Making Summer Memories

The last few weeks, while including days from motherhood hell (read: 20 tantrums plus in a single day with severe sleep deprivation), also had some serious fun.

Kiddo got to see two minor league baseball games, which he loves. He loves sports and so he really enjoyed watching the players and listening to us explain what was happening on the field. Having a ton of snacks didn't hurt either.

Also, we did end up marching around the bleachers. Sometimes it was Mommy or Daddy doing this, and sometimes it was Grandad. Fortunately most of the fans found Kiddo adorable, so they smiled graciously despite his loud clomping around.

Daddy and Kiddo got some boy-bonding fun time playing soccer and ripping up leaves, as well as checking out a clock shop and wandering around little Californian towns. We also checked out a really awesome playground, and got to see the miniature horse farm.

Kiddo: I want ride!
*blink*
Mommy: I don't think we can do that.
Kiddo: I want pet!
Mommy: Well, they have signs up saying not to put your fingers in the enclosure so...

Despite the limitations of the visit, Kiddo really liked the horses. Then again, he's in love with animals of all kinds and has already expressed his desire for a dog (The rule is absolutely not at least until he can clean up dog poop.).

Kiddo also tried his first health smoothie, which despite not liking cold things, he drank a fair amount of.

To top it off, he got to hang out with his baby cousin and one of his older cousins in the same day. There were bubbles, bats, Sesame Street and Cheerios involved. It was a dream come true.

While the tantrum days aren't very fun, these other experiences more than make up the difference. I am so glad we get to do these things together. It is such a joy to make memories like these, and I look forward to many more.

Remembering Gifts

We were walking around the neighborhood, holding hands. Kiddo had been telling me stories in toddler gibberish, which slowly trailed off. It was quiet. No one was around. The only sound was the wind blowing through the trees.

"Do you see the pretty flowers?" He looks. "And hear the wind through the leaves? How wonderful is that?!"
Then, he looks up at me, and gives me a beaming smile of such delight in that moment, my heart completely melts. Just thinking about it makes my eyes water.

Kiddo is a gift. This is the thing I have to remember always.

In some ways, my time that I've had as a stay-at-home parent has been stressful. It has been stressful to not contribute to our family coffers directly. It has been stressful to be isolated, both by being a SAHM, as well as through my writing. Neither one of these occupations screams "social." It has been stressful to try to manage those two occupations, which frequently conflict with one another.

How many times has Kiddo come to my arm, as I'm sitting at the computer, and pulled on my sleeve? How many times have I had to shrug him off because I had to get something done that day in order to feel like I was progressing?

I can't count. I don't know. It's too much. It's too many. It makes me feel a little ashamed to admit it in this public way.

Because there are warring priorities. And there is only one resource. Time. There is never enough time. There is only so much time. How is one considered wealthy? By their use of time.

I made a promise to myself. I would write - or at least, work on whatever it was that needed work that day - in the morning. And this work continues through nap time. After nap time, I try to devote my afternoon to Kiddo. Completely.

And sometimes that is hard. Sometimes it is really hard. I get bored doing toddler things (although that is growing less so) and will often catch myself flicking through something on my phone. Sometimes I get really irritated - truly stuck on a bit of formatting or marketing. Eventually I recognize it would be better for everyone if I paid exclusive attention to Kiddo, and I come around. And that is good. Everyone ends up happier.

And I love being a writer. I do. I love doing it and focusing on it completely. And I love being a mom. I do. I love doing it and focusing on Kiddo completely. Trying to do both at once however, is an abysmal failure.

So I try to separate them. This allows me to spend time doing the thing I feel called to do, the thing I must to stay sane, as well as spend time with the little boy I love, my son. It's the closest to a win-win I can get.

And times like this, make me think about how I allocate my precious resource. They make me wonder about what I am willing to give up, and what I cannot live without. They make me question what kind of memories I want to have. When I look back at my life, what story will be there? What will I have accomplished? What relationships will I have built? What kind of a person will I have been?

Part of the answer is my writing. But a bigger part of that answer is the relationship I want with Kiddo. I want to experience him fully. I'm still not sure I want a second kid, and I will only have one chance with Kiddo. He is one person - my precious little boy. The child who makes emotional and abstract connections constantly, who sings and dances, and whose smile lights up even my darkest moments, that is a person I always want with me. That is a person I want to make and share memories with, always. And every single moment - the wild energy bursts, the silly expressions, and the intense tantrums - all of that is a gift I have been given.

There are not words to express my gratitude for my time with Kiddo. Parents understand this feeling - it is unique to the parenting experience. I have never felt it to this depth as I do with Kiddo. Of course, I am grateful for all the wonderful people I've had the pleasure to meet, who have been in my life at one time or another. Of course I love my close friends, my parents, my husband. Of course. And they are each gifts.

But they are not Kiddo.

Earlier in the day, Kiddo was taking a nap. I was exhausted. I was cranky. He fell asleep in the car, and I couldn't move him because moving him wakes him. So I stayed in the car, and dozed myself. When he woke up, I carried up the stairs into a sitting area and we nursed. Of course, the couch was in the sun. Of course, he fell asleep on my lap. Of course I was extraordinarily thirsty.

I got so irritated, I set him down. I couldn't handle the heat any more. I got a glass of water. He woke up. He sat up. He said a few gibberish words.

I sat down.

Then, for some reason, I look across the room and our eyes meet. Kiddo's face cracks into a huge smile - that beaming perfect smile that reflects all his joy and love and light in a single look, and I remember.

Mother Heartbreaker

Mothers' Day has a lot of different meanings for people. It is only my second, and even in the middle of family gatherings, I found myself reflecting on how the day has changed for me. I found myself thinking about the changes I experienced in becoming a mother.

When I was younger I never thought of myself as a mothering type. In fact I thought I was cold, reserved, and awkward around children. I was convinced I would be horrible. Actually terrible.

