BOOBIES!!!

Gisele, Gisele, Gisele. Tsk, tsk, tsk. You have a lot of nerve. Don't you know most women already hate you well, because you are you?

You are probably a perfectly nice person and I know your intentions are good, but you might as well be a man giving advice about having a baby. Because realistically, I am sure everything you do is much easier and seamless, because once again, you are you. I am sure you have a team of nannies and nurses available at your fingertips to assist you in everything from wiping your babies ass, to wiping yours. It is likely that you can hand your baby off to a member of your entourage to go workout with a personal trainer to shed your baby weight and shoot the cover of a Vogue 6 weeks after having a baby.

So, you can say women should be required to breast feed for 6 months by law, but maybe you should know what REAL women go through when they have babies and breast feed before you start drafting the bill.

Yes, this post is about boobs. Tits, teets, racks, breasts, boobies, bubbies, whammers; whatever you want to call them, to me they are just utters.

I'll start by saying that I breastfed both my kids, Madelyn for 9 months and Colin for a whole year. Since Madelyn and Colin are exactly 23 months apart, which means that for 39 of 48 months my body has supported another life in one way or another. I am now past that stage and happy not to have anyone literally feeding off me. I am a firm believer in breast-feeding, but I am the last person to go all La Leche League on other women who decide not to.

I am definitely not one of those wacko women who loved being pregnant. I didn't have especially difficult pregnancies, but having my body, my mind, my emotions and other various areas stretched, pushed, shifted, and turned upside down wasn't my idea of fun. And as relieved as I was to not be pregnant anymore, there was the next phase of having no control of my body. Never mind the lack of bladder control, or that I still looked 4 months pregnant, I'm talking about the two massive pistols protruding from my chest. Sexy? No. Probably nice for Tom to look at, but if you dare touch them...watch out. It's all fun and games until you get a shot of breast milk in your eye.

No, they have nothing to do with sex. They are big and painful at times. They are uneven and hurt from a little leach sucking on them all day. And I do mean ALL DAY and night for that matter. See, because feedings take at least a half hour if you include fussiness, burping, cleaning up spit up, etc. Then they eat every 2 to 3 hours and that time goes from the beginning of one feeding to the beginning of the next. You also hear a lot of women proclaim that they enjoyed the bonding experience that nursing provided, especially in the middle of the night when it was "the baby and I" and the house was quiet. Call me selfish, but all I could think about was getting back to sleep.

And the time you spend nursing, while a great opportunity to catch up on old episodes of CSI, doesn't allow you to get up and cook dinner, clean the house or get a sippy cup of milk for your 2 year-old. You can't have your husband or mom take over feedings for you without a well-orchestrated system having milk available and then pumping at some point to make up for the feeding you missed. And that is assuming your baby takes a bottle. In Colin's case, he decided at a very early age that he was more of a "breast guy" and wouldn't take a bottle unless he was starving. And then one day when he was nine months old, he decided he was "too cool" to nurse and would only take a bottle, so I spent the next 3 months attached to my breast pump so I didn't have to fork over $30 a container for formula.

I will say, I did get pretty good at multi-tasking the second time around. At one point I sat on the back porch and did sidewalk chalk with Madelyn while breastfeeding. Sanitary? Nope, but too many times she had to watch TV while I nursed and I had to do what I had to do. I even drove 30 miles with my breast pump attached to me because I wanted to get home after being away all day, needed to pump and thought I could get the job done before I got on the expressway. They say texting and driving is unsafe, try detaching a milking device while driving.

And then there is the chance they can get infected. Oh yeah, because it isn't painful enough, they can get clogged and you can get Mastitis which includes a large painful mass in your breast accompanied by fever and chills. And as if you don't feel utterly exhausted (no pun intended) already. another symptom is fatigue. Luckily after antibiotics and warm compresses, the pain subsides unless you burn your boob with a warm compress, then you get a blister on your already infected tit. Again, it kind of takes away from the sex appeal of boobs. Speaking of sex appeal, after all is said and done when you are finished nursing; you are left with what I like to refer to as "low hanging fruit." And in my case that fruit would be raisins.

