The "New Mom" Excuse

A few weeks back, the Executive Producer for Momversation (the sister site to Parents Ask) was teasing me about this protein only diet that I've been doing... (Yes, I have been that annoying person in the office responsible for the wafting smell of microwaved turkey bacon and Jarlsberg Lite every morning). So, what was my reason for doing the kind of diet that I typically detest?

"I want to get rid of baby weight."

He cocked his head. "Um... How old is Baby-Ko again?"

Busted. My kid is starting preschool in the fall. Hello....

Right then and there it occurred to me that I have officially reached my cut off for using the "new mom" excuse. I mean, my constant state of disheveled-ness and unwashed hair can't entirely be blamed on my precious son... After all, I am juggling a full time job, a divorce, a new relationship, writing a book, an incredibly strong willed toddler, and the shaggiest shag rug known to man. (Literally this thing is a fucking beast). That list is enough to make anyone exhausted-- no matter how young or old your kid is. So really, there's no need to live on the "new mom edge" any longer-- those days are done. No need to hide behind that excuse. Now life is just plain chaotic. Let the real games begin...

Amused by my revelation, the EP decided this would make for a great discussion on Momversation. So... Check out this little video...

And tell me....What is the shelf life for using the new mom excuse?

DO AS I SAY, NOT AS I DO...

Have you ever been at the gym and seen a really unfit looking trainer and wondered where THAT person gets off telling THIS person how to get in shape? Well, between you and me, I think I’m "that unfit trainer" in the world of parenting. As the Managing Editor of Parents Ask, I have access to incredible experts, information, and answers—I have resources on how to/why to parent this way or that way at my fingertips. I hear it. I read it. I know it. Yet, in my own little world of all things cheerios and triple paste, I can’t say that I always look and act the part.

I. Am. The. Fat. Trainer. At. The. Gym.

Like, for example, when Baby-Ko decided to lie on the floor this morning kicking and screaming because I wouldn’t let him open my Lancome Eye Makeup Remover…(oh, you didn’t think I actually removed said makeup from my eyes the night before I was going to reapply to that exact area, did you???) I could have taken a deep parenting breath and pulled from one of my many manuals or mental files and addressed the situation, but instead I blanked out and pretty much stared at him. What was I supposed to do? Surely, ignoring it is one component, but there must be some other magic little trick that GOOD parents know about it, right?

Every now and again, however, I do have a stroke of parenting genius... Like yesterday, when we left a birthday party (and stole a nice Mylar balloon on our way out, clearly not intended as a parting gift)… Just as we got to the car, Baby-Ko let go of the balloon…

Up, up, UP it went…

“Oh, no, mommy! My Balloon! I want it!”

Just in the nick of time, just before an all-out fit erupted and I would have to start wracking my brain for a contact at NASA that might be able to help locate the balloon (because, shit, sometimes temper tantrums are just not that worth it), I said:

“Oh, Baby-Ko! You’re sending the balloon to another birthday party! That’s so nice!”

He looked at me. Please go for it.

“Another boy is going to have a balloon at his house too now!”
“Another boy?”
“Yeah.” Come on, little boy....

“Not Baby-Ko?”

“Not Baby-Ko. You were already at a birthday party. Let’s go home now,” I said trying to change gears… And it worked.

Later that evening, his Grandma came over and ironically, brought a Curious George book that has George letting go of balloons at a park. Proudly, Baby-Ko told us that George (pronounced "Yorge") was sending them to another birthday party too.

Hey, I done good.

The point is, like my friend Sarah Maizes of Mommylite, for most of us, good mommy moments are few and far between. However, on the slight chance that you do consider me an expert and someone with valuable information, I won’t discourage you from believing it or me…. There are some things I know. And at the very least, YOUR abs will be flat for the summer….

FISHER-PRICE LAUNCHES A "TABLET FOR TODDLERS" (UM, WHAT HAPPENED TO PLAYING WITH BLOCKS?!)

I must admit, I don't even know what a Zhu Zhu is and I certainly can't fathom sitting down to a game of Mattel's Mental Mind Flex after a day like today. Granted, my son is only 2 1/2 and is easily entertained by removing every receipt and penny in my wallet and throwing it around the room, so the dire need for "the coolest" toy on the shelves isn't quite as crucial as it is in some homes. However, when I read about the new Fisher Price "Tablet for Toddlers" that was debuted this past week at the nation's largest Toy Fair in NYC, I realized I may need to stop pretending that his hand-carved puzzles and dried-out (non-toxic, of course) play dough are really fun.

