Stupid Murphy

A few nights ago I found myself chatting it up with a dear mom friend of mine at 2:33am in the morning. Yes, exactly 2:33am. Ask me when’s the last time I showered and I’ll scratch my head and count backwards on my calendar. Ask me how many times my children woke me up and I’ll remember those blaring blood red numbers like Ricki Lake’s naked boobs in The Business of Being Born.

Some things you just can’t unsee.

Anyhow, we were discussing parental disclaimers when having children and how I apparently skipped over the small print on page 578 of The Official Guide to Parenthood that unofficially does not exist. The part where they explain the side effects to bringing a second child into your perfect harmonious world of blissful living.

The part where parenting begins to get really gritty. The part where you really begin to hate Murphy. As in his law. Or her law. I’m not even sure if the law has a gender. But either way… I. Hate. It.

I’ve experienced circumstances outside of children that had me quoting this stupid law as a witty response to an unbelievable occurrence, but you never fully understand the repercussions of such a law until you have kids. Trust me when I say that anything that can go wrong WILL go wrong when you have kids. Even if you have thee best children on the planet (which if you’re reading this than you don’t because Moms with perfect children don’t read Mommy blogs. They read recipes with more than 20 ingredients. They are off showering because they can. They are outside planting that spring garden because the children are playing quietly in their bedrooms. They can enjoy silence because silence doesn’t mean that someone found a misplaced jar of fingerpaint and are now dousing your recently steam-cleaned cream carpets in electric green paint. No. No. No. Moms of perfect children don’t even need the internet. What in the world could they possibly google or post a FB status update about that is worthy of reading if their children are perfect?) Continue reading “Stupid Murphy”

Loving Motherhood

2D11A6D8-2EB9-4E36-ABBB-4A6C21BCEC4AI’m in a stage of my life right now where 99% of my time is spent in my pajamas, at home, smelling like breast milk and poop and ketchup and raisins. It’s not very glamorous.

But guess what?

I’m in love. I’m in love with Motherhood. I’m in love with the fact that my entire day is focused solely on making sure an almost three year old and an almost three month old survive to see another day. I’m in love with the fact that cheerios are a main source of my daily diet and that I’ve memorized the theme song to Dora. I’m in love with the fact that sometimes Roma cries during every nap unless I hold her. So the dishes don’t get done. The laundry is still sitting in the washing machine–wet and mildewy–waiting to be washed for a third time since I keep forgetting to transfer it to the dryer. The floors are covered in crumbs and the toilets haven’t been scrubbed in weeks.

I. Am. In. Love.

I’m in love with the fact that sometimes I get woken up at various hours in the night to ease a gassy tummy, calm the screams of a nightmare, massage the cramping foot of a growing toddler, and feed a hungry baby. I’m in love with the fact that one of these little humans knows that my name is Mom, Mommy, and Momma. I’m in love with the fact that the other little human is tracking my voice and smiling at my face and wanting me to hold her. To rock her. To cuddle with her. To just spend hours staring at her.

I’m in love with the fact that I have to drink coffee in order to stay awake and that my belly sags over my underwear. I’m in love with the fact that I have two scars that show the lengths I went through to have this love. These little loves. My little loves. I’m in love with the fact that one of them likes to wear high heels while she waters the plants and the other likes to be splashed in the face with water during bath time. Continue reading “Loving Motherhood”

A Baby Story…

For some odd reason I didn’t consider writing out Roma’s birth story. Since I was having a scheduled cesarean it didn’t feel like there was much to tell other than I went in, they numbed me and then a few cuts and badda bing badda boom we had a BABY!! Thankfully I have awesome friends who remind me that no matter how a baby comes into this world, the story and adventure is still unique and wonderful.

The night before my c-section Hector and I told Eliana we were taking her out for a special farewell dinner. We had spent that whole weekend saying goodbye to our current family dynamic and opening up the door for the new one that was coming. It wasn’t a sad celebration, but we wanted her to understand that it wasn’t just going to be the three of us anymore. That another addition was coming and that she had big responsibilities ahead of her.

We ended up at BJ’s because anything worth celebrating or saying farewell to deserves pizookie! (If you don’t know what I’m talking about I am so so sorry). Oddly, I was calm and full of peace the whole night. We put her to bed knowing it would be our last time the concept of just the three of us existed. It was bittersweet. We read a story, said our prayers and then said goodnight.

