Say It, Old Man. I Dare You.

I knew full well that pregnancy, the second time around, would alter my body in unimaginable (and maybe irreversible) ways. I knew I would gain weight, as I did the first time. And I knew it would be harder this time around to lose it. And I was totally fine with all of it, if it meant my baby girl, who we dreamed about for so long, would arrive safe and sound. And thankfully, she was.

I accept the physical transformation that lies ahead of me after giving birth, but unfortunately, our society does not. And that's really quite sad. The following is a true story. A brief encounter with a total stranger that affected me so deeply.

One week after baby #2 was born, I was feeling pretty good. I was adjusting to the recovery after my c-section and I was itching to get out of the house.  One week doesn't seem like enough time to recover from a c-section, right? Well, it's not! But for the last 3 months or so of my pregnancy, I  had been off my feet, unable to do a lot of the mundane physical activities we all take for granted (you know, like picking up the remote you just dropped on the floor). A quick trip to the grocery store was exciting to me. So I packed up the little sweet pea in her carseat (even though I wasn't supposed to lift anything heavier than her) and off we went.

I only needed 3 things. Easy peasy. Well, not so much... The walk from my car to the store front was slow and painful, and gathering my 3 items, which of course had to be located in all opposite corners of the store, took way longer than expected! Luckily I had the stroller to brace myself against!

I finally grabbed the last item and was heading for the check out when a sweet looking old man approached me and peered into the stroller. I forgot all about my pain and was excited to show off my beautiful baby.  But as I waited for his compliment, things got awkward... He didn't say anything for a solid 30 seconds! Instead, he looked down at the baby, then up at me, and back down to the baby. I smiled, waiting for him to say something like "oh she looks just like mama!" But no. He didn't say that. Instead he continued to say nothing as I noticed his eyes weren't gazing at my face, but down toward my stomach!

When he finally spoke, he said "How old is the baby?"

"1 week," I replied.

I kid you not, he did a quadruple take from the baby to my belly and started to open his mouth again.

"Is she borrowed or is it your baby?" He responded.

What the fuck kind of question is that?!

With a fake smile, I mustered all the politeness I possibly could and said "No, she's mine."

The man genuinely looked confused as he guestured to my stomach and started "and you're...?"

'Go ahead and say it, old man. I dare you!' I thought in my head as both anger and shame started to build simultaneously up inside me. But before he could finish his stupid sentence I interrupted him and said quite frankly "I had her one week ago." and pushed the stroller away from him down the aisle before I had a chance to punch him in the face (clean up on aisle 2!).  I made my way to the check out, and into my car as fast as I could where I cried the whole ride home.

The man must have been about 80 years old, but seriously? How would that even make sense for me to have a baby and one week later be pregnant enough to be showing that much? I know I shouldn't have been bothered by that one stupid old man, but I was! I was angry at his rudeness and ashamed of my body. My post partom belly wasn't even a thought in my head until that moment. I was aware that I walked out of the hospital still looking like I was 7 or 8 months pregnant, but I  was more concerned about my surgical recovery and taking care of my 2 girls. I knew my body was going to be something I would have to work really hard at later on, but LATER ON! It's only been one freaking week!

Leave it to our society to expect a new mom to spring right back into shape as soon as she steps out of the hospital. We can't all be Kate Middleton for God's sake!

I am very much looking forward to working out again and getting my body at least close to what it was before, but for now I'm enjoying every snuggle with my girls while I'm home with them on maternity leave. The treadmill will still be in the basement waiting for me when I'm ready. Until then, this will be my mantra:

When Opportunity Knocks

So, as I mentioned earlier, this pregnancy was not an easy one. In fact, looking back now, I feel like I've missed the better part of the past year because I was either in the bathroom getting sick, held up in my bedroom to avoid all the kitchen smells, or asleep on the couch. I was exhausted, hungry (but couldn't keep anything down for the first 3 months), large, and in pain all over. Did I mention large? By large, I mean enormous. People would ask me all the time if I was carrying twins! Hell, even I had the ultrasound techs check twice to see if there were extra babies hiding in there! Anyways, I was uncomfortable and missed out on a lot.

Luckily I have an amazing husband who was extremely patient and a 4 year old daughter who was surprisingly understanding of my inability to interact with her like I normally do.  But I soon realized that it wasn't so much an 'understanding' as it was 'recognizing an opportunity'.  An opportunity that I handed right to her.

Let's go back to the sleeping on the couch part...

Once the school year had ended, I was very pregnant and home alone with our 4 year old 2 days a week when she didn't go to daycare. On those 2 days I did my best to keep her busy and play with her before exhaustion kicked in and Mama needed a rest. Most days we were able to do some kind of Pinterest-y project together like baking or painting or melting broken crayon pieces to make new rainbow crayons.

But some days, when simply doing a search on Pinterest seemed way too ambitious, that craft involved something more along the lines of a large cardboard box, some markers, crayons and stickers. All the stickers. No, we didn't build a cool cardboard fort. I parked that thing in front of the TV, helped her get in, and told her to go to town and jazz it up! Yup, I put her in a box. In front of the TV. A cardboard box, markers and cartoons on Netflix. That's how we got through most of my third trimester. She played in a box while mommy took a short rest.

