I Am Not Your Enemy

Competitive parenting is a dangerous game. And I’m not talking about the kind of competition that involves keeping up with the family next door. I’m talking about intra family competition- parent vs. parent.

This kind of competition: I have changed the last seventeen dirty diapers. So, don’t roll your eyes at me when I ask you to take out the trash.

Sound familiar?

It should. Every parent has kept score at one time or another. If you haven't, chances are  your spouse has. 

Competitive parenting is hard to avoid for most couples. Why? Because when children are involved, to-do lists grow by miles and the stress of raising little people gets overwhelming. As a result, keeping score of tasks- even subconsciously- becomes a hard habit to break.

To some extent, it’s natural and necessary to keep track of tasks. It’s important to share parental duties, so that one parent doesn’t become overworked, overstressed, and feel ready to jump of a cliff. After all, parenting is - by nature - a team sport. But there’s a fine line between peacefully delegating tasks and tallying them so you can point the finger in the other direction the next time the dog needs a bath.

If you dabble in competitive parenting, you aren’t alone.

My husband and I are both variations of Type A personalities, and most days, we make a good team. His Type A personality is immediately apparent when you meet him. I’m more of a sneaky, subtle Type A. But we have our respective competitive natures in common. For each of us, it’s a best and worst quality.

In our first few years together, we learned how to push each other’s buttons. And then we spent the next several years learning why it’s always a bad idea to push those buttons. As a result of our inadvertent research, we don’t play board games, we don’t watch Jeopardy, we don’t even play Tic Tac Toe.

We can’t help but compete in life- it’s our nature.  So, we have to dance around all the buttons. One thing we can't dance around? Parenting.  

We parent day in/day out and most days, we win as a team. But some days we don’t. In the really hectic moments of parenting, it seems difficult to tackle bath time for the 8th night in a row. It seems silly, I know. But, when you are in the moment, the struggle is real.

It’s on those stressful days that I have to take a step back and think to another place in time. When we were planning our vows, the pastor who married us spoke about keeping score. He foretold of the times when it would be easy to see your spouse as an enemy. We talked about how the very person you love the most in the world could become your arch enemy in a matter of seconds.

It wasn’t a foreign concept; we had experienced our fair share of disagreements over our five-year courtship. But seeing the other one as an enemy? We didn’t. Even though it seemed a bit strange at the time, on the day we met each other down the aisle, we said, “I am not your enemy.”

Today, it makes sense.  The stress of life becomes heavier in adulthood. Mortgages are expensive, work is taxing on the body and mind, and parenting may be the most challenging job of a person’s life.

But, I am not my husband’s enemy. We married each other so we could take on life as a team. When our child runs a fever, and I have no one else to turn to, I know I have my husband. When our future seems uncertain and I lay awake at night, I have a hand to hold. And when we celebrate successes in life, his is the first neck I hug. 

As spouses, we commit to facing life’s obstacles and enjoying life’s triumphs together. It's not always easy, but I've come to learn that marriage is a team sport. If one parent keeps score, everyone loses.

So I'm kicking competitive parenting to the curb, and I'm taking the trash can with me. No it's not my turn to take the trash out, but who's keeping score? Not me.

To My Fellow Mothers, A Salute

Our children are different, but our experiences are the same. If you've brought children in the world, then you've been the proud mom, the nervous mom, the thankful mom, the rookie mom, or the tired mom at one time or another. No matter what mom you are today, it's important to pat the momma sitting next to you on the back. We're all going to survive this motherhood game one way or another, but it's a lot easier when a fellow mom takes a minute out of the day to remind you, "you've got this."

So, to each of my fellow mommas reading this today, you've got this.  Here's a salute to you:

To the mother whose efforts are taken for granted, give it time.

Right now, you are living for everyone else but you.  Your children believe your sole reason for existence is to be their maid- to fill their sippy cups, wipe their butts, and feed them ham sandwiches. And although some days you would agree with that assessment, it's not the case. One day when your child has a child of her own, she will realize your life's work: what you did behind the scenes, and the pains you took to ensure the best for them.

I don't know what it feels like to be appreciated by my children just yet, but I do know what it feels like to finally understand the sacrifices my parents made for my brother and me. So tonight if you are feeling unappreciated when you lay down to sleep, think about all the good you have accomplished in your efforts to raise a decent human. Some days as a mother are thankless, just remember that sometimes it's okay to thank yourself.

To the stay at home mom counting down to nap time, you aren't alone.