I learned how to be around kids by being around kids. I started tutoring elementary and junior high students. During that time, I learned a lot about children and realized that while children are at a different place in development, they are people. They are jniust people.

Yes, they have specific needs. Yes they have smaller vocabularies and may struggle to understand some abstract concepts BUT for the most part, they just need love, support, and security.

And I did not understand that once you become a mother, all the training you took in subconsciously from your own mother kicked in. I did not understand that at some point in pregnancy your brain changed in such a way that marks you. Childless women and men do not understand this transformation. It is a biological change that occurs. There is nothing else like it. And I did not know its depth.

I cannot watch children being hurt. The idea of a child going without breaks my heart. Going without food, or shelter, or clothes, or education, or parents, or love. It all hurts my heart. It constricts my chest.

And I cannot breathe when I hear of a parent losing a child. That pain is unnatural. Wrong. But I did not understand how it would be so before I became a parent. I did not understand how gut wrenching even the idea could be.

I know it bothers Christian more now that he is a father, but I wonder about the way it impacts a mother, one whose brain changes during pregnancy...who bonds through breastfeeding.

So when I look at my son, I find myself a stranger. I turned into a super lovey mom. I have to kiss his cheeks. I have to hug and cuddle him. I have to tell him I love him several times a day. I have to pick him up when he is sad and put words to his intense feelings. The sweetest sound is his laugh, or maybe him singing, or just telling a gibberish toddler story. And I know he has more power over me than any other human in this world. Because more than anyone, he can break my heart.

10 Lessons in Toddler Tantrums

Kiddo amazes me.

He's gotten to that intense phase of toddlerhood where he can be an angel one second and the next is screaming bloody murder. There is very little, if any, middle ground.

As part of this, I have discovered ten lessons I thought I would share:

1. Saying "no" to him almost always gets at least a pout. It is adorable, and frequently makes everyone giggle...which often leads us to lesson 2...
2. If he gets past the pout and into whimpering, evasive action (i.e. redirect) must happen immediately. Beloved toys and rough-housing or dancing have the highest success rates.
3. If he gets past whimpering, it is over unless he can nurse. This is the last ditch effort to avoid total meltdown, which sometimes can't happen. If we're in the middle of a park, shopping area, or I am busy, Kiddo proceeds to blow my eardrums out.
4. If he calms down after the tantrum, only to be told "no" again, he will bypass pouting and whimpering, going straight to blood-curdling scream. Often this is accompanied by hand gestures, wild facial expressions, toy-throwing, and kicking or stomping. Sometimes he flings himself against a couch like a damsel in distress.
5. Redirects work most of the time, unless he is hungry, tired, hurt, or ill.
6. He is angelic in public 99% of the time, so much so, that people do not believe me when I say he has meltdowns.
7. As soon as we are away from other people, the potential for a meltdown jumps like 75 points.
8. I love my kid even when he is throwing a temper tantrum.
9. Temper tantrums make me laugh....a lot...unless I am frustrated myself.
10. I am the all-purpose soother and everything calms down much faster when I am around. Kisses, cuddles, nursing, and soothing words in his ear, all work to make things better. About 20 seconds into this, he jumps off my lap grinning ear to ear, squealing in delight.

Tantrums are not the best part of parenting, but they can definitely be managed. Through trial and error I discovered how best to manage Kiddo's swings. And now, we take them as they come. This way, everyone gets calmer faster, and my eardrums stay intact. It's almost a win-win. Almost.

Being A Model: Trust The Choice

Every day we make choices: what to wear, what to eat, to sleep in or not, coffee or tea, Dancing with the Stars or Daredevil...

There are some choices that are a bigger deal. The small ones certainly add up. I mean, in aggregate, the small choices are important. They point to the kind of person you actively choose to be every day. They point to the motivating forces, the principles behind actions. And other people see that.

Your life partner sees that. In fact, you probably became life partners because of those very principles, if not consciously, certainly at a subconscious level. Your partner was like, "Damn. Those are the kind of values I like!" and so you got married, or moved in, or whatever.

Your kids see those daily choices. Unlike your partner, your kids didn't get a choice for you as a parent. They got stuck with you as part of the package. So for better or worse, they look at you, every day, and see your choices. They see your reactions and your principles, lived out, second by second. And it's sinking in.

I am a systems thinker. I never look at something in isolation. I can't. It isn't possible for me. When I look at something, I see its causes and effects. I see its influences - the confluence of factors that allowed it to become. I see its wake, the pieces it leaves behind, the ripples that run through time and space.

Because of this, I take my life choices very seriously. Like, stupidly seriously. I never do something without careful consideration. Granted, that careful consideration may be the length of a few moments, or I may have been thinking about something for years and years before having the opportunity of a given choice.

My point is, I do everything with purpose. I do everything for a reason. I know every action I take and choice I make impacts the people around me. I know that. A good example of this is me taking forever to drive a car. Whenever you get behind the wheel, everyone in your vicinity, their lives, are all in your hands. That is why I never text. I never drive after drinking. I always signal and check my blind spot, because I feel responsible for every life around me. That is the kind of thing I see every second of my life - that I actively push down so I function like a normal human being.

Of course, this is a burden. It is an incredible burden. And it is frustrating when someone doesn't understand. It is frustrating when someone gives me advice because they think I have not considered the impact my choices make.

Please, for your own safety, never make that mistake. Know, I have thought about the range of impacts. I have come up with a thousand scenarios. I wrote them down. I compared pros and cons. I went through a self-assessment. I wrote several journal entries, and I talked to at least three close people, at least one of whom goes fractal when thinking.

It is possible I missed something. I am human. I make mistakes. I do miss things. This is why I need editors. But giving me advice about what to do is the opposite of helpful...

