaundice. Breastfeeding isn’t for everybody…no matter what people say. If I could have, I would have done it for longer. I did love the bond we formed during that breastfeeding time but if you pan out in the pictures, you can clearly see that I was strapped to that SNS contraption which was neither sweet or bond conducive. So, I say to you…for me…BREASTFEEDING SUCKED!

Did you breastfeed? For how long? Was it easy? Was it hard? Did you use an SNS? Would lengths would you go to succeed at breastfeeding your baby?

Breastfeeding is NOT always best for everyone

Photo

2011/02/27 25 comments

Confessions

The Truth about Co-Sleeping

by Deborah Cruz 2011/02/08

written by Deborah Cruz

Time to give you the real truth about Co-Sleeping and more importantly, how to safely co-sleep with your baby. Since I scared you all straight with my earlier post and all the good news the world has to offer, I’ve decided to redeem the day. I’m a half full kind of gal and I refuse to let the cold hard reality of the world change that.

When I became too obsessed with scheduling and time, I removed my watch. I’ve not worn one in about 5 years now. I was seriously about to get carpal tunnel from all the twisting of my wrist to check the time. So, I eliminated it from my day.I’m about to do the same for CNN. Anyways, in the spirit of redeeming myself, I have decided to write about something that is very positive in my life…co-sleeping. We have been safely co-sleeping since our first baby was out of the bassinet and I’d love to share with you how to safely co-sleep with your baby.

Co-Sleeping makes us Closer

Oh, yeah. I know some of you are rolling your eyes and tsk-tsking me for committing such an unthinkable crime against parenting dogma but the family bed is where it’s at for us. I know, I come off as somewhat snarkilicious on here, at times. It’s OK. You can say it, I’m fully aware.

But when it comes to co-sleeping, I must admit I become completely full on granola; share my life, share my bed with my babies. Crunchy even. I did not plan co-sleeping. I planned on 2 weeks in the bassinet and then a seamless transition to the crib shortly thereafter. But like everything else in motherhood thus far, I was thrown a curve ball.

Co-Sleeping is safe if done appropriately

When it came down to it, Bella would fall asleep in my arms after nursing and when I tried to put her back into her bassinet, she would wake up…always. Tired Mommy say what? I did what most exhausted, “so in love with her newborn that she can’t stand to miss a second of this creature’s life, doesn’t truly know where she ends and the baby begins” Mommy would do…I laid her in bed with me. Right there, between my husband and I..in a positioner ( I know those things have since become about as taboo as those unsafe walkers of the Hewlett- Packard commercials). If your child isn’t potty-trained yet, you must always be prepared with items, like those Monogrammed diaper bags.

I can say that in those first few months, sleep was not the sleep that people without children experience. No, my sleep was half-awake, hearing every single noise, breath, fart of the night, being uber aware of any motion in the entire house and the yard, pseudo conscious delirium…at best.

I was terrified that I’d roll on top of my sweet co-sleeper and smother her. I know you were all thinking it. So, in those first few months I never really got any sleep of any benefit. But what I did get was a crazy tight bond. You know the bond you get from breastfeeding? When you co-sleep, for me, the bond is that times two.

Co-Sleeping is Natural

2011/02/08 21 comments

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