Week 12: Annnnnddd…there it is.

I’ve hit pregnancy’s version of a 6th grader’s awkward stage…the tiny belly, ‘tis OUT.

I’ve been wearing my normal jeans and unbuttoning them when needed. Most days I could keep them buttoned, but every so often I’d get da bloats and zzzzzzzip, down those suckers came.

Then one day (like, um, yesterday) I bloated and it stayed put.

chuhhh…

But this baby bump isn’t all cute and smooth like the first time around. Oh, no. Now? Now, it’s got that saggy, deflated balloon pouch from my first pregnancy just hanging off it like, “S’up? Oooh, I’m not going to fill back out until month 9, motha sucka!”

My baby bump is all mushy and lumpy like…oh, like this…

(Makes me think holy mother of mercy, what does Michelle Duggar’s stomach look like?!?!?)

But honestly, it’s not just the old baby pooch. All the fat deposits that look perfectly fine when my uterus isn’t the size of a cantaloupe are being shoved front and center, adding to the overall lumpiness. Only lithe teenagers who get knocked up in the backseat of their boyfriend’s Hyundai have those Parent’s magazine worthy bumps at week 12, so I’m air-brushing my own bump into respectability with a Bella Band. (It’s also what’s holding my unbuttoned pants up.)

Good times. Good times.

Stay-at-Home or Work (neither one is perfect)

I’m sitting here at work flipping through architectural plans, bored out of my mind and wishing I was anywhere else. My job is not fulfilling, wonderful, high-paid, or satisfying. It’s just a job.


And maybe, if I’m really honest, that’s what’s at the heart of my “I want to be a SAHM” issues. I don’t have a rewarding career—so why NOT stay at home?

How many SAHMs are SAHMs because their jobs sucked? Because day care cost way more than their measly jobs were worth? Because their careers were on a fast track to nowhere and they wanted a change?

How many moms really stay home purely for their babies?*

When I got pregnant with the big E, I worked retail in jewelry sales. I wasn’t a manager…or an assistant manager…or anything special. I made slightly more than minimum wage while standing around in suits and heels. You think I was going to put my baby in daycare and head back to THAT? Pfft! My job was a joke! I was more than happy to quit.

Those first few months of SAHMdom were a big wake up call. I didn’t morph into a saintly Madonna, and it wasn’t all daytime TV, trips to the mall, and afternoon naps like I imagined. I worked like a dog! I made huge batches of formula in the sterilizer, washed bottles and dishes by hand because we didn’t own a dishwasher, ran umpteen loads of spit-up and pooped on clothes every day, and rocked-soothed-entertained-fed a screaming newborn around the clock. Most days I didn’t even have a chance to shower. As for trips to the mall—please! We were so strapped for cash we couldn’t even order pizza.

I was alone for 10 hours a day. It was winter and cold, so I hated taking the baby out and dealing with coats and snowsuits and throwing blankets over her face. It was dark by 5:30 and the sleepless nights seemed to never end. I didn’t know any other SAHMs, so I sat around isolated and alone. THAT’S when the depression set in…and that’s when I had enough and found part-time work.

So, no, my SAHM motives weren’t pure and selfless. I hated my pathetic job, I wanted out of it, and being a SAHM was my out. I took it and got a lot more than I bargained for.

It’s not like SAHMdom didn’t have it’s perks. I never missed a milestone. I cuddled my baby and played with her constantly. I talked to her, sang to her, read to her, and had her all to myself five days a week. As she grew, I taught her MY values (not the daycare’s) and oversaw everything she ate, played with, and was exposed to. She was able to play with her own toys, take naps in her own bed, and have one on one interaction with Mommy all day. Hey, I did good work, and I’m proud of the 3 years I spent with her! I learned a lot and matured a lot during my time as a SAHM.

Now with this second baby, my motives have changed. I’m not looking at Work vs. Stay at Home in a self-centered way. Instead of asking, “What’s best for me?” I’m asking, “What’s best for my family?” Right now, it looks like I’ll be returning to some sort of work when the baby is 6 months old. We can’t afford to keep me home in SAHM luxury (yes, being a SAHM is a luxury) indefinitely. My paychecks—however small—are needed. It would be completely selfish of me to refuse to return to work, no matter what shiny, self-sacrificing SAHM label I tried to slap on my excuses.

My children would suffer because their parents would be swamped under a mountain of debts for decades. They would become bitter and resentful as their friends ran around with brand name clothes and the newest toys while I complained that we don’t have money—we have ME! (Isn’t that enough?)

