Parenting 101: Uncensored Sacrasm

Being a parent is f*ing hard, and to be honest, outright a pain in the ass sometimes. Don’t get me wrong. I love my kid. Obviously. But seriously. It’s hard. There are those great moments when they actually ask to hold your hand and walk with you, instead of immediately jetting down the building stairs and out to the sidewalk before you realize their shorts might be on backwards. But most of the time I find myself screaming “RED LIGHT!!!” down the block at my free range kid, in hopes that he will stop. A mom can always hope right?

Speaking of “free range,” there are so many different types of parenting that are constantly debated back and forth every day between all these parents who think they have got their shit together. And maybe they do have their shit together, and I’m the only one who’s a mess. But to be honest, I’m not the one sounding like an asshole saying “I have my three month old sleep trained. I don’t understand why my best friend has such trouble with her four year old boy.” *rolling my eyes so far back in my head they may get stuck* But really there’s helicopter parents and free range parents. Well I’d love to throw another one into the mix. What about “Electric Fence” parenting? It’s kind of like the same thing as the electric fences for dogs. They don’t have any visual restrictions and the false confidence that they are able to roam freely. However, if they get too far for your parental liking *ZAP!*

I’m kidding. Obviously I’m not strapping a collar to my kid. I definitely understand kid leashes a lot more now than I ever did before though.

Then there is the entire subject of food. I have what would be considered a Self-Proclaimed Vegetarian. He refuses any meat even though he’s never tried it. “I can’t like it.” Really? You are a four year old and you can’t like a hotdog? No, you’re just being a pain in the ass because there is nothing else at this restaurant to order you besides a side order of French Fries and you know Mumma and Daddy are starving and will order them because we need to eat.. now. I never in the world thought I would have to argue with a child to take a bite of chicken nuggets! And while I bitch and moan about trying to bribe my healthy child with unhealthy food, most parents would think I’m crazy. Seriously, he will eat raw spinach and broccoli before even thinking about biting into a burger. But when you are out to eat, NO ONE is serving raw veggies on a plate. No one. Believe me. I have asked.

Then there is the whole parrot personality. This we learned happens even before they turn two. I can remember the moment when I took my eighteen month old child around the block to pick up some things in the pharmacy. As he began walking down an isle waddling and holding onto my wallet, I said “No sweetie, follow mumma this way.” He looked me dead in the eye, threw my wallet to the ground and said “Oh shit.” And the parrot phase began. I wish that was the worst of what he said. But then came the day that he was playing with his trains alone in his room and we heard “Choo choo, watch out. The fucking four train is coming through.” NO! Those are bad words! Don’t say that! Well that’s what I would have said, but I knew he heard everything he’s learned from my husband and me so that wasn’t going to work. Instead, I started to say, “No, that’s an adult word. When you are as big as daddy you can use it.” And it TOTALLY worked! Mumma -1, kid – well, he’s obviously still winning.

Also, why can’t kids learn what a hangover is early on, and how to not annoy but help a mumma through it. No? Fetching Tylenol and water isn’t something to teach your preschooler? Ok. Fine. I’ll wait until he’s a bit older then.

UGH! Then there’s the STRANGERS! Not the ones you need to warn your child about. (That is seriously my biggest fear and I cannot even begin to joke about “stranger danger.”) I’m talking about the random people on the sidewalk or in the grocery store who want to give you advice on your screaming child who just smacked you in the face because you wouldn’t buy him Apple Jacks. No, ma’am, I don’t care that you raised five children and that they never did anything like this and maybe he just needs some extra love and attention. I just played 7 hours of a Paw Patrol board game at home via his request. Now we have to do grocery shopping for the week and I’m obviously not putting sugar into my already rambunctious child. Also, HE is a boy. I know he has long hair and I know I didn’t brush it this morning. But to be honest, I didn’t feel like fighting. And I really think the dreads that are forming on the back of his head will make him the cool kid once school starts next week.

