Good News Bears

What an awesome day! Seriously...

It started out as a so-so day. I woke up tired, ran out of coffee and I thought that very thing was to be a prelude to a bad day. But slowly, things began to look up. Vincent and I hopped in the car earlier this morning to bring my mom her birthday card and flowers (and I slurped a couple cups of coffee there...ha ha...the hidden agenda!). Afterwards, once we got home, we did our play thing for a little bit and then it was nap time. I put Vincent down at 9:00am (without nursing) and he moaned and groaned for no more than 5 minutes before he fell fast asleep. I scrambled to take my morning shower and do everything else that needs to be done around the house because once he's up, forget about it! Apparently there was no need for my mad scramble because Vincent slept for 2 1/2 hours! I almost got bored and looked forward to his waking so I could have some company!

We then took a short trip to the local park where I scoped out a potential location for Vincent's first birthday party. This was a success and I did, in fact, pick the location!! We laid lazily on the grass and Vincent kept his eyes glued on the kids skateboarding throughout the park, mesmerized by this ability to roll around so fast and effortlessly. I think I may have a future skateboarder on my hands! I snapped multiple photos of my young nugget and enjoyed the brief sunshine that shone down upon us.

After our ride home (a rather fussy one to say the least), we came home, grubbed some lunch and before I knew it, it was nap time again. This time Vincent nursed to sleep, but I didn't mind because when those tiny little eyes become lazy and slowly shut and his big lips begin to slow down on their once fast paced suckling, I am able to take in the loveliness of it all. I get to stare down at my young son and take in his silence...I mean beauty...ya, that's right, beauty.

I opted out of my performing my other wifely, motherly duties such as folding the clothes that were beginning to wrinkle in the dryer and attempting to prepare an adequate dinner. Instead I, too, curled up in my own bed where I entered a deep slumber for an hour until Vincent woke me up.

Once Anthony arrived home, I decided to ditch the clan and drive to my parents house where I could enjoy a relaxing and much needed soak in their hot tub. This is a treat I try to reward myself with from time to time when Anthony gets home from work. While at my parents I pulled out the scary, intimidating scale that never fails to make us feel like shit. I have never, and never will, have a scale at my home because if I were to have one, it would be become an unhealthy obsession. I have enough fucked up shit going on in my head, I don't need to add to the craziness. But I indulged the "woman" in me and hopped on. My jaw hit the floor and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. "There must be something wrong with this thing" I thought to myself. It's not that it was feeding me bad news. It was the exact opposite. It read 123 lbs. Let me tell you that before I got pregnant I was 128 lbs. This insane little machine thingy was telling me I was 5 lbs lighter than before I even got pregnant?? But let me also remind you that my body in no way shape or form resembles what it used to. How could I weigh less and look worse (in my own opinion)? My once small, perky boobs are now ridiculously uneven. This happened very early on in Vincent's life when he decided he only wanted to suck on one nipple. Apparently my right nipple just didn't blow his skirt up. I was eventually able to seek help through a lactation specialist and I am happy to say he began nursing on both sides; however, the damage was done. My right boob is noticably smaller than the left. I try to be body-obsessed but it's hard to say goodbye to our old selves and welcome with open arms these morphed bodies that may be hard to look at naked. I was happy to see the results on the scale though. It means I am getting somewhere. Now I just need to start working out so I can obtain the muscle I once had.

And then the real fun began tonight after dinner when I went to go put Vincent's pajamas on. To put it mildly, putting clothes on Vincent is like trying to tame a wild beast. He flails his body from side to side, screams in horror and does everything in his power to scoot away from you. In fact, it's normally a two person job. So, being the push over mommy I am, I always try to find him a toy that he's really not suppose to have in hopes to distract him long enough to put his diaper and his clothes on. Well, apparently Vincent somehow managed to call 911. Don't ask me how an 11 month old baby successfully dials those three particular numbers, but he did it! Within 5 minutes the sheriff arrived to "access the situation" at hand. I was mortified and apologized on Vincent's behalf. He was totally cool about it and even gave Vincent an honorary sheriff sticker. A sticker that will surely go into his baby book as a tangible memory of his very first 911 call. Something tells me it won't be the last....

