Mother-Judger

Disclaimer: If you are a parent and I see you in public, I am watching you; and I am judging you.

Let's get something straight: I'm a mom, too. I'm not judging you because I think I'm better than you. I'm not even judging you because I'm a bitch (because I' m not - I happen to think I'm a very nice person). I'm judging you because I'm a mom and I'm trying to learn the lay-of-the-parenthood-land; the rules of motherhood, which sadly, do not exist.

As a new parent, you have to start somewhere -- be it a book, a website, or watching others. We are all judging you, and judging each other.

Recently, I ran into trouble on Facebook, again -- man, what is it with me and social media? Actually, I think I know -- sometimes I just say what I feel, and often, I'm misunderstood. Even when I'm not misunderstood, I think raw emotion in the form of social media bothers some people. Moving on...

I'm part of a few different parenting groups on Facebook. They are wonderful and helpful - we share knowledge and support one another.

Fast-forward to yesterday. I posted a random comment to one of the groups about a woman, who I did not know, that I had observed in a shopping mall with her young infant, and how an interaction between the mother and infant had made me sad because based on my knowledge and opinion, it did not seem to be in the best interest of the baby. I had really wanted to go talk to this woman about it, but because I'm not that creepy stranger, I did not.

Most of the comments my post got were "normal" -- but two women in particular, commented back about how what I had said was "super-judgey." Another pregnant and soon-to-be-new-mom said I was an example of what she was afraid of when she becomes a new mom -- another mother passing judgement.

Now, at first I felt really bad. I had not meant to offend anyone. When I shared what I saw at the shopping mall with the Facebook group I hadn't done so to poke fun at that mother (who was a stranger I had never met) or belittle her choices. I shared it because it was relevant to the Facebook group and the choices we, the members, had all made with our parenting style.

After a brief moment, I got over feeling bad about my comment, and then instead, I felt mad. I was mad because these women were judging me! Then I got over these emotions all together because that's when it hit me -- we are all judging each other, all the time. Passing judgement is how we are able to interpret our surroundings and decide how we want to live our lives. These judgments are not always negative, and they are not always positive -- they just are. If we didn't pass judgement on the actions and choices of others, we ourselves, would never make any choices.

So when I say I'm judging you, I really am. Especially your parenting. Because the way you parent is helping me decide how I want to parent: that I want to breastfeed; that I want to use cloth diapers during the day but disposables at night. That I want to teach my son about nature and be honest with him about his body and the way that it works by using anatomically correct terms; that I will vaccinate my son; and that I won't buy him a million Christmas presents because I don't want a bunch of junk laying around my house (among other reasons).

And just because I am learning from the way that you do things and may choose a different way of doing them doesn't mean that I think what you are doing is wrong. It just means that I want to do it differently.

So again, be warned: if you are a parent, and even if you're not, I am judging you. And I hope you're judging me, too. Because honestly, if we all took the time to notice and appreciate and study the way other people are raising their children, we might find a collective better way to do things together. So please, call me a mother-judger. This is one type of name-calling that will not offend me.

I leave you with Justin Timberlake-inspired words from his amazing digital short with SNL back in 2011: Cuz I'm a mother-judger, you're a mother-judger, we should judge each other's mothers." 

If this reference has just flown over your head, please, Google it -- you can thank me later.

Sweet, sweet slumber

I've waited exactly one week to write this post, simply because I wanted to be sure of the results of the little experiment my husband and I conducted before reporting them to the world (and by "world," I mean my like 10 blog followers. Thank you, oh wee-blog-followers).

So, this post is about sleep...

Liam's sleep-timeline:

Newborn (0 - 6 weeks): Liam did what I'd say most newborns do: He woke every few hours in the night to nurse. Normal new-mom stuff. 

6 weeks -2 months: Baby Liam slept like a dream. He woke once a night to nurse. Other mothers were sincerely jealous of me. 

2 months - 5 months: Up every 4-5 hours in the night to nurse. I think teething pains had him waking more often - this kid popped his first tooth at three months!

