Parenthood Advocate: Part One

I am a great advocate for parenthood. I really make people want to step into the bliss of raising offspring to be productive and contributing members of society. Of course, I have two concrete examples to back up this satirical fact. 

Today I'll share the first.

About a year ago, probably less, I had a 2.5 year old and a not-yet-one year old. A good friend (newly pregnant) was in town visiting, and as good friends who don't have kids yet do, she was coming along on our family trip to Sam's Club. (Oh my gosh, I legitimately felt sad when I realized what I just said. These are the outings of people with kids...) So we go to Sams Club, and decide to stop at my husband's favorite restaurant on our way home. Chick-fil-A. (Again, living the life over here.)

My super good friend, who I'm appreciating more and more as I tell this story, was sitting in the backseat of our SUV wedged between two car seats. She tried to participate in the front-of-the-car conversation, but my daughter would hardly allow that. She was talking her ear off about this and that, happy to have a verbal friend in the back with her instead of just her baby bro.

On our way to Chick-fil-A, said friend says, "I think J pooped. It stinks back here." Which we acknowledged with a "haha."

She tried to drive the point home further. "Okay, I know I'm pregnant, but I'm like seriously nauseous from this smell."

"Really? I don't smell it." Nose blinders like only a parent can have.

When we arrive at our destination, we decided my husband would go inside to pick up the food. So we're sitting the car seat and she says, "No, it like really stinks. He might have pooped through his diaper." He  hadn't done that in forever.

"Nah, he probably just stinks," I say. "I'll change him when we get home."

At this point, she's leaning forward trying to escape my daughter's chatter and my son's stench. My daughter has successfully grabbed my friend's hair to attempt pulling her into the backseat again.

"No, Christen, he really stinks. Ow! Layna, that's my hair."

I get out of the car, walk around back and as soon as I open the door to the back where J is sitting I can see the poop.

"Ohhhh my...." is all I can offer.

I didn't dare get him out at that point because the seat was covered so it'd do no good to change the diaper that apparently nothing landed in. Thus, my husband returned, and we drove home. Probably the longest 10 minutes of my friends life. Her body strategically maneuvered to reach as far forward as she could while my daughter continued to pepper her questions and engage her in conversation. (The "get the hint" skill isn't reached until much later in life.)

I think I can say with confidence that she didn't exit the vehicle (sideways and with great force as she tried to bypass the car seat) wishing her pregnancy would fly by. Then again, one could argue that I prepared her well for her future. As of today, she's the proud mom of a  baby boy. And when the day comes for her, I'll tell her how to strategically remove the car seat cover and wash it in the washer despite the fact that it says "hand wash." Because as she'll learn, no mom has time to hand wash.

Love you, friend.

When Your Husband Doesn't Celebrate Valentine's Day

I imagine people who read the title of this post do one of two things: gasp in horror or nod in solidarity.

I'll address the crowd with mouths agape first:

It may seem cold-hearted, and you're right to be incredulous. But allow me to explain that my husband is an everyday kind of valentine. There are valentines out there who use the day as an opportunity to make amends for past neglect, smooth over an argument with something sparkly, or justify a few more late nights at the office with flowers and chocolate. That's not how my valentine rolls. He may not bring something home on Valentine's Day (which isn't to say he never has) but that random Tuesday in November he brought me dark chocolate covered caramels and flowers - I remember that.

To my fellow sisters nodding in recognition:

I hope your valentine showers you with love throughout the year and isn't just a love scrooge. That'd really be a bummer. If he is a love scrooge, you might consider some not-so-gentle hinting that you could use a little extra attention.

If he dotes on you on the reg, and like my husband, just doesn't like to be told by Hallmark to shower you with flowers and candy, then I say we're in a winning camp. I'd much prefer someone who does random acts of love kindness year-round, tucks random notes in my nightstand, and regularly offers support and affirmation.

To those who say, "My husband does both!" ... great! Some guys are romantics at heart. I tried to explain that to my husband yesterday. (I'm behind the whole "not indulging in the marketing of a holiday that's not real," but once you start straight bashing it I get to wonder, And what would be so bad about doing something a little extra special?!  I digress.) I tried to explain that some men love gift-giving and some women love getting gifts, and Valentine's Day is perfect for those couples.

So instead of a fancy date, flowers or candy yesterday, I crawled into bed at 8:30 p.m. and retook the love languages test in 5 Love Languages by Gary Chapman. The last time I took it was probably five years ago, pre-children and early marriage. Want to know what I learned?

My physical touch score plummeted on account of I'm touched and hung on all day.
My acts of services skyrocketed... 'cause please do the dishes.
And I still like hanging out with my husband in that quality time category. It's just now tied with "clean the kitchen first."

Happy belated Valentine's Day!

To All the Mamas of Sick Kiddos

Remember when I vowed to find something good in January and February? Ha.

I know I'm not supposed to say "literally," when in fact it devalues the word if it's inaccurate. So I'll add a disclaimer: It feels like, LITERALLY everyone is sick. Everyone I talk to has a child who is sick or whom they are quarantining from getting sick.

My daughter has been toying with sickness for a couple of weeks. We had a close call a couple weekends ago when a low fever threatened to turn into something, but it came and went within hours. I've been hearing a lot of, "Mama, I'm not feelin' date (great)." But I never know if that's true or she just wants to watch a movie.

Both of my children were exposed to the flu, yet neither had come down with anything more than snot. I waited for an ear infection in my little guy that, thankfully, never came. Now, an awful sounding cough has made camp in my daughter, but a fever never lasts longer than a couple of hours.

So for now, we're grateful, calling the doctor regularly about this mystery non-illness my daughter has, and overdosing on television.

I know many of you are not in the same camp! So for all the mamas holding hands and puke buckets, giving extra kisses and cuddles, and dosing children with TV and Tylenol - I feel you. It's an honorable task caring for your dependent offspring.

My permission is meaningless, but if you need someone to say it:

• You're (likely) not doing lasting damage by indulging in too much Daniel Tiger (or whatever your kids top choice is.) In this house, Toy Story rules all.
• If all your kid wants to eat is applesauce, Sam's Club has it in stock. 
• It's okay to curl up next to them on the couch instead of doing the sink full of dishes.
• Have your husband order take out if he's not into applesauce. 
• Live as hermits until you're comfortable leaving your home... and until you're sure you won't infect those who have yet to contract this awful, terrible THING that is going around. 

The TV coma will break, as will winter. Your kid will eat a vegetable again, hopefully before they're 18. The dishes will most definitely still be there. Your husband will applaud you for your magical powers of either staying healthy, or acting it anyway, because mom's don't get sick days (especially not with sick kids.) And people will still be out there whenever you can rejoin society. 

I'm sorry you have had to see your little one suffer. I think it's amazing that you've selflessly slept on floors next to cribs, checked foreheads every 15 minutes, and felt an utter disregard for your own immune system as you come in contact with all kinds of bodily fluids. 

You are amazing. And your kiddos, sick or healthy, are super lucky to have you!