July 29, 2006

Vacation Itinerary

While most of my good blogging buddies are at BlogHer this weekend, I’m at work counting down the long ten hours. Working Saturday’s sucks. But today will be different. Today will be miserable, dreadful, long, boring and horrible. Wait! That’s every Saturday. Today is just different because once I leave at 6 p.m., I have 8 — count ‘em, EIGHT days off. I cannot tell you how happy this makes me. I’ve been suffering from burnout at work. Dealing with elderly people who cannot hear and yell on the phone about travel insurance really starts to irritate a person. Dealing with foreign travelers who speak broken English is also frustrating as I don’t know if the caller is looking for travel insurance or tapioca pudding. But I manage to make it through each day and come home to a big fat glass of wine and bad TV. Oh yeah, and Doug making dinner. And Dawson, yelling, “Mumma! Loyu!” which means he loves me.

Oh, how I wish I were at BlogHer. Drinking with the other fabulous bloggin’ mommas! Doesn’t that sound fabulous? I’m definitely going next year. It’s an absolute in my book.

For our vacation, Doug and I decided to do the following:
(Yes, you’re getting a bulleted list — I’m to lazy to write for real.)

• Saturday, July 29, 2006 - post work: We’re going to watch movies and eat fatty, buttery popcorn after Dawson goes to sleep.
• Sunday, July 30, 2006: I’m going to attempt to sleep in past 8 a.m. but my mother’s intuition tells me Dawson will be wide awake at 6:30. He likes to pull funny pranks like that.
• Monday, July 31, 2006: I am going to spend as much of my day outside. Perhaps taking the Toddler and the Canine for a walk. Maybe I’ll weed the garden. I may even buy some Peel’s wine coolers and get plastered in the back yard. I sure hope the neighbor’s don’t mind if I’m topless and drunk. I’ll just tell them I’m emulating Ted Kennedy. Oh, but wait! I won’t be driving a car into the river in Chappaquiddick. (Sorry, you know I had to put in ONE political dig. Just one!)
• Tuesday, August 1, 2006: Dawson will be “in school” (day care) all day and I will be lounging around the house, perhaps reading blogs to catch up on all the fun the BlogHer girls had!
• Wednesday, August 2, 2006: We are going to Bay Beach Amusement park in Green Bay. Dawson will be riding every child-friendly ride in site. I will be taking many, many pictures.
• Thursday, August 3, 2006: I plan to spend all day at the beach.
• Friday, August 4, 2006: See yesterday’s plan.
• Saturday, August 5, 2006: Carmen and Jeff will be getting married.
• Sunday, August 6, 2006: I will be very, very hungover and crying. I will not want to go to work on Monday.

July 27, 2006

Best Breast Cover Controversy

I was reading this article and became outraged. There are mothers who are upset because Baby Talk magazine’s cover shows a nursing baby. That’s what I see when I look at the cover of this magazine. In fact I still get this subscription for free and I loved this cover. I didn’t see a “big fat breast”, I saw a mother giving nourishment to her baby. Why, oh WHY is there always someone who is offended by this?

I don’t mean to sound like a big old bitch, but sometimes I feel as though these women who complain are jealous. I know I might be wrong, but hear me out. I think they are pissed off because either they chose not to breastfeed, physically couldn’t breastfeed, or just like to insult mothers who DO breastfeed. The excuse one woman used that she was afraid her 13 year old son would see it is a cop out. Especially because this woman breastfed all three of her children!! This is a natural part of life. Women have babies, we nurse them from the breast, the health benefits are numerous for Baby and Mommy. I could go on and on.

I’m just appalled that there are still people in this world who can’t get over the breast. This is not a sex thing. It’s a feeding thing. Do we get uncomfortable when a mother dog nurses her puppies? Do we get upset when a baby calf suckles mama holstein’s teet? Of course not. Why should this be any different?

Ugh. I’m still raging mad about this. I will definitely be writing Baby Talk to PRAISE THEIR COVER!!

July 26, 2006

Motherhood Crazies

I sometimes feel like a mediocre mother. I can’t really explain this feeling very well.

It’s more like “I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing-therefore-I-fake-it-because -God-forbid-if-I-admit-this-or-ask-for-help” kind of thing.

I always knew I wanted children. Since the day I turned 12 years old, I knew it. My mother had four children. My brother Frankie and I are 12 years apart and I was like a second mother to him. I helped my mom whenever I could. I changed diapers, I gave him his bottle, I sometimes rocked him to sleep. He was like a live doll. I loved being his “Ada” (that’s what he’d call me when he couldn’t say “Dana”).

When I was in high school, I used to be slightly jealous of the girls who became pregnant. Don’t take that the wrong way. It’s not that I wished I could have had a baby at 17, I envied them for having the courage to give birth, to become mothers, to care for a child they created. I know it sounds crazy. I know how difficult it must have been to be a young single mom. If I’d have become pregnant that young, I’m sure it would be a different story. I would have panicked. I’d have been scared. My parents would have killed me.

A friend of mine got pregnant at 17 and I remember helping her pick out baby names, baby clothes, nursery furniture. Her parents really didn’t care about the fact that their youngest daughter was having a baby. They had had Jackie at a young age and later separated. Jackie’s mom was known as the town floozie. I know that’s a horrible stereotype, but she didn’t exactly set good examples for her daughters. Jackie’s older sister had a baby at 16 that she gave up for adoption (she now has 3 other kids that she decided to keep). It was a typical disfunctional family. But still, I was jealous. I couldn’t wait to be a mother. I dreamt about the day I graduated college, got married and start a family. Notice, I didn’t dream about being a working mom. Funny how fantasy and reality differ.