It's been a rough morning and you check the time- it's only 9 a.m. You think to yourself, in three more hours I can go take a shower. But that's basically a century in the world of mom time. So you sit down to read one more book, watch one more episode of Elmo's World, and play one more game of hide and seek.

Some days go more slowly than others, but you aren't a bad mom because you look forward to peace and quiet. ALL moms look forward to those few precious moments when they can shower, workout, send emails, and eat a meal in peace. It's only natural. So when noon rolls around, enjoy every second of that small slice of you time. But first, make sure you put your guilt to bed, too.

To the mom whose kid just stole my little girl's Minnie Mouse figurine and shoved it down his pants, it's fine- I promise.

There's no need to apologize; two year olds are all nuts. Anyway, it's probably my fault for bringing my toddler's favorite toy to the pool. Don't sweat it, I promise I'm not judging your parenting skills. 

In fact, my daughter probably needed a quick demonstration on sharing anyway.  If I'm being completely honest, I'm just relieved that this time my kid isn't the one acting crazy. I'll sanitize Minnie, let's have a good laugh, and call it water under the bridge.

To the mom with a screaming toddler in the next booth over, you deserve an award.

I watch you bounce your crying baby around the restaurant while your chicken primavera is sitting lukewarm on the table.  You decided to leave the house and brave the public, instead of dining at home for the 20th night in a row. But your decision backfired. 

I know how you feel: you just want to stop the stares, curb the embarrassment, and enjoy your dinner for once. We've all been there. In fact, my daughter just dumped her entire plate of mac & cheese in the floor in the next booth over. Even though it may not seem like it, people understand. We have all been the mother, father, uncle, grandma, sister, brother, or dinner guest of a fussy kid at one time or another.  So laugh this one off, and try again next week. You never know when that wildcard child of yours might just decide to cooperate.

To the mom standing in the shower in tears, I know it's hard.

The responsibility of raising another life is a heavy load to bare- that's never going to change. Sometimes all we can do is stand in the shower and cry about everything we can't control. But that's okay. In fact, sometimes a moment alone is the key to clarity. 

So if you've had a tough day emotionally, take a minute for you. Breathe and sing and brainstorm and wash off the heaviness of today. And when you emerge from the steam, restart your modem, put on some mascara, and take another stab at this motherhood game. It's much easier with a fresh face.

To the mom who is feeling insecure about that selfie she just posted on Instagram, you look great.

You know what feels better than someone telling you you're cute? Having the confidence to post a picture of yourself on social media without giving a flip about whether anyone thinks you're cute. I envy your confidence.

As moms, we are constantly snapping pictures of our little ones. Sometimes it's good to give that a break, and turn the camera around. Yes our children are cute, and yes their pictures will probably generate more likes. But who cares?! We moms can be petty darn cute as well. Let's not be afraid to celebrate OUR beauty every once in a while. 

To the mom who keeps apologizing about her house being a wreck, save your breath.

We get it. You are in the child raising business, and raising children equals complete and utter destruction of the home. I promise if you invite me over, I won't even notice. 

If it makes you feel better, when I visit another mom's home that isn't perfectly tidy, I feel relieved. Not because your mess is worse than mine (you should see my basement), but because it's another reminder that it's normal to have a messy home when you have kids. Just think of it like you are doing your duty to boost motherly morale.

Right? Right.

To any mother past, present, or future, I salute you. 

We moms are all going through the same journey, even though we may be on different paths. As we experience this phase of our lives, we are essentially just playing musical chairs, trading one vantage point for another.

So cheers to all of us- to the mom occupying the chair beside me, the one in front of me, and the one behind me. I've been in your shoes before, and you will be in mine. May we never quit supporting each other as we tiptoe along this thrilling, yet challenging journey; and may we soak up every single moment while the music is still playing.

Daydreams, Dinner Tables, & Diane

I have this recurring vision of my life forty years from now:

It's Thanksgiving. The leaves outside our brick colonial home are a rusty shade of orange, and inside it smells like cinnamon sticks. I’m staring down a long dining room table filled with my large family, my offspring and theirs. I look identical to Diane Keaton in The Family Stone, with thick rimmed glasses and an apron cinched at the waist, which isn’t completely relevant to the story, but whatever- it’s my vision.

To make a long story short, my vision for myself has always been to have a large family (and to gracefully age into Diane Keaton).

