6-month birthday party asshole kids newborns paranoia parenting

 

No really.

Until I had Gypsy, I knew that I could be a bit of an asshole - but I didn't really know to what extent. Now I'm pretty clear on the matter: I'm a total fucking asshole.

Prior to being a mommy, (still getting used to saying that), I had a blog called 'To Kid or Not to Kid' where I spent two years writing about whether or not to have a child. I wrote about lots of stuff - especially the myriad pros and cons of parenthood - but sometimes I'd attack other parents for doing something I thought was truly asinine. I still stand by most of my attacks because some parents just do what can only be considered truly stupid, awful and/or seemingly cruel. Certain parents do deserve a bit of criticism. I'm sure at some point I will too... but I am going to try really hard not to do anything truly worthy of such vilification. But anyway - my point here is that I am an asshole - not for the fairly justifiable critiquing of some truly psychotic parents - but rather the unfair and pretentious judgment of one of my own mommy friends.

As a parent of a near-6 week-old, I now find myself eating humble pie because I devoted an entire blog post to ridiculing a very dear friend for throwing a 6-month birthday party for her child. I thought she was absolutely out of her goddamned mind. I thought she was kidding at first when we got the invite and resented having to go. After all - almost everyone else there was a parent too - and John and I were the odd men out. It wasn't exactly bonding material. Everyone's kids were in tow as well - (it was her child's birthday party after all) so we were kinda bored - and all the more primed to sit in judgment as non-parents wishing there was harsher alcohol on-hand to cushion the blow of our boredom.

Now I finally fucking get it  - and I've been thinking about what an asshole I must be for not getting it before. My friend was celebrating the fact that she managed to keep her kid alive for six whole months! As the parent of a newborn who got sick at two weeks and was dragged to the ER in the middle of the night, I totally fucking get it now. Having a newborn is scary as hell. Any kind of sickness for a newborn is earth-shattering. SIDS is pretty much an unspeakable horror. Newborns are a shitshow of constant newness, paranoia and blood-curdling fear.

I am terrified all the time that I will do something wrong - or that Gypsy will somehow find a way to suffocate herself to death in her tiny bare-bones bassinet.

Even though I want to cherish every single second of this adorable infant phase, I am COUNTING THE DAYS until she's six months old. The threat of SIDS will diminish considerably, and I will feel a bit more relaxed if/when she starts rolling over onto her side or stomach when she sleeps. I may even breathe a momentary sigh of relief. Yes, I know that once you're a parent the worry is permanent - but come on - it seems pretty damn apparent that the first six months really are just a nonstop stress fest. Will she suffocate or just stop breathing for no reason whatsoever? Where are the results of the genetic tests they conducted in the hospital? Is she too cold? Too hot? Why won't she stop crying? Is she colicky? Does she hate me already? Should she still be cross-eyed from time-to-time? When should we sleep train her and can we bear it? When is she old enough to take on the subway and do these sound-muffling headphones really work? Is she pooping enough? Has she gained enough weight? Is this nap too long? Too short? It's enough to make anyone an absolute lunatic and want to celebrate hitting that 6-month milestone.

Anyway, I am very lucky in that the friend of the aforementioned 6-month birthday party didn't hold the post against me. Or at least she didn't get so mad that she stopped talking to me. Instead, she behaved as any adult should - especially a parent adult. She informed me that it offended her. I think I apologized - but I'm sure it rang hollow. It didn't matter though - she totally forgave me and hasn't brought it up since... until last week... when she came over to meet Gypsy. I said something, (don't recall what), that made her laugh and say something along the lines of, "So now you get why I threw a 6-month birthday party) - and I said "Yes" pretty damn emphatically. I also apologized - again - only this time, it was significantly more heartfelt.

I am an asshole and I really am so sorry.

XO - you know who you are.

Leigh Hope Fountain 0 Comments

gadgets kids screen time technology teens

I've been so preoccupied with all things pregnancy that I haven't really spent much time assessing various scenarios, trends, news stories, etc. the way I used to.

Given that I am just mere weeks away from bringing a lovely little girl into this world, I've finally started paying more attention to what is going on in that world and the impact it will (or won't) have on our little Gypsy.

One such story caught my attention recently because I've noticed that each and every time the subject comes up, I have a pretty powerful response - and that story pertains to kids and gadgets.

The Today Show did this story covering the American Academy of Pediatrics' recent changes to its recommendations for how much screen time children should/shouldn't have and when.

I won't bother delving into the details, but a few quotes from the actual AAP struck a chord:

 "Today, more than 30% of U.S. children first play with a mobile device when they still are in diapers, according to Common Sense Media. Furthermore, almost 75% of 13- to 17-year-olds have smartphones, and 24% admit using their phones almost constantly, according to the Pew Research Center."                                               

"In a world where “screen time” is becoming simply “time,” our policies must evolve or become obsolete. The public needs to know that the Academy’s advice is science-driven, not based merely on the precautionary principle."

