officialannyjean-blog

[officialannyjean-blog]

As long as their bellies are full. 😍

[officialannyjean-blog]

No, MY Baby. Not Yours

As parent’s, we all have pet peeves. We all get a little cranky when someone oversteps their boundaries and we all question if we’re overreacting to something a family member or friend is doing. And that’s okay. It comes with parenting. 

The thing people don’t ever seem to understand is the fact that our children are our babies...not theirs. It seems impossible for them to get that our ruling trumps everyone else’s. No one get’s it. 

Every single one of us have heard “a little won’t hurt” or “you’re being ridiculous” or any other excuse to undermine what you’ve said. And we all reach our breaking point where we have to put our foot down and piss someone off. 

And that’s also okay. 

One pet peeve of mine are when people offer my child food that she’s not ready to eat. I’d once gotten in a fight with a relative of ours who insisted she start baby food at 2 months. We hadn’t gotten the approval for our doctor, and I sure as hell wasn’t ready to start her on foods. Yet this woman, who somehow thought she knew my baby best, insisted on trying to stick a spoon of Cream-O-Wheat down my daughter’s throat. But I’ve never snatched silverware out of anyone’s hand as fast as I wrenched that one from her’s. Are you trying to choke my child to death, or cause open gut? 

Or how about when people leave a bottle out, when there’s plenty left over to stick it in the fridge? Whether it be formula or breast milk, That stuff is hard to pump, or expensive. Breast milk is good for 4 hours outside of the fridge, and 2 days in the fridge. Formula is half that; 2 hours out and 24 hours in the fridge. There is a HUGE time duration to get up and put that leftover in the refrigerator. It’s understandable if you’re out and about and don’t have access to a refrigerator, I’m not that crazy. But what do they care, right? It’s not their money. 

Some of you are probably wondering why this is such a big deal...let me give you an idea of why formula and breast milk is SO important. Breast milk takes time, precious time out of our day, out of our sore and tired boobs, to pump maybe half a bottle. Formula is pretty much $20 a can where I am from. It lasts 2-3 days. So a month, moms are spending anywhere from $200-300 on formula. That’s a car payment guys! Not everyone gets assistance from the government. Whoever wrote “no need to cry over spilled milk” clearly has never put time and effort into getting it!

My absolute favorite is “my baby.” We’ve all heard it, some of us cringe at it.I know I do. I have to grit my teeth when I’ve asked people stop and they continue to do so. Maybe you mean well, maybe it’s “your baby” because you’re related or whatever, but it’s not. Even if you’ve bought the child clothes/bibs/diapers/whatever here and there, the child isn’t yours. The words “my baby” belong to the parents. You know...the one’s who birthed them? The one’s who get up all hours of the night, or never sleep for that matter, to take care of the child. The one who spends $300 on food for said child. “My baby” belongs to the ones who are consistently raising, loving, and spending money on the baby. Not you, crazy aunt who smothers child in disgustingly wet kisses like your the Aunt on Mickey’s Christmas Carol, suffocating Donald’s nephews. 

And you know what? We all have pet peeves and we all have boundaries everyone thinks it’s okay to cross. And it’s okay to put your foot down and put them, no, shove them back in their place. Because sometimes, that’s what it takes. So what if it makes you a bitch? So what if they get mad at you? Follow your rules, don’t cross the line, and you wouldn’t have to treat them that way. So stand your ground, mommas, even if you have to be the bad guy. Chances are, they’ll get over it. 

Being A Mom Is Hard

[officialannyjean-blog]

Quitting Your Job

There’s something frightening about making that call. You know, the one where you could potentially ruin your life if you don’t have a Plan B. Well, I didn’t have a second plan, and I’m sure as hell not one for confrontation.

But I had had enough. I was missing being a stay at home mom, watching my daughter grow, bathing her and putting her to bed. My spouse was doing a wonderful job with helping, he had finally picked up the ball for being daddy, and I was happy for them. Having a father is important and I’m glad they get bonding time. 

I was missing out on that time, though. I didn’t get to tuck her into bed anymore but twice a week. As a mom, that’s not enough for me. And might I add a big round of applause to you mommas who do miss out on these moments, just so your kiddos have food in their bellies and clothes on their back. You’re doing awesome. I can say I am spoiled in the sense that I get to have the option to stay home.

While I will enjoy being home and being a 24/7 housewife and mom again, I will have to remind myself that Daddy still needs to be able to put her to bed, too. To bathe her, feed her, and change her diaper. It is our duty to share.

But, I’m getting off topic here.

As I stated earlier, I am not one for confrontation. I hate talking on the phone, even to make my daughter’s doctor appointments. I am not good with telling people if I have an issue with them or going against people’s wishes, even if it compromises my own happiness.(I however, don’t have a problem putting my foot down to make sure my DD doesn’t have her happiness compromised.) So when I had to make that call, my nerves were crazy. I held my phone in my hand going over what I would say and made up responses to questions that probably wouldn’t be asked. As the customer service phone rang....and rang...and rang...and rang some more, I repeated my over-rehearsed “speech” until my no-longer-coworker finally picked up. 

See rather than freezing, I word vomit. Before she could even finish her practiced statement, I splurged. She replied with a “Are you sure? Okay, I’ll let somebody know.”

Side note: Did you know some companies require you to fill out a piece of paper when you quit? What happened to just leaving?

What were my worries to begin with? I felt so relieved to quit my job - no more stress, no more working until my whole body ached, no more being too tired to wake up and take care of baby.

The stress that came with being a mom and working was that I wasn’t fulfilling my most important duty (mothering my daughter) completely. I was worried my job was taking away from her a mother that she deserved; I did not want that. 

