Rock A Bye Baby

I have a theory. Bad things don't happen to people because they are "good" or "bad".  Bad things happen to stupid people. Careless people who leap before looking. The ones that don't plan for every eventuality. This is why I am careful. Why I plan ahead. Why I weigh the consequences before making a decision. Tonight I was stupid. I didn't think. I wasn't careful. I was changing Cole's diaper and talking to John on my cell. I noticed something white in his poo, so I turned to look at his diaper under the light next to me. Three seconds. That's how long it took for him to fall. When I heard the smacking sound, I turned and he was on his back right next to me. Screaming. I can't even explain in words the horrible feeling of seeing your baby that upset and not knowing what exactly happened. Needless to say, I immediately called the pediatrician. I'm pretty sure he just got the wind knocked out of him. I have woken him twice since he fell asleep and he seems fine. He was acting completely normal all night. However, that doesn't change the fact that I am an idiot, and I feel like the worst mother ever. He could have broken his neck. I know accidents happen, but this one was my fault, and that is unacceptable. Am I being overly dramatic about it? Probably. Everyone will say, it was an accident, it happens, I once dropped a baby on it's head, yada, yada. That doesn't matter to me. This is my child. Possibly the only one I will have. So yeah, I'm over reacting, because I hate stupid people, and tonight I was one of them.

That'll Be The Day

There is something to be said for "the good old days".  Recently I've been thinking about how much I wish I could be home with Cole.  Don't get me wrong, I like having a purpose and somewhere to go every day. It's just that I feel like my purpose has changed. Before Cole I was molding the youth, changing the world one bratty pre teen at a time. Now, I have a son to raise! THAT should be my purpose, and yet here I sit, while my son grows up at Grandma's. (Side note: I am fully aware that going to Grandma's every day is the BEST situation ever! We are SO lucky!) I recognize that being a teacher is an ideal career for child rearing. I get weekends, holidays and summers with him. Plus I'm home by four every day. Really I'm getting more time with him than many other working Moms.  So why do I still feel guilty?  I think this feeling is natural and it makes me wonder.  Do I feel guilty because I am meant to stay home? As a female am I just wired for it? Did our grandparents have it right? Are we really better off now?  Let's not get crazy, of course women deserve equal rights, equal pay, etc. I firmly believe a women should be able to support herself through gaining an education and establishing a career. However, what if after that, you just want to be a Mom for a while? Is that so bad? Isn't it worth cutting out the excess expense to make it happen? So what if I have to watch True Blood on DVD instead of paying for HBO? I would be willing to make the sacrifices, if it were that simple. I just don't want to end up hurting someone because I am annoyed when it comes to this topic. Like when someone uses the acronym SAHM (stay at home mom) when talking about themselves. I want to punch the SAHM in the face! Also, please don't complain about how you have to go back to work after staying home with your kid for a year! No one feels sorry for you. At the end of the day, we all do the best we can. (well, most of us) My point is, maybe this liberated woman stuff isn't all it's cracked up to be. ;)

Cry Me a River

I have lots of experience with kids. My brother is almost nine years younger than me. I spent a ton of time babysitting him and my cousins. As the oldest grandchild, it was pretty much my job. Our family has always produced independent, unspoiled children. So when my mother told me the other day that my kid is spoiled, I was shocked. How could my perfect little boy already be spoiled? The problem is, Cole has not been left to cry himself to sleep. He usually falls asleep while nursing, or I rock him. I know this is horrible and I should just let him cry. I never had any trouble walking away and shutting the door when it was my brother or cousins crying. How hard can it be right? Yeah, well, they weren't my kids. I had tried a few times to just let him cry and every time I caved. Until last night. I put him in the crib and turned down the monitor. Then I proceeded to start crying myself. Yep, I cried because I felt horrible. What if he thinks I abandoned him? It's ridiculous, I know, but it physically hurts me when he cries. However, I did it. Two nights in a row now! Luckily he only cries for about ten minutes. I know I will thank myself later. I guess I just wasn't ready for my little baby to be old enough to manipulate me.

Firework

And by Firework, I mean explosion, of the poop variety. So Cole has been eating real foods and is currently trying out apples. As we all know apples are great for moving the bowels. Last night John took the baby to change his diaper while I got in the shower.  I'm lathering away when suddenly he comes bursting in holding Cole out in front of him naked (except for his little socks) and says, "Let us in!" He then proceeded to enter the shower where I discovered my baby's back was covered in poo up to his arm pits.  I sprayed him down with the shower, and soaked John in the process. All in all I'd say it was an effective means of clean up.  I must admit that after they left I had a nice laugh. I love that Cole saves all of these lovely poops and pee sprays for his daddy. It almost makes up for me having to wake up with him every night. :)