                 

Okay - so here's what's irking me:

The idea of a child interacting more with tech than with people while still in diapers is quite disconcerting - and I see it constantly these days. I don't care what the guidelines say, I don't like it, I'm not doing it.

Nobody knows what the long-term consequences are of whatever might be deemed over-exposure to screen time from an early age because it hasn't happened yet. Forgive me for sounding like a total square, but honestly, I'm already seeing the rather hideous repercussions of a generation that seems incapable of communication without a device. They barely know how to interact face-to-face, can't maintain eye contact when they do, and lack what I consider to be fairly basic social skills. It's disturbing on many levels - and I think it's a shame. I can only imagine this will be far worse with younger generations who aren't even given the chance to learn how to interact and socialize with other people because their parents handed them ipads to keep them busy and out of their hair - at precisely the time when I get the impression they need more attention and human-to-human interaction. To be clear, I am not pointing a finger and saying that everyone who hands their devices is an asshole. I am saying that those who hand their kids devices so they can skirt their parenting obligations and/or always use that as a tool to shut their kids up are assholes.

Yes, I am well-aware that this sounds incredibly judgy - and as someone who has not yet been in those shoes, it is very, very easy for me to judge from afar, but seriously... What are we going to be dealing with in a handful of years when someone can't even maintain eye contact without getting freaked out about it? I just foresee a generation of socially inept people who I personally wouldn't want to engage with and therefore probably won't.

For the record, I love tech. I just got a new iPhone and I truly adore it. If you took it away, I might even pitch a fit, but I also recognize my tendency to look at it too frequently myself, so I try to monitor my use and try not to let it get too out of control. Anyway, I realize that incorporating tech into a child's life is not only inevitable but beneficial in many ways as well - and I plan on embracing that - but I don't care what anyone's recommendations are, (and I know John doesn't either). We're going to create a plan of action that makes sense to us for our child - one that we believe won't jeopardize their ability to develop keen social skills that enable them to carry on actual conversations with other human beings, face-to-face even, because nothing turns me off more than the idea of a child that has a stronger reaction to a device than a person.

Now let's just hope we can stick to our guns on this.

Leigh Hope Fountain 0 Comments

cookie cutter kids mom mommy parenting

I suppose it comes as no surprise that I've got a lot of questions related to this whole mommyhood thing. Fortunately, I have a handful of friends who have been inordinately helpful answering my incessant barrage of questions, (however neurotic). Eva, Jen, Dori, Lara, Jacqui - I'm talking about you.

Anyway, there are a few questions that nobody can really answer - like whether or not I'll be a quote, unquote good mommy.

Sure, people tell me I will be - but honestly, who the hell knows?  And... what really defines a good mommy anyway?

I never called my own mom, mommy. She was always just mom. I'm not sure if that was her preference or if that was just what I opted to call her. I hope to be called mommy. There's something more endearing about it - and indicative that your child trusts that you will protect and love them, no matter what.

This isn't to say that I didn't love and trust my mom. I absolutely did and do. While she makes me positively crazy sometimes, I adore her. In fact, I think she deserves to be called mommy, but it's a little late for that.

I also didn't always think she was cut out to be a mom - let alone a mommy. In fact, (and she'll probably deny this), over champagne one day, she admitted to wondering whether or not she would have even had children had things been different back then. In other words, children were expected. You got married, you had kids - and that was that.

Given my own hesitation about whether or not to kid, I wholeheartedly respected her admission. Needless to say, I'm glad she opted to kid. But honestly, my mom wasn't what one would call your typical mom - let alone mommy. She didn't dress or behave like other moms. With her bright orange nails and lips, her elegant yet funky and artistic ensembles, her perfectly coiffed hair, her very left-of-center interior design stylings and her addiction to Jaguars, she just wasn't the PTA, brownie-baking, station wagon-driving, soccer-mom type. The fact that she actually participated in a carpool was nothing short of stupefying.

Let me make this abundantly clear. I am not complaining. When I was young, there were moments where I sort-of wished she blended in a bit more and did more mommy things, but what I didn't then realize was that she was her own brand of mommy. Unbeknownst to me, she was teaching me all about having your own identity and not letting others' judgments ruin your day... in essence... marching to the beat of your own drum.

I wouldn't have had it any other way.

Now, as I approach this whole mommyhood business, I can't help but wonder - What will my own little girl think of me? Will I be a good mommy?

I suppose only time will tell. Little does she know, she's definitely not getting the cookie cutter type.