All jokes and complete sarcasm aside, parenting is hard. We’re all in it. Some of us deeper than others. I see a kid having a tantrum in the store, and I immediately look at the mother or father. Not to cast judgement, more to telepathically emit my sympathy. We’re all in it together. Some days are better than others. Most days we can’t complain at all. But it’s real. It’s hard. And it’s our lives. And, seriously, I wouldn’t change a minute of it. 

Baby on the Go

My son is now seven and a half months. Crawling, pulling himself up on every possible box or shelf or piece of furniture to stand, and tumbling down to the ground with a loud thud. All of this making my heart so excited and extremely nervous. And that is only in our apartment, never mind when we travel!!

I was born and raised in Massachusetts, and since meeting my husband four years ago ((and moving to NYC nine months after meeting him)), I have probably traveled between the two states around thirty times. I have done most of the traveling by bus and car. However, in December 2010, we took Amtrak for the first time and fell in love!! Since Vedder has been born, he has traveled to Massachusetts four times, twice on Amtrak and also loved it.

Just to clarify things, I do not work for Amtrak at all, nor am I getting paid for this blog post. I am just an extremely satisfied customer, and want to get the word out to other families.

The first time Vedder and I took the train from New York Penn Station to South Station Boston was Thanksgiving Day 2011. Now I am not saying that Amtrak completely takes away all the stresses of traveling with a child, especially an infant, but they sure do make it easier. In November, Vedder was almost four months old. I had a huge stroller, carseat, diaper bag, purse ((which for me is a large bag)) and rolling suitcase. My husband brought us to Penn Station to help me with all the luggage. Of course my genius thinking of taking a 2pm train on Thanksgiving Day because it would save me $75 as opposed to traveling the day before or after the holiday didn't quite work out. I did not factor in that Penn Station is also on 34th street like Macy's. Yep. I completely did not factor in at all that while I would be trying to lug my whole life in 3 bags and a stroller, there would be those thousands upon hundreds of people who come to New York this one time of year to see the nations biggest parade. On the same street I needed to catch a train. Like I said, I'm a genius.

However, once we got there the employees of Amtrak were so helpful my very frazzled state was quickly calmed. They even allowed my husband to help get Vedder and me settled on the train even though he was not joining us on the trip. Many times throughout the four hour trip, a train worker approached me to see if I needed anything, even offering to get water from the cafe cart for us. So nice!!

Our second trip to Massachusetts was just a couple weeks ago. And I feel like as my son gets older, my brain gets fried a little more. On this trip, right after leaving Penn Station I realize I didn't print out my ticket from the kiosk. I only had a receipt of purchase email!! After having to purchase another ticket on the train, a worker gave me all the paperwork, explaining how to get a full refund for the previously purchased ticket. And then when leave Boston a few days later, because of said fried brain, we missed our scheduled departure. The man at the ticket booth was so calm and helpful, I didn't even have the chance to worry and freak out before he called a Red Hat over to help me and store my bags until the next train to New York. Phew!!

The designation between cars - cafe, business, quiet, and coach - makes it very easy to not feel like I am that obnoxious person with the child laughing, singing, and yelling on the train. The scenery of the northeast route from NYP to BOS is beautiful. While Vedder naps I am constantly snapping pictures of the gorgeous new England towns as they fly by. Then when he is awake we are either looking out the windows together, playing with toys on the seats, or walking to the cafe car where they have fresh fruit cups that I am able to slice up and share with him.

The only thing I would change, or have Amtrak add to better the experience for traveling families, are changing tables. Traveling with an infant as often as I do four hours is a long time to go without a diaper change. And even though the handicap bathrooms offer enough space for me to put a changing pad on the floor, the sanitary aspect of that is not appealing at all.

The Amtrak train to Boston passes right past our apartment in Queens and over the park we go to weekly. My husband and I are teaching Vedder that this is the train to Nana and Grandad's house. Even though he may not understand what we are saying, he definitely understands the noise of the train and stares up at it as it zooms. U.

Our next trip to Massachusetts is at the end of the month. I am very excited to be seeing my family again so soon and am looking forward to another pleasant experience traveling.

