In a matter of eight hours, my toddler has turned into a little boy. A boy! Yes, I know I sound ridiculous but please bear with me as I yell, “WHO STOLE MY BABY?”
From the moment that Dawson was born I knew he wouldn’t stay a baby forever. He’d grow from a newborn to an infant to a toddler and then I just assumed we’d skip ages three through 17 and go straight to his high school graduation. If I had it my way, I’d keep him two years old forever. Minus the terrible two’s of course.
But something has happened to the Doodlebug. He has changed. When I dropped him off at daycare yesterday morning, he was my cute little peanut, clinging to my leg, not wanting me to leave for work.
And when I picked him up later, he was all grown up.
“Mumma, I happened to miss you,” he said.
“Well, thanks sweetie! I missed you, too!” I replied, in shock. He happened to miss me? Did I hear that correctly?
“Thanks for picking me up, Mumma.”
“Your welcome, Bug.” He said thank you? For picking him up? Such excellent manners!
“Mumma, I’m hungry. We go to Donald’s and get fa-fries, hamb-gers, roop-eer and a boy toy?”
I laughed. I don’t know if it was due to the fact that he was speaking in full sentences or because he said “boy toy”.
“Umm…I think Donald’s is closed today, honey.”
“No, Mumma, they not closed. They OPEN!”
Shucks. There’s just no fooling this child.
“Well…what did you have for lunch today?”
“Ah…chicken fingers and maca-wonee and cheese, and peas!”
“Did you eat everything on your plate?”
“Uh-huh, even the peas, Mumma!”
Because my husband was working the second shift, I agreed to the drive-thru at the Golden Arches. As we were waiting in a line of cars, Dawson asked, “Mumma, we go in to eat?”
“Honey, they’re not open inside, only the drive-thru,” I fibbed.
“No Mumma. There’s people inside, see? See the people, Mumma?”
When did he get so darn smart?
After we got home, he ate his Happy Meal and I had the Grilled Chicken Caesar Salad. When we were finished, I told Dawson we had to read the library books so we could return them tomorrow.
After I read five books in a row, I said that I needed to take a break and get a glass of water. When I came back Dawson said, “Mumma, read the firetruck story.”
“We read that one five times this week,” I told him. “Why don’t you read it to me?”
“No, Mumma. Dawson can’t. It’s Mumma’s turn.”
“But I always read the stories. I think it’s Dawson’s turn. Just make up the words.” I said.
“Mumma, Dawson can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not the Mumma!”
I laughed until I could barely breathe. He can’t read to me, not because he doesn’t know how, but because he’s not the Mumma!
He’s definitely not a toddler anymore. He may look like a baby to me, he may still wear pants in a size 24 months (because he NEVER GROWS!), but his personality is definitely that of three-year-old! I love this new little boy, but I kind of miss my tiny tot. Sigh. It’s only going to get worse as the years go by. I just know it.
Nearly four years ago, when I was pregnant with Dawson, I made the wise decision to breastfeed my baby. In all honesty, I did so because my mother breastfed her four children and I just assumed that was the right thing to do.
In my third trimester I began to research the benefits of nursing. I discovered that my breast milk was like the milk of the gods, and it would nourish my baby better than formula. I learned about colostrum and the antibodies in breast milk, and I was really happy when I read that nursing sheds those extra pregnancy pounds a bit faster.
After my son was born I realized how difficult nursing was. I was clumsy. I had flat nipples. I couldn’t hold my baby and figure out how to make that nipple pop out and achieve a proper latch-on.
I grew frustrated and spent many hours in the hospital trying, failing and crying. But I did not give up. I like to believe this is because I’m not a quitter, no matter how many times I was tempted to dry up the milk machines and switch to a powder formula.
In truth, I didn’t give up because I cared about the baby I just delivered and I felt it was my obligation to at least try. (I am not by any means telling other mothers they have to do what I did, I’m just sharing my reasoning with you for the purpose of this post.)
Before I could leave the hospital, the lactation nurse made me show her that I could breastfeed. I was very insecure and nervous and I just couldn’t do it. She tried to tell me I wouldn’t be able to go home until I could do it. I became very upset and lied to her.
“I’m going to use formula,” I said. “Hook me up with a free sample or whatever.”
I would have said anything just to go home and try to nurse in peace, without all those busy nurses hovering over me. Two days postpartum and already I’m seen as unfit, I thought.
When I got home, the struggle was still there. I tried to use a nipple shield to feed my crying, hungry baby. After several hours I gave up and called my friend who was nursing her seven month old.
“Help me,” I said. “Please just help me, show me, or whatever.”
I was desperate, and my friend could sense this and she came over minutes later with her daughter.
She unhooked her nursing bra and showed me exactly how she got her daughter to latch on. It was all I needed and moments later, Dawson latched on for the first time. I cried tears of joy. Tears flowed for several minutes as I felt what was happening. I watched my child sucking at my breast and nothing could have made me any happier. I heard him swallow and knew that he was being nourished.
All those crazy nurses, trying to show me different methods was such a waste of time. I was so grateful to my friend for helping me with my struggle.
