New Baby Smell ~ Kryptonite for the Mommy soul. Oh yes, I’ve got baby on the brain big time. I know I have pledged myself to the Just Say No to babies campaign. I have willfully closed for business. I have made the decision to close the doors on the baby factory. No more producing grade-A human beings. I know this. I am pretty excited that my girls are of the age where they sleep for more than 4 hours at a time ( usually), that there are no more diapers and ass wiping ( well, most of the time). I don’t particularly miss being spit up on or not understanding what my children are saying. But then something happens, like the birth of my brand spanking new nephew all enveloped in that new baby smell. You know what I mean; it’s like apples, fresh air and pure freaking love. Then you look at that face that melts your heart and short circuits your brain. This is when trouble happens.
Then, the ovaries began to twitch – the brain to ditch and suddenly the hinges( of my uterus) started to unhitch. I think there are many of us Mommies who reside somewhere between Baby gotta have it land and Hell no,we won’t go there again newborn city (like New Jack City but not quite so violent). We stay there in a procreation purgatory until one of two things happens 1) we convince our husbands to get a vasectomy or 2) we go through menopause, either way, the inbetween time is dangerous. All it takes is one look at a smiling mug like this one below and we are doomed. One minute (ok 5 minutes) of unprotected wild abandonment and BOOM there we are in a full on shit storm of the delivery kind.
Dear Lord, this kind of cuteness should certainly be outlawed. My brain goes all fuzzy and the next thing you know I’m doing things that I promised myself I’d never do again like birthing a 15 inch human head without an epidural ( a la Alien), losing control of my bodily functions, and a menagerie of other things that nobody, not even your mama, tells you about pregnancy.
New Baby Smell is clouding my Judgement
My baby +New Baby = Kryptonite of Epic Proportions.
Uterus is full on convulsing.For the love of God can someone please get me outta here before I do something stupid like have unprotected ovulatory sex. Yeah, that’s right, I said it. I know my body like a fine tuned machine and I know two weeks to the day of the start of shark week, fertility lurks. Must resist moments of weakness and smell of fresh out of the oven new baby. And damn it if my sister isn’t the picture of new mommy glow. I thought that was a myth! No fair. I most certainly did not glow. I looked like I had been run over by a Mack truck. Note to self: New baby smell comes with new baby and New baby is hard work ( even if he is so cute that you want to kiss his face off). Have you ever felt conflicted as to if you should have another baby? What do you do to stop the twitching ovaries and throbbing uterus? Or was new baby the new no baby? What tipped the scales in favor of new baby?
New Baby Kryptonite Never Looked so Good
Let’s talk about the old saying, “ugly babies in the cradle, pretty at the table.” I had never heard of it and quite frankly, took great offence at the thought of an adult calling a baby ugly. Are there such things as ugly babies?
Have you ever heard this crazy saying?
As most of you know, I am walking around in a new baby (nephew) induced fog. I am seeing the world with new eyes and loving on my own daughters harder and stronger than I did a couple days ago because of my reminder of the preciousness of childhood. The moment my beautiful nephew entered the world, all I could think was how very blessed we all our to have our
babies children in our lives.
From the moment I saw my daughters’ faces, they were the most beautiful baby, no human, I had ever seen. They still are. They will always be.
I am their mother and their birth was the culmination of a whole lot of love. Their very existence is a constant reminder of how very blessed I am in this life. It was like looking upon the sun. It was joyous and humbling. With each birth, I was metamorphisized into a better person (even if it doesn’t feel like it on most days).
I thought every mother felt this way when she saw her baby for the first time. I naively thought that every mother thought her baby was the most beautiful baby in the world because to her it is the most beautiful baby in the world. I never imagined someone would call their own baby ugly.
Ugly Babies don’t exist
This morning as I’m driving my girls to school, we are listening to the radio and the deejays are talking about a phrase used by parents “Ugly in the cradle, Pretty at the table” apparently this is something that parents say to console their children who they have told are ugly.WTF? Why would you ever tell anyone they are ugly, let alone your child?