Rewind to the present day with my crew: No brick colonial, no fancy dinners, no large family. It’s just my husband, my toddler, and myself, starting our lives together as a trio. Our routine is simple, but we like it.

It took my husband and me a little while to get the hang of parenting.  But now days we are feeling like ourselves again, and - dare I say it – I think we are decent at being parents of a toddler. We do B+ work at least. 

It's not easy, but life has become somewhat predictable, in a sweet, content sort of way. And for right now, one child feels manageable. We travel, brave restaurants (when we are feeling really crazy), and spend a lot of time doing nothing. Our very best nights are spent on the living room floor eating popcorn and making animal noises with our daughter. 

Life has settled into a pattern, and all three of us are happy. So why do I have this little bug in my ear telling me to roll the dice? 

Despite all my feelings of contentment, I can’t shake the baby bug. I bat it away, but the bug keeps buzzing back in my direction. So, like an erratic game of ping pong, I come close to committing to Baby 2, only to swat the idea away, asking myself later "what was I thinking?!" Maybe it's because almost everyday someone will look down at Meredith (my only) and tell/ask me, “so it’s about time for number two?”

“I dunno,” I shrug it off. "Things are really good right now." What I want to say is: "What’s so crazy about having a family of three for a minute?"

It sounds rewarding, growing my family. But plenty reasons tell me it's not yet time: (1) I can't get excited about voluntarily sacrificing my sleep again; (2) Managing vacation as a family of three is doable; and (3) I’m finally back in my old bras.

Three completely unselfish justifications for not wanting more children, right? 

Probably not. 

But sometimes the baby bug hits me hard. l watch my daughter play in the floor with her dolls-  she wraps them in blankets and tells them goodnight. She kisses their fake boo-boos, and sings them songs. I sit in amazement at her ability to nurture at the age of 20 months old, and think to myself-  wow, she is going to be a wonderful sister someday. 

One of the best gifts I ever received was a little baby boy, three years my junior, who I could teach the ways of the world, and protect through every step of life. Being a big sister prepared me for motherhood, there's no doubt about it. And these are skills my daughter should have the privilege of learning early on. But in order to give her that experience, I've got some work to do: I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that having a large family sitting around my Thanksgiving table when I'm 60 means having to sacrifice myself in my 30's.

Transitions are difficult, and so is selflessness. Adding more children to your family requires a heaping dose of selflessness, but watching your family grow makes all the labor pains and late nights worth it. No, I may not be ready to give up those skinny jeans. But, the thought of bringing another set of sweet little cheeks into this world makes the idea a little more appealing. 

Maybe one day soon...

In the mean time, I'm going to enjoy my family while it's just the three of us, and while my skinny jeans still zip. Rest assured my daydreams of Diane Keaton and old brick colonials are always lingering in the back of my mind. But sometimes I just have to tell Diane to chill out- I'll get there in due time. 

Friendship: Because Motherhood is Too Dang Hard Without It

As a mom, I realize the importance of a good list. I create them for the grocery, I write down to-do's, and then sometimes I make lists that include reminders to consult other lists. As a blogger, I write lists almost weekly. They make up some of my more popular posts with my readers, probably because a good list could save your life or mine on a daily basis. There are countless items that make motherhood easier in each of it's stages, so why not list them?

But I have to be honest. If I had to create one master list encompassing all the most crucial items I couldn't survive motherhood without, it would be short. Really short. In fact, my list would have only just one little item.  I know what you are thinking- it has to be coffee. And no, although coffee and wine are certainly helpers in their own right, I could probably make it without them (ok, barely).

The one thing I couldn’t survive motherhood without? A friend.

I bet you can hear James Taylor singing in the background already- "you just call out my name, and you know wherever I am..."

But I'm dead serious. Friendship might be the most vital resource for living a happy life as a mother, especially in those first few months when we are mom babies raising real babies. Simply put, there is no replacement for a morning text from a friend asking me "Hey, how is Meredith's temperature this morning?’

It’s not out of requirement, your friends don’t have to be nice to you because of familial obligation—they check on us because they care. They want us to be happy, and thrive in life. Sometimes we take it for granted, how nice it is that a few people in this big ol' world care about our well-being.

And when I say we, I definitely mean me. Before I had my daughter, I took for granted the importance of having a support group or "tribe" as the cool kids say. They were there, and I loved every friend I had. But since  becoming a mother, the importance of a having few great girlfriends has magnified. 