The next morning I got up, showered, shaved my legs, straightened my hair, put on makeup and glitter lotion (yes, sparkly glitter lotion all over my belly) and headed to the hospital. I thought at some point I’d be wigging out. But as was my experience with natural labor during E’s birth I had hit that focused, inner-calm-mentality. I was ready. I was going to do this. And I would stop thinking about the giant ass needle that would soon penetrate my spine.

We checked in, signed a billion papers and then kicked it for two hours. My sister showed up in just enough time to provide comic relief via music since my Dr. was thirty minutes late. Every minute that ticked by after my originally scheduled 11:30am appt was another minute I should’ve been closer to being done, but was unfortunately just sitting in a hospital gown waiting… and waiting… and waiting. The needle growing larger by the second.

Finally, when my Dr. showed I had to be ready. It was now or never. My anesthesiologist joked about running away… little did he know how much I actually wanted to.

As they wheeled me into the bright white operating room, with that wonderful fresh sterile scent all I could think about was the bug bite I found on my butt that morning and whether or not the anesthesiologist would be able to see it when I turned onto my side. I even considered putting cover up on it, but thought a dark creamy spot would look more awkward than a red irritated dot. Plus, I’m sure he had seen worse butts. Or hoping he had seen worse butts. The likelihood was high, right?

So there we were. A dozen bodies running about this bright white room with absolutely no concern that they would be cutting several layers deep into my abdomen and then pulling out a baby. I mean we went into the room as a team of 12 and would be exiting with one extra! They all seemed so calm, chill and routine. I wanted to scream. Make sure none of them had been drinking the night before. Ask my Dr. if she was sure she was prepared to do this. Continue reading “A Baby Story…”

Roma. Roma? Roma!

Our second daughter Roma Eve Perea was born on Monday, July 15th, 2013 weighing in at 7lbs 6oz and 19in long. Just a wee little one in comparison to Eliana! And I’d like to make a statement to the random guy in the parking lot at Home Depot who yelled at me across several cars and said, “It’s a Boy!”… well it looks like you were wrong.

And in the best way possible. Because Eliana is now blessed with the wonderful responsibility of having a little sister and this relationship couldn’t thrill me more. I have an older sister–14 months older–so we are really close. Growing up we fought like cats and dogs, but five seconds later we were the best of friends. These days we rarely fight if at all. She’s been my protector, my best friend, my teacher and a secondary mother. I wouldn’t change or give up our relationship for anything. She’s the best. And for that reason alone I had hoped for a girl this go around. Someone Eliana could confide in, learn from and be best friends with. I’m ecstatic to watch the two of them grow up. It’s going to be awesome.

So back when we named our first born, we explained how important the process was for us and everything we considered when choosing. For our second born this was no different, but this name holds special meaning to us. It’s a bit unconventional and might throw some people off from our usual focus of Spanish names, but we think it fits well next to Eliana and I’m stoked that we discovered it.

Continue reading “Roma. Roma? Roma!”

Opinions Not Wanted

I’ve been mulling over a lot of things recently, the most obvious one being my ever growing belly. Every woman who has ever been pregnant or who is pregnant thinks about their delivery. How they will deliver, where they will deliver and the big giant question mark of when will that day come?

Since this is my second go around I’m not nearly as consumed with things as I was before, but I’m also not going the natural midwife route so it changes things. It changes lots of things.

The biggest change has been people’s opinions and honestly their lack of support. Not that I had 100% support when I went natural because honestly people are life-sucking bastards and they apparently feel the need to educate you on their subjective reasoning no matter your personal circumstances. I distinctly remember someone downgrading what my experience would be because I was refusing drugs it went a little something like this… “Why go through all of that pain when it’s so much easier with drugs. I think you’ll regret doing it natural. It’s not worth it.”

And I am so done.

DONE. Continue reading “Opinions Not Wanted”

Mourning Motherhood

I’m roughly five months away from giving birth to our second child and although that still seems very far away, I know that I will go to bed tonight and wake up tomorrow and the day will be upon me.

That’s how quickly time passes.

In lieu of this new addition, I recently told a group of my girlfriends that I feel like I’m mourning the loss of my first child and I mean that in the most figurative way. Life with E these past two years and three months has been emotional, overbearing, joyful, exquisite, challenging and rewarding. She was my first and we’ve learned so much together on this road of parent/child and I know that I’m about to rock her world and my own.