READ ALSO: One in Ten Babies is Born this Way
Newsflash, people have mirrors they already know they are ugly. Kids know if they are not as cute as the kid next to them, but to their parents, they should be the cutest freaking thing in the world. It’s in the parent handbook. Didn’t they get it when they got that stupid ass free plastic diaper bag from the hospital?
Don’t tell your kids they are ugly. Don’t think your kids are ugly. And for the love of God, if you do think they are ugly (besides something being fundamentally wrong with you in the head) where do you think they got those damn ugly genes from?
Ugly Babies are A Myth
Look, I am living in the real world and I have perfect 20/20 vision so I do realize that some babies are cuter than others when they are born. Let’s be honest, most newborns look like one of two things; a little old man or a fuzzy ball sack. But we love them and to the parents who produced them, those babies are the most beautiful babies in the world.
By the way, how good do any of us look after taking a transatlantic flight or participating in fight club? Let’s be real, that’s pretty much what being born is like. How good did any of us look after giving birth and we were on the outside?
There are No Ugly Babies
I don’t know who came up with such a ridiculous saying as “Ugly babies in the cradle, pretty at the table” but I bet they were ugly on the inside and certainly need to be flogged. Stop using it!
Remember, next time you are thinking about saying how ugly a baby is, those ugly babies are somebody’s everything that is beautiful and good in the world. If you are a parent who has called your baby ugly, please email me a photo because I need to see what level of ugly it takes to make a parent call their own baby ugly.
Please stop telling your babies they are ugly. They will look human in a couple of months. Now put your standard issued Mommy thinks you’re perfect glasses back on NOW!
Have you ever thought your child was ugly? Come on, you can tell me. I won’t tell anyone. We’ve all thought there are ugly babies out there, but usually not our own. I mean come on, we’ve all got an ugly cry. They don’t call it that because it’s pretty. I bet even Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie look pretty gruesome when they ugly cry.
I’m a realist, I am not opposed to the fact that there are ugly babies in the world. I am however opposed to the fact that there are parents out there who are stupid enough to not only think it but to say it out loud, to their little ugly babies. Just remember, there are no ugly babies just adults who should have thought before they spoke.
Do you think there is such a thing as ugly babies?
This Throat Punch brought to you by the FLU
Mama’s got the flu~ Unfortunately, today I am feeling way to ill to write my Throat Punch Thursday. The girls have been sick now for going on 3 weeks, previous to that, I had a sinus infection and it appears that the sickness has come around from behind and sucker punched me..just in time for the holidays. I’m not sure exactly what I have, but I suspect that it may be the flu. I woke up this morning with the cold sweats, a sick stomach and a headache. I basically woke up feeling as if I were in the end stages of death. Not pretty. I’m calling it the flu. Maybe it’s exhaustion coupled with something viral, maybe that nasty sinus infection is taking a new approach or maybe it’s the bubonic plague but I’ve not seen any large rats in the house so I’ m sticking with the flu. I hope you will forgive me for punking out on Throat Punch Thursday but I will still have the linky open and welcome all of you to link up. I can still read . I don’t feel much like thinking because at this point it makes my head hurt but I can read and leave comments. I can’t promise they will be coherent because of the fever and medicine. Hell, who am I kidding, I can’t guarantee they’ll be coherent on a good day with my damn six degrees of separation thing I’ve got going on but I’ll try!
I fought the Flu but the Flu won
I really wish I could muster the energy to be witty and snarkalicious about the CNN news today but I’ll leave the end of the Iraq war, Lindsey Lohan, the reasoning for the acquittal of Amanda Knox, the golden globes, the potential presidential candidates and apparently, the shocking news that Matthew McConaughey is currently bald (
who knew? who cares?) and all the rest of the world’s dumbest criminals! Have fun. Throat punch somebody this holiday season. You know you want to! All the frustration of holiday stress, this will help to relieve it!