Leigh Hope Fountain 0 Comments

kids pregnant

I found out I was pregnant on a Monday. 5 days later, my first 'baby' Otto Potato got sick - and not just kind-of sick either... the sick where it was written all over his sweet little face that something was seriously wrong. While I was excited and nervous about the pregnancy, (having gone through a miscarriage about 6 months prior), I was overwhelmed by the notion that I was might have to say goodbye to the pup that literally changed my life. About 11 years earlier, during a time when I was desperate for change, Otto was my catalyst. He instantly became my best friend and would become my Cupid soon thereafter.

I had been ecstatic about the positive pregnancy test - but that was soon overshadowed by the news about Otto, which was completely unexpected and just plain awful. His body was destroying its own red blood cells. The only treatment that had a 50/50% chance of working was a painful and expensive transfusion that would likely only buy him a few days if they couldn't pinpoint an underlying cause. Sadly, they had already searched for tumors and the like and had come up empty, so the idea of subjecting him to even more tests was not attractive. Besides, Otto told us everything we needed to know. He was done. We knew the humane thing to do was to let him go, which we did that same day. I was in shock and bawled on-and-off for about a week, but I felt like something in my body kept reminding me that stress and sadness couldn't possibly be good for the pregnancy - and somehow, I'd manage to pull myself together. Needless to say, it was a strange flurry of emotions - intense happiness and intense sadness all at once. As I write this, I am still conflicted. I immediately well up when I think about him, but have mastered the ability to shut it down just as fast.

John hasn't had it as easy. Otto worshipped him and the feeling was clearly mutual. In fact, the minute Otto met John, (about three months after I brought him home), he climbed up onto his lap and didn't want to get off. That was when I knew John was a keeper. If Otto approved, well... so did I. Like I said, Otto was my Cupid. In fact, John and I met online, where he responded to my match.com headline, "I Have the World's Cutest Pup," which he appropriately and enthusiastically agreed with. Anyway, John didn't have a surge of pregnancy hormones to help combat the sadness that came with Otto's absence like I did. It was hard to see him break down. It still is.

John and I went in for my first ultrasound shortly after we said goodbye to Otto. When they told us that they could see the sac, we were over the moon - but it was too early to detect a heartbeat and they told us to come back in 10 days. Doesn't seem like a long time to most people, but given the fairly recent miscarriage and the loss of a beloved family member, 10 days felt like eternity.

In that time, John came up with a name for the embryo - "The Maybe Baby." I loved it right away because it suggested cautious optimism. We continued to grieve for Otto, but spent inordinate amounts of time doting on Anna, our other adorable pup. At first, we'd been worried that Anna would be depressed without her partner-in-crime. We had never seen Anna sad - not once - and are convinced that she is the happiest pup alive. She exudes joy - so the thought of seeing her despondent for the first time ever petrified us. Thankfully, it didn't happen. A wise friend, (Melissa), suggested that perhaps she knew that Otto was gravely ill even before we did and had already come to terms with it. Who knows? Regardless, we were thankful that his death didn't break her adorable and contagious spirit.

10 days finally passed and we went back in for another ultrasound. I don't know that I've ever been more nervous. Fortunately, they picked up a heartbeat and John and I both cried. I was then about 7 weeks pregnant, still clearly in the "danger zone" for miscarriage, especially due to my prior and my age - so we weren't quite celebratory - but we were ever-so-slightly more optimistic about The Maybe Baby.

Another two weeks passed - slowly but surely. Another ultrasound - another strong heartbeat - and yet another ultrasound just one week later at 10 weeks. (When you're of "Advanced Maternal Age" they monitor you quite closely). John and I kept expecting the heartbeat to disappear, but it didn't. Much to our surprise, The Maybe Baby was thriving. This time, it had teeny tiny little arms and legs that it was waggling about! WHAT?!?!?! It moves?!?!?!? We were in a state of disbelief. Happy, blissful disbelief.

I was told I'd have to wait another 18 days until the next ultrasound, (a new one this time - the Nuchal Translucency test to look for indications of chromosomal abnormalities). Anyway - 18 agonizingly slow days of more waiting! In fact, because my OBGYN was out of the office for about a week, I'd have to wait until the 12 week 3 day mark to finally get the verification that The Maybe Baby had graduated to "The Baby."

Fate intervened however, and since two of my blood tests came back as "inconclusive" and have to be retested, we were fast tracked for the NT scan at 11 weeks and 5 days and all looked good! Yesterday, we had another ultrasound, (also good), and redid the blood tests. I've decided to err on the side of optimism and post this regardless of what those results may show.

And so it goes. You take the good, you take the bad... It's been a rough handful of months, but things are looking up.


P.S. - Yes, the formatting on this blog layout is a mess. I will work on it. Special thanks though to John Fountain, (baby daddy) for the wonderful new cover art.

Leigh Hope Fountain 1 Comments