For example:
X: You should get a job at [insert random company here].
A: Well, right now I'm focusing on my book launch.
X: They're hiring. I know someone.
(Struggle not to roll eyes or laugh in face)
A: Seeing as I can't afford a babysitter, can't bring Kiddo to work, and I need to work on this book launch until at least June 15, I'm not going to apply right now.
X: Don't you think you should get a job?
(Bites tongue)
A: The current labor market relies on referrals. Companies don't want someone under qualified because they don't want to train. They don't want someone over qualified, because that person will jump ship at the earliest convenience. I have applied to jobs that I am perfect for, and not gotten an interview.
X: Maybe you should broaden your search.
(Nods and fixes smile to face)
A: Right. I'll do that.
(Walks away)

Believe me when I say I have thought carefully about how much our loans are costing our family, how me not working strains our situation. Believe me when I say I have gone through a thousand options for moves, jobs, life directions, and whole life plans. That is, as I stated above, what I do.

The tricky part is this: Trust me. I am focusing on something right now that is worth my time. I control all the factors of this book launch. I have direct control on the product I put out. I have direct control on the effort I put into marketing this book. I have direct control over the website design. I have direct control over how many people receive information about this book, my beloved THRIVE.

This book can help a lot of people. I know that. My beta readers have told me as much. I know what I'm doing. Know, I have to do this. I choose leaving a legacy. I choose trying my hardest to accomplish my life goals. I choose to show Kiddo what is possible in life. This is who I am. This is who I will always be: a purposeful writer, a voice. I can be nothing else.

The minute I start trying something else, focusing on something else, is the minute I've given up my purpose, my calling. In that moment, I have chosen a life of misery and despair. That is not the model I want Kiddo to have. Those are not the values I want for him. I am not that person.

It is a hard choice, but it is mine. Mine and no one else's. Trust my ability. Trust my vision. I know exactly what I'm doing, and I have a reason for everything I do. This is not some self-absorbed, self-indulgent act. It is much, much, much more.

Raising A Gentleman (Part 2): Dangerous Boys

WARNING: This post contains content regarding rape and violence that may disturb readers. Names have been changed to protect the innocent and guilty.

“James, you pretend to rape her,” said Jack, pointing from James to me. My whole body tensed.

“Huh?” James looked at Jack in confusion. Then he shook his head. “Nu-uh.”

“Just hold her down. Pin her arms to her side and pretend to rape her,” said Jack in irritation to James. It was Jack's game. Someone was supposed to be a police officer or spy. I can't remember which. Someone else was supposed to be some criminal master mind, some kind of mafia boss, except this was not any cops and robbers game I ever played. I was uncomfortable. Still, Jack was my next door neighbor. My family went to his house for dinner. His parents seemed nice. They did short term foster care placements. By all accounts they were upstanding citizens. They seemed to be a good family.

Except for Jack.

“Come on!” he spat, his foot tapping the broken cement sidewalk. Jack was the aggressive one. He asserted his dominance without caring what other people thought or wanted. But we did want to play. Even though I was introverted I needed to get out of my own head. I wanted to be with people for a little while, people I knew. We wanted to be outside. It was north of sixty degrees, the grass was green, and the sun was shining. We wanted to belong. No one else was out. No other kids were living on the street at that time. We were kids. What else were we supposed to do?

“I don't want to,” mumbled James.

“I don't want to either,” I mumbled, feeling the strength of numbers. I felt the danger of the suggestion – the idea of a boy holding me down, against any surface, in any position. Any way I pictured it, it made me uncomfortable. But I didn't know what rape was. I was only eight years old.

Jack rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine!” he snapped. “Just kiss her on the cheek and we can move on!” This was hard enough. This was awkward enough. Whatever rape was, this tiny peck was meant to stand in for it. To compound the strangeness, Jack knew James had a crush on me. Some perverse part of his eleven year old self knew the whole exercise was awkward for this seven year old boy and he wanted to make him uncomfortable. He wanted to make me uncomfortable. He wanted to both give James an opportunity with his crush even while relishing in the pain it would cause us both.

James flushed, leaned in, and kissed my cheek. My face a mask, I withstood the indignity. Jack grinned impishly.

“Okay, let's go!” Jack spun on his heels and took off running, James following quickly in an effort to avoid what just happened. I hesitated, giving them a head start, because of course, I wasn't sure how I felt about the situation myself.

Because I didn't know, I didn't tell anyone. I'm not sure Jack or James ever did either. If they did, they probably never said anything about that particular exchange. They probably never mentioned the fact that Jack, an eleven year old boy, ordered James, a seven year old boy, to pretend to rape me, an eight year old girl, in the course of play.

When I share this story, my husband tells me this is abnormal. Little boys don't play this way. Relaying the story makes his knuckles whiten and his jaw clench. His eyes water in a combination of frustration, anger, and disgust. He repeats himself.

"That is not normal, Alexis. Not normal."

But this was my experience. This kind of experience has marked my understanding of boys and men.

I can pull out a long list of times I have been hurt by both boys and men throughout my life because of my sex. It is extensive. It is disturbing. It is upsetting. It shouldn't be true, but it is.

So now, you wonder, why did she want to have a boy? Because I did. I absolutely wanted to have a boy. I wanted to have a boy so badly it hurt.

Because for me, raising a son would be redemptive. It would be an opportunity for me to raise a boy into a man who was compassionate - who saw all people around him as his equals - as human beings. I could raise an ally, as opposed to a predator. I could raise a gentleman.

And then there was the other side - the reason I didn't want to have a girl.

I didn't want to have a girl because I knew I couldn't protect her. I knew that no matter what I did, I couldn't save her from the realities of the world. At some point, I knew she would be stalked or harassed. I knew she would be offered a drugged drink. I knew someone would call her "bitch" or "slut" or ignore her very considered and valuable opinion just because she had a uterus and breasts.

I know if I had been pregnant with a girl I would have cried. I would have cried so hard, and long, and been so depressed, I don't know what I would have done. Because of boys like Jack. Because the world is so dangerous for women even still. Because men - and women - still don't admit the danger, and still blame women for it, even though the danger is perpetrated by boys and men.