All you have to do to link up is write a post about a situation,something or someone that you think is worthy of a throat punch. Honestly, it’s not that hard and once you start thinking about it…you’ll have more than enough worthy recipients! Then you go up here to the “buttons” tab on my blog, grab yourself a Throat Punch Thursday button and put it in your post. Then you link up. Then me & anyone who reads my blog comes and checks you out. I’ve learned from experience, the more outlandish the title..the more curious readers are, so go for broke and give me your crazy Throat Punch titles. OK, I’m getting dizzy. I’ve got to climb back into bed. One last thing, come back tomorrow..it’s fashion haul Friday and I am giving away an awesome $100 gift certificate to one lucky The TRUTH about Motherhood reader. The post is already written, so even if I die of this plague…the Big Guy has been given strict instructions to continue on with the giveaway and give one of you a prize posthumously on my behalf. I’m a giver even from beyond. Oye, I’m getting delirious.
Throat Punching the Flu on behalf of all You Good People
So link up to Throat Punch Thursday! Do it for the children! Don’t let the flu win!
We’ve all heard of Mommy brain, right? You know that condition that makes everything foggy, forgotten and not quite sure if it’s really happening, supposed to be happening or already happened? Yeah, that’s Mommy brain. Hell, I’d bet my reminder list that most of us are in the throes of it at this very moment. Me, I’m convinced that I am probably on the verge of a full-blown case of sun-downers of the Mommy Kind. Shark week and a severe case of mommy brain seem to be co-existing in my life right now, running rampant if you will. I am not exaggerating when I say that if it weren’t for my head being attached, I’d have misplaced it by now. I have had some pretty near misses while experiencing my advanced stage of Mommy brain but some experiences stand out above and beyond the others in the humiliation department. Like this one…
Oh Mommy brain, why have you forsaken me?
It was a cold day in January and I had an OB/GYN check up. I was at that point in my pregnancy where I couldn’t see my feet. Let’s be honest, I couldn’t see anything south of the topside of my burgeoning belly swell. Who knows what the hell was going on south of that border? But I had a check up, nonetheless, and there was no way I was going in for it without a little landscaping down below beforehand. I refused to look like I had a chia pet in a headlock. It wasn’t happening.
I stepped into the shower and almost immediately; I was trying to lift my belly out of the way, to just be able to catch a small glimpse of my lady bits. Oh ,my poor lady bits I don’t think I’d actually seen them since conception. All I could do was feel my way. Scratch. Bump. Crease. Opening. Labia. Clitoris. Baby. I’m making a mental note of the lay of the land, as I go. After much panting, praying and contorting, I started the near impossible task. This was a dangerous endeavor, to say the least. I’m no Helen Keller. I’d never done this before. There was a huge chance that some very important parts of me could be permanently severed and left behind to circle the drain. *Holy Mary, Mother of God, Pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death* Hour of our death? Yes, this could have been at any moment. Can you imagine the amount of blood loss one could suffer if
I she severed a lip? That thing’s attached for a reason. Sure it may look like it’s coming detached but damn it, it’s not.
Mommy brain, note to self..no lip left behind
An hour later the deed was done. I grabbed the mirror and when I lifted my belly, what was revealed to me looked very similar to a teenager trying to grow his first beard. Patchy with tufts of what looked like tiny Fu Manchu’s scattered all throughout my groin region. And not the tiny Fu Manchu’s that you might see on some hipster band mates, no these were the scary tiny Fu Manchu’s that you might see on a little person Kung Fu Master with a bad attitude and one eye. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. I returned to the bowels of shower hell and after much effort on my part and a mirror that perpetually steamed up; I, finally, got the job done an hour and one freezing shower later.
I was so proud of myself. I was going to walk into that appointment, drop trough, and show that handsome OB/GYN the most impressively landscaped vagina he’d ever seen on a woman that far into her pregnancy. Of that, I was certain. But wait; let’s take it to the next level. Why stop at just pretty? I grabbed the feminine hygiene spray and after a quick once over, I was not only impeccably groomed but I KNEW I smelled like a beautiful summer’s day. I got this.