A letter to my best friend and soon-to-be mama

Dear best friend,

You are pregnant! The whole world is excited!! I don't think anyone on this earth deserves to be a parent more than you. Since we were little, you have always had the most compassionate personality. With everything you have been through to bring you to this day, you have conquered it all so gracefully. When it felt like everything was against you, you still smiled and pushed through. My love for you has 26 years of your unconditional friendship behind it and I cannot thank you enough for that. For all of these reasons and so many more, you are going to be an amazing mother. 

Now I know I started this blog writing about some of my aggravations with pregnancy and parenthood. But this letter to you is from one mumma's heart to another. 

First, through these last couple of months, resist the want to punch anyone in the face that tells you "Sleep now because you won't be after baby is born." You won't sleep normally through the last few months of pregnancy, or after he is born, or ever again. And after a couple years you'll get used to it and it will be ok. It'll actually be great. The reason you aren't sleeping is because this little guy you created needs you. He needs your help, your love and your comfort. He will eventually sleep through the night but you still won't. Remember that book our moms used to read to us as kids, I'll Love You Forever? Yeah well you will be that mom that even after he falls asleep, will crawl into his room, hold him just for a couple extra minutes. Why would you do that? Want to sneak into a sleeping child's room, risking the chance that you'll wake him? Because you're sleep deprived and can't think straight. And because you created this little human and it is the best feeling in the world and every chance you can get to give him love, you will.

Another thing, don't be disappointed when labor goes nothing like you had planned. I really wish someone told me this. I ridiculously, but whole heartedly, thought I could actually have control of all of that. And well it killed me that not even the smallest things worked out the way I had wanted. But now two and a half years later I can write this letter to you and say don't waste your time planning any of it. Whenever and however that beautiful newborn gets put into your arms, smile and let everything else go. 

A baby changes your marriage. It does. No one told me this either. You're no longer just husband and wife. You're mama and daddy. This may seem like a pretty obvious thing, but it's a bigger concept than, well, a new parent can wrap her head around. You and your family of two are no stranger to hard work as a couple. You have both defied so many odds that this could be something you both just laugh at. But when sleepless nights get the best of you, or your parenting skills of a little defiant toddler seem to be drastically different, or any part of this journey into parenthood makes you two scared,  it is important to remember you're not in it alone. And it's important to keep reminding yourself that too because sometimes we all forget. 

The heartache from anything you have ever felt in your life with be nothing compared to your child's first big booboo. Oh god. It still hurts. It will hurt you more than him. But you're both get through it. Him sooner than you. 

There is no such thing as a perfect mama. You're going to make mistakes, a lot of them. You're going to sometimes have no clue why your baby is crying and have no way to help him. This is ok, mostly because he probably doesn't know why he is crying either. And when he gets older, you're going to make mistakes too. There are days where you will have 100% energy to be a super mom and take on his crazy little imaginative world and fill him up with even more important emotional tools for life. You will take him places and teach him things. You will show him the many different worlds outside your home. And these days will be beautiful.. but exhausting. And there will be days where you don't have that energy. Where the tv will be on all day and all he has eaten is animal crackers. You've accomplished nothing except maybe showering, and he has watched the same episode of sesame street for past three hours. You need these days. Even though your guilt may overcome you about not being a "good" parent, remember, you need these days. Life is about balance. So is parenting. No day is perfect. We wake up not knowing what it will bring. The same is with being a parent. Part of being a great parent is finding the balance in between all of the days. 

One last thing. This has been my proudest one to conquer (mostly because all of the above that I have written, in one way or another I'm still dealing with).  Don't worry about your body, now or after. Because you're gorgeous. You always have been and always will be. Every boy wanted to be your boyfriend when we were younger and now the two best boys in the world ((well one to be coming into the world soon)) have you!! Even if you never get back to "pre-baby body" it doesn't matter. The one thing I have let go of is that goal of being back to pre-baby. And I couldn't feel better about myself. Dude, I made another human being, I can keep on these few extra 25 pounds. I've earned that! 

