A Letter to my First Born

Good Morrow to you. Id like to begin by letting you all know this isnt turning into a mommy blog. I will eventually get back to writing about the latest celebrity snafoos and my take on the crisis in Syria. But as Ive been out of being in a consistent writing loop for over a year, Im easing myself back into it by taking the easy road and writing about whats going on in my immediate surroundings. Plus I dont have to spend hours fact checking items for a post if Im telling you about getting peed on. Theres really nothing to check there. Its pee. Thats about it.

I have been thinking a lot lately about how completely screwed first children are in terms of parental aptitude and general knowledge of 'how the hell to keep something alive that cant move its own body weight and doesnt know how to tell you whats wrong besides shrieking loudly'. Because really, I dont care if you are the genetic byproduct of a test tube full of Super Nanny, Mary Poppins, and African tribal dula DNA, your first infant is going to knock you on your ass. Its science. And in terms of what thats like for the parent, it starts out awful, but then gradually gets better until one day you wake up and think, holy shit, I actually like this tiny person and am starting not to mind the fact that I am its personal assistant 24 hours a day.

But what about the baby? Its got to be completely frustrating to know that you are hungry/tired/thirsty/wet/uncomfortable/crabby/lonely/too hot/too cold/fucking starving and the large fuzzy blobs that tend to your needs are constantly guessing wrong about what you want. How aggravating. So in honor of this trial by fire that all first borns go through, I want to take time today to let my son know just how sorry I am for being a total fuck up for the majority of his life so far. Begin.


Jack Big Booty Ho My Love:


Im sorry that when you finally decided to get the fuck out of my uterus, that when they put you on my chest, I was so exhausted that all I could do was lightly touch your arm and alternate between falling asleep and trying to see what you looked like. Im sorry there wasnt this huge motherly bonding love moment filled with choirs of angels and me serenely looking down at your tiny head with all of the compassion and proudness of the universe.

Im sorry you didnt get the full 90 min of skin to skin that ensures you arent a serial killer as an adult. Again, I was wiped. Plus you shit your nonexistent pants and they had to clean you up.

Im sorry--and for this, really, I could kick myself repeatedly -Im so so sorry that I let everyone telling me that YOU MUST BREASTFEED take over my rational thought process instead of saying FUCK OFF, the most important thing is that THE BABY GETS FED FOOD. Im sorry that you had to endure 2 weeks of me trying to get you to eat off my boob when for whatever reason, you just werent having that shit. Im sorry you were probably starving and really uncomfortable for that amount of time. I totally get it if you hold that against me into your 20s. I totally would too.

Im sorry that I took forever to understand if you were too hot or too cold. Your skin is like always this weird temp that feels way hotter or colder than the thermometer reading ends up being. And you arent very good at explaining how youre feeling.

Im sorry you were born in the butthole of the longest winter in the history of mankind. Im sorry you didnt legitimately see sun and grass and blue sky until you were 5 months old. They do exist. They are real and awesome.

Im sorry that I had PPD. Im sorry that I didnt smile at you enough or if I ever made you feel like I didnt care or love you in those first months. It wasnt you, it was me. But we have fun now. I hope that makes up for it a little.

Im sorry that you slept in 6 different contraptions with varying degrees of success until we finally realized, what the hell are we doing, lets just try the crib, which you loved. Im sorry that we woke up twice to see you sideways in your swing. I hope you werent like that too long. To be fair, that was like the one time you didnt cry when you were uncomfortable so you cant really blame us for wanting to sleep for more than 20 consecutive minutes in a row.

Im sorry for the internet. Im sorry I have been convinced that you must be dying of a thousand different aliments more than a handful of times when you were probably just cold.

Im sorry that I didnt figure out baby wearing until you were just on the verge of not liking it. That moby wrap is about 75 feet long and when the highlight of your week becomes showering uninterrupted for 5 minutes, complicated things have a way of making you say 'oh there is no way this shit is happening right now.'

Im sorry we didnt know that infant reflux was a thing. Im sorry it took a month of you screaming when laying down and burping up tiny baby acid burps for us to take you in and get you baby zantac.

Im sorry that every time you were going through a growth spurt, that we didnt immediately remember to just feed you more instead of trying every other possible option first. Again, if you just told us "hey assholes, Im trying to grow neural pathways here, give me more food!" it would have been a whole lot easier on everyone.

Im sorry we didnt realize that burping is actually super important to your state of being. Sorry it is more complicated than patting something on its back really should be.

Im sorry we didnt give you a pacifier until you were older. Thats 100% daddy's issue. He had some pacifier related PTSD that we worked through and once that was resolved you were much more content having that thing to mack on

Im sorry that I didnt just let you fall to your death like you wanted while trying to climb up the back of the couch. Just trust me, back braces are not in this season.