After the exam was done, my doctor looks up at me and says, “Everything looks great and (with a knowing smile and a wink) very festive.” What the F*ck? That was inappropriate but I was a over cooked, over stuffed, waddling pregnant Godzilla in need of some extra attention. Hey, Big pregnant Girls need love too. Of course, I had no idea what he was referring to until I returned home. After a quick look in the mirror, to my utter surprise, what I thought was feminine hygiene spray was actually my 2 year olds Christmas themed Barbie spray. Yes folks, festive indeed. My hairless Chihuahua was now covered with green sparkly glitter spray. Nothing says Happy Holidays like a freshly decorated vagina.
*P.S. My birthday is next Saturday (9/25) and I would LOVE to reach 1000 blog followers via GFC by then. MY damn GFC was actually not working most of the past year so if you loved this story, or you just love The TRUTH about Motherhood please consider clicking the GFC box and following me! Thanks. XO Debi
This is your vagina on Mommy brain
Birth and pregnancy happen, especially when you least expect it. It seems that it is universally applicable that trying too hard at anything puts too much pressure on ourselves and we end up with performance anxiety. This is why on my first pregnancy, I conceived while still in the “planing to plan to have a baby stage”. There was no pressure, we were just sexing it up and having a good time…maybe too good of a time. When I found out that I was pregnant, I was ecstatic. I had waited for this moment since I had gotten married, maybe since my husband proposed. There is just something so liberating about intentionally making a baby ( *or planning to plan to have a baby) with the man that you love, aside from all the baby making, birth control free nookie. And I don’t just mean the fact that I took it as a license to eat carbs without guilt for 10 months. Heck to the yeah, I could finally eat and exhale! I was overjoyed, to say the least. Do you know how awesome it is to NOT worry that someone is going to mistake your baby doll dress and burrito belly for a baby bump? It was glorious!
Oh Sh*t, Pregnancy!
Then I made the mistake of reading all of those nightmare inducing, statistic laced pregnancy books. All the good times I had planned for gave way to worry and anxiety. Thank God, I hadn’t tried to educate myself before conceiving or I would have been scared to death, maybe even chalked up the whole idea. I’m pretty squeamish about pain, blood and body fluids and let’s face it..that’s all giving birth is aside from the miracle it all results in. Before getting pregnant, no one told me about gestational diabetes, the disfigurement of stretch marks, outtie belly buttons, linea negrias, noses spreading, feet growing, acne, bacne and spider veins. Nobody told me that the “glow” was code for ugly, exhausted and fat. Worse, nobody told me about what happens when you give birth. NOBODY told me how excruciatingly painful it would be. No one gave me a heads up that there was NO modesty or dignity in giving birth. My friends never told me that transition labor would feel like a cracked out, ninja ghoulie was trying to chew it’s way out of my lower abdomen. Nobody told me that trying to birth a baby would take as long as a transatlantic flight. NO.BODY.TOLD.ME!! Not even my Mama! Why?Why did no one tell me????
Pregnancy, Nobody Told Me
I had no idea that I’d be put into a gown that couldn’t possibly cover my protruding belly without completely exposing my pasty white derriere complete with assne. No one told me that I’d have 27 doctors, nurses and passersby sticking there hand in my woohoo to check “how far along” I was. I wasn’t told that I’d be bored out of my brain, watching Jerry Springer, when I’d be struck mute by pain and only be able to whisper the words, “Oh Sh*t” and “Oh God” alternately and on repeat. Most importantly, NO ONE told me that I might have a bowel movement on the birthing table. Between you and me, that’s a deal breaker. I would have opted for a surrogate or adopted a little brown baby from Mexico (then maybe I would have had a chance that the baby would look like it was actually related to me).
But no one tells you these things. To be clear, I intentionally starved myself for the two days before I was induced. When the time came, I gave it my all. I got 25 stitches for my trouble and a gorgeous baby girl. My husband assures me that I did not poop on the birthing table and the only thing I pushed into the world that afternoon was our firstborn. Did he tell me the truth? Or was he trying to restore some of the dignity I had lost from the hourly dipstick checks? I’ll probably never really know. I’m just hoping in the throes of a heated discussion I never hear “ Oh yeah, well you did sh*t on the birthing table! It was real and it was spectacular!” For now, I choose to believe in a world where there are unicorns, fairies and no one poops the table while giving birth. If there’s a next time, I may just be done with it and have Indian food the night before induction. I say go big or go home. Sh*t happens!
