Work in Progress

I wasn't the mother I want to be this past week.

My son abruptly dropped his nap about two weeks ago.

It's been a rough transition. My normally sweet son traded his halo for an impressive set of horns.

I resorted to the thing I know best - yelling.

My mom is a champion screamer. If yelling was an Olympic sport, my mom would be a contender for gold.

Turns out that I can do a spot on impersonation of her when properly motivated.

This is not a feat I'm proud of. Quite the opposite actually.

So I took a step back, let the house get dirty, ignored the laundry pile, and did a little soul searching.

I pulled out my parenting books and tried some new things. (I've always had good luck with No-Cry Discipline Solution by Elizabeth Pantley.)

And things are getting better. My son still acts like an overtired three year old, but at least I'm not acting like one myself.

It was scary to meet my inner banshee, but I think she is safely caged up again.

And I will continue to do everything in my power to be the mother my kids deserve.

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The Other Path

I just got an email from my old college roommate.

She's coming to DC for a few weeks at the end of June and wants to meet up.

It should be fun, but it will also be a touch weird.

You see, she took the other path.

We have similar backgrounds.

We had similar majors (both engineers) and started our careers with similar types of jobs. We got married around the same time and each had our second child late last year.

But here's the thing. When my first was born, I quit full time work. (I work very part time from home now, but since I logged in a whopping 15 hours last month I'm not even sure it counts.)

She went back to work full time when her baby was six weeks old, jumping right back into long working hours, business travel and a long commute.

Her husband's job has a similar time requirements so their kids are in childcare about 12 hours a day.

Our day to day lives couldn't be more different.

Most days, I'm content with my decision, but I am curious about the life I might have had. There are a lot of vaguely inappropriate questions I'd love to ask her.

I figure the conversation will probably be really polite and superficial. But maybe it won't.

I guess I'll see how all this turns out come June.

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Excuse Me, Your Insecurities Are Showing

My mother in law recently bought an outfit for my daughter.

It's size 18 months and includes little leggings.

After her last visit, my mother in law voiced her concern that the outfit might not fit my daughter because she had such chubby legs.

Multiple times.

And I freely admit, my daughter has impressive thigh rolls.

She's also three months old.

A perfectly health, normal size three month old.

I think this is my first true taste of the difference between raising a boy and a girl.

I have a son who will be three in a few weeks. Nobody has ever mentioned his fat thighs and his rolls were even more massive at peak baby chubbiness.

Honestly, I'm not sure how to protect her from this stuff. But I will certainly do my best.

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