I never nursed in public for fear of people staring at me. I was afraid of the dirty looks and the hurtful words, and I was insecure about my ability to quickly whip out my breast and feed a hungry baby.
I managed to nurse for four months and then pumped for two more.
When I went back to work my milk supply started to lessen, due to the erratic pumping times. I was so busy at work and the pressure I felt to “get back into work mode” made it difficult to keep up. My baby began to prefer the bottle over the breast. At the end of six months I switched to formula.
I felt guilty. I was angry. I felt like I was forced into a decision I wasn’t ready to make.
When I think about all the crap nursing moms take regarding breastfeeding, my head spins like Linda Blair’s in The Exorcist.
We’re not supposed to nurse in public. We’re not supposed to post photos of ourselves nursing because it offends others. We’re expected to feed our babies in a bathroom because other people may lose their appetite if we accidentally show our boob in a restaurant.
We’re supposed to apologize because other people are uncomfortable with breasts.
Well I say, “Fuck that and fuck you,” to those people.
Those people who have a problem with breasts used as nourishment for a baby need to seek therapy. You’ve got your heads on backwards my friends, and I highly suggest you rethink your idea of what a breast’s intended use is. Especially you, Bill Maher. My tits may look like pleasure pillows to you, but these beauties fed my baby and will feed any future babies I may have. Get over it.
I’m sick and tired of being told what to do, how to do it, where to do it and who to be careful not to offend.
It’s because of society’s fucked up view on breastfeeding that I was so insecure about my ability to nurse my baby.
I have expressed my views on this subject before. But when will the criticism toward nursing moms end? When will we stop being snubbed and ridiculed and attacked and judged? WHEN?
Mocha Momma participated in a meme in which she was to reveal 7 random facts, but she changed it to seven songs she was listening to.
I loved that idea so I’m a going to be a little copy cat, but with a twist. Below are seven favorite songs on my iPod that I sweat to on the elliptical machine.
But wait! Mom2Amara tagged me for the 7 Random Facts meme, so I’m including seven more really random things. It’s “All You Ever Wanted To Know About Dana” day. Lucky you!
First, the workout music:
1. Sleeping Single in a Double Bed - Barbara Mandrell. I know you all are laughing your heinies off about this one, but it’s got a great rhythm to it. I always move faster and I have to fight the urge to sing along to the song. I think the other ladies would think I’m CA-razy if I did that. You all know I am nuts, but they don’t need to know that.
2. My Style - Black Eyed Peas. The beat to this song is fab. This is the one that makes me sweat the most. Probably because I’m imagining dirty dancing with Justin Timberlake the entire time. (Why yes, he is featured in this song!)
3. Only in My Dreams - Debbie Deborah Gibson. What? This is my reality check. See song #2. Plus, it’s a little reminiscent of my elementary school years, and again, I have to fight the urge to sing it loud.
4. Memphis Soul Stew - Solomon Burke. This is a mostly instrumental soul song (Solomon does a little narration) with a great saxophone intro that reminds me of the sax player from The Muppet Show. Actually, the whole song reminds me of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem and that’s just funky.
5. Lonely Teardrops - Michael Jackson version. It’s a more upbeat rendition of the classic Jackie Wilson song. I often shake my hips a bit while working out to this one. Picture it: Me on the elliptical, hip shaking and trying to look like I’m not. Good times.
6. She’s a Lady - Tom Jones. Need I say more? Okay, I confess: I feel sexy when I work out to this tune. Can you blame me? Don’t answer that. And one more thing; when I sweat to this song, I always imagine I’m dancing the Cha Cha Cha with Maxim Chmerkovskiy. Now that’s hot.
7. You Can Leave Your Hat On - Joe Cocker. You can laugh. Go on, laugh. I’ll wait. Done? I just like this song as my cool down on the machine. It’s slower and yes, it is from the soundtrack to the move Nine 1/2 Weeks. Blame it on the inner stripper in me.
On to the seven random blurbs:
1. My husband and I will celebrate our sixth wedding anniversary on October 13. Because Doug has to work that day, I decided to spend the day with Dawson. I’m taking him to see the show Go! Diego! Go! Live! in Appleton. We’ll also visit the Fox Cities Children’s Museum and we’re going to T.G.I Friday’s for lunch. I figure I should have one choice in the day’s plans, right?
2. Next weekend I must attend a work function. It’s a meeting/company picnic and my family gets to come along. We leave Friday, October 5th and stay overnight at the Heidel House Resort in Green Lake. I’m so excited I could pee green. I’m anxious to see the fall colors and take some hikes on the fabulous trails. The work part doesn’t even bother me that much! That cool thing is that Princeton is nearby, and they have the largest flea market in Wisconsin. I’m pumped to hunt for treasures there!
3. The last few weeks, I have been in a funk — musically speaking. I’ve been searching iTunes for old music from the 50s and 60s. My parents listened to the oldies a lot when I was a kid. I’ve been in an Everly Brothers mood, and Cathy’s Clown has been in my head all morning.
