November 24, 2008

A Conference I’m Sad to Miss

Have you heard about the Mom 2.0 Summit yet?

From the website:

Join social media insiders, industry leaders and influential bloggers in sharing best practices. Discuss ways to create smarter web-based marketing, and discover social media tools that engage your audience and build relationships.

I learned of this great conference via Kirtsy Alertsy and I have to say I’m intrigued.  I’d really like to attend, but frankly with the holidays approaching, finances are tight.  I don’t think I can afford the registration, plane ticket and hotel expenses.

However, I’m wondering if you are going, and if so, promise to take lots of notes for me, okay?

The Love of Children

Do you ever wonder how you got where you are today?  I mean, take motherhood for example.  Do you ever sit down to drink you morning cup of coffee and think, “How the hell did I get here?”

I don’t mean the chronology of things; grow up, graduate high school, attend college, graduate, get a job, get married, pop out a baby or two or three.  I’m talking about the emotional journey, the mental preparation.  How do we get there?  How do we know we’re ready to be mothers?

I remember being pregnant and having these expectations about motherhood.  I envisioned myself as this beautiful, trendy mom who magically fit into her pre-pregnancy jeans as soon as the baby pushed his way out of her nether regions. I was certain that breastfeeding would be easy peasy.  I had this hopeful delusional idea that my husband would be more willing to help with all things baby after Dawson’s birth.

Obviously my expectations were completely unrealistic because once my son was born my world was turned upside down.  I’m not complaining, because having Dawson was one of the best things that has happened in my life.  I’m just trying to understand how I became a mother when I really had no idea what motherhood entailed.

Even now, as the mother of a 4-year-old, I still wonder if I’m doing it right.  Am I feeding him the right foods?  Is he eating enough? Too much?  Is he spending too much time watching Diego and not enough time learning about shapes and colors and letters?  Am I raising him to be kind and generous?  Am I teaching him the right things about our religion?  Is he healthy?  He sure gets a lot of colds; maybe I’m not keeping him away from the germs like I should be?

I could list all the things I worry about when it comes to parenting, but you’d be reading for days.  I try to trust my instincts when it comes to motherhood, but sometimes I look at the way my friends raise their children and I wonder where they learned to be the parents they are.

I look at my own mother and I wonder how she raised four children without losing her mind.  I only have one precious little boy to take care of and there are days I’d like to escape from the demands for juice and crackers.  I don’t want to watch The Backyardigans “just one more time.”  I don’t want to play with matchbox cars and pretend that I’m a Power Ranger.

Yet, I do those things because I love my son and I want him to remember that I was there; that I was present.

I do my best to read to him, to teach him about the world he lives in.  I take him to church and try my best to teach him about Jesus and the Catholic faith.  I try to feed his body, mind and soul.  But am I doing it right?  How do I know?

Then, the answer hits me when Dawson and I are curled up on the couch, reading a story, and he interrupts me to say, “Pause it, Mumma.”

“Why?” I ask.  “Do you have to go potty?”

“No, I just gotta tell you I love you.”

“I love you, too, Dawson.”

“I love you more, Mumma.”

I’m really doing it right, I think.  That little boy loves me more than anything else in the world.  It makes me happy and breaks my heart all at the same time.  That’s motherhood.  I still don’t know how I got here, but I don’t care anymore.  The love of my child is enough to carry me through this mommy gig.  And I’m perfectly okay with that.

November 23, 2008

The Worst Present Ever

Christmas is knocking on my door and I’m just a little panicky because my shopping isn’t done.  This happens every year.  I think I know exactly what to get for those important people in my life, and then I realize I have no clue at all.

My parents are the most difficult to buy for because they don’t “need” anything.  They usually go out and get the things they want themselves.  Buying gifts for my siblings is always a guessing game because their tastes change like the daily news.

And then I have to worry about the inlaws and my husband.  Honestly, gift certificates are the way to go for that side of the family.

But just the other day my husband asked me what I wanted for Christmas and I drew a blank.  I hadn’t really thought about it.  I could use a new toaster.  Or new silverware.  When I told him that he shook his head.

“Christmas presents shouldn’t be something you need.  They should be something you want.  No household equipment.” he said.

Okay, then.  Well, if I had to choose anything, I’d probably ask for a day off from this parenting gig.  Being a mom is not easy.  I’d like one entire day, a full 24 hours (well, actually 32 hours to make up for the time I’d be sleeping) away from wife and mothering duties.  That would be the perfect Christmas present.

It would be better than the worst present I ever received.  Have I ever told you about that?

It was the Christmas of 1997.  It was my first year of college and I had been dating a guy that I believed to be my Prince Charming.  He was good looking, intelligent and kind to me.  I thought he was the perfect guy.

A few days before Christmas we went to Hilltop Restaurant for dinner and to exchange our gifts.  I bought him an awesome watch he’d been eying.  He bought me a sweater.  In the wrong size.

The sweater he gave me had an XS on the tag.  There was nothing extra small about me.  At 5′7″ and 140 pounds (yes, way before children) I wore a large and I wasn’t shy about it.  If I hadn’t inherited the big boobs that ran in my mother’s side of the family, I probably could have squeezed into a medium — but never an extra small.  Sheesh.

I thanked my boyfriend and pretended everything was okay.  I’d just exchange it for my size and he’d never know the difference.  Then I realized he bought this sweater on a trip back home to Madison, at a store we didn’t have in Stevens Point.  Madison was a two hour drive from Point.

When my guy dropped me off at home he asked me to try the damn thing on.  That’s when I had to breakdwon and tell him I’d never fit into that sweater.

“Come on, try it on!” he said excitedly.

“Umm, yeah….Here’s the thing….I have boobs and they aren’t small.  And truth be told, I’ve got hips and a frame that isn’t as tiny as you think.  This sweater won’t fit.  I’m not going to try it on, especially not in front of you.”  I told him.

I could see he was disappointed.  I was feeling like an ass, but what was I gonna do?  Put on something too tight and hope for the best?

“Oh..I screwed up, then?”

“No, you didn’t screw up.  It’s the thought that counts.  I think you just see me as smaller than I really am, and while I’m flattered, I’m also embarrassed because I’m not the tiny girl you’re envisioning.”

Needless to say, my boyfriend took the sweater back and bought me beautiful necklace instead.  We broke up three weeks later (not over the sweater, but I’m sure that had something to do with it.)  I never wore the necklace again (I think I re-gifted it to my sister for her birthday the following March).

Stupid, too small sweater.  Worst present ever.

———-

Want to win a Zune?  Visit the Present Professor for details.  Contest ends tonight at 11:59 p.m. ET.

I Must Have Hit the Blogging Big Time; I Have a Stalker

It seems I have a stalker. Someone who uses the e-mail address truthinadvertising@hotmail.com.

He (she?) has been following me for a very long time.  This troll loves to leave hurtful comments on blogs.  In fact he (she?) first began stalking me when I wrote for another blog.

I never publish his (her?) comments because I find them to be utterly ridiculous — well that and I enjoy using the power of the delete button.

This troll, this cowardly person who hides behind a computer screen, seems to think it’s okay to be so hateful.

I just have to laugh because in our last “conversation” the troll said, “Besides, you do know me.”

Well, TIA, I really hope I don’t know you, because if I did, I’m pretty sure I’d have to fight the urge to beat you with a baseball bat.

So, truthinadvertising@hotmail.com, have a nice day!