And we raised them. Mothers and fathers raised these dangerous boys. We raised hecklers, abusers, and rapists. We raised them. We raised them because we didn't think about the shows they were watching. We raised them because we didn't tell them about our experiences of misogynist violence and how it affected our entire lives. We raised them because we didn't filter their music and movies. We raised them that way because we just laughed off their hitting the girl they liked because, "Ha, ha! Boys will be boys!"

I plan to tell Kiddo my story. My whole story. I plan to explain what happened to me and what effects it had. I plan to talk with him about what other boys do and say in his peer group. I plan to talk to him about how he interacts with girls. I plan to filter his music, movies, books, and shows. And if something contains questionable content, I plan to unpack it and answer his questions.

It's never too early to have these conversations. I know this because I knew boys - little boys - who were predators. I knew boys like Jack, who made it seem like this behavior was alright, even when it so obviously wasn't. I know if I wait, there could be consequences, the kind that ripple across people's lives. And I can't allow that. I won't leave my son's treatment of other people up to chance. I plan to raise a gentleman, a compassionate ally, a defender of people no matter their type. That is something that requires intention, and hopefully, a community of like-minded people committed to the same.

We can't have boys like Jack running around the world. Such boys do not turn into good men, and we're lying to ourselves if we think they can. Boys like Jack shouldn't be normal. They shouldn't even exist.

The Introverted Mom

For a day without people...

I am an introvert. I can put on a good show, and a lot of extroverts will claim I am otherwise but no. I can assure you, I am an introvert.

As an introvert I have needs. I need alone time. I need time to observe a situation before diving in. I need people I know around me to feel comfortable in social settings, and even then, I may run away as fast as humanly possible.

Now that I am a mom, small talk is much easier for me. I don't have to reach for topics of conversation. I can always mention Kiddo. Someone always has a question or comment, and I can always spit out a witty one liner and be on my way. It is convenient, but it is absolutely an introverted crutch.

I fear I have lost my small talk skills I learned with two extroverted parents.

But that is a small problem. The bigger problem is the fact that I don't get alone time. Being a stay at home parent, it's not the lack of sleep, or the excessive toddler stubbornness, or even the difficulty in finding time to work on my projects that bothers me. It's not even the lack of adult conversation about completely adult things (though that is something I do need).

No, the problem for the introverted stay at home parent is I never get a break. I am always surrounded by people. And as a mom, I am always needed. Extended breastfeeding, cosleeping, and the waves of excessive clinginess are taking their toll on my emotional and mental health.

If nap time could last four hours safely, and I could be in a locked room alone with my computer, journal, or weights, I would be a happy person. If I could assure several hours a day of total isolation, with no specific demands on my time except taking care of myself, I would be relish it.

As it is, when I do get the house to myself, I close my bedroom door and curl up in my bed. Not even my cat is allowed in. Sometimes I sleep. Sometimes I just lie there thinking. Sometimes I paint my nails. Whatever I do, it is slow and methodical, purposeful in its simplicity and self-centeredness. Whatever I do, it is for me, and me alone.

But even in those moments I feel pressure. I feel pressure to be "mom" or to do some household chores. I feel the pressure of the clock ticking away, my isolation counting down until there is none left and I am forced out of my solitude to face responsibility. My stomach roils with anxiety. I hate thinking about it, yet I can't stop. I want my isolation to continue. And I feel guilty for wanting that, for needing it, because it is taboo. Because moms are supposed to enjoy being with their children all the time.

But I am an introverted stay at home mom, so even though it is isolating to stay at home meeting the demands of a toddler, it is not isolating enough. It is not reclusive enough. Not the way I need. So as much as I would love to talk about adult things with adult people, give me an hour in an empty house, in a locked room, to be completely by myself.

The Watching Part of Parenting

Honestly, I'm struggling to write a post. Kiddo is doing his thing, and I can't say there is much to talk about. I mean, there are a ton of things to talk about - but I'm never sure if I'm just being a gushing mom, or if there is actually something to report.

He likes to play ball these days. But he doesn't quite know how to throw to someone or how to catch. Instead, he likes people to throw the ball at him. The ball hits him in the chest and he giggles. I think dodge ball is not the game for him...

He says "mom" or "mama" on a daily basis. He says "up" regularly. He answers questions with gestures, nods, and shakes of his head.

Kiddo's bottom molars are basically out. We're just waiting on the top ones to come through. I hope the sharp bottom molars will help this process be a little faster than his earlier molar acquisition, but so far it's hard to tell.

We regularly use "1-2-3." It helps Kiddo understand transitions are occurring as well as preventing tantrums when he isn't following directions.

Chase is a favorite game. The park is a favorite place. Peek is another favorite game. Blowing bubbles is a favorite outside activity.

He stacks blocks and attaches MegaBlox with ease. He makes figures and animals talk to one another during play. He pretends to cook and eat food, which he likes to share with anyone nearby.

He runs around, but also walks with his legs wide apart as though he's some crazy bowlegged sheriff. He also marches and stomps. He even does a kind of crazy kick-out-Russian-military-march-walk. And of course, he dances.

Every week brings changes, but they are more subtle than they used to be.  It is probably more subtle to me because I see him every day. To the casual observer, I'm sure he's still growing and changing by leaps, if not bounds.

No matter how obvious, it is clear Kiddo continues his steady march through childhood. It's weird, marvelous, scary, joyful, and sad all at once. Even when someone hints at parenthood being that way, you can't know until you're in the middle of it. Once you're in the middle of it, you feel it all, in every fiber of your being with every passing glance and goofy face. It's hard. It's a hard thing to do, but not in the way everyone says. Not in the "I'm-so-sleep-deprived-and-the-kids-are-screaming-I-can't-poop-in-peace" way (though there may be a little of that too).