Sometimes it's just important to have that one person who doesn't mind if you text her at 5 a.m. because you have a crazy looking bump on your nipple. Other times you just need a friend to meet you for coffee and a good hug. You can't bottle up all your worries and fears without losing your sanity. At least I can't. So, instead of inundating my mom with all my crazy texts or turning to prescription medication, I've relied on my friendships to help keep me sane.

Friendship is also a handy antidote to the occasional motherhood blues. Although it seems it would be the opposite, motherhood can sometimes be a frighteningly lonesome gig. When you have a precious someone in your life who keeps up with your day-to-day because he or she simply loves who you are, your sense of self worth multiplies. And maybe, hopefully those feelings of anxiety and loneliness float away.

I’ve chosen to elevate my friendships as a priority in my life since becoming a mother. They are my safety blanket, and my source of comfort on a daily (sometimes hourly) basis. When things go south in life, it’s crucial to have someone to lean on. And I try my hardest every day to be that person who can be leaned on as well.

If you don’t have a friend, find one. And if you can't find one, email me. I would love to be your friend. For women and mothers, having someone to tell about your greatest fears or triumphs is necessary for happiness.

If you do one thing for yourself as a mom,  find your tribe, your army, your support group, your person. And when you find her, be there when she needs you too--winter, spring, summer or fall 🎶.

Friday Funnies

Happy Friday, mommas and friends! It's been a whirlwind of a week over here at Not Your Basic Mom. My latest article, Marriage Before Childbirth: What All Women (& Men) Need to Know, was featured on Her View From Home, and is approaching 300 likes! If you missed it, click the link or click here, and don't forget to press the like button : )

I also became a contributor over at the Huffington Post, so you can check out my latest essay titled "On Becoming Wonder Women" right here.

In keeping with the discussion on feminism and the unrealistic expectations forced on women in today's world, I've provided you with a Friday Funny. Let me preface the video with just a couple thoughts:

(1) Why can't we all be best friends with Kristen Bell? 

and

(2) The stereotypes in this video are ridiculous, but can we just all agree they are real?! 

ENJOY! 

To My Strong-Willed Child

Written by Stephanie Gilbert

My dear strong-willed child, I see you.

You might not think that I do, but I really do see you. Through the long and tiresome (did I mention long) evening clean-ups when picking up just one more block seems like an astronomical feat you just CANNOT complete, I see you. Through the preschool work meltdowns when coloring one more leaf on a plant appears to be your personal Mt. Everest, I see you. When you stand there and grimace with pursed lips and nose scrunched just before you release a giant-sized “No! I don’t want to!” I still see you. It might not seem like I do as I hover over you, teeth gritted, barking out orders and threats of discipline as you act out once again. But when tempers calm and you climb meekly into my lap nuzzled closely to my heart and whisper, “I love you, Mommy,” what I’ve been seeing all along is that much clearer. Yes, you are my strong-willed child, but you are so much more.

You are my little leader. It’s obvious as you step into the preschool room the affect you have on the kids around you. They watch what you do. They ask to play with you. And even when you’re bad and push or hit one of these friends, they forgive easily and beg to play with you again. One day you and these other littles will be the big kids, then teenagers, then adults; and you will have a choice to make in each of these stages of life. Will you use that stubbornness and stand-my-ground attitude to lead others toward wise, good decisions, or will you lead them to foolish, reprehensible decisions that will cost you and them far more than you want to pay? You see, your strong will is a gift. It might as well be a super power. Wield it well, my love.

You are ingenuity at its finest … perhaps a little too smart for your own good. When you hear “No” what really processes in that inquisitive mind is “not that way.” So if you couldn’t get that piece of candy by asking, you’ll find a way to make it happen by yourself; and, of course, make sure Mommy is pre-occupied before making your move. With that mind, one day you’ll accomplish greatness. When critics say “you can’t,” you’ll say “watch me.” They say “where there’s a will, there’s a way,” but I say “where there’s a strong will, there are 100 ways.” And you, my darling, will find every last one of them.

You are fiercely independent. The evidence is in your objections to my assistance offered at bath time, teeth brushing time, getting dressed time, and basically every other “time” of the day… except, of course, those times you simply don’t want to … like clean-up time … sigh … but, oh, the battles you’ve waged over doing it all by yourself! One day this independence will drive you to the top. You’ll get that promotion, that raise, that bonus all on your own because in your eyes, there won’t be any other option. You’ll work harder than your peers when your mind is made up about what you really want. And you won’t quit until it’s yours. You, my dear, are a fighter.