6 - 9 months: Liam digressed to waking up every 2-3 hours... change of diaper, and nurse... OMG. My body was not used to this. 

9+ months : BABY LIAM GETS UP ZERO TIMES PER NIGHT. You heard me right: ZERO TIMES. I know that is probably not the proper way to say that, but it carries with it the most emphasis, so I'm saying it that way. 

What brought about this change, you ask? Sleep-training. 

GASP!

Now, with all my pro-breastfeeding and baby-wearing ways, I tend to run with a click of mommas who are very "natural-based" and attachment-parenting-based in their thinking: i.e., baby cries - you answer cries; or, you co-sleep in the same bed as baby (Brady and I were never comfortable with this, nor did we want a baby in our bed).

For a few months now, my husband and I could not shake the feeling that Liam was able to sleep through the night... but I kept repeating the words I'd heard at momma-meetings so many times... "he needs you - answer his cries - babies can't sleep through the night" etc. etc. Now, I am not at all dogging these words of advice. I just couldn't shake this feeling that getting up with my 9-month old was not what he needed. 

So, last weekend, I all of a sudden decided I wasn't going to get up anymore. Period.

With the support of my parents and a friend who also sleep-trained her baby (shout-out to Mel! You can read her hilarious momma-blog here: http://www.stlukescrblogs.com/ ) and of course my awesome husband, that night we turned off the baby-monitor and just went to sleep. We woke up to Liam crying at his usual time. We watched him on the monitor for 20 mins. as he moved around his crib, and alternated crying and silence. I reminded myself that he was safe. And then something magical happened: he went back to sleep and didn't wake up again until morning. 

Since that first night, Liam has slept the entire night through - for one week so far. I can tell he moves around, but after he wakes, he puts himself back to sleep. :)

Now, everything I read about sleep-training and everything I'd heard from others said that most babies will spend the first night of sleep-training crying for around an hour, and then cry less and less each night (3-5 nights total). It took Liam one night, speaking testament to my Doi! moment that you have to listen to your gut when it comes to your kids. One of my closest friends tried sleep-training with her daughter, only to have her daughter throw-up from crying so hard. Sad faces. :( Sleep-training was not right for them, and that's ok! But it was right for us. 

My baby is now happier during the day. He naps better during the day. Even our awesome daycare provider has noticed it. Yippy! 

To wrap up this post, here's my Doi! moment:
I was listening to what everyone else had to say about my baby's sleep, and wasn't listening to myself. All children are different. My son needed sleep-training. It was right for him; it was right for us.

When you become a parent, you will begin receiving advice from everyone and their dog about what is best for children (no, Fido, the baby doesn't need your tennis ball...). Screw that. I know people mean well, but my biggest advice? NOTHING. Nothing at all. Listen to your gut about your kid. Period. End of story. Adios and have a pleasant tomorrow. I know I will have a pleasant tomorrow... because I'll be getting a straight eight hours of sleep... PEACE! :)

And then there was blood...

Walking baby... expect the worst. 

Oh man.

Liam is super close to walking. He pulls up on things. He walks along holding onto things - constantly. He walks across a room if you offer him a hand. And he can bend from standing to pick up a toy, and stand back up again.

We are so proud of  him.

Now - Brady and I believe that Liam needs to learn about gravity. Therefore, we let him do "controlled falls" - meaning that if we don't think he's in any real danger of seriously injuring himself, we let him fall. No sense in always catching him - he's gotta learn from his mistakes.

And I need to learn from my mistakes.
TWICE in the last three days, Liam has fallen and bitten his tongue.

Round One

The first time was sooo my fault. He was walking along the coffee table... I was sitting right behind him, ready to catch if he fell so he wouldn't hit his head. He started to stumble -I grabbed him - but it was too late: he hit his little jaw on the coffee table and chomped off the very tip of his tongue. I'm not kidding. The screaming. The tears. And good god: THE BLOOD. 