It is now 8:45 pm and I am writing this in bed, capping my night with a blog and an episode of The Duel. What is with me and lame ass reality t.v? My guilty pleasure. I'm entitled to it, right?

Anyways...it's been a rad day. I am signing off now, cuddled up in my new micro-tech sheets, wishing you all a goodnight.

xoxox

Photo of the Day

A day in the park....

Viewer Discretion Advised

Before we go any further with this blog, and before I ask other mothers to check it out, I want to make one thing very clear. My name on this blog is Out Spoken Mom - and it is that particular name for a reason. This is a no holds barr on my experiences as a stay at home mother to a high needs child. Sometimes, if the mood strikes me, I will swear. Sometimes, if it has been an exceptional burdensome day, I will tell it exactly how it is. This blog is solely to represent the good, the bad and the ugly of motherhood. I am not the mother who paints on a plastic smile when my world is crumbling around me. And I know going into this, some people will be offended with my words and my opinions. My only response to that is you don't have to read it. If you are the perfect mother who never swears, never loses her cool, always loves her husband, and always revels in the beauty of blissful motherhood, MORE POWER TO YOU! I wish I could be more like you. I, on the other hand, am astonishingly impatient, I swear like a sailor, I want a divorce at least once a month, and I except and appreciate the bad and the ugly as much I do the amazingly wonderful aspects of motherhood.

The bottom line is that I am doing my best. I love my son more than I could ever explain to you. Everyone has their own opinions and I do welcome them wholeheartedly. However, I will advise you that nasty, berating comments and messages about what a shitty mother you think I am will not faze me, so you are wasting your time. However, if you're a mom just like me, which I imagine there are quite a few out there, I believe you will take comfort in my entries, maybe even a few laughs here and there, and most importantly you will feel a little less alone in this world.

Redemption

If you read my previous blog about how pissed I was at my husband, you'll be happy to hear he made up for it. See, today marked my mother's 51st birthday and due to my ridiculous hectic day yesterday I was unable to make it up to the store to get a card. On his way home from the gym, Anthony went by the store and picked up a Birthday card and a bouquet of flowers for my mom. So, those daggers eyes I expected to be handing out like candy was quickly replaced with a genuine smile and a semi-sweet "thank you". That is just like men, isn't it? Just when you think you'll get the opportunity to rip them a new one, they do something endearing and you just can't be mad anymore! Damn it!

I also wanted to clear up one thing from my previous entry. When I said that Vincent was crying his crib and I was simply ignoring him, I do want to clarify that it was his bedtime and we are trying really hard to get him to fall asleep without a boob in his mouth. I wasn't ingenuously divulging in shitty t.v for the hell of it. I only let Vincent cry in his crib if I am trying to get him to sleep. Although I used to have to do it every now and then when he had colic and cried non stop. Sometimes I just needed that break, even if it was just for 5 minutes so that I could regroup and collect my emotions before I snapped entirely and ended up in the mental ward.

One of those days I guess....

As of right now, Vincent is crying in his crib and I am trying to drown out the noise with lame reality television. My dear husband is working out at the gym. Must be nice, right? You're gone for 10 hours during the day, you come home and give Vincent a bath and then your job is done and you get to go work out?? WTF? Really though, I can only blame myself. If I said "no" he wouldn't have gone. I gave the OK and now I'm pissed. I do this time and time again. And I don't know why! Whenever he walks through the door after working up a sweat, I throw dagger eyes his way and wish him dead. So why do I let him go? I have come to realize it's some sort of fucked up guilt thing that I have within myself. You know, he's worked all day and he deserves to go out, right? But what about me? I've worked all day too. The only difference is that I didn't get to take a lunch break or even shit by myself! I need to respect my job as a mother and realize I work hard too. Actually I work harder. I need to go to the gym God damn it!

I ate bad sour cream at dinner and now my stomach hurts...

I just took a valium...ya it's been one of those days!

Happy Little Nuggett

To Cry or Not to Cry?

