Roadside Emergency

OMSH is having a roadside emergency contest. Here's my entry for the photo category:


I know, it looks like I took a photo of a serial-killer on a scenic by-way, but that is really me, in the middle of a week-long roadside emergency. (And fashion emergency)

I did the Alaska AIDS Vaccine Ride from Fairbanks to Anchorage in 2000. Actually the whole five-day, 400-odd mile trip was a roadside emergency. We camped in a gravel pit, on an airfield, next to a glacier, and finally next to a demolition derby at the State Fair. Plus we were riding bikes, in Alaska, where there are mountains. And we used Port-A-Potties. And only Port-A-Potties.

Anyhow, they picked this certain week in August because it had never in recorded history snowed. Well, you guessed it, it snowed one day. At first it was cool, I had never been on my bike in the snow. But then it got cold, very cold. First, I couldn't feel my feet, well that wasn't so bad. But then I couldn't feel my fingers, which I needed to steer, brake, and shift the bicycle. Many riders had to be rescued by the National Guard. I came through pretty unscathed. The gel in my bike saddle was destroyed, and oozed out the rest of the ride.

And yes, that's a propeller on my helmet.

Ingrained Memories

I try to write down a little bits about Bubba here and there. Stuff I don’t want to forget, like how he loves to squat down and look at me through the crib slats. And I take a million pictures. But there are some things I know I won’t forget, they are a part of me now.

When I was pregnant the only place I ever felt Bubba kick was my upper belly. I felt the first real ones sitting at breakfast in our hotel in Copenhagen one morning during our trip to Scandinavia. I had been feeling tickles before that, and I was actually a little concerned because I hadn’t felt them much on the first few days of our trip. I was pretty sure he was just still on our home time, and I was probably sleeping when he was active. But that morning was the first bang! real kick to the ribs. I was so excited and relieved. It was a little uncomfortable, a little freaky, but amazing. A little person in there! A few weeks later you could see the movement, watch a limb move across the top of my belly. It horrified my husband.

As time went by it get uncomfortable. Some of the kicks really hurt. I could feel my muscles stretching. It would wake me up at night. And I wondered what the heck he was doing in there. Bang, bang, bang. And only in that one spot. I kept reading that you could feel the baby’s limbs through your belly and figure out his position, but I never could. I asked the doctor about it and he said Bubba was head down. Well that made sense – it wasn’t a little foot kicking me, it was his whole bottom, his freak-dancing bottom, moving to his own beat.

I remember holding Bubba in the hospital and feeling like I knew him. His movements felt so natural. I realized he was moving just like he had on the inside. Lying in my arms, pumping his legs, I could still feel him inside. And I could picture him head-down, legs curled, butt going up and down and across my belly.

And he still loves to kick! Now, while learning to walk he kicks everything he encounters. He kicks while fighting sleep. And he has always loved to kick when he’s excited. He lies there beaming, stomping his heels, and the rhythm is just like when he was inside me left...right..left..right.leftrightleftright. And I can still feel it inside.

With time I may forget how he likes to kick things around the house. But I will never forget how he felt inside me. His movements are somehow a part of my muscle memory now. My body remembers.

Happy Mother’s Day…Weekend?

I really think Mother’s Day should be Mother’s Weekend. The idea came to me yesterday as I was trying to get everything done early so by Sunday I could take an actual day off from my duties. My goal is always to get all the work done on Saturday so I can have Sunday off. It never happens. Even if by some miracle my husband is home all weekend I still have to nurse the baby, clean up their debris trails, do paperwork for our business, dishes, etc.

A bunch of holidays have whole weekends devoted to them. There’s Memorial Day weekend (three days!), and depending where they fall 4th of July, President’s Day, and New Year’s Day weekends. And let’s not forget Labor Day weekend, again, three whole days. The way I see it lot of us went through labor, and labor all year long taking care of little (and big) people. Listen, I’m not even asking for a three-day weekend, just two days. And maybe out of those two days I could actually get a couple hours to myself.

Well, gotta go and channel my grandmother. I’ve got to make cookies for my cultural group’s meeting tomorrow and I’m using a Kitchen Aid mixer just like hers. Why did I sign up to be hostess on Mother’s Day? Oh yeah I thought it would be nice, this being my first Mother’s Day and all.

Happy Mother’s Day Weekend to you all!!

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Real Moms Know Goodnight Moon by Heart

...and never tire of it.

Well, okay, I get do get tired of it but it's worth the joy my son gets from the story. I heard people joke about how you will receive multiple copies of Goodnight Moon for your baby. But we didn’t get a single one, so I went out and bought the cardboard baby version. When Bubba was tiny I read it to him as I nursed him to sleep in our bed. My husband would be asleep by before we even reached “Goodnight room”. Then Bubba started to stare at the pictures. One night he started smiling at the comb and the brush and the bowl full of mush.