As you grow and I’m faced with the struggle between reigning in that strong will and encouraging your growth through it, my heart and hope is to nurture that fire within you, grow it to greatness, not squelch it with my smothering grasp. I pray you’ll use that strong will to change your piece of the planet. After all, all it takes is a little leadership, ingenuity, and independence to change the world as we know it. You, my little one, are a game changer, and even when you don’t think I do, I see you.

Stephanie Gilbert is an OCD mama of three "spirited" children (four if you count the big boy posing as her husband) who blogs at I Literally LOL where you are sure to find lots of love, laughter, and honesty. She also occasionally writes for Her View From Home and dreams of being a published author one day, winning a lifetime supply of Reese's peanut butter cups, and successfully surviving the toddler years. For daily doses of joy, you can follow her on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

Learning to Love Today, A Mother's Vow

It’s kind of ironic, motherhood. We groan about our hectic, unglamorous lives when we are raising families. And then when the kids leave for college and we finally have the freedom to do fun things again like poop alone, we cry. The house suddenly feels empty and we long for the chaotic days of snotty noses and soccer practice.

We are strange, self-punishing creatures, always wanting what we can’t have.

Don't we do the same thing with life too? Men and women alike. We get complacent with today so we make plans for tomorrow, and count down to event XYZ. Before we know it, ten years fly by and we are scrambling to get back the good ol days.

I'm guilty of it. This summer I've been creating countdowns like it's my job- to the beach, to Saturday, to 5 o'clock. I stalk the Internet for Labor Day cabin rentals before we even unpack our bags from our family trip to South Carolina.  Making future plans seems more exciting than consciously enjoying the here and now.

I unintentionally wish time away on a regular basis. And I know that's a scary game to play. It's even scarier now that I have a little girl who looks older every time I lay eyes on her. Her baby cheeks are gradually slimming, and she just used her words to tell me she wants a banana. She's getting be such a big girl- I'm proud and startled at the same time. 

By the time we start counting down to Christmas, I'm going to have a 2 year old on my hands. And then before we know it, high school is here.

So, I'm making a new vow; a vow to love the moment I'm living in. Everyday. Not because life is presently perfect - it's never going to be perfect. But because I can't afford to wait for tomorrow to tell me how special today is.

This stage of life might be mundane, but it's sweet in it's simplicity. My prayer for Saturday mornings is to let time linger, and soak it up like the coffee in my mug. Even if we are just cuddling on the couch under a fuzzy blanket watching Elmo, I'm going to savor the cuddles.

And tonight at bedtime, I'm going to close my eyes and patiently rock my growing baby to sleep, with my cheek squeezed into hers. She will be too big to rock to sleep in just a few short months...

My hope for everyday is to pause, and appreciate the time I have with my child on this very day in our lives. 

Today, just as sure as the string cheese in my hand, I’m going to embrace this moment of parenthood. And then one day, when my children are grown and I have the time and forethought to buy myself adult snacks at the grocery, I will cherish that moment too.

There is beauty in the mundane, and I want to enjoy every second. I'm vowing to live in the present (or at least I'm planning on it). 😉

Friday Funnies

Happy Friday! Who is in the mood for a good laugh? 

A friend emailed me this hilarious video the other day, and I just had to share. Oh, and if your kiddos are around, this may be a good time for them to put on their ear muffs.

I think we can all relate to living a secret life as mothers. This mom lays it all out in a frank confession to her children.  Enjoy!

Life After Breastfeeding

I don’t blame other mothers for not breastfeeding. Sometimes, for whatever reason, it just doesn’t work. I was lucky to be able to breastfeed my daughter. But after she was born via cesarean, my milk took it's time coming in. I stayed the course, and after a long three days of pumping air and dry feeding my daughter, my milk came in. FINALLY.

The angels swept down and sang a chorus of Hallelujah.

We were in business. She didn’t have much of an issue latching on- girlfriend loved to eat. My supply met her demand, and the months rolled on. We made it through the first year together, and for the most part, she was incredibly content.

She was a momma’s girl too. She loved playing peekaboo with her dad and romping around with her grandparents but she always needed to be near her momma. I was her comfort, her safe place. However, I gradually started to realize, maybe it wasn’t me she was so crazy about.

With mobility came new scratches and bruises and the inevitable cry to mom when she acquired either. She would predictably nestle her head in my bosom, and boo boo (yes, boo boo) would save the day. I breastfed her after shots at the doctor’s office, when she was feeling tired after a long day, and of course during her six mealtimes too.