Doing things with her now at this age is easy. It’s fun. It’s manageable. But in July my focus will change, my responsibilities will be doubled and my freedom will be squelched, until I learn to adjust to a whole new life.

I know I can do it. I know it will be hard. I know it’s what I want. It’s just the acknowledgement of the change that is equal parts exciting and intimidating.

Eliana has become my best bud, my partner in crime, my eyes to a world that’s 30 inches tall. She’s the only reason worth waking up in the morning before 7am. Pancakes taste sweeter, butterflies are more enchanting, and reading is no longer a selfish pleasure. I look at her and I see half of me and half of her father. A product of love so wonderful that I can only imagine she will be a force to reckon with in the world and I don’t hope, I know she will accomplish great things.

Continue reading “Mourning Motherhood”

Kill them with Kindness

I’ve had a recent revelation about parenting and its completely changed my entire perspective on how I approach Eliana. It’s funny because its so simple, and yet, the simplicity of it, is what has caused us to overlook it.

It’s my opinion, that parents these days try too hard.

Please note the words MY and OPINION. I am not a parenting expert and being that I have only been on the job for roughly 17 months I still have a lot to learn, but I still have my opinions and we are all entitled to them. So, yes, I think parents try too hard. They are either trying too hard to TEACH them everything under the sun so they can show the world how they have created midget-Einstein-genius-freaks or they are trying too hard to please them in effort to keep them in a 24/7 blissed-out coma. Either way, I think their heart is in the right place and they mean well, but its not a style of parenting I personally want to adopt (although I am guilty of doing both).

My recent parental awareness, shall we say, came from one simple little word: kindness.

Which, you might be thinking hmmm how odd. Kindness? Yes, you heard me right, kindness. It’s not something that I believe parents think about all too often when it comes to their kids. For the most part we try to spend our days loving them, disciplining them, providing for them and caring for them, but showing them kindness? For me at least, it wasn’t really on my radar. Continue reading “Kill them with Kindness”

It takes a village

Therapy is expensive. So when I am having “bad days” I write about them because it’s therapeutic and free. Some posts get published and others are set-aside for my eyes only or to be re-written or re-worked at a later date. But today, today, I find myself writing in the moment and there will probably be many errors as you read this, but when I get emotionally worked up about stuff it just spews out of my mouth and I don’t stop to think whether or not it sounds good.

Today I am having a bad day. And I realize that lots of us have bad days. Many, most, actually probably 90% of other bad days, I know, would be considered WAY worse. But nonetheless here I am writing about mine.

Today my bad day is the result of so many things, but the culmination of those things seems to be the reality that Motherhood is hard. Or can be hard, or has moments of extreme hardness, in which I speak of the trials & tribulations we face and not the perception that Motherhood has a sense of density in relation to being “hard”. Anyhow….

I am in the middle of a transitional phase with our daughter and it is wearing me thin. No longer a “baby” she is entering the toddler phase of life like a bullet from a gun and its been difficult trying to find a daily rhythm. Her naps are changing, her attitude is changing, and her entire being is changing. Since its my first go at this, everything is new and so I am learning every day. And I am slowly realizing that my 4 year college degree did nothing to prepare me for it. Continue reading “It takes a village”

It’s Not Enough

I find writing to be very therapeutic. Especially when it’s my attempt to unload something that has been plaguing my mind & will eventually make it down to my heart. And I hate it when it reaches my heart because although the eyes are closer to the mind it’s the pain of the heart that causes the tears.

Sometimes I write with an uncensored state of mind not caring who may come across these words, but I feel that if I don’t explain the context of today’s feelings I very well might end up getting pushed off the edge of a pier. For all of you who disagree with my point of view please don’t contemplate throwing rocks at me. We all have our own story, our own goals, our own desires out of life and just because they don’t align doesn’t make either of us right or wrong.

For the past couple days, hell maybe its been weeks (it’s hard to navigate the inner workings of oneself) I have felt for lack of a better word, bereft. And after spending unlimited hours trying to figure out why I have felt this way it sort of just fell out of my mouth this morning. And so here I am about to drop a very loaded question on all of you. Like nuclear loaded.

Is being a mother enough for you? Continue reading “It’s Not Enough”