It bled for quite a while. All over his jammies, all over me, and all over the wet dishtowel I let him suck on. The poor guy. That night, I could tell it hurt him to nurse. :(

Round Two

The very next day, Liam went from standing to sitting on his little diaper butt. Guess what - he bit his tongue AGAIN! EFF. This time, there was not as much blood, but there were still tears. Saddness.

Conclusion

I have decided that not only does my baby need to learn about gravity, but also about moving his tongue since he now has little razor teeth that will slice the shit out of it. However, I have NO idea how to teach "controlled tongue moving." Any thoughts are appreciated. :)

I wish myself luck and hope his poor tongue will be spared, at least for awhile.

The Many Uses for My Boobs (Through My Son's Eyes)

The Evolution of and Uses for my BOOBS

Before my son was born, my boobs had two uses:
1. Sexual (don't blush please, we are all adults); and
2. Looking awesome. And they did.

Pre-baby and pretty much since high school, I had perfect 36DD's. When I was younger, I loved shoving those babies up in a push-up bra, they looked damn good and made me feel damn good. :)

Now that Liam is here, my boobs have blown up into some non-human size (prepare yourself: 36j/k) and evolved to serving a very good purpose - keeping my kid alive. And they do this well. He's alive. He's kickin'. He's roaming around the 'hood (our living room). My boobs are not for me anymore. They are not for my husband (at least not exclusively). They are for Liam and have evolved into many more things and many more uses than what I listed above.

The Many Uses for My Boobs (Through My Son's Eyes)
Now, before I launch into the uses, I think it is important to explain that when Liam is hungry, watch out. Emotions erupt with ferocity. Thus, Brady and I have coined a few terms to describe his hunger moods:

Hangry - when Liam is so hungry, HE'S ANGRY!!
Tungry - when Liam is hungry, but also tired.

Now that his little personality is developing, not only do his emotions come out vocally more often , but through his actions as well. Thus, I give to you, the many uses for my boobs (through my son's eyes):

1. Boobs are for yelling at. When Liam is hangry, he'll often nurse with vengeance, pulling off often to look me right in the eye and yell at me, only to launch back into the boob again and chug-a-lug.
2. Boobs are for swatting at - pinching - hitting. Yeah, they're really not, but Liam likes to attempt these things and will get away with it if I'm off my game. But I've gotten accustomed to trapping his free hand between his little body and mine, so as to safeguard myself from hangry attacks.
3. Boobs are for comfort. Man - there is no baby comfort quite as instant and soothing as a boob. No searching for a paci, no running around trying to find "that special toy" - baby is upset? Here's a boob. Happy? Why, yes, thank you for asking.
4. Boobs are for biting and teething... oh wait, nope, they actually aren't', my son just thinks that they are. You might think this happens when he's hangry, but you would be wrong. He bites when he's done eating and he's being playful - it's often accompanied with a sly little smile that very eerily reminds me of my husband being a smart-ass. If I'm not paying enough attention, I am susceptible to little razor teeth. However, this has gotten better - I've probably been bitten only around four or five times. The minute that little dude chomps down, I put him down and walk away. He's learning pretty quickly: bite the milk-makers, no milk for you. End of story.

I hope you enjoyed hearing all about boobs. Probably not what you were expecting. I'm over it.

You might be wondering, do I mourn the loss of my perfect boobs? No - they are now working for the greater good. If you're a nursing mom, how do you feel? I often hear mothers say they want their body back, that they are sick of sharing it - I can't blame them - I totally get it - life is much simpler when your boobs only have two uses. But there is something about the many uses I listed about that makes me confess that motherhood is not what I expected, everything I wanted, and hard and awesome all at the same time. If that means my body's use evolves, so be it. Because in the end, how can you refuse this face!?

More than motherhood

First-time mom confession: this confession is about me, not a mom-doi moment. Just a thought-provoking moment I experienced as a new mom. And I warn you, it may be a little controversial and I was a little afraid to post it. But I'm being brave and sharing, because I think more moms may feel the same way and struggle with the same things. So, here goes...