When I met my husband and we started dating, he became well aware of my desire to have babies. Lots and lots of babies. I wanted five kids. Doug joked that I only said that because I wanted to out do my own mother who had four children. I think it had a lot to do with coming from a huge family. My aunts each had four/five/six kids, my mom was the oldest of seven and my dad was the youngest of nine. It was all I knew. I couldn’t imagine having just one child. What if he was a spoiled only child? We can’t have that! I wanted this imaginary future baby to have lots of siblings! It’s amazing that Doug didn’t leave my nutty ass right then and there!

After we got married, Doug and I discussed having a baby “right away!” I was ready. Mentally. Physically, my body was not. Fertility problems arose in droves. I wasn’t ovulating. I had PCOS. I had ovarian cysts. I had the beginning signs of endometriosis. I didn’t get a period for 19 months. Numerous visits to my ob/gyn were heart wrenching for me. I was told so many different things. Change my diet. Exercise more. Have more sex (no objections from Doug there!). Take my temperature. Keep and ovulation chart. Buy these stupid ovulation sticks that you pee on. The list goes on and on. After a 9 months of trying I was finally put on Clomid which is a fertility drug. I was warned of the high risk of conceiving twins, triplets and the like. But not once in the 9 months of taking the drug did I get pregnant. I was to take these pills for a year. But I gave up. I decided that I didn’t want children anymore. I was frustrated. I was sad. I was angry.

I started to ignore my desire for a baby by replacing it with a desire to lose weight. I started the Atkins diet in September of 2003. I lost 40 pounds in 3 months. In January of 2004, I gained 10 pounds out of the blue. I didn’t get my period. I was pregnant. It was like the floodgates opened and all my tears poured out. I was never so happy in my life. I couldn’t wait for this baby to be born. Nine months felt like nine years.

I had a rough pregnancy. Pre-eclampsia caused 8 weeks of bedrest. It was a difficult time for me. After I was induced, two weeks early, and Dawson arrived — I was at a loss for words. Emotions overwhelmed me. Who was this alien in my arms? Now what do I do? What happened to all those big plans I had made in high school to be the best mom ever? Why didn’t those reassuring feelings of “I’ll just know what I’m doing appear?” Didn’t they arrive sometime? If so, when?

It’s funny that I made it through nipple soreness, nursing woes and uterine cramping. No one ever told me about that crap. And I managed to figure out that when the navel falls off, I don’t have to freak out. But now, Dawson is no longer a “baby” anymore. He’s a toddler. A demanding, howling, shrieking little boy. He wants what he wants when he wants it. And I have to admit: He gets that shit from me.

So why do I feel guilty when I get frustrated at my son? Why do I get irritated when he demands Lucky Charms, only eats the marshmallows out of the bowl and throws the rest to the dog? Why do I have the urge to spank his behind when he kicks said dog in the face? What if I’m a bad mom? What if other moms are so good at disciplining their child without guilt?

Some days, I want to run away from him. And I hate that thought. This is that precious boy I’ve waited an eternity for. I love that little shit more than my own life. But yet, he drives me insane! Please tell me I’m not losing my mind. I really do feel like it’s too late, that my mind vanished when I pushed that 7 pound meatloaf out of my oven. Dear God, is this just a test? To see how well I deal with motherhood? Are you testing my patience? Are you and Dawson in cahoots?

Did I just say cahoots? See what I mean? It’s one of those I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing-therefore-I-freak-out-because-I-just-may-be-losing-my-mind-and-I-want-you-all-to-know-it” kind of things.

July 25, 2006

Hate Mail

I’m starting to get sick and tired. Sick and tired of being ridiculed for my political position. Sick and tired of being interrogated for believing in God. For being pro-life. For being a feminist. For being a “patriot” (yes, I was called a patriot.) I’m also sick of being accused of hypocrisy. Especially when it’s the pot calling the kettle black. No, that wasn’t a racist remark either. So to all the venom spewing, filth-mongering persons who send me nasty e-mails in response to my abortion or Iraq war posts: Get off your ACLU high horses and worry about more important things. Like actually standing by your viewpoints without being wishwashy, flip-floppy, cry babies.

Even as sick and tired as I’ve become, I will never give in to idiots like the man who e-mailed me.

Here’s a portion of the hate speech e-mail I received:

“Dana, where do you get off telling us that we are all alike? Where do you get off pushing your moral high ground on good people who care about the war in Iraq? We don’t want to see any more deaths. It’s time to withdraw our troops. Your little attack poster of the NYT is complete haranguing. It’s clear you have no education to back your claims of any of your beliefs. You just sit around blindly following your Catholic faith. Catholics are the worst ones. You hide behind pro-life movements, but are more than willing to send our boys off to war. And we’re supposed to be impressed by the fact you maintain a blog? Don’t you have real friends? Obviously not. You’re seeking validation for your pathetic little life. I think perhaps you should serve in Iraq. Front line. I doubt you’d survive. Even if you do have faith.”

I think I was blinded by the use of big words. Do you even know what haranguing means, buddy?