So here is my letter to you. Of crazy, emotional, mama things. I think this letter was more for myself than you, but I am so excited to watch you on this journey. The love you have in your heart is no match for what is about to come. Some days it will fill so much it hurts. And some days it will just hurt. These are all good things. I love you so much and cannot wait to be this very lucky baby boy. 

The night the Grandad Train came to our home

Twenty years ago, Michael (my dad, not my husband.. but now that I write that, I guess there is some Freudian thing going on) came into my life when he started dating my mom. I began calling him dad soon after and haven't stopped. They married when I was eleven. In the ceremony he also exchanged rings with my sister and me, us taking him as our dad. My brother did the same with a ring from my mom, ceremonially making us siblings. This day solidified our family. When I was thirteen, I changed my last name to his. My dad has always been the rock to our family. I have always been thankful for everything he has done for me (even though it took me years to show it). However, what happened last night is much more than I will ever be able to thank him for.

When Vedder was born, my dad said he wanted to be called "Grandad." We laughed and try to tell him not to give his hopes up. Vedder began to call him "DingDong." We laughed harder. Then not long ago Vedder started saying Grandad and hasn't stopped since. He talks about Grandad and the "Grandad Train" (Amtrak) every day. Last night, all he wanted to do was play trains with Grandad.

This breaks my heart. I live with my husband and son in NYC. When I moved here five years ago, I had no real plans for staying this long. However life happens. Now I am here (with still a hope in my heart that we will one day be back living in Massachusetts). I talk to my family often. I text with my sister almost daily, my brother frequently, and facetime with my parents every weekend. I dream of raising my child in the suburbs with a yard he can run in and I can watch him from the kitchen window.

But for now, a trip up to MA every few months and the everyday advances in technology, help Vedder to have a relationship with Nani, Grandad, Auntie, and Unc.

So back to my story about last night.

While facetiming with Auntie, Vedder kept asking if she talked to Grandad. "Where's Grandad? Do you talk to Grandad? I want to play trains with Grandad." So we hung up with my sister and called my mom. Mom instantly answers the phone. "Hi, Vedder!!" "Ummm, Nani, I want to see Grandad." ((My poor mom and sister. Right now in V's life NO ONE measures up to Grandad.))

As soon as they see each other over the iPad, they laugh hysterically. This happens every time we facetime, and lasts for the first few minutes of the call. Just looking at each other laughing. Warms the heart.

Then after talking a bit, Vedder said "I want to play trains with Grandad." We moved the iPad onto the floor of his room. He showed my dad his train tracks all set up. While Vedder pushed around the trains, my dad said "Chugga Chugga Choo Choo!"

This lasted a few more minutes, but Vedder kept looking at me and saying "I want to play trains with Grandad." Obviously it was getting to the point where having Grandad watch from the iPad wasn't good enough. He wanted him there in person. This confused and longing look on Vedder's face broke my heart. And while my mind began to wallow in self pity for living so far away, something amazing happened.

I looked over at the iPad and noticed my dad. He had his head laying down on the kitchen table, imitating Vedder (he lays down on the floor to play trains). My dad had a small black Brio train in his hand, gliding it back and forth on the table. Vedder saw this and smiled. I saw this and cried. They were really playing trains together. Two hundred and fifty miles apart. My heart was so full it could have burst!

They played like this for a while. And as I became the official "FaceTime iPad Holder" I knew I was no longer needed (well, except to be the FaceTime iPad Holder). They played trains, made choo-choo noises, and watched each other. It was beyond the most perfect moment.

Like April 19th solidified our family years ago, February 5th is the day that solidified Vedder and Grandad's bond. They are best friends, and this moment is something they will have for the rest of their lives.


((SIDENOTE: I would also like to thank my parents. Not every family has the amount of love that ours does and I am so grateful for everything you have taught and shown me. It is because of your love and parenting - and our arguments, my rebellion, and your forgiveness - that has truly molded me into the mom I am today. I would be so lost without your constant love and guidance. Thank you for never giving up and always showing me that family is the strongest bond there is. Blood does not make a family, the people in it do. I am so proud to be your daughter.))

The weekend we just lived.

