Real Moms Don't Wear Lipstick!

First and foremost, why did I call my book Real Moms Don't Where Lipstick? It speaks to the idea that when we become Moms we give up a lot. A lot of our former self. In some cases, we become a shell of our former self where things that were important before, just aren't. Like putting on lipstick! Who has time! I feel like so many Moms can relate to this, even gorgeous celebrity Moms. When you have a child your identity completely shifts, even if you maintain the same status at work, something in your core dramatically changes. For so many of us, the old self becomes last priority and for a lot of Moms that means giving up a lot - working out, clothes shopping, going out with friends, looking cute. But it doesn't have to! It's all about finding the balance. What I mean by that is not time management. I mean, finding out what works for YOU to be the happiest Mom YOU can be. And to start, we have to stop comparing ourselves to others, because what works for one woman, won't necessarily work for you.

We women love to do this endless comparison game. Whether it's about each other's outfits, boyfriends, husbands, careers, children. It's how we size ourselves up - by sizing each other up. Let's face it, don't you look other women up and down and make an almost immediate judgement about who they are, what they do, if you are better or worse than them? Immediately feelings like admiration, envy, adoration, curiousity pop up. As women we are infinitely curious about ourselves and our inner workings and we often try to discover more of ourselves through other women and how alike or disalike we are.

My Mom always boosted my ego and told me I was great. However, one day she said, "There will always be someone prettier than you." There was great freedom in that statement because I was able to take myself off the hook for constantly and never-endingly competing in the looks department. I applied it to other areas as well. "There will always be someone smarter, more successful, etc." The idea is that the only person you have to compete with is yourself - to be the best YOU you can be. you were born with certain assets and some of those are fixed. I have fair, freckled skin. I'm not going to have smooth olive skin no matter how hard I try. But I can play on my features to be the most attractive ME I can be. Freedom.

Same goes with Motherhood. You can be the best Mom YOU can be. Not the Mom your neighbor or best friend is. Stop trying to be someone else and embrace who you are.

THE BATTLE OF WILLS

Have you ever wondered if you are too relaxed or too much of a drill sergeant (as a parent)?? I ask myself this all the time. I am the mother to a 3.5-year-old boy and a 9-month-old girl. My boy is the one I often butt heads with. Sometimes it feels like a daily battle of wills. Yesterday it was in the grocery store parking lot. I gave him a lot of freedoms at the store - let him push his own cart, pick his own groceries, put them on the conveyor belt.... The only thing I said no to was the candy at the checkout. Just so you don't think I'm a no-sweets Nazi, we had Pinkberry before we even went to the store! When we got to the car, I loaded all the groceries in the back of the car. It was pretty full at that point because there was also a stroller and some purchases from Nordstrom Rack. Of course my son wanted to climb into the car from the back. I told him it was too full of groceries and other stuff and that he needed to get in the door. I was also wrangling a shopping cart and a 9 month old on my hip (and I'm always tense in parking lots for the obvious reason!) My son kept persisting and started to get pesty and wouldn't budge. Now, the easiest thing to do would have been to let him climb through the back right? But I got engaged. All of a sudden I'm in the battle of wills with my 3 year old, and by doing so I made the situation way more stressful than the one I was trying to avoid (smooshing the groceries and my new Tori Burch boot box). I ended up corralling him to his door...literally corralling. I mean, pushing him with my body (remember I'm holding my baby on my hip and a grocery cart with my hand) and of course he says, "Mommy, you're hurting me!" For the record, I was NOT hurting him. But he sure knows how to push my buttons and make me feel guilty! Little did he know how bad I WANTED to hurt him. Kidding!!! But you know what I'm saying. I just needed to get something done and done my way and my son had the SAME idea. He wanted it done, and done HIS way. Please someone tell me this, too, will pass. Next time I'm in this situation I'm going to remember the motto, "Don't sweat the small stuff." Giving in and letting him climb over groceries is not the same as giving him a donut before dinnertime. I think I can give on certain things.