To read the rest of my story, click here!

PARENTING: I COULD LEARN A THING OR TWO...

No matter how hard I try, my mornings with Baby-Ko are usually a little harried... especially when he wakes up at 5:36am ready to play doctor. (Oh, have I mentioned he likes to pretend that he works at a "Hop-tical" now?) Despite my attempts to have everything from food, to clothes to morning rituals laid out and planned ahead, there is one thing I have zero control over: his mood.

This morning: He. Was. In. A. Mood.

Gave him the play dough (reserved for his table/ but played with on the couch).
Gave him a lollipop (reserved for dinner/ but given before breakfast).
Gave him a basket of my old makeup (reserved for the bathroom/ but deposited somewhere I hope doesn't stain).

"What is wrong, Baby-Ko? I have to get ready and you have to go to school..."
"No. I don't want toooooooo," he whimpered.
"I know, I wish I could stay home today, but I can't. I have to go to work. I have to get ready my love."
"Pick MY up," he said.
"Pick you up? Okay..." I picked him up. He rested his head on my shoulder. "I have to get ready baby, I'm so sorry," I whispered.
"Mommy, BUH-LAX."
"Huh?"
"I want mommy buh-Lax. On the couch," he said matter-of-factly.
"You want mommy....? To what?"
"BUH. LAX. On the couch!" he said pointing.
I paused. What the eff is Buh-lax. A light bulb went off:
"You want mommy to RELAX????"
"Yeaaaaaaah," he said nuzzling in to my chest. "On the couch. Mommy cuddle."
I pause. Take it in. Remember that in 10 years, I will be yearning to Buh-Lax with him.
"Okay, baby. For a few minutes."
"Yeahhhhhh...."

For the next 5 minutes, we sat closely and stared into space. The traffic, the morning meetings, the coffee that was not yet in my system... It all could wait. We. Were. Buh-Laxing...

Can't wait to see what life lesson my very own parenting expert has in store for me tomorrow...

CHANNING TATUM: WHO ARE YOU???

Dear Channing Tatum,

Who are you? No, seriously. I mean that in the nicest possible way-- WHO. ARE. YOU? You see, I consider myself a pretty "in the know" kind of a gal. And while I work in the "mommy world" and often go days without making physical contact with a razor, it is rare, and I mean rare, that I don't know who people are... But C-Tate (can I call you that?), despite your incredibly good looks and a story surfacing about how you apparently burnt your penis off or something like that: I honestly have no idea who you are.... and it scares me.

I'm ashamed to admit it, but IT has happened. The other day, somewhere between fishing for Cheerios in my new shag rug and watching the oh-so-boring Thomas complain about his mean friends for the 19th time (that morning), I remembered the stack of US Weekly's that had been piling up since getting a new subscription. Excited, and ready to enjoy another pic of precious Violet going off to preschool, there YOU were. I looked at the page. Next to your photo were more photos. Not of you but of other C-Tate-like celebs that I have never seen. What? How could this be? I know everyone. Granted, I've never gotten on the Team Edward vs Team Jacob bandwagon, but still... that doesn't mean I've lost a grip on all things pop culture.... does it?

I closed the magazine and tried not to think about it. Tried not to over-analyze. Tried not to feel like that mom. But alas, Dear John, you ARE everywhere. On posters, on websites, on my entertainment shows... Apparently you are known and these days, I know nothing. Seriously, where have I been?

In the meantime, best of luck with you and your career. I suppose I'll be seeing you around. Oh, but if I may make one tiny suggestion (as mom to "kid"), next time you're tempted to pour scalding water down your pants-- honey, blow on it first.

Best,

J-Ko

THIS IS HOW IT STARTS PART 2: A "GROWTH OPPORTUNITY"

After last week's McDonalds/ "Cryyyyyyyyyyyyy" incident of 2010, I felt like a battered and wounded soldier. I really felt like I had made a decision that could lead to Baby-Ko having issues not only with food for the rest of his life, but major anxiety issues as well.

Well, I asked Parents Ask expert Dr. Bonnie Zucker, a psychologist who specializes in anxiety for children and adults, to weigh in. According to Dr. Z, this one incident of stuffing my son's feelings with happy inducing fried-ness may not result to a life sentence of therapy, buuuuuuut my parenting could use a little finessing...

