A Mom's Life

I'm surrounded by baby these days and I suppose it's my age. All of my friends are getting married and some are even starting to "try" before their nuptials are confirmed, fighting to beat the infertility clock. The race is on: late twentysomething couples stand at the starting line, perched on their toes, fingertips brushing the ground. Sweat has started to roll lightly down their faces in reaction to the pressure of the task ahead of them. The gun goes off, BANG! And the couples begin to hurdle down the track. Except, wait. Instead of gracefully bounding around the circle, they stumble awkwardly, each with a leg in the potato sack. They have to move in unison and have perfect timing to get the job done right. It takes skill and possibly, several times around the track, to make it work. And when it does, they're off to the next event- the obstacle course. Unlike the sympathetic feelings I get while talking about weddings, when the conversation goes a l...

Have you seen my baby? She's little; fits in your arms easily; has big brown eyes and soft blond curls; smells like baby; says googoogaa; is immobile. You get the picture, right? My little baby angel has been replaced by a full-fledged waddler. It started around Christmas but really accelerated when she took her first bold steps a month ago. Before my eyes this baby has turned into a person. A little one, which makes everything she does very funny. Just when you start to adapt to your ever-changing child, she goes and changes on you overnight or in the blink of an eye. Let me tell you about what Caroline can do in the blink of an eye: climb over a bucket-barrier onto the fireplace. Unplug a lamp and lick the plug. Unravel a roll of toilet paper or pull every tissue out of a box. Explode into a diva fit and slam her head into my chin. Pull every tupperware lid from the drawer and throw them all over the kitchen. Tip the dog's food dish over. Find the phone and dial a...

Have you ever been surrounded by people yet felt totally alone? That's how I've felt the last few days. I interact with people all day long: student advising meetings, phone calls, emails, chit chatter in the stairwells. The constant flow of conversation fills my head with garble and most days I barely have time to think. But when I get in the funk all I need to do is sit back in my chair and feel the lump of loneliness in the pit of my stomach. Little things make my heart ache. At the height of my sadness on Friday night I picked up the local paper and let the tears roll down my cheeks while reading about "Mary's Relay for Life Team." The day before that I broke down over a Today show piece on photographers who capture families and their babies who die within days of their birth. (Who wouldn't cry over that one?) A psychologist would tell me I'm depressed and suggest meds or more sessions. Andy might agree with this rapid remedy to my mood swings. I don...

Andy went back to work a week after Caroline was born. When he returned home each evening, I'd be sitting in my jammies with dirty eye glasses and spit up on my shoulder. Maybe Caroline would be sleeping in her bassinett and maybe I'd be lucky enough to be folding some laundry. Our front door leads directly into the living room, so we are usually able to greet one another before taking our boots off. He'd open the door. I'd look up at him. He'd say, "Did you have a productive day?" I'd respond, "You're kid isn't dead. I'd call that a pretty productive day." This went on for the length of my maternity leave and I was relieved to go back to work and have to answer to my boss and not my husband. Do you remember the story about the divorcee and stay-at-home mom who sued her husband for all the things she provided him during their marriage? The list included chores, caring for the children and sex. The amount of money was significant a...

Today was just another blizzard condition day in UpState New York. I'm pretty sure I saw Puxatawney Phil roadside building a snowman as we crawled home from work. As the wind shield wipers creaked rhythmically back and forth, we listened to NPR's " Frrrressh Air!"-today's broadcast an interview with a writer and his son who is a recovering meth - amphetamine addict. During one part of the interview the father described a brain aneurysm he had amidst his son's drug addiction. While he could not remember his own name, he repeatedly asked the nurses to call his son to make sure he was ok . When he could remember almost nothing about himself and his life, this father knew was he was a parent and his child needed him. When all he had was pure instinct, his inner parent became more prominent than his own identity. If I meet a new daycare staff member I often skip my name entirely and introduce myself as " Caroline's mom". Why do I need a n...

Over the weekend I had "my hour". Sixty whole minutes at the gym including 30 on the new treadmill and the latest In Style magazine to read while I sweat it out to my itunes. I happily flipped and thumped along, checking out the latest hand bags and arm cuffs until I got to an article about Katie Holmes. I had to flip back and forth several times to admire one of my favorite Hollywood pieces of eye candy. How can she and I have children almost the same age and she can look like that and have run a marathon this year? No matter what we all tell ourselves about celebs, we still envy them or just can't help but stare at their image in a magazine and read all about how they've found themselves via religion, rehab or marriage to Tom Cruise. My favorite part of the article was Katie recalling Suri's birth story. She says something about how supportive Tom was by placing candles and picture frames around the room. That's helpful? If Andy was lighting candles during ...

I just got back from a week on a bus trip with 40 college students. It was my first time away from Caroline and it was excrutiating. I've known about the trip for months but nothing could prepare me for the stress and heart break of leaving my baby for a week mixed with the dangerous cocktail of becoming the mother of a gaggle of 18-22 year olds for five days. The morning I left, I choked back tears as Caroline gave me a limp wristed good bye and shook her Weeble in my direction. Prior to the trip my sanity had been slipping from me as I fielded anxious calls from parents about fulfilling their child's hopes and dreams during the trip and hinting that my behind would be on the line if things didn't go as promised. That morning I was crying about missing my baby but maybe crying even more about taking on the responsiblity of 80 other parents' babies. As I sat on the bus loaded with sleeping, hoody-wearing, ipod-clad students, I wondered how I got into my current situatio...