So, my older sister Amy, had a baby just 6 days after Vincent was born. She is around 10 1/2 months old now and is a horrible sleeper. She takes short cat naps during the day and at night, well, she's up about every hour and a half. She co-sleeps with them and needless to say, no one is getting any sleep. She just called me nearly in tears because she was attempting to let Lucy "cry it out" for her afternoon nap. I, for one, am an advocate for "crying it out". It may not work for everyone but it has worked wonders for me and Vincent. I've been trying to convince my sister for some time to at least try it, but she doesn't have the heart for it.

While I'm on the topic of crying it out, I have received quite a bit of flack from other mothers in regards to letting my son cry himself to sleep through other online chat groups I am involved with. Well, you know what? What works for one family may not work for another. No one has any right to judge any other mother for what she thinks is the best for her children and her family. We have to make that personal decision, and it's no one else's place to criticize.

Vincent is an incredibly high needs child and always has been. I needed that break. I needed that nap time and I needed a decent rest sleep at night. He still doesn't sleep through the night completely, but we are getting closer. He only wakes up once, at the most twice at night to nurse. Before I implemented the cry it method, my days were awful! Vincent would wake up at 4:00am and be extremely fussy...then he would take only 30 minutes and wake up fussy, miserable and tired. I then became angry, resentful, overwhelmed and fed up! During his awake hours I couldn't enjoy him because we were both just pissed off. Once I began letting him cry himself to sleep instead of nurse to sleep, everything turned around 100%. Vincent now takes 1 1/2 hour naps twice daily and wakes up refreshed and happy.

So if you are thinking about trying this method, be prepared. It will be incredibly difficult at first. When you are sitting there listening to them cry, it will break your heart into a million pieces. You will feel like the scum of the earth and like the most horrible mother in the world. But you are not. You may also receive criticism and judgement from other people. Who cares? I didn't. Only you know what is best and believe in it.

Can the first year be over yet???

All the books, all the experts, all the other parents say it over and over again, like a broken record. "The first year of having a baby is the hardest". It couldn't be more true...or at least I hope so. When you, as a couple, are used to the spontaneous lifestyle, the late evening BBQ's, the nights out, the movie date nights, the staying in bed in the morning - and then you throw in a baby, who winds up dictating your every move, it can be a rough adjustment. I've had to look at my husband as not just a spouse anymore, but a father, and vice versa. The evenings are no longer considered "wind down" time after work, but a mad scramble to get the baby bathed and fed and then asleep. For us stay at home moms, the adjustment can be even more difficult. Feeling isolated from the outside world, often feeling lonley and disconnected. Where girls lunches and break time gossips used to be, is now the place of playmat time, baby talk and nursing and rocking to sleep. For us unlucky ones, whos children don't even come close to sleeping through the night, we have begun to understand more clearly the term of being exhausted. Throw in a colicky baby and my case of spinal meningitis, and you have a tough fucking year. All those books, experts and other parents also say "but it's all worth it and you won't change it for a thing". And that, too, is true. Having a child has been the most amazing thing I've ever done. Being fortunate enough to stay at home has given me the chance to build an unbreakable bond with my son. Have a colicky baby who cried nonstop for months taught me a level of patience and stregnth I thought I could never obtain, and will make any other baby I choose to have seem like a piece of cake. Having been diagnosed with spinal meningitis when Vincent was 3 months and my ability to still take care of him by myself showed me that I can do anything. It has made me more proud of myself than anything else to date. You have to find the beauty in the madness. The hardest times are also the most rewarding, and show you just what kind of person you can actually be. A strong woman, a good mother, and a loving wife. Although it's difficult, you have to look at that glass...take a good long look at it and you have to decide whether it's half full or half empty. The way you look at that glass will define your life, and especially your attitude as a mother. My glass is half full...today at least...

