Two Days, Two Massive Mama Meltdowns

There have been two major meltdowns over the last two days. And I wish I could say I'm talking about Miss Paige. But I can't. It was me. Two seemingly small and inconsequential happenings managed to push this mama over the edge. There was screaming. There was fury. There were tears. So what were these most devastating circumstances? Well - one involved pasta, and the other involved poop. Pasta and poop brought this mama to the edge of sanity. 

Incident 1: The Case of the Missing Pasta
Yesterday I decided Paige and I needed to bust out of the house. These outings usually involve shopping and impulse buys. I knew my bank account couldn't handle the hit this month, so I decided we would drive around town and get a bite to eat for lunch. All was good in the world. Paige and I were singing the classics (you know... Row, Row, Row Your Boat, If You're Happy And You Know It, and our all time favorite - There's a Hole on the Bottom of the Sea) as we drove around aimlessly. Finally I decided we would go to lunch at a place called FIGO. Not sure if it is a national chain, but there are a few of them around the Atlanta area. It's one of those places where you stand in line, order, then sit down and wait for them to bring over your food. A step above Fast Food,  a step below Sit-Down Restaurant. So we ordered our pasta, sat down, and waited. And waited. And waited. I was busy keeping Paige occupied so I didn't really realize how long it had been. Usually these places take no more than 5-10 minutes to bring out your food. After looking around, I realized that people who came in after us not only had already been served, but were leaving because they were already finished! I flagged over a server and asked her if our food would be out soon - still calm and collected, even as Paige's patience was beginning to run thin. And that's when it happened... I saw the server approach the cook (it's one of those "open dining" situations where you can clearly see into the kitchen), and then saw him pull a dish of pasta up from UNDER THE COUNTER and hand it to her. And you all know exactly what I mean when I say "under the counter"... like it had been ready a long time ago, no server took it, so they pulled it from the serving rack and pushed it off to the side. As she began to carry this plate towards our table, I literally lost my mind. Forget the 30 or so other people dining. Forget the fact that it was an honest mistake. Forget the fact that I had a 17 month old with me, and happened to be 35 weeks prego. My mind was long gone at this point and I was on the verge of meltdown. I jumped up with the speed of a cheetah, grabbed Paige, her sippy cup and my purse in one fowl swoop and with a louder than necessary voice, I said, "Are you kidding me? You are going to feed a pregnant woman and her child food that has been sitting there for 45 minutes or more?!" The server - who was probably around 17 - looked at me with fear in her eyes. And then the kicker... "This place is disgusting! You are disgusting! This is the worst experience OF MY LIFE!!!" : ) Did I ever tell you all that I have a flare for the dramatic? However, I wasn't done with my rampage just yet. I marched up to the counter... past the line of customers waiting to order... and demanded a refund. Of course they obliged (probably with one hand on the phone to dial security) and refunded my $13.76. Still fuming, I turned around to leave and heard the manager say, "We're really sorry about this. I'm not sure how it happened..." to which I responded, "You should be sorry! Making a child and pregnant woman wait for an hour... You should be ashamed of yourselves. I will NEVER BE BACK AGAIN!" And off I went. By the time we got to the car I was in tears. In tears over pasta. Paige was kissing my cheek and giving me hugs - even she knew I was in the middle of a meltdown and figured she should keep a low profile. We ended up getting Wendy's at the drive thru, went home to eat, and took naps. The second half of the day was much less eventful : )