During Pregnancy, Sh*t Most Certainly Happens!
I know it’s been pretty obvious to some of you this past week that I have been MIA.I’ve not disappeared off the face of the earth but I have metaphorically exhausted. Here is a brief laundry list of the reason for the MIA.
Grandmother is diagnosed with cancer*Grandmother is given 6 months to live*School is coming to an end*Play date* Holiday*Out of town visitors* Tornado warning*I am sick*Contacted for dream job in New York* I live in Midwest* Missed opportunity*Showings on house* Copious amounts of rain*Dog is ill*Dog must be taken into emergency veterinary services*Dog must be administered medication and waited on hand and foot*Children are having meltdowns*Open house* Dog has 105 degree temperature*Lost my funding for conference*Blistering heat*Desperately seeking sponsorship*Formulating a new resume* Embracing a few amazing …(wait for it)writing opportunities*Borrowing from Peter to pay Paul*Laundry*Soothing children’s broken hearts*Stroking the Big Guy’s (ahem) ego*Field day*Perpetual Cleaning*Play date*My “cold” is now confirmed case of Whooping cough* Last day of school*Daughter freaks out of prospect of leaving her friends*Crying in the parking lot*Packing* Cleaning* traveling*No sleep*Need to pick up antibiotic for whooping cough*Waiting to hear back from all the places that I have my foot firmly wedged in the door* Missing the routine of my every day*Spiraling out of control*
This has just been the past week or so.This is why I have been MIA. I miss the comfort of my routine and my community.Things are settling a bit so I will be back on track.Meanwhile, desperately seeking a break in the clouds.
Today, I have the honor of having the fabulously awesome Jessica Gottlieb sharing her TRUTH about motherhood. *Excuse me while I squee. ( Yes, I actually used the word squee but I am just that excited) I’m sure I just lost some cool points with Jessica by making that confession but I don’t care. I must admit I have a little bit of a blogalicious crush on her. She is not only my blogging shero; she is intelligent, funny, witty, wonderful and the queen of snarkilicousness. She is a thinking Mom’s blogger. To top it off, she is the most honest, real, down to earth woman/writer that I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. She hardly needs an introduction but in case you are new to blogging or live in a little social media vacuum, Jessica is the brilliant author of www.JessicaGottlieb.com and you can also find her on Twitter, Facebook, YouTube, Momversation.com,www.tehuser.com and just about any place else that you might expect the grand dame of Mommy blogging to be found. But today, I am excited to say that she can also be found on the TRUTH about Motherhood. Thank you so much for sharing your TRUTH about motherhood with us!
The Truth About Motherhood is that You Lie A lot
Mothers are liars. Our children are weaned on lies. I learned to lie in my teens when my mother asked me where I was going. Nowhere. Who is going nowhere with you? No one. Are you smoking cigarettes? Absolutely not. I know you’re smoking pot. No mom.
So we learned in our teens to hide our boyfriends, our vices, and our nights out. I learned to hide my questionable grades and I learned how to cram and get myself out of trouble, well, most of the time.
I learned how to keep secrets, and little did I know how much I would need that skill in motherhood.
I can’t tell my children everything I think, I’m a mother for heavens’ sake. I would never tell them how utterly unprepared for motherhood I feel. I would never tell them that there are parts of school that really don’t matter. I tell my kids that they can be good at things that we both know they’re unlikely to excel at.
I told them about the toothfairy and Mr G told them they were bought at Babies R Us on a rare snowy nights. The snow made his hair grey.
I have told my children that you don’t have sleepovers with the opposite sex until you’re married, and I know I’m doomed because my brother has lived with his girlfriend for sixteen years. I’ve told my children that good things happen to good people. I never mention that captains of industry might behave like shits and get richer, or that children die and certainly a child couldn’t be bad.
I’ve lied to them repeatedly all the while demanding honestly.
The real truth of motherhood can be found somewhere among the lies.
Jessica Gottlieb is a Mom Blogger in Los Angeles.