Are Moms Girls?

Recently, my friend Rebecca stated that she doesn't often do things that are considered "girley."  In making her point, she listed off things that were examples of traditionally "girl" things that she did not do, such as going to prom, picking up random frat boys in bars, getting her nails done, and having a kid.  I nodded as she walked through her list, until she got to the last one.  Really?  Is having kids "girley"?  Because, God, I have never felt less like a girl in my entire life.

I can see how "mother" gets an association with "girl."  As far as I know, apart from the former governor of California (transgendered people aside), no men have given birth.  Mom = female.  I get that.  But what, may I ask, does walking around with your hair in a half-beehive, half-skater 'doo, have to do with feeling feminine?  Sure I wear more dresses.  But this is because NOTHING ELSE FITS MY BUTT.  My nails haven't been done in years.  Hell, they haven't been long enough to bite, in years, because I am terrified of accidentally stabbing my kid in the arm.  A few months ago I tried to seduce my boyfriend by getting him drunk.  We each had a margarita and passed out on the couch while watching Cash Cab.  When I go into Victoria's Secret, I lust after the cotton pajama bottoms and sweatshirts and wonder whether I can wear them to work.  In short, there is NOTHING "girley" about me at the moment.

Okay, okay, maybe I am being dramatic.  Maybe, regardless of the fact that I feel like a giant-though-slightly-better-dressed Oompa-Loompa, I guess I do get the "girley" thing.  Maybe it's not just a perception from those who still own non-roomy clothing, either.  Not to get too "earthy," but I do feel like I have done something so intimately "woman," it can't be described.  I feel a connection to other moms.  Being a mom is about as basic in terms of "female gender" that you can possibly get.  It's not biology's fault that I'm currently wearing watered-down Peeps sugar as lipstick.  I am all girl.  Just need to work on looking like a woman.

Hidden Pitfalls

For me the most fascinating parts of being a parent (apart from how truly cool a kid is) are the unexpected  issues that constantly arise.  These are the things that zing you, seemingly out of the blue.  They are issues that it never crossed your mind as issues with which you would have to deal.  You knew going in that there would be some sort of sleep deprivation (though you mistakenly believed this would last a few months, tops).  You knew that there would be icky things like diapers and food throwing (though your child would undoubtedly not do such disgusting things--little Frank will be perfect and poop-less).  And you knew that there would be headaches such as what color to paint the nursery (no, green does not mean you don't know the baby's gender).  But it's the hidden issues that continue to beat you up on a daily basis.

For example, it had never crossed my mind prior to having a child that something as fun-filled an innocuous as spring break can be a nightmare.  There was an article on CNN recently in which this difficult situation was chronicled.  See http://www.cnn.com/2011/LIVING/03/14/cb.working.moms.spring.break/index.html?hpt=Sbin.   Clearly, my eleven-month-old does not do much spring breaking as of yet.  But reading the article, I was suddenly hit with a migraine.  They're right.  What the heck does a working parent do with school "holidays" during which the parent does not get to "holiday"?  Chances are, the sitter is an evening or weekend solution (see Nanny Heaven, below).  So chances are also good that one or more parent takes the day or week off of work.  Wow.  Not a problem if you are lucky enough to work where they do not meticulously mark you "in" and "out."  Big issue if you have a limited number of personal days.

Being a parent really keeps you on your toes.  It's like a giant crossword puzzle.  And if you are like me, you love the crossword puzzles, but rarely get them right.  I guess the most you can hope for is the People Magazine crossword instead of the New York Times.

Nanny Heaven

Hi folks!  First, my apologies to those of you who contacted me about missing Sound-Off Sunday.  We were having technical difficulties...

Second, today's post is about the amazing, wonderful revelation I found this weekend.  I found the world's most perfect nanny.  She's smart, she's fun, and my son adores her.  She's terrific at putting up with me and my disaster of a house, and is all-around adored by all who have met her.  Seriously, the woman is Nanny McFabulous.  The problem?  Her "day" job is being a lawyer. 