I like to think I'm a good mom. I make time each night after work to sit and play, read or even watch TV with my son. I teach preschool during the day and then at night bring home exciting surprises like ABC flash cards to play with or play dough for of course fine motor. (Neither of these things does he truly care about but someday my future Harvard Grad will thank me.) On weekends I get no housework done because I would rather take Vedder all over the city discovering new things. We go to music class, the park, museums. I snap photos of our every adventure and post our moments on instagram and Facebook. Then the "likes" and comments come rolling in and I smile that people think these moments are as beautiful as I do. This past weekend was different. My last post was of a very happy toddler hamming it up in his car seat ready for his first official getaway with just mumma and daddy. Last post at 8 pm Friday night, goodbye new york and your busy streets. hello vermont and your amazingness, read the caption.

Now for some of you you're probably thinking "And? So you went a weekend without posting on Facebook? So what?" Others know how hard that task actually is. (I do have to admit, I did sneak in one instagram post on our car ride home Monday afternoon) I'm not an addict. I could probably go a week without posting no problem. But for my husband who believes I truly have an addiction, I made a promise not to post or even check Facebook for an entire weekend. I never thought it would actually have a serious impact. But it did.

Instead of instantly sharing funny, beautiful, or aggravating moments with my family online, I just lived them. I looked for no comments or likes or any sort of gratification via social networking. I just lived the moments, still snapping pictures, but it ending with that. Then I continued living.

In one moment, I tried to capture the perfect family photo and got aggravated because I couldn't stand the way my husband was unenthusiastically smiling and the way my face looked because the wind was blowing my hair everywhere. Vedder continued to just sit there smiling his ass off and of course looked perfect in every picture. This session ended with me and Michael screaming at each other and Vedder teaching himself how to hit the button and run to the couch before the timer finished and the camera flashed. This lightened the mood and we lived on.

Maybe it was the wine tasting earlier in the day mixed with the beers we were drinking, but in another moment I forgot about me and was just Mumma. Sitting at a table at Long Trail Brewery while having dinner, I bent towards Vedder, and he ran his car from my shoulder over my head back and forth creating a tangled mess. He laughed hysterically as I made obnoxiously exaggerated squeaks of "What are you doing to mumma? There's a car on my head!" I remember reading a mom's blog about getting in the picture. No matter that she hadn't lost the baby weight or didn't have makeup on or her hair done, she got in the picture with her son. This is exactly what I thought of as two matchbox cars rolled over my head, back and forth. When I would usually sit back and quickly fix my hair and find something else to entertain Vedder, I instead just sat there, with cars in my hair. Vedder isn't going to remember what my hair looked like, and to be honest, probably won't even remember the moment at all. But in the moment he laughed "haha mumma! Cars!" repeatedly and I will never forget it.

Our last moment of our family vacation was definitely less than perfect. As we settled back in at home, unpacking and getting ready for the work week, Vedder got ready for bed. Michael asks me where Ted (Vedder's bear that goes absolutely EVERYWHERE) is. As we begin to search, we both get a bad feeling. He was left in the rental car. I frantically called Hertz while Michael continues to search the house. No one was answering. There was a few inches if snow already on the ground and the wind was whipping more snow around. Not to mention it was freezing out. No hope. What if he fell out in the street while we unpacked the car? We went out to search. He had to be in the car. NO ONE IS FUCKING ANSWERING!! We were freaking out. Vedder was just sitting watching Backyardigans, having no clue the chaos and stress going on around him. Michael put his shoes and jacket on and walked 28 blocks in the snow to the rental car company. I put Vedder to bed trying to distract him with a bottle, a few bunched up blankets and other stuffed animals in hopes that he would be to distracted to notice Ted was gone. Five minutes later "Is Ted? Ted? Is Ted?" I called my parents and cried. After an hour or so waiting at Hertz, Michael called. "Got him!" He was found outside the old rental under inches of snow. I was so happy I cried again.

Three days of traveling, eating, playing in the snow, shopping, cooking, taking pictures, laughing, loving, loosing Ted and then finding him. Three days of living together as a family of three and nothing else. In all its craziness it was perfect.