For whatever reason, the past couple of days I've just felt antsy. I've had this energetic feeling right beneath my skin that gets me so amped up but at the same time, makes me stop and think. And then last night, it hit me: I'm not feeding my passion. I'm going to be 30 in less than a month, so call it a pre-midlife crisis, or blame it on the full moon, I've just felt antsy about my life.

So yesterday I posted this status to my Facebook:

Generally, I'm ok with my life. But then sometimes I just feel so mediocre - I want to do something great. Something big. Something bold. Am I wasting my existence? What to do, what to do... #Deepthoughtfortheday.

As with all Facebook status updates, I expected my friends to comment on it. But it was the type of comments I got that surprised me.

"Being a mom is the greatest thing you can do!" 

"You will always be a mom!" 

"Be the best mom you can be, the rest will fall into place."

Now, there is nothing wrong with these responses. They are very true. And they were heart-felt messages from my friends trying to be supportive of the feelings they interpreted behind my post. They are just not what I expected. When I typed out that status, motherhood and my son were not even on my mind. I was thinking of myself - my accomplishments, my goals, my dreams...

Beyond being surprised by these responses, I was surprised with how they made me feel.

I was ashamed. Ashamed because my first impulse was to post a comment in response saying, "What if being a mom is not enough for me?" What would my friends - other mothers - think of me, if I publicly declared that I wanted more out of life than being a mom?

I felt belittled. I am more than a mom. I am Molly. This did not change when I became Molly-Liam's mom. I felt my identity was being reduced to only one aspect of my life. I wondered how the responses to my post would have been different had I posted that status two years ago, before I was even pregnant or planning a family. Why did it feel like society somehow saw me differently the moment my son was born?

I was angry. I was angry because I felt belittled. Because I felt ashamed. Because I should not have felt either of those things. Unintentionally, my friends' comments had made me feel selfish and wrong for feeling anything but content about my life, because I have a beautiful son. They made me feel as if somehow, being a mom is supposed to make me feel 100% complete and trump any dissatisfaction I was feeling.

I wondered if from now on, anything I say, anything I do, and anything I feel is going to be connected to my identity as a mom. I think the answer is yes. The moment I popped that kid out, society saw me differently. And that's when it dawned one me -- I was bothered by this change, because I am more than a mom.

Being a mom is wonderful - I've dreamed about it my entire life and never wanted anything more badly. My life would not be complete without being a mom. However, that's only part of my identity.

I am more than a mother. I am a writer. I am a singer. I am an athlete, a goofball, a nerd. I love romance, zombies, being outside, and I love snow.

I don't think there is anything wrong with wanting things in life beyond being a mother - wanting personal accomplishment professionally or creatively. I know that my friends' comments were not saying there was anything wrong with this - it is that when I saw the comments and the attention they drew to that fact that I was a mother, I almost felt guilty for feeling the way I do - antsy about my life and my dreams.

I spent 24 hours or so reflecting on my Facebook post and the responses I received from my friends. Here are my conclusions and more #deepthoughtsfortheday:

I should not have to feel guilty for wanting more satisfaction from my life beyond being a mom. My friends's comments of course did not imply that all satisfaction simply comes from motherhood, it was the attention they drew to my identity as a mother that made me feel like my satisfaction in life was being reduced to that identity, because I posted a somewhat generic post about my life, and their first response was to remind me that being a mom is wonderful, so everything was going to be Ok. End longest run-on sentence ever. :)

My reaction to the comments were feelings I chose to feel. But why did I feel that way? I think it comes down to this: Society. The media. "Be the best mom that you can be!" Messages we receive daily, no matter how small, about being women and being mothers, was making me feel guilty for focusing my attention on anything else beyond my child. Is that guilt-worthy? I personally think it's healthy to have a solid identity beyond being a wife or being a mother. I can maintain my ME-ness and still be a great mother to my little Liam.

I leave you with no real conclusion. I just wanted to share, because the whole thing really got me thinking. So, what do you think?