And most of all, Im sorry for thinking that you were a tiny adult when you came out, when really, you were just this tiny mushball of human gak that needed to be loved up and fed and kept warm until it transforms into the beginnings of a person around 4 months. Im sorry for getting frustrated that you needed to eat every 2 hours and that 45 minutes of sleep was all you were capable of at first, and for not understanding just how important touch and warmth was to you. Im sorry for not understanding during those first three months, that my whole life had to change whether I was ready for it or not. I hope that the fun weve had since then and the fact that mom and dad are getting a little better at this stuff makes you forgive us the bad times. Because no matter what, we will always love you and think you are the shit. Thank you for sticking it out kid.

Love,

Mom

A Plea to All Sanctimommies

Alright I havent been this worked up in a while, and I know you all miss my angry rants of yesteryore, so lets just skip the pleasantries and dive right in.

Many of you have heard of and probably follow the blog STFU Parents http://www.stfuparentsblog.com/. Written by Blair Koenig, It is a fabulous chronicling of what the world of social media has done to parents. More specifically, how social media has turned what we can assume were at one point normal functioning people, into hyper defensive, sanctimonious, oversharing monsters--none of which would be possible without the fairytale land that is the internet. Out of all of the submissions Ive seen, there is one type that makes me so angry I feel like stomping a carton of eggs to death--The Sanctimommy.

Sanctimommies are women who are so much better at mothering than you, that you should probably call CPS on yourself immediately and request that your child be sent to their home for permanent placement. They are hyper aware of the latest trends in baby research and wont hesitate to tell you that the specific brand of organic strawberry you are feeding your 7 month old has actually been found to cause a 1-2 point drop in SAT scores. They are so great at being moms, that they have to tell you how great they are at being moms...over & over again. They also have a habit of publicly shaming other parents whose parenting is, in their opinion, well below acceptable levels. And finally, they can multitask an Asian sweatshop under the table. Basically, they are better than you, their kids are better than your kids, and you should just stop trying, because frankly, your attempt at parenting is embarrassing.

You'd like to think Im exaggerating. Im sad to say, my friends, that Im not. There are women in the civilized world that find it necessary to talk this way about themselves and their day to day experiences. And there are probably some sanctidaddies out there too, but Ive yet to see an example as aneurysm inducing as the things that come from the female gender.

Perhaps you are thinking, whats the big deal? So they are good moms and proud of it, whats wrong with that? To you I answer--bragging is bragging is bragging. Judging is judging is judging. Just because its about the holiest of holies job of motherhood doesnt make it ok or any less annoying to the rest of the normal world.

The thing that really grinds my gears is that being a first time mom, I KNOW how fucking hard it is!!!!  So being constantly reminded how easy it is for you and how you are able to be an amazing wife, mother, teacher, and chef while staying in shape and loving every minute of it!! makes me want to chokeslam you into a brickwall. Im stoked when I remember to take out the garbage on trash day AND manage to get my child down for a nap--even though the things are completely unrelated--I did 2 things today, hooray!. Im happy when I dont resemble a homeless person at least 1 day a week. Im ecstatic when Ive managed to assemble something echoing a meal before 9pm at night. The thing is, when I DO have these small victories, I dont tell anyone. Why? Because nobody gives a shit about the day to day things in my immediate family, except my immediate family.

You shouldnt feel the need to tell everyone these things all the time. If there wasnt crapfest FB or twitter or Zoosk, would you feel so inclined to call that chick you had one class with in college and tell her you knitted your baby a sweater from organic alpaca wool? Would you write her an email letting her know that you couldnt believe you watched a woman in the grocery store give her son one M&M as a bargaining tool to get him to stop crying ? NO! The answer is no. The only reason you feel comfortable telling everyone any of this tripe is because you get to hide behind a profile picture.

And in case that wasnt enough of a reason for you to knock this shit off, heres an even better one--there are women in the world that are trying to raise families in terrifying and unlivable conditions. Women whose goal for the day is simply keeping their family alive and safe. Syria. Iraq. Africa. These women are the true Supermoms. They are the ones who get to brag at the end of the day. Because really, compared to them, none of us know anything.

So do me a favor. If you are reading this and getting offended, take 5 seconds today to think about why you post the things you do. What is your end goal in telling people how much better you are than everyone else when it comes to parenting? What do you really get out of judging others for being less awesome than you at raising kids? Just think about it for a bit. See if you can come up with any good explanations. If you cant, perhaps its time to do some self reflecting and figure yo shit out. Please stop being a douche. Thank you.

And if you are reading this and saying hey that sounds like somebody I know, go ahead and create a fake email and anonymously send them the link to this blog.

And lastly, if you, like me,  just shoved half of a burnt poptart down your throat while trying to explain to your 5 month old that its physically impossible  for you to remove the dirty diaper that is causing him so much woe while he has both feet in his mouth, I say, right on brothers and sisters. Keep up the 'Im doing the best I can without losing my shit" parenting style. Your kids are going to be fine.

Mine is

Have a great week players

~Maria