With Madelyn, I went back to work when she was 12 weeks old and lugged my 20-pound breast pump with me to work every day. When I got back to work, I had to convince my employer that expressing milk in a bathroom with a toilet 3 feet from me was not acceptable. I even had to go so far as to bring the Illinois State law to my HR director who wasn't aware that state law required employers to provide an acceptable and private place for breastfeeding mothers to express milk and that restrooms weren't considered private or acceptable. My argument was, "Would you eat your lunch in the bathroom? Then why should my daughter?" Needless to say, I got blinds put on an empty office that had two windows on it so people couldn't see me.

For as much of a stink I put up regarding pumping in a bathroom, that all changed when I ended up potty training Madelyn when Colin was 5 months old. I can't tell you how many times I either nursed Colin in the bathroom while coaxing Madelyn to go pee or had to bring her in to the bathroom with my breast pump attached to my chest because she would proclaim she "had to pee!" If you've ever potty trained a two-year old you know there isn't a huge window of time between that statement and an accident. At that point, standards of cleanliness went out the window...or down the toilet for that matter.

I walked around my house with my boobs out or with a damn breast pump attached to me so much, I was worried that some day I would answer the door or leave the house like that and not even notice.

Now, while I think Gisele is pretty bold in saying that there should be an international law, I do understand that her take on breastfeeding is probably a lot different than what we in America are used to. I know a lot of women who have breastfed, but it is always discreet. I know more women who did not breastfeed.

I think what was most difficult for me was not getting the baby to nurse, or the other details, but more the isolation it created. It prevented me from just running out whenever I wanted. It prevented me from hanging out with friends because in most cases I couldn't just whip my boob out and nurse. Hooter-hiders were out of the question, because Colin didn't particularly like being smothered by a piece of cloth while he was eating and ultimately people were still uncomfortable knowing what I was doing under my "shroud of secrecy" which happened to be bright turquoise with polka dots. I did have several friends who were accepting, but for the most part, I spent most parties, gatherings, and holidays in a room by myself nursing the baby or pumping.

I know they say "Breast Is Best" and I did choose to nurse because I felt it was the best thing for my babies, but they didn't reach any milestones faster, both got ear infections and ultimately are no different than any other babies we know who were bottle fed. Now maybe down the line, Madelyn will be accepting a Nobel Peace Prize and thank me for breastfeeding her or Colin will dedicate his Heisman trophy to me for my efforts, but I'm just glad that chapter of my life is over.

As for Gisele, I would recommend she concentrate her efforts on making America a more accepting place for nursing mothers first. Maybe she could stage a breastfeeding "nurse-in" at one of her husband's football games. That would give Janet Jackson and her wardrobe malfunction a run for her money. Or maybe she should start a campaign for all sports arenas to have Mother's rooms so nursing moms can enjoy a day a the ballpark without worrying about lactating all over herself or pumping next to a drunk girl in a stall? O.K., O.K, maybe that is a bit extreme, but my point is I think her time could be more well spent educating the public rather than dictating what women should do with their bodies. Seems pretty counter-productive if you ask me.

Hell on Wheels

I'm not quite sure how to express just how much I despise grocery shopping, especially when it involves a 3 year old and a 15 month old.

I've suffered through the usual tantrums over wanting a toy. Crying over seeing the fish tanks that run the length of 3 aisles, which means a separate tantrum each time we pass them. Madelyn's desire to "help me" by grabbing things off the shelf of throwing them full force into the cart. Telling me she had to go potty as soon as she saw the restrooms, which simply meant she wanted to check out the digs and never actually go to the bathroom. Ignoring her plea to go to the bathroom and hearing the sound of liquid hitting the floor and being relieved to see she was simply pouring a bottle of bubbles on the floor. I've raced around the store with a hungry screaming baby because I wasn't able to cram my shopping trip between feedings and then nurse the baby in the backseat of the minivan while my ice cream melted. I've tried to squeeze a trip in before dinner and then have to sit in line for a half-hour because there are only two lanes open and the person in front of me has to contest the price of EVERY FRICKIN' ITEM they bought from the clearance rack. Meanwhile I solidify my "Mother of the Year" nomination by feeding my kids Chips Ahoy Cookies that they strategically sell in the checkout line since they haven't had dinner yet.