I think I might be special

I realized today that I haven't written a post in about a week! At first I was slightly appalled with myself, but then I realized that this meant I haven't done a bone-headed mom-fail worthy of blogging about in seven days! Holy-f-ing shit! I'm awesome.

Well, on second thought, I've still been dabbling in newbie errors that are worthy of documenting. Things such as this:

Baby babble
I babble at my baby.

He's eight months old. He does a ton of his own babbling. In fact, he is pretty much in love with his own voice (I blame my husband, who talks for a living as a TV news anchor). I know that baby-babbling a good thing. He's working on his verbal skills and learning to understand interpersonal communication. But I will repeat myself: I babble at my baby. I babble. Me. Molly. MOM.

And that, my friends, is what made me think: wow - what if I'm messing up his speech?

Liam and I play a game:
He squawks. I squawk.
He screams. I scream.
He changes the pitch and length of his scream. I do the same to mine.

I am pretty much doing the opposite of what all those experts are saying: "You're baby will start to mimic you" - umm.... what happens if I'm mimicking him?

Don't get me wrong - Liam thinks this game is pretty fun, and hell, making strange noises all day long with Liam is pretty damn entertaining for ME (ask my sisters - they grew up with me making all sorts of strange noises. Actually, I should not limit this to childhood. Again, I am awesome). This behavior is right up my alley.

But dude - I've had to actually make an effort sometimes to speak real WORDS to Liam. Will I be sending my kid off to preschool equipped only with caveman speak and chest pounding? "Uh-uh. Liam want banana."

Realizations like this remind me that it might be a very good thing I am not a stay at home mom....

Let's talk about puke, baby

I'm baaaaack! Sorry for the long absence I've taken from posting - my best friend and Australian sister was visiting from Melbourne. I pretty much checked out of technology while she was here. But now she's gone and I'm back, SO - Let's talk about puke.

The evolution of baby puke (through my eyes):

• Newborn: When Liam was first born, baby puke was like, "uh - sick." I had a spit-cloth ready at all times to wipe up the warm, creamy nastiness the moment it projectiled out of my baby's mouth. I eventually graduated to draping myself in blankets because a spit-cloth just didn't seem to do the job.
• Two-to-three months old: Eh. The baby puked again. No spit-cloth? No problem. You do have shirt sleeves, right?
• Five+ months: Baby puke has virtually no affect on me anymore, whatsoever. Unless it's someone else's kid... that's another story. But to demonstrate my point, read on for.... 

New Mom Confessions: Baby Puke Edition

I'm a baby-wearer. What is babywearing, you ask? According to Wikipedia.com, "Babywearing is the practice of wearing or carrying a baby in a sling or in another form of carrier... has gained popularity in recent decades, partly under influence of advocates of attachment parenting." Attachment parenting is the idea that if baby feels safe and secure in the early years, baby will grow up to be a more independent child and adult. I babywear because of that, but mostly because I GET TWO FREE HANDS!! 

Moving on. 

Last week, my awesome husband was at work, and I had to get shit done. I usually just wear Liam on my front because it's the easiest way to get him into my carrier, but the downside is I bump him into everything. Try to imagine doing dishes or laundry with a 20 lb kid protruding from your belly. It's like being pregnant all over again only this time your extended midsection squawks if it gets squished between you and the washer. Here are a couple of front-carry pictures to give you the idea. Also of note, my husband is hot. 

You can see the obvious obstacle the front-carry creates. So I decided to attempt the impossible... putting Liam into a back-carry without any help.

I put Liam on the couch.... lined myself up in front of him with the carrier strapped around my waste... bent over super-awkwardly.... pretty much dislocated my arms a few times.... and then... SUCCESS! I had the baby in a back-carry! OH SHIT. Yup. He totally just puked down my back. 

After shouting "Mother-******, you have got to be kidding me!" - I stood there for a second, thinking... and then I just carried on with my day. I had worked too damn hard to get that baby on my back to give a damn about baby puke. I had things to do, gosh darnit, and I was going to do them, even if it meant stinking like stale milk later. And I did. And I liked it. Because not only did it mean that was I now a back-carry ninja, but that I was a true mom and had totally and completely beaten baby-puke. BOOM. 