4. Bill Cosby is coming to our local university on October 12. I saw him when he was here four years ago and I had the best time. I really want to go again. Mr. Cosby is just….amazing. In so many ways, he reminds me of my father. The mannerisms, the sense of humor, the great facial expressions. Maybe it’s because I watched The Cosby Show everyday after school (by the time we got cable the show was in syndication). I get teary-eyed just thinking about it. I have no idea why. I just love him. Bill Cosby is a great man.
5. I’m making coffee in our office because The Big Boss is coming here today. Normally I love, love, love the smell of coffee brewing. Today it is making me sick to my stomach. Maybe I’m just nervous because THE BIG BOSS is on his way here!
6. I teach CCD at my church and the first class was last Wednesday. I’m teaching sixth grade this year. Last year I taught eighth grade. Let me just say, 11-year-olds are far less intimidating than 13-going-on-30-year-olds. I don’t know how junior school teachers manage! Perhaps it’s the reason why they’ve got the degree in teaching. Bless them for their courage!
7. I went to bed at 9:30 last night and woke up at 6:30 this morning. In between those hours, I got up five times to pee. This blood pressure medication is also known as a diuretic — and boy, oh boy, do I have to race like a pisshorse use the facilities quite often these days.
I’m supposed to tag seven people (or 14 in this case). I’ll just tag these peeps because I know they’ll do it. That is if they haven’t already!
Sunday afternoon my husband invited his friend Dan and my father over to watch the Packer game. Football is big in my family, and if you’re not a Packer fan, then you’ll suffer “the consequences”, which usually involves a bet with my father and an eventual head shaving. This is a blog post in itself, so just take my word for it. It gets ugly. And if you’re a Chicago Bears fan? My father will tease you and rib you forever.
My mom came along with my dad and we left the “boys party” to take a trip to Walmart. It was supposed to be just us, but at the last minute Doug and my dad asked if we’d take Dawson along. So much for a break from the toddler.
I purchased some new fall/winter clothes for Dawson, two new plants (one is Baby’s Tears and the other is English Ivy — they are gorgeous), dog food for Murphy, various feminine hygiene products and a pregnancy test. I figured it was time to stop playing the waiting game and just pee on the stick already.
After everyone left, I did my business and came up with a negative result. Just like I knew I would. Just like all the other times before (well, except when Dawson was conceived of course).
I didn’t cry. I didn’t get irrational or very upset. But I was sad and quiet the rest of the evening. Doug didn’t say very much. I don’t know if he was sad or relieved. Maybe a combination of both.
I still have no idea when the period will show up. I dropped off the prescription for the BP meds. I suppose I should start taking them, now that we know I’m not pregnant.
But there’s just one thing; when I was pregnant the first time, I had two negative pregnancy tests before a positive pink line appeared. My ob/gyn attributed it to my lengthy menstrual cycles, and said that the hCG hormone appears much later for me.
So, there’s still hope. Maybe.
And now my mind is playing tricks on me. I felt nauseous yesterday. I’m over tired today.
It’s just stress, I know that. But for real…I can hope right? Blah. I’m just setting myself up for disappointment later.
I’m going to the gym. I have twenty-five pounds to lose by January 1st. Wish me luck.
Mary of Mom Writes participated in the Middle Name Meme, a while ago. I thought it was a fun idea, and I’m supposed to write a post using each letter of my middle name to describe something relevant in my life. I chose four words to describe me instead.
My middle name is Jane. Plain Jane, as my aunt Judy called me as a child. I would get so angry and tell her, “I’m not a plain Jane! I’m a beautiful Dana!” I was six years old and feisty. No one would call me plain. Years later, after getting married and having a baby, I do feel a bit plain but I don’t think there is anything wrong with that.
So, here are the four words to describe myself as anything other than plain, however!
Jovial - I chose this word because I have a hearty laugh, I love humor and being funny is just something I am. I suppose I inherited that trait from my dad. He can tell a good joke and he loves to make others laugh. I’m not as witty as some, but making someone laugh brightens my day.
Amiable - I’m a friendly person, I smile at strangers and I don’t get upset if they don’t smile back. I think it’s wonderful to be good spirited toward others and I try my best to be pleasant. This is most difficult on my chaotic days, but I do try!
Nutty - It should be obvious by now that I’m quirky and a little crazy. I often let my freak flag fly. I can’t help it. I think I get that from my mom’s side of the family. All of her relatives are a little insane.
Earnest - Even when I’m being silly or funny, I know when to be serious. My husband is always in comedian mode so I must be structured. This is probably why I’m the one who disciplines Dawson the most. My husband is always telling me to lighten up when he’s kidding around too much and I find that I have to be firm. There’s a time for fun and there’s a time to be serious and industrious. I think I’m like this because I’m the oldest of four kids. I had to be the “adult” all the time!
I’d tag people to do this, but I think it’s better to allow you to decide. It was harder than I thought, finding these four words! If you do this meme, please let me know! I’d love to read yours!
Dana Tuszke began her Mom career in 2004 after the birth of her son, Dawson the Demanding. She spends her days catering to the endless needs of a 3-year-old, vacuuming the never-ending trail of cookie crumbs in her living room, and suffering through too many episodes of SpongeBob SquarePants; all while working from home. More About Dana.
RSS Feed