Then our bedtime routine changed. Dad gave Bubba a bath, I massaged and dressed him, and the hardier of the two of us would hold and walk him while he cried and fussed his way to sleep. We didn’t read Goodnight Moon too often for a while there. A couple weeks ago I incorporated it back into the routine, after the massage and before the fussing. He never fails to smile when I wind up his musical dog and pull out the well-chewed Goodnight Moon. And smiles even bigger when I say "in the great green room..." Now he likes to turn the pages himself, randomly, and chew. I just recite the story. Finally he starts rolling around on the bed, and then crawls to me to let me know he is ready to start the process of fighting sleep.

Okay, yeah, it’s not exactly exciting reading the same thing every night two or three times. But I keep it interesting. Maybe it’s the randomness of the pages - I find myself wondering things. Like why would a little boy bunny have a phone by his bed? And why would the “old lady” leave a bowl of mush in his room? What were they doing between 7:00 and 8:10? Did she tell him a story in between “Hushes”? Wouldn’t the logs have burned down a bit? Why does a bunny, presumably covered in fur, need sheepskin slippers?

I’ll never know the answers, but I will always treasure the time we have spent reading Goodnight Moon. And I'm sure it will be just as thrilling when he reads it to me, over and over.

I read about Real Moms at Kerflop and you too can enter the Real Mom Truths contest! The winner will receive this amazing 4G iPod Nano and Chocolate gift set, plus a link to their post on True Mom Confessions on Mother's Day.

Phases

Some of the best advice I have received in dealing with my little Bubba is that “It’s a phase.” And it’s true. His only being able to sleep on Dad’s chest at night? A four month phase, which slowly morphed into being coaxed, every so slowly, into sleeping next to Dad. The waking up screaming at 4:00 every morning, needing to be walked around? A month-long phase. Wanting to nurse every two hours at night? A very long phase that has not ended. But it will, right? And not two years from now?

Unfortunately, some good things were just a phase, too. Like strapping Bubba in a bouncy chair outside the shower. Phase over and one of my biggest fears is coming true - it is very hard to get a shower. My only chance is to sneak it in is during his morning nap. And some really sweet phases are over, like Bubba looking up and smiling at me while he nurses. Now he’s too busy pinching, and figuring out how my shirt works.

The ending of some phases goes both ways. Having Bubba sleep in bed between my husband and me? I like it because I don’t have to get up to comfort him at night, and I don’t have to worry that he is safe or cold. And he loves it. But I long to fall asleep and wake up next to my husband. That will be so sweet, but it will also be so sad not to wake up to Bubba’s babbling and his smiling face.

I got to thinking that everything in life is a phase. I remember times in the past when I was so miserable, but they are now a distant memory. I wish the present me could have gone back and told the miserable me that I would be fine. The other day I was so ecstatic to be out walking by myself. I was beaming at the rare moments of freedom. But there were times I walked those same blocks, lonely, aimless. I tried to store the feeling of freedom in my memory banks for the days in the future when I might feel alone again. I want to remember to enjoy just being me.

I just wish I could figure out how to remember that “It’s just a phase” when I really need to. We do okay reminding ourselves that the precious times won’t last, and to savor them. We talk about the days there won’t be crushed Cheerios on the floor, and our home will be neat, and we know we will be sad because it will mean Bubba is gone. But in the hard times, when he is fighting sleep, and I feel like crying, too, how can I remind myself that this is just a phase?

Why I Need to Write

Okay, so people did warn me it would be hard to be a mom, and that my life would never be the same again. But they couldn't really give specifics. I asked: "Is it the lack of sleep?" "Changing endless dirty diapers?" "Not having time with your partner?" No, it was none of those things. They would smile and say, "You'll see." I had my own set of fears.

I have come to learn over the past nine months that the reason no one can explain how being a mom will change your life, is that it effects us all in different ways. Some of the things I worried about aren't huge issues. I don't mind the diaper changes, even when I was using cloth, and the dear one pooped seven times a day. I don't mind playing "drop the spoon off the highchair" over and over again. Yes, my marriage is totally different, and I miss the intimacy, but raising this child together has added a whole new facet to our relationship.

But, there are so many things I wasn't expecting! It started with pregnancy, which I didn't enjoy. Then when the baby got here, the crying, crying, crying every evening for hours. And what I call the squawking. All the time. Every diaper change, every time shoes go on, every time he gets in the car, and for a million other reasons. And the loneliness of not having a grown-up to talk to. And the mind-numbing monotony. And hearing over and over from people who meet him in public what an easy baby he is.

I only have one person in my life who seems to get how I feel. She doesn't live near me, but I can call her any time. I don't have a lot of friends with kids, so I go to classes and playgroups. I talk to moms, but no one seems to be having as hard a time as I am. Yes, they are sleep deprived, and miss their old friends, but they seem to have so much joy. I do feel joy with this wonderful little person, but sometimes I feel pain, sadness, and fear.

It's only on the internet that I have found women who talk about feelings like I sometimes have. And thank goodness for their honesty. Without them I would just be sitting here feeling like the worst mother in the world. I will continue to be honest with moms I meet in real life. Sometimes I can see in their eyes that life isn’t all hunky-dory. And I want to write honestly here about being a mom, the good and the bad.