But what if I quit...what if once I finally got the courage to leave this job, that my spouse, our real bread winner here, was to lose his job? 

I know that we would figure it out, I know that we would be okay, but those “what ifs” ran circles around my thoughts. 

This constant stress left me cranky and miserable. My head always ached, my house was a terrible mess, laundry was piling, dishes were piled even higher, my spouse and I began to fight. And it took a minute of thinking to realize, a job I hate is not worth working if it’s ruining a life I love.

Say it with me. “A job I hate is not worth working if it’s ruining a life I love.”

So if you hate your job, if you’re no longer yourself, quit. Find something else. Because life is short and we cannot burden ourselves with a job not meant for us. Money is just a piece of paper or plastic. Jobs are replaceable. 

Find a new job, or don’t if you can afford not to, and leave. There’s always something better. Always.

It is hard stressing about how bills will be paid, but it is even harder stressing over it while stressed out about a job you hate. Eliminate one of the stresses so that you can eliminate both.

Being A Mom Is Hard

-Anny Jean. 

[officialannyjean-blog]

Time Flies

Did you know if you blink, your child will be half a year old in just 2 months time? Okay, maybe that's not a fact, but it feels heartrendingly true.

Becoming a mom has opened my heart to completely new emotions. I never knew that I could be so proud and so disappointed at the same time. As my daughter reaches new milestone each month - each week, each day even - I can't help but think, "Is it time for her to be sitting up by herself already?" "Isn't it a little soon to be starting baby food?" "I can't believe she's figured out how to use her sippy cup..."

Do you remember that very moment, that first millisecond you got to hold your child for the first time in your arms? The relief and excitement that came rushing a few seconds after is something none of us can describe. It was pure bliss for me, my heart shattered into a million pieces, but in a good way. There is not enough love in this world to show how much I fell for that little one who finally made her appearance.

I was in labor for 17 hours. From 11:00 pm the previous night to 3:59 pm that day. I took an hour and a half of pushing, an hour and a half of exhaustion. 11 hours before I gave in to the epidural.

I remember not feeling one contraction the whole time after, but it only dulled the pain when she started to make her appearance. If you've given birth vaginally, you might know the feeling I'm talking about - that feeling of dryness, like you might just rip in half. (Don't judge me, we're only human and ripping is only natural.) I didn't rip, I was snipped 3 times. That sent shivers down my spine - the pressure and the sound of the scissors (for lack of knowledge for proper word.) I remember feeling the tugging afterwards of the stitches. And even after all this cringing, almost unbearable pain, I would do it all again. Why? Just to relive that moment of first meeting her.

She was covered in that white goop and blood, she was that grayish pink color, she was crying, and as soon as they laid her against my bare chest, I was sobbing with her. She was mine, and she didn't know it then (she probably knows it now), but I was hers as well. Who knew how much love a person could hold in their hearts for a being they just met. Maybe that's cliche, but that's the only words I know to use.

It's ironic how pregnancy seems to take forever. Those 9 months can feel like 9 years. For me, the week before my induction was the longest, most anticipated week of my entire life. Now that she's here, I wish her growth would take as long as my pregnancy did. I'm proud of her, and while I don't want to be changing diapers 18 years down the road, I wish she would slow down.

Earlier this year, when she was about three months, I looked forward to putting her down in bed and catching some Z's with her. Now, I hold her for a little bit longer. She will go to bed on her own, without being rocked and sung to, but I sing to her and rock her anyways. I watch her bright blue eyes stare at me, smile when she smiles. I rub the top of her hand with my thumb as she grips my index finger. I watch as her body relaxes and her eyelids drop down, then flutter back open. It's so sweet when she fights her sleep, because maybe she doesn't want to miss her growing up either.

Maybe she knows how fast time goes by and she wants to slow down. But we can't stop time, no matter how badly anyone wants to. I don't know how many circles we do in that bedroom of hers, I'm not sure how many songs we sing, but it feels like it's not enough. Even when my arms are heavy and numb, it's not enough. It's not enough. There's not enough time in this world for me to love my daughter, for me to hold her, to sing to her, to coo with her. Because it's all slipping through my fingers before I can reach out and grab it.

I turn around and she's a month older. I blink and we're 2 days a way from her being 5 months old. Now here we are...half a year and I can't believe how fast the time has gone.  I can't believe that in the same amount of time she will be a year old. A clumsily walking, semi-talking, freshly made toddler. And then it will double and she will be in preschool. Then gradeschool, and if it all goes by fast enough, she'll be graduating college.

It is so bittersweet. Too bittersweet. It causes a heartache tugged between happiness and sadness. And now I know why my mom was so emotional at times, and it makes me wish I would have slowed down for her. Because perhaps if I took it slow, my daughter wouldn't be growing as fast as she is.

I know it is nonsense that I am saying, but all of us mothers know all too well the feeling of wanting to keep our little babies as babies for a little bit more.  When did they grow up?

It is too bittersweet because I am so happy to see how she's grown so well. I am looking forward to seeing her learn her ABC's and 123's, I cannot wait to see her excel quickly and watch her do her best in life. But I can...I can wait all at the same time. Because even though the future holds exciting, new, and great things, I just want to stand here, dancing in these circles, singing these songs, because in those circles, we create a timeless atmosphere. In those minutes or maybe even an hour that I stand there dancing her to sleep, she is not growing, she is sleeping. While she holds my hand with that peaceful look on her face, I sometimes wonder if I could stay this way forever, just to hold onto my baby girl for a little longer.

Being A Mom Is Hard

-Anny Jean