She was a milkaholic, and I was her all-you-can-drink wet bar.

I knew we couldn’t stay on this course. Being in public was difficult. Sometimes she would pull down my shirt down while I was holding her. Oh and the teeth. I was suffering abuse at the hand (teeth) of a 15 month-old. My boobs were screaming “save me while I still have nipple sensation!!!” I knew it was time, and boy was she going to resent me for it.

I felt guilty just thinking about weaning her. I set goals and timelines to begin weaning and then I watched them pass right by. I just couldn’t pull the trigger. Looking back, it’s as if I wanted to continue the feedings as much as she did. Was I the one relying on breastfeeding as emotional support? The sores on my breasts told me yes. They became more frequent (and disgusting), and finally my husband intervened. He had watched me beat myself up for months about weaning her, and he finally called me out. We all knew it was time.

We slowly decreased our amount of feedings until one weekend after a two-day long girls trip, I decided there would be no more. And to my surprise, she never missed a beat. In fact, what happened in the weeks to follow baffled me: we became closer. We had exchanged the bond that had kept us so close in the infant months for a new, stronger relationship. Stronger because she wasn’t using me for my boobs.  Suddenly she wanted to give me kisses, cuddles, and hugs, with no expectation of boo boo. No quid pro quo necessary. She was loving me without the distraction of breastfeeding. 

I wasn’t the only one who noticed this new phase of loveliness. After she was off the breast, she immediately began gravitating toward my husband. She loved it when he fed her sweet potatoes and rocked her to sleep. He could walk into a room and she would throw her hands up, and beg for him to hold her. This rarely happened before we weaned. And why would it? He didn’t have the milk jugs.

Her relationships were now becoming more meaningful, and her cuddles more genuine.

Just a few weeks post weaning, I knew the truth: For us, life was better on the other side of breastfeeding. I’m thankful for being able to breastfeed her in the first several months of her life, and I’m thankful for the bond it created. But, now I’m thankful it’s over. We simply outgrew it. Now our relationship is built on something much stronger than the principles of supply and demand- it’s built on love. And my “boo boos” are rejoicing.  

MOM POLLS

We polled a diverse group of not-so-basic moms about a wide range of topics this week, and these are the hilarious, unfiltered answers we received:

1) Imagine you have a guilt free night alone with no kids, no friends, and no obligations. How do you spend your time?

"A guilt free, kid free night to myself?! First, I'd pinch myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming, then I would totally indulge MYSELF. I would treat myself to mani, pedi, massage and facial. I would then go home and binge-watch Netflix and DVR until I fell asleep! " - Jessica M.

"On the couch with a glass of wine catching up on my DVR shows, in my PJ's."  -Meagan S.

"My evening would consist of the following: stripping naked, popping open a bottle of wine, busting open a carton of my favorite ice cream, making sure the AC is set on 68 (the temperature of heaven), getting my fave blanket and stretching out on my comfy couch. At that point, I would binge watch Girls, Pride and Prejudice, and quite possibly some porn depending on how much booze I drank."   -Jessie M.

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 "I would eat some amazing food while it's hot and stay in a hotel where I don't feel obligated to clean or organize anything! I would soak in a hot bath without someone staring at me, trying to poke my boobs (my 2 year old thinks they are so funny) or watching my belly jiggle when she smacks it."  -Cheyenne R.

"I would like to say I would do glamorous things like take a long shower and read a good book or, heaven forbid, work out. But in reality, I would probably end up watching a chick flick and falling asleep on the couch by 10."- Jillian B.

2) The first few weeks after bringing home baby can be challenging for your morale. What did you do to feel good in your own skin post-delivery?

"Hahahahaha...there is no recovery from the damage to your body. I just learned to love me for me...including the baby pooch and stretch marks. And trust me, men don't care one bit." - Jessie M.

 "I still struggle with feeling good in my skin.   After my first baby, I only gained 17 pounds. My body bounced back pretty fast. Putting on pre-pregnancy clothes that fit felt great!! The pregnancy with the twins was a whole different ball game. I gained 70 pounds and I have lots of stretched skin. I truly struggle feeling comfortable now. I mean how sexy is tucking your extra skin into jeans? I have to tell myself often that - regardless of what I look like on the outside - my body has done amazing things. I carried two babies almost full term and I have the scars to prove it!" -Cheyenne R.