Sad.  What is it with people not following their true calling?  In short, I asked this friend as a huge favor to babysit this weekend.  And needless to say, it went well.  My kid was over the moon.  I was almost jealous as he gazed lovingly at her and showed her all of his fun toys that they could play with.  He was in heaven.  Me?  I only called once and didn't worry the entire evening.  I knew that they were having a blast.  And they did.  He has some fantastic babysitters, but sadly they are in the same category--sitter by night, something "professional" by day.

I, of course, will not be overtly encouraging her to leave her lucrative (relatively) job that she studied years for, merely to come and make my life easier.  Ok, I actually am--I happen to know she reads this.  But all joking aside, what is with all the good ones being gone?  It's like high-school all over again and the perfect sitter or nanny is the quarterback who happens to be hot and not a jerk.  AND of course is taken.  Are we doomed to relive the "search" over and over again?  We found the mate.  We found the house.  We found the kid.  And still we get teased.  Sad.  Nanny, wherever you are, know that you have "backup" should the legal field ever suck.  More than it does.  We'll wait for you.

The Learning Curve

As I have mentioned a number of times, the past year has been a learning experience for me.  There have been so many lessons, I couldn't possibly keep track of them all.  But there are some that definitely stick with you.  Many are big ones.  For example, there's the "Basics on How to Keep Your Infant Alive" lesson.  This one you figure out fairly quickly.  That, or you end up on TMZ.  Either way--lesson learned.  Likewise, there's the "Patience" lesson--also a big one.  Because let me tell you, no matter how desperately you may need to pee, your child doesn't care.  At all.  Under any circumstances.  Similarly, he or she doesn't care that you just cleaned the floor (hypothetically, of course; God knows I don't believe in the act) and will find it to be a lovely canvas for pudding art work.  So patience is another biggie.

But then there are the more picky lessons that, no matter how often you are taught them, you won't get them.  While I have frequently questioned the fact, I don't think I'm a total idiot.  But some lessons are just...hard for me.  The hardest, by far, is understanding that I am not in charge.  This one even hurts for me to say--I refuse to believe it.  That's not true, actually.  I believe it, but I just don't think that it should apply to me.  Every day, being a parent demonstrates to me that I have absolutely no control over my life any longer.  Want to go for a drink?  Um, I'll have to check with the sitter.  Want to get your child through cold season, disease-free?  Yeah, let me direct you to the section of Walgreens for infant cold "remedies."  Want to pretend that you know what you're doing?  Let's just leave that one at: welcome to parenthood.  And I'm not going to lie--it FREAKING SUCKS.  Don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore being a parent and cannot describe the love I have for my child.  But the lack of control is killing me.  And I just don't seem to understand that there are no books that I can read, no classes I can take, and no advice I can heed to change that. 

So what's a parent to do?  For my two cents, I vote "be delusional."  Pretend you have complete control.  Don't actually try--that one will knock you out.  But pretend you are June or Ward Cleaver, smile at the children, and dream of a world in which you are anything other than completely insane.

Originally uploaded at
http://dyingbraincells.wordpress.com/2010/09/24/political-stage-mother/

I frequently wish I knew what was going on inside my child's head.  Typically this is for entertainment value.  For example, when he is standing in the middle of the room, looking at the ceiling, and laughs hysterically before running away, I would love to know what was so funny.  Don't get me wrong--I typically think things are wholly amusing that aren't (such as this blog).  But I would love to get in on the baby's joke once in a while.

There are other reasons, however, for which I would love to know what he's thinking.  In particular, it would really be fantastic to know whether I have already scarred him for life.  This is only a half-joke.  I, as you know, am a working parent.  In addition to being gone for a significant part of the weekday, I sometimes enjoy doing grown-up things such as attending a Janet Jackson concert (oh, how I wish I were kidding).  These days when I walk out the door, he runs to the door and throws a fit.  This typiaclly results in me feeling horribly guilty and strangely thrilled at the same time.  I hate that he's sad and love that he actually likes me!  The "thrilled" lasts approximately 1 minute, however, and the guilt becomes unbearable.  The books and magazines all say that kids need space from their parents, and that it's good for them to see you out and that it's good for you before you go insane, blah, blah, blah.  But I would absolutely love to know that they're not making this s*&t up just to make parents feel better.

Could someone please invent a way for this to happen?  Does anyone else think the guilt is going to consume you on a daily basis?