Incident 2: A Poopy Puppy
Starting about 2 weeks ago, I've been going to the OB twice a week for monitoring. On Tuesdays I go to the regular OB for the NST (Non-Stress Test) where they hook me up to the monitors to track the baby's heartbeat and whether or not I'm having contractions. On Fridays I go to the Maternal-Fetal Specialists for a BPP (Bio-Physical Profile) where they do an ultrasound and evaluate. So far, these appointments have been going well. But today, the appointment took longer than normal because Lil D wasn't cooperating. On the NST, they look for the baby's heartbeat to "accelerate" at least 4 or 5 times in 20 minutes. Lil D was kicking around, but there wasn't much of an acceleration. The same thing used to happen with Miss Paige on these tests. So 60 minutes in, they decide I need to guzzle some apple juice and eat peanut butter crackers to try and get him moving more. I knew nothing was wrong with him, and tried to explain that I just have very chill babies. Obviously, that wasn't going to fly with them, so I sat for a while longer until Lil D FINALLY gave them the acceleration they needed to set me free. When I got home, I was already feeling a little upset because I knew Daniel was having to wait for me to get home before he could leave for work. As I walked in the door, I was greeted by Lenni Lulu. And her stench. And as I reached down to pet her, I saw it... Poop. Lots of poop. Mixed with mud. All over her. I started to gag and called for Daniel. He told me that she had run away into the woods when he let her out that morning, and went right into her kennel as punishment when she came back home. He had just let her out when he heard me pull in. Obviously, he hadn't taken a good look at her (which is understandable given the fact he was watching/changing/feeding Paige). And at this point, surprisingly, I was still somewhat calm. Daniel carried Lenni up to the bathtub and I began to scrub her down. And that's when I lost it. The smell of poop, combined with my stressful morning just set me off. I started screaming. And crying. And pounding on the side of the tub. It was a full on prego tantrum. Daniel hopped out of the shower to try and comfort me, but one look at the pittifulness and he knew I was a lost cause at the moment. Luckily, Paige went down for a nap and I had a few moments to myself to relax and recover with my S'More Pop Tarts and an episode of The Real Housewives of New Jersey. Nothing heals a prego soul like chocolate and crazy. Daniel texted me around noon with this message: "All clear on the Western front? Love you!" He is obviously used to the hormones.

So I think my family is bracing for Day 3. But I'm determined to not lose my mind three days in a row. I let you know if I'm successful... : )

What It Means to Be a Mama

A friend of mine wrote this amazing description of what it means to be a Mama... and I just had to share in honor of Mother's Day. How true is it??!!

10 Things I've Learned Since Becoming a Momma

By Christina  DeMott **Dedicated mama of two precious girls - Charlotte (17 months old) and Chessa (in utero)**

"In honor of Mother's Day,  I've decided to share with you some of the wisdom I've learned in my two short years since joining the greatest club ever.  I dedicate this note to all the amazing mommas I know, especially my 3 beautiful mothers Donna, Debbie, and Arlene.  You've taught me to be an incredible mother, never sweat the small stuff, and inspire me to strive everyday."

 1.  There is NOTHING sexier than a man who changes fowl smelling diapers and loves your kid(s). And fellas, forget the romance!  The quickest way to get your wife in the sack is to clean the house, cook dinner, and do a load of laundry (washed, dried, folded and put away thank you).  This method is so effective it's guaranteed to leave even Barry White's head spinning.

 2.  Extreme vigilance doesn't even begin to describe how closely you need to watch your children.  My toddler can  open a box of crayons, decorate the wall, eat half of a crayon and managed to get the other half lodged in the dog's ear in the 15 seconds it takes for me to use the bathroom.  If you think you have it covered with socket plugs, think again.

 3.  Having children breathes new life into holidays.  You will find how unbelievably exciting it is to celebrate Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, and even Earth Day when you can see it through the eyes of a child.  We find a way to celebrate almost every holiday in our house, except Ramadan.  Italians. Don't. Fast.

 4.  You appreciate others so much more, especially other mothers.  When you realize that people still have the  ability to be kind to you even though they've only had 4 hours of sleep, spilled coffee on their pants, had a baby vomit on their breakfast, and stepped in a huge pile of dog poop on their way to work; it gives you a new faith in the world.

 5.  You will become political.  Republican, Democrat, Independent, or Green it doesn't matter.  Any decision made by the government that doesn't agree with your child-rearing values will severely piss you off.  Because now, it's not just your future that is riding on their stupidity.

 6.  Hormones.  Seriously one of the scariest products of becoming a mother.  Pre-children, I occasionally got a little  cranky once or twice a month.  Once I became pregnant however and especially after delivery, I probably could have been committed over my madness.  I've drawn blood over a box of chocolates (sorry Dad), threatened to divorce my husband over a game of Scrabble, and wept in the produce isle of Price Chopper (causing quite a scene) over a lack of organic strawberries.  If your family still loves you after that, then you know they'd probably help you bury a body too.