Tonight, I thought things would be different. I got suckered in to forking over a buck for one of those cartoon carts that until a week ago swore I would never succumb to. But, never say "never" and there I was situating the two kids into the Barney-mobile. As I was pulling the cart out, I read the sign that said, "Relax and enjoy your shopping trip while your kids enjoy their favorite cartoons!" Yes, I use TV to get things done. So many may disapprove, but if it weren't for a good dose of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse once in awhile, we'd be eating Easy Mac every night for dinner.

For the first 15 minutes, the shopping trip was pretty peaceful. Then, I started to hear rumblings from the car below. They were fighting over who would take over the steering wheel. Then things really got hectic. I was nearing the end of my shopping trip when I looked over and saw Colin with his face up against the window licking the Plexiglas. The thought of how many germs and diseases began to fill my mind and all I could think was, "Thank God he is already on anti-biotics."

The next thing I see through the window is him attempting to take a bite out of his sister's arm. While the car provides a "safe" place for the kids to sit, it prevents me from reaching in and grabbing him before he breaks skin.

The woman picking out lettuce next to me simply chuckles when she sees me knock on the window of the car and say, "Colin, stop biting your sister!" All I can do is smile and say, "He's learning to express himself. Good times."

I feel like writing a strongly worded letter to the makers of those Godforsaken carts and tell them they should make the cartoons they show longer than 15 minutes. I don't know who can complete their grocery shopping in 15 minutes, but I would have surely paid $2 for an extra 15 minutes of Barney.

By the time reach the checkout line, Madelyn has already managed to unbuckle herself and climb out the front of the car and then get back in and Colin's claustrophobia has set in and he wants OUT NOW! I end up taking him out and holding him as I unload the cart. As I put a bottle of wine on the conveyer belt, I feel a secret nod of approval from the checkout guy and the people in line with me for my purchase. Oddly enough I get carded even though I feel as if I have aged 20 years since walking into the store. Just then, I put Colin down momentarily while I grab my debit card out of my purse and he runs off into the Manager's office. I grab him and order Madelyn to get back in the Hell-on-Wheels-mobile and move towards the exit only to have to switch carts since you can't take the kiddie carts out of the store. Sweet Jesus, get me home. The only thing I can say is at least my $1 went towards a children's charity.

Two Years In The Making

Today marks the 2-year anniversary of the day I quit my job to become a stay-at-home mom. It is at this time I sit back and reflect on the last 2 years. I have to say that I feel like I have finally settled in to my role as a SAHM. I am even so cool that I can use the acronym for it.

In some ways, deciding to quit my job and stay home was an easy decision to make. I remember my first day back at work after having Madelyn and crying for approximately 5 of the 6 hours I was actually away from her. I remember so distinctly turning to my husband with tears in my eyes, the feeling of despair as I got her ready to go to the daycare facility. I knew we had made the decision that I would be a working mom, but once I looked down at my little creation, my whole world and perspective on it changed.

Every day got easier and soon, it was all just part of the routine...as long as I didn't look through the window of her classroom one last time before I left. That sight made my heart ache a pain I cannot even describe. Tom and I finally decided that once we had a second child, I would either work part time or stay home.

The twelve months Madelyn was in day care consisted of an array of infections and illnesses that kept me in the pediatrician’s office on a regular basis and Madelyn on anti-biotics for at least 7 straight months. Napping at daycare became non-existent which didn't help her sickness and I felt like the only time we spent with her she was crabby and miserable.

Work for me at the time was a "job" as opposed to a career. I was selling advertising at a local newspaper. With the economy hitting the skids and the newspaper industry crumbling, it wasn't like I was raking in the commissions each month. Daycare was so expensive it seemed most months I was working to have someone else raise my kid.

So, Tom got promoted and I gave my notice and so began my journey as a SAHM. The first thing Madelyn and I did was take swim class. I cried during class because she used to "pretend swim" at daycare. Two weeks after my last day, I got pregnant with Colin and it solidified our plan for me to stay home once we had two, just a few months before we actually "had" two. I would have to say being pregnant and adjusting to my new role was pretty challenging since Madelyn was 15 months old and was really IN TO EVERYTHING!!! It made for really long days, especially as winter approached.

I couldn't get the thought out of my mind of what I would do next in my life after I was done with being home. I knew I needed to push that thought aside and focus on the task at hand, raising my children.