Also of note, my child likes to eat the carrier. 

Hump Day Confession

Last night, I TURNED OFF THE BABY MONITOR.

Liam is a great sleeper - knock on wood - he always has been. Sometimes he sleeps a straight 9 hours at night (bless you, sweet baby), but most nights, he's up once or twice for a diaper change and to nurse. We have a decent routine, and even when I have to get up twice, I'm used to it.

Well, last night, for whatever reason, I was exhausted. It may have had something to do with the extreme amount of fried food I consumed at a coworker's birthday lunch that day... may have....

Wake up No. One: 12:45 pm. New diaper - eat - back in crib - talk to self for about 10 mins - boom--back asleep. 

Wake up No. Two: 3:30 am, and I was just not having it. I remember in my sleepy-stupor, I turned off the baby monitor (which I always do before I go in his room, so my husband doesn't have to hear Liam crying, etc.). Well, I didn't realize until Brady (husband) shook me in a panic, that I had fallen back asleep with the monitor off. We could hear lots of noise coming from Liam's room. Our immediate reaction was a moment of slight panic. 

I quickly turned the video monitor on and there he was - sitting up perfectly in his crib, singing/babbling to himself and playing with his wubbanub (the most awesome pacifier ever invented - it has a stuffed animal sewn to it so baby has something to grab onto/play with. If you don't have one, get one! Or, four....).

"I should go feed him... he's a growing baby.... EH. He seems fine. I don't want to get up." 

So I turned the monitor off again and went back to sleep. 

Unless you have been a new mom before, you can't possibly understand how extreme that action was and the bravery that goes along with it. I TURNED THE MONITOR OFF AND WENT BACK TO SLEEP. 

For the first time in Liam's almost eight month's, I just let him do his thing in the middle of the night, didn't interrupt, didn't try to soothe him with nursing... and I did it all without the fear that some creepy night-man, fighter of the day-man (It's Always Sunny Reference) would come and eat my child. 

I am proud. I am awesome. And my kid can party all he wants in his crib at night, and from here on out, I will just turn the monitor off and get more sleep. Yay, me! 

P.S. If that It's Always Sunny Reference was lost on you, I have no words. Educate thyself, or forever be lost in my blog references, because there will be many more. 

"I like turtles..." Err, I mean swimming.

"I LIKE SWIMMING!" - says, Liam. 

Oh wait, nope - no, he doesn't. While I wish this enthused and almost psychotic picture of my child demonstrated his excitement about his second swimming lesson, alas, it does not. This picture is probably more accurate:

"Swimming's.... ok."

Second swimming lesson - in the bag. Confessions/takeaways/things I learned:

1. Baby will scream less if he naps before said swimming lesson that is schedule during his morning nap. Yeah, me! I give myself brownie points.

2. Holy cow swimming pool.... warm up the shallow end... when even I'm nipping out, it's not wonder my son is not impressed. 

3. Besides warming up the water, it's best to warm up your baby as well to the idea of going under the water. Instead of just dunking him over... and over... and over again, this time, I didn't put him under the water until the very end. I let him hold onto me as much as he liked. I worked on helping him be comfortable in the water. Who knows if he actually remembers any of last week's water trauma (scuba baby, ring a bell?) but Liam was very hesitant about the water until the very end of class. And that's when I did it - on the very last sing-a-along song I dunked him quickly and gave him lots of hugs and praise. And guess what? He didn't cry. 

I'll have my Nirvana baby before you know it...

The swimming lesson debacle...

A while ago, I decided I wanted Liam to be one of those babies that can swim. Not a typical baby that flaps its arms around in the pool and laughs, but like the baby on the Nirvana album - only less naked. So I looked for the type of swimming lessons where they literally throw the baby in the water, its primal instincts kick-in, and voilà! The baby swims! Yeah... there aren't lessons like this within 300 miles of where we live. Booo!