Speaking of donuts, later that day I had another opportunity to be challenged by my alter ego (i.e. my 3.5 year old). We took our dog to the dog wash and next door was the donut store (as luck would have it). My son immediately started whining for a donut. It was almost 6pm, we hadn't eaten dinner and I am not a fan of giving sweets at night (because I live for my kids' bedtimes!) I told him No and gave him my reasons, but he kept persisting (I know he's doing his job). But this time I wanted there to be a payoff for him. "We can get a donut tomorrow morning before school." He can burn off the sugar at school! The following morning when he woke up, I reminded him about the donut and, guess what, our day got off to a great start! ; )

Lately I just feel like a tired, exhausted, overwhelmed and irritable mom...with my 3.5 year old in particular. It just feels like he always wants my attention and can be pesty in trying to get it. When does the day come when he comes home and runs in his room, takes out his toys and plays by himself? Can't there be an autopilot switch for just PART of the day? Why do we have all these toys anyway? Am I a bad mom because I don't want to play with my son--I'd rather him play by himself so I can work on my projects? Am I bad mom because I can't wait for my kids to be in bed so I can just sit in peace and watch Access Hollywood or read People mag (yes, I love my celeb gossip!) or drink a glass of wine and just stare into space?!! Am I a bad mom because I yell "Shut the BLEEP up" in my head many times a day when the constant chatter and requests (downright demands) keep coming at me like darts in the eyes? The whining, begging, plea-ing, manipulating for movies, candy, donuts, cartoons...whatever their heart desires. It is so easy to forget that they are doing their job. PUSHING THE BOUNDARIES. And we have to be as good at our job as they are at their job. HOLDING THE BOUNDARIES. Sure, the easy way is to cave. Give them the candy, donut, toy, cartoon, movie, but is that good parenting?? I told my husband this morning, good parenting is HARD. I feel like I am always schooling my son....do this, do that, don't do this, you can't do that BECAUSE..... you have to do this because....say please, what do you say??, say hi. say bye. wash your hands. flush the toilet. did you WIPE?? The list goes on and on and on. It's no wonder I feel like I've pounded my head against the wall at the end of the day. I love my kids to death(I know, you can tell, right?!!), we all do, but parenting is exhausting...and anyone that doesn't feel this way...well....I don't have words.

DADDY, YOU'RE FIRED!

I realize what I am about to write is going to PISS OFF just about every man/husband/father reading this…and actually make most of you women/wives/mothers absolutely GLOAT….but that is not my intention. My intention would be for men to actually see something in this that could be a contribution to their relationship. But, alas, I can’t control your reaction, so here goes.

Why do men think it’s ok to come home from work and plop on the couch or get on the computer or basically do ANY activity that is the equivalent of “checking out” instead of being an active/present participant in the family activities? I mean, this isn’t the 40’s where the man comes home from work and the wife is waiting with her apron on and a cold martini on a tray and the man goes and sits in his favorite chair in front of the tv and throws his feet up on the ottoman, only for his wife to remove his shoes! Hi Leave it to Beaver, Archie Bunker. I mean, why should the woman wait on the man and do all the work? I know what most men’s argument is. Here it goes. “I’ve been working hard all day to support this family [I deserve to be taken care of]. Uh…helllllllooooo….and what have WE been doing? Sitting on our butts eating bon bons?! And then my favorite is when men have the kids for ONE day so Mom can get a break and the Dad says, “What are you complaining about, that was EASSSSYYYYY.” Ok, Dads, listen up. Having your kids for ONE day here and there is not equivalent to full time parenthood….and if you think it is, try quitting your job and being in our shoes and then you’ll see how HARD it is.

It absolutely fries me when my husband gets home from work and soon after giving my son and I his cursory hello, he slips into the office and gets on the computer. Meanwhile, I am either cooking dinner or entertaining our son….not to mention our son has been anxiously awaiting his arrival home from work. That is probably the saddest part….he doesn’t realize how excited his son is to see him and have his attention, and he is in the office surfing tabloid websites. Give me a break! Wouldn’t I love to be doing that??? Parenthood means sacrifice and selflessness, and unfortunately, NOT doing what you want to do WHEN you want to do it….all the time. It’s time for a Daddy wake up call.

BREASTFEEDING: BONDING OR BONDAGE??!!!

To breastfeed or not to breastfeed…that is the question. Sure this may not be as profound as Shakespeare’s question to live or to die, but probably the most difficult decision for many new Moms to make. I have to admit, for me breastfeeding came relatively easy with my two children. I didn’t have problems with latching, it wasn’t painful and I produced enough milk… Not enough milk to feed a small army, but enough milk to feed my little soldier. I really enjoyed breastfeeding my son (he breastfed until 9 months and is now 3.5 years old), and still do with my daughter (six months old), but breastfeeding doesn’t come without a cost.