Check out her advice HERE!

http://www.parentsask.com/parenting/anxiety/french-fries-wont-kill-your-kid.html

THIS IS HOW IT STARTS

Every now and again, we, parents, have one of "those" nights.... Those nights that test your patience... Those nights that test your skill... And those nights that tug at your heartstrings...

Last night, I had one of those nights. Yes. All of the above.

At some point in the late afternoon, I got a call from my babysitter "Ash-a-Wee" saying she had an emergency and if it was okay, she needed the evening off. This meant that she wouldn't be able to pick up Baby-Ko from day care at 4:30pm. Just to preface, day care closes at 5:30 on the dot but Ash-a-Wee picks Baby-Ko up M-F at 4:30 or earlier. She's never been a second late and he is usually the first child to leave... In fact, I'm pretty sure he gives a little "see ya suckas" wave when he closes the gate behind him, keeping his little 3 foot friends captive until their peeps come to save them... But I digress....

At 5:20 my cell rang. Shit. I was sitting in traffic and it was day care calling to let me know Baby-Ko was hysterical. I completely forgot to call them to tell them that A-A-Wee wasn't coming (I was). Bad mommy move. BAD. They told me they took him inside the house because watching the other children leave (mind you, it's 5:20pm so it's DARK out and he leaves when it's light) was making him too upset. To make matters even worse, his caretakers Margarita and Dora were leaving for the night too. OMG! Now he's sitting there with A & H (the couple that runs the day care out of their house) as he watches the people that take care of him leave???? Poor baby! He must be so scared.

Panicked and feeling so awful I finally came to a halt in front of their house at 5:40. As I ran up the porch, the front door opened and Baby-Ko came flying out.

"Mommmmmmmmy!!!" He sobbed. He couldn't catch his breath. "Ash-a-wee didn't come. I cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

Gulp.

"I'm soooooo sorry baby," I said hugging him tightly. "Mommy is here now. I'm sooooooooo sorry."

"Dora lef-a-me. I cryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy."

OY.

"Dora went home too? Oh, Baby-Ko. I'm so sorry. These things happen. But mommy always comes back. I ALWAYS come back."

Dagger. Heart.

Clutching him, I picked up his bags and carried him to the car. How in the world can I make this better??? What can I do to let him know it's okay??? WILL HE EVER FORGIVE ME???

A light bulb, that I didn't even know was inside me, went OFF:

"Baby-Ko, do you want to go to McDonalds?" WHAT? Did I just say that?

"Yeaaaaaaaaaah, " he said sniffling. "I want fwench fwies."

"Okay, my love," I said shocked by what I had said. "Let mommy put you in the car and let's go get french fries. And cheeseburgers."

WHO AM I? For those of you that personally know me, you know that I eat fast food (not including Taco Bell... OR the requisite airport Egg McMuffin) like every blue moon. Emotional I am, yes. An eater I am, yes. An EMOTIONAL EATER: I am NOT.

But here I was. Now standing at the counter inside (a very lovely remodeled McDonald's if I do say so myself) redirecting my son from what was clearly an emotionally draining and traumatic experience to a land where feelings are forgotten because the value meals are just too good to pass up.

"One happy meal, please--"

"I crrrrrrrrrrryy," Baby-Ko said. "Mommy was late." GUILT.

"Ooh, how about some ice cream?" BRIBE.

"Yeahhhh, I want it," he said resting his head on my shoulder.

"Okay, one hot fudge sundae please...." I said to the cashier.

"I want a cookie. A COOOOOOOKIEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!" Baby-Ko said practically leaping out of my arms towards the cookie case on the counter.

"Okaaay. One chocolate chip cookie..." SUCKER.

"THAT cookie," Baby-Ko pointed. "DAT ONE."

The cashier smile and obliged. "Okay, that one. Anything else?"

"Um... Yeah.... I'll take a medium french fry...."

AND THERE IT WAS.

THIS IS THE REASON. THIS is how IT starts. THIS is what the "experts" are talking about. (Experts that IIIIIIIIIIIII write about!)

Seriously though, is this how obesity starts for both children and their guilt/ exhaust ridden mommies? If so, someone send me the applications now for Biggest Loser season 46. Baby-Ko and I can be a team...

24 Hours later, Baby-Ko seems to be okay from the entire experience. Me on the other hand... I'm still feeling the trauma of it all.... ANNNNNNND trying to tell myself that at the very least, giving him BROCCOLI with his happy meal was one way to make IT stop....