No. Watching it unfold is much harder. Watching every new discovery, holding my breath during every bump, biting my lip off as you comfort through every fever, and nightmare is the hard part. It's hard because somewhere deep down I know, even years before it happens, this will end. He will make his own choices. Life will happen around him. And I am powerless to stop it.

All I can do is watch. Is it special? Is it miraculous? Is it just the daily grind? Yes. Yes it is. Kiddo just smiled at me. It is all that and so much more.

The Good of Mom Shaming

It is commonly understood that each gender has its particular difficulties. Often people say something to the effect of, boys may break things, but girls break your soul.

I don't know if this is because girls are taught to be a a certain way - demure and coy - hiding things until they feel the need to pull tidbits out to throw them in your face at your most vulnerable or what.

All I know is, there is definitely a culture, or perception, of women working against other women. This is incredibly useful for maintaining sexist structures.

Follow me here...think about a few of these sexist structures/circumstances:

Moms do not have paid leave.
Moms do not have enforced support to breastfeed practically (even if it is law).
Companies do not have on site daycare.
Parents are not protected from employer reprisal if their family needs them.
Women still make less per dollar than men.
Women are still less likely to be promoted.
Female students do not have structures to ensure breastfeeding.
Female students do not have guaranteed on site daycare.
Mothers are discouraged from bringing children to work or class.

That's just a taste.

Now I have recently been accused of "mom shaming." Whether that was realistic or not is a different issue. The fact is it was perceived. As such it got me thinking about that whole "mean girls" business.

I have a few thoughts of where this comes from. I think the "mom shaming" thing is a direct result of the above structures. Part of it is the unreasonable expectations we place on mothers to do everything - housework, childcare, and work outside of the home. Part of it is the unrealistic expectations we place on motherhood (perfection) - that if you screw up, you will ruin your children's lives forever.

But there is another important thing that we as women have perhaps ignored on a conscious level - that we are collectively deciding how we want to be as modern women and there is great conflict as to what that means.

I have a particular idea in my head what female identities should look like and how they should play out practically. These conceptions drive my actions and beliefs, so yes. I think certain decisions and actions are wrong. While context is important, it is safe to make generalizations as to what are better choices and what are not. All contexts are not equal. All choices are not good (think: spanking punishment or smoking while pregnant).

That said, I also understand there are tremendous forces pushing women from all sides and it is difficult to balance everything. In order to change the situation, we need to advocate for ourselves as a group. We need organizations to recognize the niche needs we have and we need them to support our needs in the public sphere. We need to recognize that we are still second class citizens and that needs to change.

If women are fighting about this and that, rather than focusing on big issues, it makes it a lot harder for us to get real social change. If we get real social change however, we are better equipped to make good decisions because we have undue stresses removed and much needed support systems. In short, we need to work together.

My conclusion? "Mom shaming" is an important indicator of underlying issues. Those "shame" moments point us to the areas where we as mothers need the most support from society. Rather than getting caught up in squabbles over whose choices are better, we need to take that information and use it to better the lives of women, families, and future generations.

We cannot do this alone, nor should we. It takes a village.

New Year's Resolutions

I recently read that parents should have resolutions for their kids...or that kids should have their own resolutions. I''ve also read that resolutions don't work, that you should instead have something that you can really follow and implement consistently.

With all these things in mind, I am resolved to the following for 2015:

Kiddo can play with any safe toy he wants. Pink. Turquoise. Bedazzled. Glitter coated. If he loves it and it is age appropriate, it's good.

I will continue to honor his preferences - however they may change or develop.

I will continue to cloth diaper...intermittently as his body's needs and our water shortage shift and change (this way I don't feel too guilty for using so much water on laundry or throwing away disposables).

I will try to expose him to a variety of good foods and hold off on junk as long as humanly possible (despite the mockery of various people in my life as I refuse to let him have chocolate etc).

Kiddo can have as many bananas as he wants.

We will have dance parties once a day to music like Pentatonix.

Kiddo can nurse as often as he likes.

I will continue to help him develop various skills by playing games, singing, talking, and reading with him.

Kiddo will continue to have routines, boundaries, and rules appropriate for his age.

I will make sure I get my needs met so I can be the best mom I can be.

We will snuggle at least twice a day.

Here's to a fantastic new year of reasonably raising an alien!

Delightful Moments

It's been a crazy few weeks. With everything going on, it can get a bit difficult to make time for some of the things that need to get done. It can be difficult to be present in the moment when my mind wants to do a million and one other things.

I am getting better though.

Things I am noticing and enjoying these days are:

1. Kiddo's facial expressions. He rolls his eyes. He does a Stevie Wonder impression. He smirks.
2. Playing chase, catch (sort of), and dodge ball.
3. Dancing. Kiddo sways and bops...not at the same time.
4. Echoing melody lines. He'll sing something, I repeat or the opposite.
5. Cuddles. An oldie but a goodie.
6. Short sentences. I get. I go. I do it.
7. Requests. Uh (up), whimpers for another song verse, nursing, naps, walks, and books.
8. New discoveries.
9. Delight in life...all the time.
10. Sleep...of course.

There are others, but these are the things I'm keeping close to my heart. These are my memory treasures and daily delights. I rest in them. Parents all have and need them. They make life so much better.

A New Birthday

Last night my niece was born. She was 8 lbs 11 oz and 20 inches. She was alert and eager to eat. My sister-in-law (SIL) was fine, but exhausted.

I am proud of my SIL. She was induced for a medical reason and she fought hard to have as natural a birth as possible. Of course, induction makes things harder because a woman's body isn't ready. Of course she went to the hospital. They monitored her in every way and things moved slowly. She wasn't allowed to eat except gelatin and ice chips.

Things moved along and her body wasn't quite as ready as my niece was to be born. More augmentation was needed. An epidural brought the process to a head and my niece was born vaginally.

My SIL did sooooo well during her contractions. She did so well the entire time. It was the first time I have seen birth (in person) from that perspective - the one supporting, not birthing. More than ever I am convinced that birth is the pinnacle of femininity and feminine power.

