The Simple Wife

After finding this article online I seriously think that somedays the powers that be at PETA sit around thinking, “Hmmm…we haven’t been in the news lately…Paris Hilton and Britney Spears haven’t been hauling around their overgrown rats lately…Mary-Kate and Ashley haven’t worn furs recently…what outrageous thing can we throw out there just to make sure the world still knows we exist until we can find something ‘legitimate’ to complain about?”

I’m sure that’s how the outrageous proposal in the article written above came about. I would also like to go on record as a nursing mother and say if nursing were easier, faster, and less painful many more mothers would choose that option…however at some time or another almost anyone who has ever breastfed has dealt with one of those issues. If it weren’t for the fact that I’m so stubborn (and poor) I would gladly give Robbie a bottle all the time. However, I am both, therefore it was not until we were back in the hospital watching our precious baby suffer from severe jaundice and dehydration that I realized whether or not I would ever be able to breastfeed was not a big deal and if I had to pump or go bankrupt buying formula, we would do whatever it took to ensure our son would be healthy. Incidentally, about the same time I had that epiphany, Robbie finally caught on to the concept of nursing–my milk coming in also helped. From all I’ve heard about cows, they need to be milked or are in pain. I guess what I really want to know is when did the comfort of a cow outweigh the comfort of a human? I don’t suppose the folks at PETA will be giving me an answer anytime soon…they’re probably to busy trying to concoct another outrageous propoal to dump on the unsupsecting public.

Robbie can roll over! He rolled over for the first time on September 19th while we were having Tummy Time. I was so shocked! I just gasped as I looked at my amazing baby and gushed, “You rolled over! You rolled over! Good boy!”

I galloped to the other room to get my phone and call his daddy who was also thrilled with the news. Then I proceeded through my speed-dial list to give updates to proud parents and aunts while he rolled over three more times. On Saturday I captured a roll on video. Here it is:

Okay, now that I’m a mom some of those things I said I would never do in my carefree, child-free existence suddenly don’t seem so bad anymore…a main one being never letting my children sleep in my bed. I remember saying that vehemently many times while my husband would nod his emphatic agreement. Looking back now, I wonder if I had misguided zeal, OR if my convictions were/are correct and I have merely caved and thrown my convictions out the window when having a few extra minutes of sleep mean much more to me than following through on a zealous “I will never…” In the early morning when I would like to continue my beauty rest (which I need more of these days in order to retain the status quo), or while preparing for a Sunday afternoon coma (a favorite tradition in the Reed household) and Robbie begins to fuss and demand attention, disregarding his own need for sleep in favor of cuddling, I feel as though my former declarations were well-intentioned, but sadly misguided, and into bed with me he comes. In my more wakeful moments (like now), I wonder how I’ve become such a pushover, and vow never to let Robbie into my bed again…until…well…yaaaaaawn…

Robbie and I having a Sunday afternoon nap.

I found this article today and found it quite interesting because it took an honest look at the question “How much government interference is too much?” And–to my way of thinking–it answered it honestly: bailing out idiots is not the job of the government, Fed, or anyone else. However, this article puts it much more eloquently, so here’s the link:

Here

I remember being in Political Science class in college when we were talking about the biblical role of government: to protect and to punish. At the time I thought this mainly had to do with physical protection, but now considering the issue again, I do believe the government is also well within their rights to protect honest people from dishonest people. So yes, there should be some laws regulating dishonest business practices. What I do wonder is when (and where) did we go wrong as a country and start thinking that government has to take care of everyone and everything? Whether honest or dishonest, responsible or irresponsible and not just let people learn a lesson that they can only learn through the harshest (but most persuasive) teacher of all: experience and consequences.

Yesterday Sharathon 2008 started for WOAK 90.9 FM…also known as–David’s place of employment. I wouldn’t say that Sharathon is anybody’s favorite time of year (I think all the begging for money over the radio is a bit embarrassing), but it’s one of those things that comes and goes year after year. I’ll probably get used to it sometime down the road, but as it is now I look on it the same way Robbie looks on his shots (or rather, how he would reflect on them if he could): unpleasant, but necessary. Anyway, since this is Robbie’s first Sharathon, we went down to the station today to see his daddy and give him his first taste of live radio.

Robbie ready to DJ

He really liked the headphones.

My two favorite guys!

And here I am!

Today Robbie got his first shots! He also weighed in at 10 lbs. 6 oz. and is 23 inches longs. I almost cried while he got his shots, but he did pretty good. David held him (I didn’t think I would be able to handle it), and after the nurse stuck him, he let out a wail then cuddled up to his daddy while we both fussed over him. Before either of us had a chance to stop feeling shaky from the ordeal and the nurse got out the lollipops (for David and I, not Robbie), he was well on his way to sleep. Sometimes being a parent can be so traumatic!

When I was a little girl, I remember watching my dear mother putting on a pair jeans. I remember finding it interesting, because she would hold her breath, lay flat on her bed, and wrestle with the zipper until it arrived at the top. My childish mind thought the episode fit nicely into one of those categories of things adults did that I never had to bother with…until now.

This morning, while I got ready for work, I found myself caught between a rock and a hard place: my maternity jeans were too loose, and my regular jeans were too tight. A very difficult decision. Did I want to go around in my now slightly baggy, and consequently dowdy looking (but oh, so comfortable!) maternity jeans, or did I want to squeeze into my regular jeans, which if I could somehow pull the darn zipper up and button them (without the button popping off), would make my tummy look flatter, and accentuate my curves while hiding my “mommy pooch”–mainly due to the fact that it had been stuffed inside of unyielding fabric. I of course, chose the latter. Vanity, vanity!

It was while I was holding my breath, and pulling the jeans as close together as possible in order to get the ridiculously temperamental zipper up (zippers have obviously never been through childbirth) that the image of my mom came back and the thought flashed through my mind: “I’m doing another one of those mom things!”

Ahhhhh…it’s a good thing my little boy has such a precious smile. One look at his little face and I don’t care what he did to my tummy–although it does motivate me to keep on jogging and to give him a pretty mommy to look at (not like he cares, but whatever!).

Obviously, I have not written in ages…my bad! However in my defense, I am now a MOMMY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Finally. It really happened. I went into labor, and seven and a half hours later, my little son entered the world. It was a simple as that. I had spent 24 years basically being just me, having my own dreams, plans, ideas, but in a few seconds on July 10th, 2008 I added a new identity that I will have for the rest of my life–a mom. I’ve always prided myself on understanding EVERYTHING–from an emotional point of view anyway. I would sigh and shake my head at adults who didn’t understand children because I could remember my childhood–and all the ups and downs accompanied with it clearly. I would nod sympathetically when parents, grandparents, and others would rhapsodize, complain, and share about children, grandchildren, spouses because even if I had never personally experienced it, I could imagine it perfectly. Therefore, I felt well prepared for motherhood and already knew that it would SUCH a life-changing event, and I would have all these wonderful feelings about my baby, and all that other stuff, because that’s just the way it was supposed to be (duh!). However, now that I’m a mom, I get it…really, really get it. It is not something that all the information in the world can prepare you for; the delight at my baby’s every coo, the urgency I feel to pick up the phone and call someone (and usually do) at every crooked smile, the elation I feel when he bounces happily on my lap. No…you can never really get it until you hear that first cry, then suddenly everything changes. Things happen and you know that the only people who will understand are other mothers; you look dotingly at other children in stores realizing that they all have a special story just like your baby, you looked sympathetically at other moms feeling a strong bond that comes from knowing we had both experienced one of the most miraculous, painful, wondrous, traumatic events in life: childbirth. It’s amazing…and I love it!