Fighting (un)Fair

Note to self: After being up all night with a teething baby, do not attempt to talk rationally to your partner at 5:00am. World War Emily vs. Anthony began at 2:00am, after Vincent had already been up crying multiple times. As I huff and buff while getting out a bed again Anthony mutters "Emily...chill out, he doesn't feel good". Ok then, why don't you, dear husband, get out of bed and do something about it? Oh that's right! Vincent is only calmed by nursing in the middle of the night, which last time I checked, can only be done by the person with boobs. So, I did, as I have every single night since his birth, get up out of bed and tend to my son.

By 5:00am, Anthony was getting ready to walk out of the door for work and I was exhausted. Not only had I been up too much during the night, I awoke to the number one unwanted visitor: My period. The cramps started instantly! Then...as if I was in the mood AT ALL, Anthony tries to grab my boob! Seriously!

It remains a blur as to who threw the first blow (figuratively speaking), but what exuded was a battle of words consisting of frustrations we have both been feeling but never saying. Name calling followed, and then of course I cried. I HATE when something like that happens. I have to learn to fight fair, take the gloves off and realize, when it comes down to it, all we have is each other, and we can't turn our backs on each other. Although a make up took place via telephone on his way to work, a fight like that leaves wounds. I have spent this day regretting things I have said, and yet trying to get over the things that were said to me. We have to remain in this together. We have to take the time and talk with one another so an explosion doesn't take place at 5:00am. The stress of trying to raise a baby can sometimes tear a couple apart. The sleepless nights, the arguments over who does what and who works harder (um...ME), can takes it's toll. We have to try to remember what this is all for, our family, and I will (try) to fight fair...

Support

After an exceptionally difficult day yesterday with my wild child, I sought support online, and I found it! After growing almost resentful of other moms with their "easy" babies, I realized I am so not alone. I found a support group online called "Raising the Spirited/High Needs Child". They gave 12 traits of the "high needs" child:

1. INTENSE
2. HYPERACTIVE
3. DRAINING
4. FEEDS FREQUENTLY
5. DEMANDING
6. AWAKENS FREQUENTLY
7. UNSATISFIED
8. UNPREDICTABLE
9. SUPER-SENSITIVE
10. CAN'T BE PUT DOWN
11. NOT A SELF-SOOTHER
12. SEPERATION SENSITIVITY

Vincent fits into every single one of those categories. I realized it is nothing that I am doing wrong, and I realized that I am not alone. Other moms out there grown resentful, cry from sheer exhaustion, and barely make it through the day without nearing a complete and total mental breakdown. The fact is, although everyone has their struggles when raising a baby, having a high needs baby is different, and often way more difficult. Although there is nothing I can do to change my baby, I can learn to accept it and to make the best of it through other mother's stories. The tough news to take is that most of these high needs babies never get "easier". They take these personality traits with them through the toddler years and beyond. I know I have my work cut out for me and I know I will continue to have days when life just seems to damn overwhelming. But I also know that the same characteristics that make Vinnie "difficult" now, will also be the same traits that mold him into a driven young man. As far as having another baby goes, still on the fence on that one. Vincent requires so much, and probably always will. I am trying to deal with the disappointment I feel in raising an only child, since I always imagined having two children, but I am dealing with a very unique baby - one that simply requires more energy than the average baby. Some days I feel so lonley and sad that I just want to curl up and cry, but I don't have that luxury. I have a tiny little man that is waiting for me to play peek-a-boo with him or take him for a walk, or feed him breakfast. I am so lucky to have my mom who has been a constant support system and helps out whenever she can. Everyone said the first year of raising a baby is the hardest and I am hoping that in three months, when Vincent reaches his first birthday, days will get a tad bit easier - at least in some ways. I need to let go of the anger towards the mother I see casually strolling her baby around the block, or the mother in the grocery store that have her hair styled and her make up on, or the mother who cleans the house while her baby sits contently on the floor playing with toys. I need to accept that that is simply not my life, it's not my situation. And I need to make the best of it. If I can't brush my teeth until noon some days I need to just go with it and realize it could always be worse. I have a healthy, active, beautiful baby that means more to me than anything else that has ever been on this earth. He is my sunshine, my life. And although somedays I could very well lose my mind, I wouldn't change my son for anything. His wild spirit keeps me on my toes and, frankly, sometimes makes me bust up laughing!