I am convinced that we, as women, need to claim our birthright (in every sense of the word). Our birthing needs to be respected, treasured, and guarded.

I was appalled at the words coming out of doctors and nurses as I supported my SIL. They talked flippantly  about how crazy natural birth is and how impossible it is for a woman to give birth in that manner. They talked about how God gave us drugs so we could use them (equating them with Round-Up to eradicate weeds...riiiight. Exactly.). They said these things despite the fact my SIL wanted natural birth and she was trying so hard to achieve it. Maybe they were trying to make her feel better about taking an epidural, I don't know. It felt like they just wanted her on the drugs even before it became clear what path the birth would take.

I thought we were supposed to support laboring women. I thought we were supposed to do what is best in each and every birth. Call me crunchy, but I thought there were reasons for natural birth - just like there are reasons for medical intervention! The process isn't pain - it's muscle contraction and stretching. Muscle contraction and stretching needs drugs? This implies every time we workout to failure, we need narcotics.

Wait, what?

But this is the logic.

It ignores the gifts this process gives women and babies. It ignores the millennia behind this process. It ignores the fact this is the supreme moment of feminine power and takes it away from us.

Sorry. No. I don't accept that.

I am so proud of my SIL - all the work she did. She was so good through the process. I am so glad she got her vaginal birth. I knew she could do it. I knew she would do it. After all, that is what our bodies were made for.

Taking Care of Mommy

Most women will say their baby comes first. Most women will say their life perspective changed some time during pregnancy and their main concerns were related to their child. I would include myself in this however my definition of what comes first is a little different.

Websites talk about needing to take care of yourself when you have a baby. They talk about having a healthy mommy. No one argues with this statement, but there are different interpretations of it. What exactly is a healthy mommy?

For my part, I have to exercise at least 5 days, if not 6 every week. I have compromised my workout length and time of day to allow ease of balancing my parenting responsibilities with this need. That helps keep my body in a good way which is good for Kiddo. I have energy levels that can keep up with his (for now).

But I also need time to write my books, short stories, and blog posts. I need time to shower, brush my teeth, and put on make-up (I don't care what anyone says - this is necessary for me!). I need time to meditate and be alone without agenda. I need adult conversations and professional achievement.

Those are not wants.

So when I don't have them, what happens? Kiddo has an unhealthy mommy.

Some people may say I am selfish and downgrade my needs to wants. They will say I should put my child first and trying to fulfill my "wants" is depriving my child of necessary things like time and attention.

I can tell you right now that when I don't have my needs met, I am not anywhere close to being a good mother. I am distracted, irritated, and whiny. I have no energy and am cold. I am frustrated. I cry randomly. I have no interest in being around my child. I have no interest in being around anyone... until my needs are met.

And once they are? I am a different woman.

Until recently I felt guilty for this. I thought I was a bad mother for needing these things. And then I realized I would be a bad mother if I didn't take care of myself. It isn't selfish to do that - because the reality is when I take care of myself, Kiddo gets the best version of me. He doesn't get conflicting messages. He knows I love him, like to play with him, and will address all of his needs to the best of my ability.

I think there are a lot of women out there who feel the same as I did - guilty for needing things. I am here to tell you: DON'T! Be your best self! Your baby needs that.

Did you feel guilty about taking care of Mommy? Why or why not? Leave a comment below!

10 Month Terror

10 months. Kiddo is almost 10 months old.

It seems like he was born yesterday...that he was a little human pupae and now...

Now he's a terror.

I mean, Kiddo is sweet. He really is. And I'm confident in saying he's probably the most perfect child next to Jesus and Buddha but...but...BUT he's still a baby.

And he's getting into things. And getting sharp teeth that he uses on everything. And purposefully drops his food on the floor. And pulls all the CDs and DVDs to the floor. And eats paper, to the point that NO paper is safe from his tiny chubby clutches. And he whimpers. And he wriggles whenever I try to change his diaper. And he beams whenever I offer him a toy he likes. And then he swings it around so hard it goes flying. And he dumps the kitty food. And he pulls on the drawers. And he chews on any cable he can magically get his hands on. And he laughs when you tell him "no" or scream "ow."

And he grows 2 inches in 3 days. Literally. Thursday night he was short enough to have inches between his head and the table. Saturday he was hitting his head.

He talks all the time. I know he's trying to tell stories, so I respond as best as I can and this seems acceptable. I seem to be fooling him into thinking I understand. This gets him to talk more. Well, a combination of baby babble and real English words.

But he also cuddles, and hugs, and tries to give kisses. And he smells like sunshine and spring. And his eyes are windows into the Divine.

And we made him. He grew in me and came into this world through my efforts. And I think of that every time he falls asleep, twining his fingers with mine.

Calling All WAHMs!!!

Right before I went on vacation I found another passion of mine (or at least a new avenue for an established passion).

If you've followed my blog(s) you're well aware of the wild difficulties our fledgling family has faced, especially in the past year. Because of our financial situation and my personal role in staying at home, I stumbled into a world of women that I never expected to participate in. I was certainly oblivious to the prevalence of stay at home (SAHM) and work at home moms (WAHM).

I wondered how many of these women were trying to make their lives better through starting their own businesses (between diaper changes, runny noses, and teething). Then I thought it would be really amazing to talk with these other women and maybe help them out (at least a little bit).

For this reason I'm calling all WAHMs! I want to interview WAHMs and highlight their businesses here on Raising An Alien. While I'd particularly love to connect with women here on the Central Coast, I'm quite happy to interview any WAHM who is in the process of establishing, or is successfully running her own business. I want to support my fellow moms, as well as share some of their wisdom and stories to inspire even more moms!

If you know of or are a WAHM (especially in California or the West Coast!) I would love to hear from you (use the contact form or my author FB page.)! Let me interview you and help shed some light on your work!

18 Tools to Survive Active Babies

A few of my favorite things...