I have always been the type of person who is looking to the next thing and has a hard time enjoying "the now." Once Colin came around, all that changed. Juggling two was and is challenging, but soon the days began to fly by. There was not time to think about what I could or should be doing because all I could do was focus on the kids. I also got to experience all the moments of Colin's first year that I missed with Madelyn and couldn't believe someone else was able to have them with her. I knew I was in the right place.

Despite this, I continue to struggle with my identity and sometimes feel guilty for not doing enough. I look at working moms and feel like I am taking the "easy way out." Although sometimes I think it would be easier for me to go to work based on some of my days at home! I look at my peers accomplishing things in their careers, writing books, opening restaurants, traveling and I feel a sense of accomplishment when I go to the grocery store, remember my reusable bags and buy everything on the list without having to go back to get the 3 things I forgot that I needed to make dinner that night. That's why I am doing this blog and it seems to be serving its purpose as a way for me to at least keep my brain going.

Each year my high school has alumni achievement awards and this past year happened to be 3 people that graduated either the year before or with me. They were all people I knew fairly well. It occurred to me that I will likely never get an alumni achievement award, because let's face it; they just don't give those out to housewives. I may not fly fighter jets, but I have mad baby cereal out of my own breast milk. I may not have a high power job, but I can negotiate anything with Skittles. I solve world peace on a daily basis, even if it is just the world of Madelyn and Colin. I'm not a financial wiz, but I can save $30 at the grocery store using coupons and shopping sales. I haven't produced an album, but I have produced two beautiful children.

And for now, those achievements are what I will take. My reward? Cuddle time in the morning when they wake up instead of rushing out the door. Trips to the park, the library, the zoo, swim class, tumbling and any variety of things we do together. Healthy kids. What are the best rewards? Hugs, kisses, and yes even "look Mom, I just picked a REALLY BIG BOOGER!" Who needs a plaque on the wall when you have all that? Not me.

Adventures of CowPants

Do you know what a "Cowpants" is? Or what Cowpants look like? Or who he is? Or she? Or how to Cowpants? Or where Cowpants is?

It all started one day when Madelyn came home from preschool and I was battling with her to go potty, wash her hands and head up to take a nap. She was being sillier than usual and kept making faces at herself in the mirror and that was the first time she uttered the word "Cowpants" (pun intended)

She kept saying it over and over and when asked what it was, she had no answer. She just kept giggling. I asked at school to see if maybe there was a story involving Cowpants? Nothing. I asked if that was her name for Colin? Nope. I even tried to figure out if she was really saying something else, and it just sounded like she was saying "Cowpants." Whatever the case may be, she loved saying it and over the next couple months she would use this term in so many different context, we were baffled as to what it could possibly mean. Finally a few months ago she told me Cowpants was indeed a girl and said she wears pink pants with cows on them and as far as we can tell it is her imaginary friend.

A child's imagination is a curious thing. I think initially Madelyn was just babbling and being silly, but she ended up creating this image of her friend as time progressed. Why? We aren't really sure. We are hoping it is just a phase, but for now we play along and even go so far as to come up with Cowpants favorite part of the day at bedtime per her request.

I can relate to the whole imaginary friend thing as I had one when I was little. His name was "Amer" and it was a boy with reddish hair and freckles. I was about 4 or 5 when I created him and I knew full well that he was fake, yet I had a clear image of him in my mind. I used to sit at the kitchen table and put my foot on the chair next to me and swivel it making believe it was Amer sitting there. I would also yell at people who tried to sit there because they would crush Amer. I can't really tell you why I created this friend, but I am sure a psychotherapist would have a field day analyzing based on my childhood!

I certainly hope there is nothing more to Cowpants than Madelyn's active imagination. She is constantly pretending to be something. For a long time now when I call her Princess, she retorts, "I'm not a Princess, I'm a baby kitty cat." And just the other day we were playing at the park and she told me I had to pretend to be an angel. Then I called her an angel, she informed me she wasn't an angel. "Oh, you're not? Then what are you?" Her response? "I'm God." Active imagination indeed.