 7.  Keeping your house clean and your kids on a tight schedule might be vital to your sanity, but I expect that to happen like I expect Fabio to show up on my doorstep with cleaning fairies and dinner elves.  The way I see it, it is an impossible mathematical ratio.  My daughter can destroy three rooms in the time it takes me to clean one.  Therefore sanity = dividing by zero.  Just not possible.  Of course it helps to look at the positive.  As long as the Department of Heath isn't threatening to condemn your house and your kids aren't rolling around in feces, you're good!

 8.  There is nothing more terrifying than becoming a mother.  Not because having a child is actually scary, it is the world around you that becomes so. You are now responsible for protecting, educating, loving, and transforming these perfect little creatures into fully functioning adults.  You will constantly doubt yourself, and be up all night  worrying about incredibly stupid scenarios like what to do if a bear breaks into the house.

 9.  You will greatly miss the ability to form fully functional sentences and the rest of your brain power that your children seem to have stolen away.  It seems to me that your brain short circuits with all the massive amounts of information and knowledge required when raising children.  Don't worry though, I've heard some of us do regain the ability to hold an intelligent conversation once the children are much older.

10.  Nothing will prepare you for how much you absolutely adore your children. They will astonish you everyday   with their brilliance, make you laugh, and warm your heart in ways you never even imagined.  You would do anything to protect them. Anything.  It's never a good idea (in any species) to come between a mother and her young.

Through all this, just remember:  if you hit the pillow every night sore, anxious, full of doubt, beyond exhausted yet filled with an exceptional sense of love and joy; you are probably doing everything right.

I Just May be Turning into a Helicopter Mama

I used to love watching scary movies and TV shows - the creepier and more suspenseful, the better. And then I moved into my first apartment by myself after college and realized that watching movies and shows about single females being kidnapped from their apartments, followed off the subway, or having hidden cameras stuck in their air vents by creepy landlords might not be the best way to induce a good night's sleep. Luckily in that first apartment all utilities were included in the rent, so leaving every single light on all night long wasn't problematic (for me at least!).

Since becoming a mama, there is a new type of TV/movie scenario I need to avoid: basically, anything that involves children. Maybe it's the hormones, but it seems like every single show or movie I watch involves children being hurt, abandoned, kidnapped... or worse. And it gives me heart palpitations. I think it just hits too close to home. What used to be sad or troublesome now stays with me for days on end - I can't get those horrible images out of my head and worry about not only the safety of my own children, but every child I know! Yes, I acknowledge this is a little crazy. But it's the truth.

Last week Netflix sent us "Babble" - you know, the 2006 movie with Brad Pitt that was nominated for Best Picture? Neither Daniel or I had seen it, but were excited to watch. Well, it takes a bit of concentration to understand that movie and connect the dots. But I just couldn't do it. Why? Because every storyline involved children being put in harm's way - Moroccan children shooting guns and feeling guilty when an accident happens, US children being taken into Mexico and then left in the desert, and even a teenage girl in Japan with more issues than I can write about here. Every time a new scene started, I was worrying about the children in the last scene. My heart was aching as if they were real people, in a real situation. Last night's Law and Order: SVU involved an abandoned baby - and I almost had to leave the room because it was so heart-wrenching. And you know it's bad when I can't even watch Wonder Pets on Nick Jr. without tearing up at the thought of the Baby Panda not being able to find his Mama.

I guess it's because I have a new perspective since becoming a mother - I now feel the constant need to protect, defend and nurture babies and children. It's not out of left field for mamas to feel this way, but I never thought it would hit me so hard. I definitely think it's magnified by the hormones, but I have serious visions of becoming a Helicopter Mom - hoovering over my child's every move to keep them safe and protected. I always knew I would be a tad bit overprotective. That was a given. But I think it has taken on new form. Miss Paige was playing in one of those Fisher-Price cars the other day and my mind immediately jumped 15 years ahead, to when she is driving a real car. And even though I have a decade and a half to prepare myself, it's terrifying to think of my baby out on her own. Phew... I'm getting myself in a tizzy just writing about it : )

And so, it is with new perspective on what it means to conceive, carry and raise a baby from infancy that I must now declare: Miss Paige, you will live at home forever. With mommy and daddy. And your little brother. And if necessary, we may become Amish. Or people who live in a tent in the woods.Or I may deem it necessary to form a family band - a la The Partridge Family - so we will be forced to be together forever (contractually, legally binding of course - for the sake of the band).

Just kidding... kind of : )