As I stood in the shower this morning I pondered how long I would be able to breastfeed my six month old daughter. In the past week I’ve noticed my breasts aren’t as engorged as they used to be. They are starting to flatten out on the top and my bras aren’t filling out as much. When I pump, I’m not even getting a full feeding, and just last weekend I depleted the breast milk storage. I am a full time Mom with the exception of two days a week when I have a babysitter for six hours. This means I have to pump 2-3 feedings for each of those days. That’s a lot of pumping! When I’m home with my daughter, I don’t really keep a schedule. I did with my son, but he was a much different baby. He was fussier, I was sleepier, and keeping a schedule was a necessity for my sanity. I also supplemented with formula when he was 5 months old at the advice of a woman who was helping me sleep train him. He seemed fussy when I breastfed him and she suggested he wasn’t getting enough milk. She recommended I start pumping and monitoring how much he was eating. It was soon after that I started supplementing because he was eating far more than I realized, and I couldn’t keep up. Maybe that’s what’s happening now with my daughter?! When I’m home with her I just feed her “on demand”. When she’s fussy or she’s having trouble falling asleep, or when I want to sooth her (or myself), breastfeeding is my secret weapon (probably the number one reason to breastfeed in my opinion…love that secret weapon!). But the babysitter doesn’t have that secret weapon, so I have to make sure she has milk to spare!

The thing about pumping is, it’s a pain in the butt. Even if you have the all-important breast-pumping bra and put on your favorite reality show, it’s still a pain. And it’s humiliating…even if you’re in a room by yourself. There’s just nothing attractive about pumping. Ask most Moms; it’s pumping that makes breastfeeding feel like a burden. Just when you want to have NOTHING to do, you have to pump! WA WA WA WA WA WA (that’s the sound of the breast pump)!

So I sat there in the shower contemplating whether now was the time to start supplementing. I don’t know why, but when women go from solely breastfeeding to using formula it feels like some judgment is coming down and the guilt sets in. Will my baby get fat now (I know, very superficial and unimportant!)? Will she immediately grow up? Will we lose our bond? Will she be like every other baby? Will I be less of an earth Mother? When you do something that is so natural for so long, it is difficult to consider things any other way. But sometimes necessity takes the choice out of our hands.

So there I was, in the shower examining my breasts, noticing how UNfull of milk they felt, and I knew I had an event to go to which would take me away from my baby for four hours. I got out of the shower and was already pressed for time. I put on my breast pumping bra and my robe and affixed all the necessary gear and starting pumping. Since I was short for time, I blew dry my hair at the same time (gotta love the multi-tasking – I’ve also danced and pumped at the same time – now that takes skill)….As I was pumping and blow drying (working up a sweat I might add), I hear someone knocking at the door downstairs. The dogs start barking. It’s the babysitter and a painful reminder of how little milk is coming out and the decision I’m going to be faced with momentarily. I start sweating more. I have so much to do before I have to leave and I have to arrive at this event on time. No milk is coming. I have thirty minutes before I have to leave. I have to finish my hair, get dressed, pay the garage door repair guys who have been in my house all day, prep the sitter for the afternoon (she is a new sitter by the way)…no milk……… And, finally, I have a moment. I turn off the blow dryer and look in the mirror at myself. I look like a machine with all the breast pumping equipment hanging off me. My breast are sagging. There isn’t any milk in there right now. I know what I need to do, and I finally accept it. Formula. Why am I stressing myself out? Pushing myself up against a wall? I have worked hard to breastfeed and pump and take care of my baby for six months. And I’ve done a great job. She’s amazingly healthy and beautiful. I’m a good Mom. I WANT to continue breastfeeding her and I will. But at this moment, it is what it is, and there isn’t enough milk. My decision is made and I’m at peace with it. But it’s not without some sadness. The babysitter comes in my room and she asks about the feeding schedule. I tell her there isn’t really one. I just know when she’s hungry and I feed her. She asks where the milk is. I show her the barely 3 ounces I just pumped and I point to the can of formula. This will be the first time I say. And there’s silence. And then I start justifying it. She is very understanding, but part of me feels like I’m failing…like I’m letting HER down. I’m going to keep breastfeeding her I insist! Why do I have to prove anything to anyone anyway? But I do. I love breastfeeding my daughter. But I know when enough is enough, and I’ve put myself under enough pressure. It’s time to let myself off the hook. So we make a bottle of formula and went to my event.