A Pessimists Take On Optimism

Jaded. Bitter. Pessimistic. Skeptical. Sarcastic. These are all words that have been used to describe me. I prefer realistic, but the truth of the matter is, I have always been a "half-glass empty" kind of gal. My excuse is the old cliche, lower expectations and you might just be pleasantly surprised. Well, I've learned a lot over the years and matured. While I still have a sarcastic side, I've softened a bit. These days, I'm just glad I have a glass to put something in.

I will give most of the credit to getting married and having children. They have brought me the greatest joy of my life. I will likely embarrass my husband with most of what I say, but the good news is most of the people who would give him a hard time are with him getting drunk in the middle of a cornfield in Wisconsin right now (Country Thunder). But I digress. Tom is what some may consider a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. He's a lover, not a fighter. He is my best friend and the ying to my yang. He and I have created two beautiful children together and he is the best dad a kid could ask for.

My children are incredible. Raising them is the most challenging thing I have done, but every day I learn something new from them and about myself. I have never smiled so much in my entire life.

The bottom line, I have everything to live for right now.

About a year ago, Tom and I were watching a documentary that Michael J. Fox did in conjunction with his book "Always Looking Up: The Adventures of an Incurable Optimist." He was talking to people who were optimistic through adversity. One of the people had talked about was his wife, actress Tracy Pollan.

It occurred to me that I needed to change my ways. At the time, I was still trying to balance having two kids and hormones, but I was still finding myself caught up in the "harried housewife" role too often. I decided I wanted better for my children. I wanted to be a good role model for them. That was one of the things Michael J. Fox said he admired so much about his wife. I needed to focus on my blessings and how much I have in my life. It was then that Tom and started sharing "Positives" every night before we go to bed. We share at least 3 things that happened during the day that made us smile, laugh or just sit back and reflect on how lucky we truly are. This way, no matter how frustrating the day was between kids, work, money, family, we could end the day on a positive note.

Now that Madelyn is older, we started doing something similar with her and have her tell us her favorite part of her day. She sometimes uses this as a stalling technique by haveing 5 or 6 favorite parts, but you can't fault a kid for having so many favorites! Then Tom and I share our favorites with her. They usually have to do with things we did with her and Colin.

I wanted to create a bracelet that I could wear that would be a constant reminder of my blessings. One day I got a package in the mail with a braided bracelet made of rainbow colored string. It was from a friend of mine whom I had shared my idea about the bracelet with. She found it while in Hawaii and it reminded her of me. Probably one of the most thoughtful gifts I have ever received.

I will never trade my sarcasm or biting sense of humor. I will never stop being realistic. But, I will try to keep my cool, not get caught up in unimportant matters and keep a level head and at the end of the day always have some "Positives."

A Word The Wise

I will now climb up on my soap box in the sky to vent. I have noticed over the years, that people pulling out of neighborhoods are pretty oblivious to pedestrians, but today was particularly unnerving. I would say 90% of the streets that we crossed, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Now mind you, I am not running by myself at dusk wearing grey. It was 9:00 am and I was pushing a bright yellow double jogging stroller. Some people just weren't paying attention. Fine. But then there was this one lady who saw me and then pulled out in front of me anyway. I didn't flick her off, but I wanted to. Instead I raised my had and mouthed "What the heck?!" She ignored me.

I have noticed in the past that people pulling out of gated communities are by far the biggest offenders of this. I'll leave that observation at that.

In addition to my issue with drivers. I would also like to call out those who walk their dogs, let them take massive dumps on the sidewalk and not bother to pick them up. Seriously. Now, maybe the person didn't have a bag with them, which has happened to me, but I usually go back with a bag and pick it up. I have to admit, there has been an occasion where my dog(s) did their duty and it was pitch black and I couldn't locate it in the grass. But let's be honest, if a dog shits in the dark, it still stinks, especially if it is in the middle of the sidewalk.

And to top all this off, I got stung by a bee while running.

Ok, now I feel better.

I recently had a friend forward me an email of an advice column by Carolyn Hax from the Washington Post. It was from a woman with no children who asked why women with children are always so busy, never have time for themselves and specifically wanted to know what stay-at-home-moms do all day? She even went so far as to accuse stay-at-homes moms of lying. Carolyn Hax basically ripped this ding-bat a new one, which gave me great satisfaction. And then I lived the article ( I will attach a copy for full effect).