Before you judge me, this box kept her busy for hours. She loved it! And she made some pretty good drawings in it too! We actually kept in in the living room for a few weeks.

Ok, now is the part where you can judge me.

One time, I'll admit, I actually fell asleep on the couch while she played in that box. I know, I know... How could I leave my 4 year old unattended? I would always tell her "if mommy falls asleep, you need to stay in this room. You can continue coloring and watching your show on Netflix." She's my little rule follower and knows how to work the remote (go ahead, another opportunity to judge), so I was pretty certain she would stick to those parameters.  Except that one time when she didn't... On that particular day she ventured off to the playroom and decorated her "classrroom" with sticker charts on the wall... With glue.

Don't worry. I "fixed" it.

And so, I added more coffee to my daily routine.

Oh, but the real opportunities for her came while I was awake!

4 yo: "Mommy can I have a snack?"

Me: "What do you want?"

4 yo: "Pirate Booty"

Me: " If you can reach it, it's yours."

4 yo: "But it's way high in the cabinet!" [commence whining voice]

Me: "Get a chair from the kitchen table. Push it over to the pantry, climb on up and grab a bag of Pirate Booty."

4 yo: "Really?"

Me: "Yup."

That's right. I instructed her on how to get the out-of-reach snacks all by herself.  Hey, at that point in my pregnancy, getting from the living room to the kitchen was exhausting. I needed her to help out wherever she could!

When my husband came home that day he walked into the kitchen and said "Uh, why is there a chair in the middle of the kitchen?"

4 yo: "Mommy told me I could get Pirate Booty all by myself!"

Hubby: "Oh, really?" (looks at me with disbelief). "Do you realize what you just started?"

Me: "I do now..."

She hit the jackpot that day and it's all thanks to me. Well, actually, thanks to her little sister! Come to think of it, I actually gave them a head start on bonding... Which will inevitably come back to bite me in the ass later on when they team up to seek more "opportunities".  But we'll cross that bridge when we get to it.

Baby Farts Part 2!

Welcome back, readers! It's been a long time since I wrote on the Blog! 4 years to be exact. I started this blog to share amusing stories of what it was like to be a first time mom with a newborn.  Well, I'm no longer a first time mom because we just welcomed our second daughter into the world just 2 weeks ago! And let me tell you, being a "second time" mom is just as amusing. My pregnancy this time around was anything but amusing. It was difficult, uncomfortable, scary at times, and seemed to go on FOREVER. But now that Princess #2 is finally here, safe and sound, I decided to bring back the blog as a way to focus on and remember the moments that made me smile.

Let me start with a moment that happened pretty early on in the pregnancy, just after we shared the news with our, then 3 year old. She had been asking for a baby brother or sister for a while now and was beyond excited to finally learn the her wish was coming true. She was pretty quick to come up with a list of things she was going to help with and things that were definitely off the table.

One day, while driving in the car with me, she said "Mom, I can't wait for the baby to come! I'm going to give her her first bottle in the hospital!" I started to explain to her that the baby would not be eating from a bottle right away because I was going to breastfeed her. Realizing we hadn't had this conversation before, I knew this was going to be an interesting one, and that I was not really prepared for it...

Before I could get into what "breastfeeding" means she became instantly pissed at me and screamed "NO! I'M GOING TO BREASTFEED HER, NOT YOU! I ALREADY KNOW HOW AND I DON'T NEED ANY HELP!"

How dare I take away her first duty as Big Sister!

"Ok, ok." I said backing down. This was not the time or the place for this talk. We will revisit this topic another day.

As the baby's due date got closer and closer, and our, now 4 year old, daughter was getting more and more excited about being a big sister and a helper, I knew I had to go back to explaining what breastfeeding was.

The topic came up again at dinner one night. Ok, I thought, here goes nothing:

Me: "Sweetie, when babies are first born, they don't always take a bottle. Some mom's will breastfeed. That means they get milk from their mommy's body."
4 yo: "How?"
Me: "Mommies can make milk in their breasts."
4 yo: "What are breasts?"
Me' "Boobs."
4 yo: "Oh boobs!"

[Wait for it...]

4 yo: "Wait, what?? The baby is going to eat your boobs?"
Me: "No! She will just drink from them. And when she's big enough for a bottle, you can be the first one to give it to her."

Phew! Ok, that wasn't so bad! Oh but I forgot to mention the part when Daddy decided to chime in...

Dad: "Did you know animals breastfeed also? That's how they feed their babies too!"

Ok, good connection, hun! Something she can relate to. She loves animals!

[wait for it...]

Dad: "Did you know that Mika [our dog] has like 6 boobs?"
4 yo: "What??"

Well, about 5 minutes later, 6 boobs turned into 17 in her little toddler brain and now every time  we have a guest over she makes sure to introduce them to the dog:

"This is Mika! She has 17 boobs!"
🤦

Ok, well at least we got the breastfeeding explanation done... I think. We may be revisiting this topic in a later post. Stay tuned...