No mom is an island

Last night I found myself trying desperately to come up with my New Year’s resolution at the last minute. I wanted something that would be a noticeable change, but also something achievable. Then it hit me - I should resolve to rely less on my “village” and do more for myself. I fell into a blissful sleep at 11:30 (yes, this is how lame I have become.)

I have been lucky to have an amazing support system. Sean and I both have parents that are willing to help out at the drop of a hat. Not to mention extended family, friends, and coworkers who have helped babysit, dragged us out of the house for an evening out, or answered our dumb parenting questions without laughing at us. I have even been utilizing the YMCA drop-in daycare for anything from a quick work out to an afternoon of housework.

Lately, I have started to worry that I rely too heavily on these people. I have been afraid that other people will find out that I can’t do everything by myself… I am far from a supermom. Especially as a stay-at-home mom, the guilt of not being able to finish everything has really set in. I have found myself thinking, “It should not be this hard to keep the cupboards full, house clean, and everyone in clean clothes. I don’t even work outside this house and I only have one child!”

Last night shortly after I made my resolution, I awoke to Kelan screaming. It turned out to be what I call a dig deep night (which means Kelan was up more than he was asleep), with what Sean and I assume was teething pain. Somewhere around three thirty in the morning, watching Sean rock Kelan, I started thinking. The reason I have my sanity is because of all of the help I get. I know that tomorrow if I need a quick nap, I can ask for it. I’m not sure I want to feel bad about not being able to do everything alone… not with perks like naps!

So instead of resolving to be more independent, I think my new year’s resolution will be to pay it forward - to be a helpful villager in someone else’s life. As many of my friends embark on this parenting adventure, I will offer my assistance in babysitting, advice, or dragging them out for an evening of fun. There. That wasn’t so hard. Happy 2009!

Christmas 2008

Sean: "This puzzle we got him says it makes animal noises when the pieces are in"

me: "So it takes batteries then? Which kind?"

Sean: "AAA's"

me: "Do we have any?"

Sean: "no"

me: "We're bad parents"

Congratulations Josh!

My brother Josh just graduated with a double major in Psychology and Human Development. We are really proud of him. We went out on Friday night to celebrate.

This officially makes me the only one in my family without a college degree.

Way to go you bunch of eggheads.

The opposite of nirvana

Participating in a power yoga class feels eerily like the few games of twister I have played. Except in yoga, there isn’t the added bonus of accidentally falling on the cute guy who sits next to me in Geography. The goal feels the same though-- try not to fall over while someone in the background is telling you to do absurd things with your limbs.

OK, intellectually I grasp that the goal of yoga is actually to connect your mind and body and that it has all of these great health benefits. When I’m in class however, I just can’t help feeling like I am participating in some weird psychological experiment. I mean really, there has to be someone with a clipboard standing in the back corner taking notes about how a room full of people (if told to do so by a qualified “instructor”) will actually try to touch their knee to their nose, while balancing on one foot, with one of their arms in the air.

The problem for me isn’t necessarily the crazy positions or the balancing for ridiculous amounts of time on one foot. I have even come to terms with the fact that once per class I will shake like a leaf during a pose and/or fall over and have to apologize profusely to my neighbor whose chi I have totally ruined. The part that really makes me feel inept is the requirement of focusing on just one thing.

My nemesis is the “Corpse” pose. It basically involves laying on the floor for three to five minutes and meditating. The instructor encourages us to clear our minds and push our thoughts away… Is it even humanly possible to not think? On a good day, I spend the time arguing with my own thoughts and thinking “ok I will relax now… ok now”…etc. On a bad day, I spend the time mentally putting together this week’s grocery list.

Ugh, add yoga to the list of things type-A personalities are no good at.

One step closer to wearing sweat pants to the mall- the kind of sweat pants with the elastic at the bottom

Ok. Call it rebellion, selfishness, or just lack of experience if you want. You can even smile to yourself and give me one of those “Awww she’s so young and naive” head nods. But one of the things that I used to envision before having a child was said child and I, cruising in our car (which was something cool, new and definitely un-mom like). In the car, we’d be listening to only the latest; I liked this before it was popular, alternative music. I was never going to be the unhip mom who blasted songs about ducks while driving 49 on the highway in my minivan.

Sean is always on my case about treating Kelan like a little adult instead of a kid. I get it, I do… but finding that happy medium is killing me these days.

So, last week when Kelan wasn’t feeling well, I abandoned my aforementioned vision and shoved “Songs for Little Hands” in the Jetta’s CD player. I’m not going to lie, at first it was mildly soul crushing, but when I looked back and saw him bobbing his little head in his car seat, it was worth it.

For me, the tricky part of being a first time mom, has been giving up my “hip young mom” expectations. I have been reading a book called The Tao of Poop: Keeping your Sanity while Raising a Baby. It has some really helpful tips about keeping your identity while also raising children.

In the future, I’m going to let Kelan pick the music more often. In the mean time though, I’ll have to Google some less obnoxious toddler music. I don’t know what I’m holding on to- I was never that cool to begin with.

REM Sleep is Only 17 Years Away

You know the famous quote “Babies should come with an instruction manual?” It used to surprise me that people still say it with the millions of books about child rearing out there. Well, either I am not reading the right books, or the books out there are missing a few chapters. I was not prepared when Kelan got the stomach flu.

In all of my reading, I have yet to come across a chapter that warns that the sight of your miserable toddler projectile vomiting will literally break your heart. Sean and I were bewildered. Do we give him water? Pedialyte? Will he throw that up? How do you know if he is dehydrated? Needless to say, four o’clock in the morning, in the thick of things, is not a convenient time to have these questions.


Well, I’m proud to say that we made it, and all is back to normal - well all except for the heap of laundry that I have coined “my Everest.” I guess I’m OK with the hospital not handing out an instruction manual, but perhaps they could consider a tattoo of the phone number to Nurse Direct?

Kelan's 1st Birthday Party

We aren't sure if Kelan enjoyed his first birthday, but we are certain that he enjoyed the cake!