"To be honest, I still don't feel good in my post baby (and now baby) body. I suffered from post-partum depression after my son was born, so absolutely nothing made me feel good in my skin, mind, and -at the time- world. I don't have much advice in this department, but I would encourage women to seek help for PPD and not put it off like I did. After treatment for PPD, I did find that exercising made me feel much better! Zumba classes with other awesome ladies and mommas really helped when I finally felt like going!" - Jessica M.

"I became best friends with my group of educated professionals: The lactation consultants, baby's pediatrician, my OB, the leader of my mommy group. I also connected with a Facebook group of moms from all over the world who gave birth the same month I did. That made me feel less alone." - Jillian B.

3) What's the most ridiculous/hilarious thing you have done because you are a sleep deprived mom?

"I woke up my husband and verbally assaulted him in the middle of the night over eating my last Dove chocolate and didn't remember until he told me what I had done the next day."  -Meagan S.

"I have 4 kids. The past 17 years have been a blur. I am sure there are many hilarious stories containing events that I was a apart of, but I can't remember them. Just like I can't remember my kids birthdays half the time, where I park, or the last time I shaved."  -Jessie M.

 "I have probably done a ton of ridiculous things while exhausted from mom life. The most ridiculous happened while taking the twins to their first doctors appointment. My breast pump had not come in yet and we had just been released from the hospital 24 hours before. I was hand pumping on the way to the appointment. I walk in, forgetting to pull my shirt down. I flashed an entire waiting room my extremely swollen boobs. Thankfully my nursing bra was still partially on!" -Cheyenne R.

"I put Butt Paste on my toothbrush multiple times throughout my son's first year of life. I also mistakingly used peroxide to remove make-up thinking it was eye-makeup remover, and occasionally used Astringent as mouthwash." - Jessica M.

"Looking back on those first 6 months when I wasn't sleeping for more than 3 or 4 hours consecutively, I literally have no idea how I managed to keep myself or the baby alive. But now when people without kids tell me they are tired, I don't think I've ever laughed so hard." - Jillian B.

Finding My Cool Again

When I was in my early twenties I used to bust out song lyrics on demand. I could transform into Lisa ‘Left Eye’ Lopez before you could rattle out a request for TLC. Embarrassing I know. I was usually tipsy or worse. But I had the confidence to do it, warranted or not. I was young and I could act immature and all my friends (probably out of obligation) would laugh.

I paid attention to trendy clothes and I watched the Fashion Police without fail. Florals in, peplum out. I rented the runway and rocked oxfords for the two weeks they were in style. Makeup trends? Gotcha. Pinky rings? Got those too. 

I was my own carefree version of cool, and comfy in my skin.

My (now) husband and I used to joke, “At what point do people start getting old and stop being cool?” We always agreed on the same answer: when kids come along. Was it true? I didn't know for sure, but I put the theory to the test.

It was wedding season and I was very pregnant when the DJ turned on Uptown Funk.  I screeched "I LOVE THISSSS SONG!!!!!.  I wanted to dance so badly but my 7 month-old fetus bounced every time I jumped. I didn't need help feeling awkward on the dance floor- I could do that all by myself. But now I felt like a whale, and probably looked worse.

It was then that I realized: it's happening. I'm transitioning -- from cool to lame. How long would it be before I chopped off my hair to look like Kate Plus 8 and started wearing bermuda shorts? Or worse, when would I start chatting with fellow moms about our babies' bowel movements and the best brands of almond milk?

I’m so not ready for this, I thought.

But it didn’t happen that way. Thank God. Our precious baby girl was born and I surprisingly didn’t morph into Claire Dunphy over night. However, there were some subtle changes I couldn’t help but notice.

It took a while for me to feel worthy of listening to good music after I had the baby. I don’t know why. I just felt stupid, like I wasn't cool enough. I didn’t feel like perusing Pinterest for clothing ideas anymore because I was too busy googling sleep training methods online. Plus, I knew what I looked like in clothes- just put me in a mumu and call it a day.

When I met up with my childless friends I struggled to find anything to talk about. What is wrong with me? I felt like a stranger in my own skin.

I realized my preoccupation with getting old had infiltrated my life. I was playing into the story I thought would happen when people have children. Maybe it was American society or just my perception, but somewhere down the line I was taught that when a woman has a child, she is forever locked into a lame life.

I decided that wasn’t going to be my life.