Ok, so plan B:

I signed Liam up for "mommy-and-me" type swimming "lessons" at one of the local pools. He's been in water before -- two lakes, and bathtime (yes, I do clean my child) -- so I figured he'd at least have fun. Last Saturday was the first lesson:

Confession #1: To onlookers, it may have looked like I was nonchalantly drowning my child. We were instructed to hold baby on their tummies and let them kick and "paddle" the water. Liam's having a blast... I'm having a blast.... and apparently I am completely oblivious because another parent points out to me, "Your baby's face keeps going under and he's breathing in water." Oh shit! I pick Liam up and he's coughing, choking, spitting water. Oops. My reaction? "You're fine, baby."

Confession #2: I apparently don't know when to stop. We move to the "deep" end of the pool and the instructor (a teenage boy, mind you) tells us to sit our babies up on the side of the pool, count to three, and then quickly dunk them under the water. I look at the instructor and ask "Really? Put them under?" He nods. Why this even phased me, I have no idea because my original swimming lesson plan was to hire someone to just chuck my kid into the pool... Whatever - so what do I do? I dunk my baby under water. He was not impressed. Looks at me all wide-eyed. Hmmm. I continue to set him on the side of the pool and dunk him like three or four more times thinking to myself, "He has to try new things! He will learn to like it!"

Well, he is REALLY not impressed by this and starts screaming. I look around... only some of the parents are dunking their kids... and those kids are all older, like two years old. Yeah.... maybe it's time to rethink my strategy here. He's only 7 months old... he's got plenty of time to swim...

So from this point on I feel like a jackass. My baby is not having anymore of the swimming lessons. He just wants to lay on my shoulder and whimper. This is when I realize I'm really a jackass because I have scheduled him in swimming lessons during his nap time. "Go me." If this isn't enough, I submit my child to one last torture - during the song "Three Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed," the instructor makes his rounds and lightly tosses each child into the air before handing them back to the parents. Liam really loses it then. I not only became "that mom" with the screaming child in public, but it was all my fault! Ahh!

The guilt that followed this is unimaginable. The Facebook community assured me Liam won't remember a thing about it... the next swimming "lesson" is tomorrow... we shall see. Hopefully I have not scarred my child and hopefully none of the other parents remember me as the horrible mother who dunked her infant.

Did your infant take swimming lessons? Did you dunk them underwater? Hoping I'm not alone in this type of "doi!" moment.

I leave you with another picture of Liam "swimming." This is not from the swimming lesson, but rather months before when I decided I really wanted him to swim in the baby pool. As you can see, he was again, unimpressed.

Hi. I have no idea what I'm doing.

Welcome to my first blog post: I have no idea what I'm doing. Both in blogging and in parenting. I wish myself luck on both accounts.

I'm Liam's mom. He's adorable and funny and totally cuddly and warm. Unlike many moms, I don't feel like I lost my identity when I became a mom, or anything like that. I'm still completely who I am - and in true Molly-style, I'm flying by the seat of my pants with this whole mom-thing. I didn't read any parenting books - I'll never be a "Pintrest" - mom (never even been on Pintrest)- and I lost track of how many weeks old my baby is months ago. (He was born 3/5/13. I don't do math). I decided to start a blog to document my "doi!" moments with parenting. Because they happen a lot:

- The first time Liam got sick: I remember he wouldn't sleep that night, and I kept thinking "wow! He feels so hot!" Did I put two and two together that my baby had a fever? Of course not. I even sent him to daycare the next day only to get a call an hour later that he had a fever of 102.3. I'm awesome.
- When my son was 5 weeks old, I thought I broke his penis. Enough said.
 - Around 5 months into parenting, my husband asked me if we should be concerned our son wasn't speaking yet. This is more his "doi" moment than mine, but I'm not going to say I didn't consult the internet just to be sure he was completely fine...

Most recently, however, we had the swimming lesson debacle. I'll post on that later, because I'm going to keep these posts short. But look forward to the swimming lesson post. Seriously. For now, I leave you with a little picture of me and Liam.