To survive an active older baby, you need special tools as a mom. Nothing can have just one use or be purely ornamental. Everything has purpose. Here are my tools of the trade:

1. A good hair tie or clip - because otherwise my hair will get pulled.
2. Stud earrings - because dangly earrings will get pulled.
3. A large purse - to carry my make-up, phone, wallet, sunglasses, tissues, pens, compact mirror, and extra toys in. Just add the kitchen sink.
4. Dental picks- ones with floss are good to use anywhere. Who knows how easily I'll be able to floss my teeth and these are a twofer!
5. A nice bodywash - I just got one that feels like I'm spreading silk across my skin. I might get short showers, but damn they feel luxurious!
6. Spray lotion- this new fangled product means I get lotion on my skin twice as often as I would otherwise (I.e. I avoid Kiddo meltdowns).
7. Spray sunblock - because otherwise I would never be able to protect my skin (I.e. helps avoid Kiddo meltdowns)!
8. Iced tea - cold, refreshing, and caffienated. You do the math.
9. Robe - having this to run around the house in is great when waking up and going to bed. The pockets alone are lifesavers!
10. Exercise band - I can workout anywhere with these puppies and I can't live without working out. Such a good stress-buster!
11. Nutella - It's dessert! It's breakfast! It's phenomenal! On whole grain toast I get a chocolate and nut butter fix in one at any time of day without the guilt. This is my new favorite food!
12. A large throw pillow - sounds simple and random, but this allows me to hang out with Kiddo, minimizes his fussing, and write (or play games on my phone) all while being comfy. Otherwise my lumbar region would need to be realigned.
13. Highlighter (or bronzer) - I've said it before, but I'll say it again; this junk is MAGICAL! When I feel old, frumpy, sleepy, or any of the 7 dwarves, I just put some of this on my face and viola! I look rested, and glowing! Every mom MUST HAVE this! Such a mood enhancer (oh, and you know, your face too!).
14. Wedge flip-flops - really any dressier yet comfy sandal could satisfy this one. But chasing around Kiddo takes energy. I need comfy shoes that look cute. Sometimes that's a tall order. Heh.
15. 4 in 1 Nail file/buffer - I don't have time or money for mani/pedis. I don't have the energy to deal with polishing my nails myself. There's so much effort in maintaining them and inevitably they'll get chipped 5 minutes later. But buffing my nails I can handle! A few minutes of work before going to sleep and I have shiny pretty nails for a couple weeks. No worries about chipping or chemicals and just one low price! Perfection!
16. Scarves - I love scarves. I've been a fan for a long time. They can add flare to a drab outfit or make an old shirt look new. They don't break when Kiddo pulls on them and they can double as a nursing cover in a pinch. Plus when I wear one, I feel fabulous!
17. A notepad - I might seem like a ludite, but I need this! I forget things if I don't write them down. Something small I can fit in my purse or something large so I can plan hostile takeovers (or just what to take on a trip) - I use them all!
18. Prenatal vitamin - Since I'm breastfeeding, I need this to feel normal. Yes, I eat pretty well balanced meals etc, but when I don't take my vitamin, I notice a big difference in my energy and abilities. This is a must.

What are your must-have tools for surviving an active baby or toddler? Leave a comment below! I'd love suggestions to improve and make my life easier too!

Nail Art: Staying Girly as a Boy Mom

I'm fancy!

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an active sort of person. This means I'm not very good at keeping my nails in good shape. I wasn't good before I had Kiddo and I'm not good now.

Instead of getting acrylic nails, I got acrylic paint under my nails. Instead of trimming my cuticles, I would rip them. Sometimes I'd just tear part of the nail off if it bothered me. To make matters worse, I'd nervously pick at any uneven portion. I've even been known to bite at ragged ends.

Yes, my poor nails were a hot mess.

They were.

I've been informed that as a mother of a male child, it's important to assert my femininity. Seeing as I'm getting ready for a big family event, I wanted to look cute. Two birds with one stone...or well three if you consider the makeover I basically got.

My soon to be sister-in-law did me a huge favor. She did NAIL ART! For those of you not in the know, that's art on your fingers! Whaaaaat?!?!?!

I've never had art on my fingers (I use my fingers to make art, not display it.). I'm notoriously bad at keeping nail polish in one piece. My longest chip-free stint was probably 3 days...maybe 2.5 if I get down to it. Because of my chip habit, I tend to avoid paying for any kind of anything on my fingers.

Well, I never would have gotten my nails ANYWHERE close to as nice as they are right now except my soon to be SIL is really good at this stuff. Really.

I'm hoping she goes into business for herself I was so impressed. She helped me tie together the color of my dress and the hair clip I'm planning on wearing. So...if you live in SB county, I know a really good nail artist! ;-)

In the mean time, I hope I don't mess them up!

A Tool For New Parents: "52 Lists From Pregnant to Parent"

What do you really need?

I'm really excited about the first two books I'm publishing this year (you can read more about my publishing plan here) and I think you will too.
In an effort to give some advanced notice about the first one, I thought I'd post a little bit about it here.

One of the things I noticed when I was pregnant was the ridiculous amount of literature out there about pregnancy. There are a lot of books, articles, websites, and films about pregnancy but that made things even more difficult.

I found myself wading through things asking questions like: What should I bring to the birth center? What is normal at this point? What should I have in my diaper bag? What books should I buy? What should I know about after? Should I get any special furniture?

And everywhere I looked there were answers to the questions, if I could find them between the millions of lines of pointless text. In short, it was a nerve-wracking scavenger hunt.

And then it hit me; wouldn't it be wonderful if all these lists were in a single place? I would have bought that! So I put together my soon to be published book (the first Raising An Alien book) called 52 Lists from Pregnant to Parent. Some of them are there to help you laugh, others to help you get through the day. No matter what, I know both new and experienced moms (and dads and even grandparents!) will appreciate these lists in ONE PLACE easily checked on their ereader of choice.