It started off like most days, except I got up somewhat earlier than usual, 4:30 am instead of 5:30 or 6 am. My husband was getting ready to leave on a business trip. I couldn't get back to sleep after the alarm went off which is on my side of the bed despite the fact he gets up before me 5 of the 7 days of the week. He requested that I go out and buy more white t-shirts for him because his are all yellow and disgusting. (That is a story for another time)

Anyway, I got up and ate breakfast and then did my Jillian Michaels 30 Day Shred workout video. 5 minutes before I was done, Madelyn woke up and agreed to watch a show in my room while I finished. Then I made breakfast, took the kids for a 40 minute run, came home and put Colin down for his nap. While he was sleeping I did some cleaning up around the house, threw a load of laundry in, unloaded and reloaded the dishwasher, printed out picture so Disney World and a calendar to make a "Countdown to Disney" for Madelyn. I showered and then it was time for lunch. Lunch was just wrapping up and I was relieved that we could get out of the house at a reasonable time in order to get back home for afternoon naps.

That was until I had to get the kids ready to actually leave. Colin wouldn't let me change his diaper and kept running away. Madelyn was lying all over the place and refused to come over to me so I could put on her shoes and throw her hair in a ponytail. I finally got all of the above accomplished only to have Colin make his way upstairs, not one, not two, but three times before I finally was smart enough to put up the gate. Then came drama #576 of the day. Where's my shiny necklace? Madelyn wanted her silver necklace that she has been carrying around for the last week. It happens to be an old necklace of my grandma or great aunt or someone. The bottom line is, she wanted and had to have it. I ran up and down the stairs another 4 or 5 times and then finally gave up and got the kids in the car. Then I remembered she had slipped it into my purse the day before while we were shopping. Ah. Happiness. Oh wait, gotta lock up the dog so she doesn't pee on the carpet while we are gone. Back up and down the stairs...again. Why do I bother running 5-7 miles a day?

At this point, it was already 12:30 and we were off to Marshalls to find the elusive white t-shirts for Tom. Must be Tommy Hilfiger crew neck XXL. Normally they would cost $30 for a pack of 3. I was looking for a better deal. Found 3 packs at Marshalls for $12 each only to find that two were actually v-neck. Meanwhile, Madelyn is droning in my ear, "Can I get a toy?" and Colin is pulling clothes off of every rack he sees and throws his Elmo phone out of the cart about a dozen times. Madelyn then starts hanging on the cart and Colin starts screaming. Madelyn wants Cinderella socks, never mind, she wants a toy. OK, fine. Check out the clearance rack for some toys. Everything she picks out is crap or we already have or happens to be more than I care to spend on crap. I try explaining that it isn't worth buying something here and we can look at the next store. Temper tantrum ensues.

Somehow I convince her to leave the store without a toy and manage to look at the clearance shoes for myself without buying anything.

On to TJ Maxx, the ghetto version of Marshalls as far as I am concerned. Madelyn picks out pink, silver or beaded flip flops for me while Colin grabs all the shoes off the rack. Forget it. Let's check out the t-shirts get out of here. No luck.

At this point, it is 1:55 pm. I had originally thought I could leave the house by noon and be back by 1:00. No such luck. Time to get home and put them down for naps. We get home, Madelyn has to go potty before naptime and Colin needs his milk, diaper changed etc. Everyone is finally down by about 2:20 pm.

Now it is time for me to do some more picking up and then go to type my mom's resume. Her computer is broken and she is unable to send out resumes. In addition, she has been spending each of her days at the nursing home where my 90 year-old grandma is recovering from pneumonia and congestive heart failure.

Once I battle with the auto format on the resume I can barely keep my eyes open and decide to take a quick nap. When I wake up I see that Tom called me 6 times in 6 minutes. I call him back to have him yell at me for not answering my phone. He had an important question to ask...what size t-shirt does Madelyn wear? He was at the Louisville Slugger plant and was trying to pick out souvenirs. He also informed me he almost bought them each $50 bats that they could never play with. Good thing he used his better judgment on that one!

The rest of the day is blur, but at 8:45 when the kids went down, I poured myself a glass of wine and folded laundry and watched a show about a couple getting a divorce and had to live together because they couldn't sell their $1.2 Million home and realized it could be worse...much worse.