I really enjoyed the event. I enjoyed being dressed up and out on the town as a woman, an adult…not a Mom. When it came time to go home, I didn’t want to. I was enjoying myself. I wanted to stay out longer. But duty called. I went home and found my babysitter feeding my baby the bottle of formula. She took it fine. I knew she would. Later that night I breastfed her to sleep and pumped afterward. And this morning I breastfed her again.

I am starting to realize that as a Mom, AND as a person, I have to find balance and give myself a break. If I pressure myself too much about anything, it will take away from the enjoyment of everything. I would rather enjoy breastfeeding my daughter when I can and not worry about it when I can’t. I am lucky, I know, to be able to breastfeed her at all. And I am grateful for that.

TEXT ME MOMMY

As I sit here on my MAC Notebook, which is on my desk, in front of my MAC Desktop…and next to me sits my Blackberry Bold (or is it the Tour, or the whatever-else-brands-they-have), I wonder if technology is a good thing or a bad thing? My to-do list is never done. I need a to-do list for my to-do list. I have so many iPhoto projects ½ done – books I have made on both iPhoto and Snapfish - photos I constantly debate whether to send to Flicker or Costco or just post on Facebook…so much technology, so many projects, so many decisions, so little time = nothing gets done. Who can keep up with it??!!!! And then my husband comes home and tells me he’s doing something (a “technology experiment” he calls it) called 4 square. He goes places (Starbucks, the gym, etc.) and “checks in”. Other people go places and “check in”, and it’s a way of god knows what (to let people you know, know where you are at all times??!!!!) Creepy! That is just WAY TO MUCH INFORMATION for people who have WAY TOO MUCH TIME.

Me? I’m just trying to write thank you notes. Remember those? I have thank you notes with my daughter’s name, thank you notes with my son’s name (oh, by the way, my daughter is 5 months and my son is 3 years – but, yes, they have personalized stationary) and thank you notes with my name, mine and my husband’s names…. No, I don’t have them with our dog’s names, but I may as well. I owe thank you notes for my son’s birthday (back in June), my daughter’s birth (further back than June), my birthday…I mean come on! Can’t someone call Amnesty on thank you card writing and give us all a break? I need UPS packages to send all my thank you notes because the same people are getting all of them! Or could I just send an email? No, that is where technology does not help. But you get my point. And some people wonder why they never get a phone call. Should they call my home phone, cellphone, text me, email me, Facebook me?! Bottom line is, they have to STALK me just to get in touch with me. There are so many ways to reach me, yet no way at all. I’m too damned busy doing nothing.

Ok, you guys get my point. Everyday I think to myself “I just want to be a Mom today. I want to be fully present for my kids”. And then something happens and takes me away from that moment. Welcome to our world. How many moms do you see at the park texting? Emailing? Forget talking on their cellphones. Now their fingers are doing the talking. And we don’t even REALIZE how this is effecting our kids. That’s the scary part. We always talk about how our kids are sponges. Well, guess what their little eyes are seeing 24/7? Mommies, Daddies and even illegal Nannies (I’m not trying to be politically incorrect here, just honest) completely engrossed in a world they know nothing about – because their world is all about the immediate. A ladybug crawling across the playground, a loud airplane flying through the sky, a leaf blowing in a tree, how their butt feels careening down a hot slide on a summer day…. Thank god for children. Thank god they remind us of the simple things. Things about life that have never changed and hopefully never will. Things you can’t text, email or post on Facebook…and things we adults, and parents in particular, desperately need to get back in touch with.

What were Moms like before cellphones? Have you ever thought about that? They must have played with their kids more, laughed more, appreciated more…maybe they even watched those ladybugs and leaves. If they weren’t distracted by technology….what were they doing at the park? Maybe being so involved with their kids, they felt like kids themselves.

Yesterday I was at the beach with my girlfriend. We were there with our two 3 year old sons. I was on my Blackberry (as I often am) and she was technology-free (ok, I’ll fall for the modern day trap of shortening something and making it sound so catchy – “T-FREE” – how’s that Brangelina??!!) What was she thinking-my friend-being T-FREE?! At one point she said, “Molly, look at the boys rolling in the sand!” and I lifted my head up for the cursory glance, and then back down to my phone. I think she was sending me a bigger message than that. “Molly, you are missing out on your son’s childhood, his gleeful exuberance.” And the message came through loud and clear and more rapid than a text message.