This lovely jewel will be published by April 30 and is a great gift for moms-to-be (a little Mothers' Day gift anyone?), especially when paired with the second and or third book in the Raising An Alien collection (more to come on those soon!).

What things did you wish you'd known during pregnancy? What tools do you wish you'd had? Leave your thoughts below!

Surprise! Vintage Diseases Are Back!

There is a lot of concern in the world about "old-fashioned" diseases coming back. Some of this is because people are choosing not to vaccinate their children as well as more virulent strains developing. Recently there have been measles outbreaks in both Los Angeles and New York. While this is shameful, it's not the most surprising disease to return (Thanks crazy lying UK doctor for that vaccine-autism scare!).

One disease, not a virus or bacterium, that should never be seen in developed countries has returned. Rickets is back with a vengeance, particularly in the UK. This is REALLY crazy pants.

If you didn't know, rickets is the reason we have white people. Let me explain.

Humans need sunlight. Our body uses sunlight to synthesize vitamin D. We need vitamin D to use calcium efficiently. Without sunlight, we can't use calcium as well. As humans spread from Africa to northern latitudes, darker children grew sick. Their pigmentation prevented their bodies from getting as much sunlight and so they has less D and weaker bones. Children grew lighter. These children were less sick, but whenever humans went further north, the pigmentation was still too much. The further north people went, the lighter they got in order to be successful at synthesizing D.

This is how my father, husband, and son can all blind people with their super pale skin. We're Celtic and Gaulish. We're pasty.

While pasty people are more likely to avoid rickets, it's not guaranteed and it's certainly not all roses being so light. There are many things that are annoying about fair skin - more acne, more wrinkles, susceptibility to skin cancers... But one thing nice about fair skin is we pasty people can spend anywhere from 5 to 30 minutes a day (depending on latitude and time of year) and our bodies will make enough vitamin D. So if this is true, why would Brits (super white people, though immigration has changed demographics some) be getting rickets?

Vegans with sunblock.

Actually vegetarians are also to blame.

Vegan mothers don't get enough of the right bone growing nutrients in their diets during pregnancy. If they're breastfeeding that means their kids don't get a chance to recoup during their first few months of life. Now think of these ironically malnourished children being slathered with sunblock, which blocks the light that let's the body make vitamin D. It's a recipe for rickets.

I know a lot of people have strong opinions about vaccines that are opposite to mine. I think these people are willfully trying to kill or maim their children while putting people who have lower immunity or can't yet be vaccinated at risk (including my son, sooo thank you for putting my child at risk too!). But the idea that rickets is coming back because women are making silly diet choices is preposterous. What you do after you're done having children is one thing, but before and during your childbearing years you need to be responsible. In my personal opinion, I think women should not be vegetarian and certainly not vegan if they intend to have children especially in the near future.

There are so many nutrients that are easier to get and more fast acting from meat and dairy than other sources. If it's a question of ethics, buy locally sourced meat and dairy or raise your own. If someone can't have meat or dairy for some reason, or is just hyper committed to their veganism, that person needs to take a stupid amount of supplements to make up the lack.

Obviously I eat meat (I have to for iron reasons - and don't try to tell me about veggie sources. Some people need meat for the type of iron that can only be found in animal products.). I'm a huge fan of dairy. Kiddo and I are also pasty. The result? I have to wear sunblock. Kiddo has to wear sunblock. We both take Vitamin D supplements. My kid isn't getting Rickets and I'm going to have strong enough bones that I can carry him and swing him around if I want to.

No surprise vintage diseases here!

Conversations With Your Kid

There are a number of reasons why people write. For example when I found out I was pregnant, I decided to begin a pregnancy journal so I could document all the different symptoms and feelings I had during pregnancy. Journaling wasn't enough to contain my thoughts and feelings; they began seeping into my blogging. Then it became clear that I needed to have a blog that was devoted to these thoughts and feelings.

When kiddo was born I continued my journal (and my blog). The journal was important because it turned into an extended letter to my son. It was no longer just my thoughts and feelings, but also what he was doing. It wasn't about my body – but about his birth had changed my life in a very permanent and tangible way.

I noticed, some time during this whole process, that I began reacting to current events and various topics differently than I had before motherhood. This was around the time that my father mentioned how he was planning on writing letters to kiddo. He wasn't sure when they should all be opened, or if they would be about specific topics, or just wandering thoughts inspired by the events of a given day.

This got me thinking a little more about the guidance and wisdom I wanted to impart on my son. What stories did I want to share with him? What words will he need at different times in his life? I've always been able to say what I meant in writing a little bit better than when speaking, in part because of a lack of inhibition which I always feel in person (for those who know me well, this might be frightening – Alexis! Inhibited? Dear LORD! What would she be like otherwise?!). I don't know if I will feel that way with kiddo, but I want to make sure I don't stint on the tips, tricks, lessons, and wisdom I've picked up over the years.

This is how I decided not only to write letters to kiddo but also to offer the option for other parents (and grandparents if they like!) to share their stories with the young people in their lives. What could be better than to have these words written – documented - so that the child can refer back to these stories over and over again as needs arise?

It's true that anyone could write these letters at home, but they wouldn't include all the little tidbits they could, or focus on all the particular topics that children so need guidance in. Also there's the added benefit of getting second, third, and fourth opinions about the content and form of these keepsakes in the class setting (something impossible when writing them away from like-minded classmates). For these reasons, brainstorming and writing these letters in a group setting is extremely beneficial.

For those of you living in Santa Barbara, Goleta, and the surrounding areas, I hope to see you next Sunday at 1 PM in the Santa Barbara Birth Center Annex meeting room on State Street. You can be pregnant, postpartum, or even a grandma (or grandpa!) to attend. The first drop-in is FREE! So come join us and see what all the fuss is about. We'd love to have you and I know the little ones in your life will think it was time and money well spent for years to come!