Yes so much has changed for me over the last several months, but... I’m still me. And now more than ever,  I realize it is important to straighten my hair - every other Friday - and download the new Lumineers album just because. I may have to work harder to find the time and motivation, but I must self-preserve. I must self-preserve. I have to do the things that make me feel like myself again even if it means getting up a little earlier in the morning or asking my husband to take over bath time.

So much of my identity is wrapped up in being a mother. But there’s more good stuff here than just being mom. And if I don’t hold on to the things that comprise who I am, then what will I turn into? And more than that, if I’m unhappy and uncomfortable in my own skin, what will my children turn into?

Is 'cool' even a cool word anymore? Probably not. But the other night I danced while singing Uptown Funk (just call me a one woman show), and let me modestly say I slayed it. My toddler in her bunny-toed pajamas clapped her hands and giggled with approval. I felt cool. 

It Gets Better: An Essay On The Raw Truths Of Motherhood In Those First Few Months

I’ve waited 41 ½ long weeks and alas, she is here. She is beautiful and healthy and I can’t believe she is mine.  After a few nights stay in the hospital, her dad and I get to take her to the home we have spent weeks carefully curating to her every need. 

I. Can’t. Wait. These are going to be the best years of my life. “Enjoy them,” everyone tells me.

My husband has taken four days off work. “That’s plenty,” I tell him. I know I can handle this. As soon as I can walk upright (darn C-section), it will be smooth sailing. Just help me out of the car…

Night two post hospital- Breastfeeding is hard, really hard. Not so much the physical act of feeding her, but the dependency on me for basically everything. I am her lifeline, and her only source of nourishment. I am keeping her alive-- just me...

Just me.

Week one is in the books. My days are spent cleaning spit up, and washing onesies. But I often stare at her in my arms (did she just smile at me?), and wonder how I made something so precious. I count down the minutes until my husband gets home from work so I can catch up on sleep. But when he’s home, I want to talk. I want to at least pretend to be normal, like my old self. I ask him about life on the outside, and revisit the conversations he had with co-workers and clients.

Must be nice, I think.

I am bitter and jealous, and of my husband for God’s sake. Why? For going to work while I have to, um get to, stay at home with our new daughter. What kind of terrible person am I to resent these first few weeks with my lovely infant?

Sleep-deprived. That’s what I am. And painfully new to this game. I’m too fresh as a mother to realize that its okay for a baby to cry once in a while. It’s okay if my abdominal scar is too sore to take her out for strolls. It’s okay if my armpits don’t smell fresh as a freaking daisy. It’s ok if I’m not a natural at this motherhood game right off the bat.

A few weeks go by and I’m cooking again. My husband raves about how much he enjoyed his dinner, while I bounce the baby on my shoulder in an effort to calm her. He of course offers to take her, but she isn’t happy that way. He doesn’t have milk free-flowing out of his nipples.

It's in this moment I feel as if I have no more of myself to give. I have trimmed away any shred of excess vanity, and now I felt stripped down to the core. Is this motherhood? Is this what I have been waiting my entire life to experience?

Yes.

Yes, it is.

Cooking meals you don’t get to enjoy, sacrificing your sleep so your child can eat, giving away your time and energy with no expectance of anything in return. That is motherhood, but only in the beginning. 

 I look back at these memories with both anxiety and appreciation.  No one tells you that in those first few months of motherhood, you will grow and change even more than your infant child. Your emotions will be so jumbled up that you won’t know if you are crying tears of joy or straight up sorrow. You will be stripped away of most of your selfish behaviors, and be forced to let them go. You will miss watching three hour marathons of Real Housewives of New Jersey, but you will be better for it.

Slowly but surely you will piece yourself back together, and this time you will build yourself more carefully with characteristics you would want your daughter to admire. You will learn that cuddle time with your family will trump even the best mani/pedi. And that keeping a healthy mind and body is an important example to set early on. You can still pick and choose your indulgences (wine), but there will be less of them. And that’s ok. 

Nowadays, I am receiving so much more from my little girl than I could even begin to give. Her love for me is unwavering, and oh the snuggles. I am reaping what I have sewn. And let’s get real, it isn’t all smooth sailing. We still have plenty of crying spells and skinned knees. But the days get better, and richer.

The memories of sleepless nights, chapped nipples, and that heavy, heavy feeling of inadequacy are still fairly recent in my mind. The truth is sometimes during those first couple months, motherhood seems grossly overrated. But hang in there momma. It gets better quickly, and so will you.