(I know what I’m talking about…my mom stayed home for 15 years even though she had a teaching degree and could find a good job. My sister and I wore hand-me-downs and did without so Mom could take naps on the couch, watch Days of Our Lives, and be depressed. Believe me, I’m bitter.)

I’m not the type to shove my opinions down other mom’s throats—but I am the type who will challenge someone to re-examine their life and think about the decisions they are making. A little introspection never hurt anyone.

Was your decision self-centered or family-centered?

An honest answer might surprise you.



*This post was inspired by the drama going on in the comment section at my friend Jen’s blog, Maybe If You Just Relax.

I'm a Pregnacy Rebel

Week 11: Two more weeks until the 2nd trimester starts and “swallowing back vomit” is no longer a pregnancy symptom. Really, the whole nausea thing hasn’t been too bad thanks to a friend recommending Unisom for morning sickness. For 10 days I took ½ a sleeping pill with my prenatal right before bed, and the nausea almost disappeared. I stopped taking it this weekend and the nausea came back—along with my normal energy. (Who knew a sleeping pill would make me tired? Duh.) Now I’m torn. Do I want to be miserable with nausea or miserable with exhaustion? I picked nausea because I’m at work and need to actually DO work—not just lay back in my chair napping.


I’m seriously stunned that it’s 2009 and no one has a remedy for morning sickness. “Eat a few saltines before you get out of bed” is a load of crap, and the “You’re pregnant, suck it up” mentality irritates me. When I tell my Dr. I feel sick and miserable, he hands me some VITAMIN LOLIPOPS. (Gee…how about a Barbie sticker, too?) We women are expected to continue to work full time and take care of older children with no more help than a barf bucket and ginger ale.

Well, screw that!

I’m a Pregnancy Rebel this time around. I’m swallowing sleeping pills guilt free, choking down Wal-Mart prenatals because I’ll be damned if I’m paying a $45 co-pay for prescription Miracle Grow, and eating fatty bean burritos because I want to. Heidi from What to Expect When You’re Expecting can suck it.

I’m not following the Pregnancy Diet of no sugar, no caffeine, no junk. I roll through McDonald’s and grab fry-fries and a large iced tea. I drank a few cappuccinos. I ate Little Debbie Snack Cakes and ramen noodles. According to all the books, this baby is doomed and I’m the worst mother EVAH.

Honestly? The whole 1st trimester is all about survival and I just don’t care. If nothing sounds appetizing other than a can of Coke and my kid’s mac-n-cheese—then that’s my dinner! If I need to take sleeping pills to feel well enough to drag my butt in to work—then I’m taking the pills! If I have to lay on the couch from 5 pm ‘til bedtime—then I’m not squeezing in a pregnancy work out!

Any pregnancy book that disagrees with that is going straight in the trash.

I’m a rebel. Grrrr.

*As a side note for anyone who was wondering… Turning my comments off only cost me less than 1% of my subscribers! I expected a mass exodus, but really, not many readers seem to care. That’s awesome. I think my theory that people like to read comment-guilt-free is true.

Blogging About Blogging

So…here’s where I’m at with the whole blog thing. I’ve come to a conclusion that very few bloggers will agree with, but whatever. It’s my blog – my rules.

I’m turning off the comments.

*gasp* *moan* *general horror and panic*

A blog is one person’s self-centered view of life—an online journal. So really, my blog is just me unlocking my Pretty Pretty Princess Diary and slapping it on the internet.

(You’re welcome.)

Blog comments fall into one of three catagories:

1. Love

2. Hate

3. Come check out my blog!

After a year of “comment love”, I’m going to wean myself off of it. Am I writing posts for me or for the adoration of readers? Hateful comments drag me down and are a complete waste of my time and energy. And as for people who read me so I can read them…do you want me to sign your yearbook too?

Look, I’ve got a lot on my plate right now. If you’re panties are in knots because I haven’t read your post about the time your kid ate bran muffins and had explosive diarrhea on the couch—BIG WAH. Blog for YOU, not my comments. If you’re not reading me anymore because of comment etiquette—so be it.

I understand that Mommy blogging is a community thing now. I get that everyone chats on Twitter and Facebook and blog friends can be just as real as “real” friends. And a few months from now, when I’m a SAHM with two kids, I’ll probably dive right into the blog community again. But not now.

I invite everyone to lurk. (It’s fun. Admit it. Comment obligation is a pain in your ass.) If a post stirs you up, hey, my e-mail still works.

Anyway, COMMENTS ARE OFF. Carry on.