And now as I share these moments on my blog, Facebook and twitter, you're probably thinking? Well what's the point, you just contradicted yourself by writing this entire post. The point of my weekend wasn't giving up ever sharing photos and stories. It was just giving up instantly sharing them. This weekend allowed me to live the moments, appreciate them and reflect on them. And then share with the world :)

Broadway vs the Beach

So let me start this blog off with a little story. Yesterday I was leaving Barnes & Nobles in Manhattan when a woman stopped me. She asked me if I was a New Yorker because she needed directions. I gladly gave her directions to the Met which was only 3 blocks away. However by doing this, she labeled me a "New Yorker." I do not consider myself one at all. I love my New Yorker husband who was born and raised and has lived 31 out of 33 years of life here, but marrying him doesn't make me one too. I am a New Englander. Plain and simple.

Now that I have said that, living here in NYC definitely impacts the way we are raising our son. He is only 12 weeks old but has already adapted to the lifestyle. Sleeping through fire engine sirens and the horn of the Amtrak train that flies by our apartment. Smiling at the screeching breaks of the approaching trains in the subway. Calmly sitting in his stroller while mama bumps up and down the stairs of our apartment building. All of these things I believe he has inherited from his dad. Me not so much.

Where as Michael grew up ten blocks away from our current apartment, it feels like sometimes I grew up worlds away from it. Plymouth, Massachusetts is not the middle of nowhere. Like NYC, it is filled with tourists coming to see the "foundation" of this country, America's Hometown. And while Rockafeller Center may be impossible to walk through from early November until after the new year, Plymouth can hold its own in the tourist industry, especially around Thanksgiving. That said, I don't believe that the population of Plymouth would even fill the first 20 floors of the Empire State Building.

I grew up in a neighborhood. Not like anything here in the boroughs. A place where we would have block parties with all the families. BBQs, bike races, camping in the back yard, getting lost in the woods between houses, coming home for dinner when my mom would ring a bell. Yes. That is right. My dad hung this big cast iron cow off the back porch that had a bell hanging from it and when we heard it ring we would run home from where ever we were in the neighborhood. My dad also would bake homemade chocolate chip cookies every Friday when he got home from work, and me, my sister and brother would always have friends over. We had a tree fort in our back yard and when we were old enough, were allowed to ride our bikes down the road to Bramhall's Country Store to get ice cream. No, I did not grow up in the olden days. This was only ten to fifteen years ago.

Fast forwarding to now, 2011, living in Queens, NY, I do not see myself raising my son in the same way I was raise. This sometimes really makes my heart hurt. Years ago I never even imagined ever having children, nevermind worrying so much about how I would raise them. I, myself, have definitely adapted well to the "city life." I love not having a car, being able to walk a few blocks to get everything I need, having fresh fruit and veggie carts at every corner. I like being able to walk eight blocks to my job, and the convenience of being able to get pretty much anything you need 24 hours a day. However, it kind of sucks knowing I won't be able to just ring a bell for my son to come home from playing in the street with the neighborhood kids. ((There DEFINITELY isn't any "playing in the street" here.)) And he won't be able to go play in the woods, or even in a yard for that matter, without having to walk 24 blocks to the nearest park.

I know this probably sounds absolutely ridiculous. I am laughing at myself as I type this. Plymouth is not worlds away from Queens. It is actually only a 4.5 hour drive! I look at the surroundings of my childhood and the surroundings of my husband's, and they are just very different. Part of me feels like my son is going to miss out on alot not being able to grow up like I did. Another part of me is excited for him to experience a city that has so much more than was ever offered to me in a small town. There is a lot of different culture here, from museums to even the corner deli. But Plymouth has great history, too. While NYC is the mecca for the most different types of art, it is small towns on Cape Cod that inspire such beautiful works. Where Manhattan offers a great enviroment for those business people with the need for speed ((well maybe not in this economy right now)), New England offers that slower, simpler life of many family owned businesses that towns are founded on. All my thoughts of raising a child seem to be caught up in a vicious cycle of this vs. that, here vs. there, Broadway vs. the beach.