It's okay to admit that we have bad days.

  I have had some bad days in my so far short career as a mom. And I'm okay with that. I'm also okay with discussing it. No, I'm not looking for attention, not looking for sympathy. I'm simply taking a moment to vent and say "I am having a horrible day. The baby won't sleep, the dogs won't stop barking, the kitchen is a mess, and I just can't do it all."

  This is the focus of my writing today because I recently had someone ask me if I'm doing alright. She said that some of my posts on Facebook make it seem like I'm having a hard time. My answer was that  everyday is a brand new experience. With any new experience there will be ups and downs, good days and bad days. And days when you just want to throw up the white flag and surrender.
  As moms it seems we feel the need to project an 'I can do it all and be happy' attitude. Why? Admitting that you are having a bad day does not make you less of a woman. It does not mean that you love your child any less. Hiding the fact that you are having a rough time does nothing more than make you feel worse. Why is it so taboo to admit your feelings?
   Women's magazines and the media would have us believe that as a modern woman, you CAN do it all and be happy. The thing is, us normal moms do not have a nanny for each child, personal trainers and chefs and assistants to manage our lives. It is up to us to get it all done and nine times out of ten that is impossible. We need to be the care giver, dog walker, chef, housekeeper, shopper...the list goes on. In my personal experience it rarely works that way. My son will be cranky and refuse to take a nap, which in turn, limits the amount of time I have to do anything else. It's okay if the dishes don't get done right now, and the grocery shopping can wait.
  Beau was one week old on Thanksgiving Day 2012. We were supposed to attend a large family dinner at my brother in-law's house. Well, Beau did not agree with that and had kept me up for all but three hours the night before. I couldn't figure out what he needed, I fed him, changed his diapers, swaddled him and still he wouldn't sleep. I remember so clearly being in tears and looking at the clock to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. I spent the night on the couch with Beau so that Brian could sleep and by the time he got up in the morning I was done. I was exhausted, my eyes were puffy from crying all night and there was no way I was ready to interact with a large group of people. I explained to Brian, and he still wanted to go. We had previously let everyone know we would be there and Brian wanted to introduce Beau. I was even more upset about the fact that Brian didn't understand why I wanted to stay home. Finally I said no. I just couldn't do it, and I didn't want to expose Beau to all of that so early on.
  I would like to say that my decision went over well, but as with some family matters it did not. A few months later everyone got to meet Beau and I was deemed less anti-social than they originally thought. Eh, I have a thick skin and did what I thought was best for our son and myself.
  The day after Thanksgiving my mom took the train from MA to VA to help us out. Seeing her meet her first grandchild was a moment I will never forget. I will also never forget her telling me that it is okay to ask for help. I learned so much from her in the few days she was here, her knowledge is invaluable. After all, she did raise four of us. She let me know that it's not always easy and that things will get better. Now when I need help with Beau she is the first person I turn to.

Me: Beau is all congested and I can't get him to sit still so I can suck the boogers out of his nose with the booger sucker bulb thingy.
Mom: Wrap him up like a burrito. It probably bothers you more than it bothers him.

 When I took Beau for his two month checkup the doctor looked him over quickly, gently pinching at his arms and legs. He told me to get Beau dressed and meet him next door in his office, these were not the words I wanted to hear. Beau was under weight, and looking back I can see that he really was very thin. The doctor used the term "failure to thrive" which immediately brought tears to my eyes. I was starving my child, unintentionally, but he still wasn't getting enough to eat. The doctor told me to supplement with formula after every nursing session and report back in a week. I cried all the way home, feeling a kind of guilt I never knew possible. How could I have not seen what was happening??? The doctor assured me that as a first time mom it happens, it was not my fault, I had never dealt with anything like this before, so how could I know? He also explained that the term Failure to Thrive is simply what the medical community says when a baby is underweight. I called my mom in tears, she reassured me just as the doctor had. She also said 'don't let this get you down, you are doing a good job'. So we started the formula, a week later Beau had gained a full pound. A week after that another full pound. He is perfectly healthy now and has chubby cheeks and fat little baby thighs. And I learned that it's okay to have bad days, to get knocked down, but you have to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Drive on.
  Being a mom is scary. Simple as that. Yes, it's wonderful, beautiful, challenging and an adventure, but it is scary. My Dad said "the flood gates of worry have opened and will never close again." Truer words I have never heard.
  I have veered slightly of course, but my point is that we all do have bad days. I'm not going to brush it under the rug. I'm going to address it head on, and I will post it on Facebook if Beau just spit up ALL OVER me and the dog puked on the carpet. It feels good to say it, to put it out there and let it go. It's not admitting defeat but rather a declaration of my humanness.I can't say I don't care that the dishes need to be done or that the laundry is piling up, because I do. I would just rather spend my days playing peek-a-boo and watching Beau try to crawl because these days are slipping by too fast .
  The good days now out number the bad and the bad days aren't so bad. Even on the worst of days a smile from my little man lights up my world.

Taken sometime around 3 AM Thanksgiving morning, a self portrait of sheer exhaustion.

Beau, happy and healthy, showing off those big blue eyes

Exersaucer scooty car thingy time!

                                              

  Beau had his 6 month checkup yesterday and the doctor said he is doing great. He is ahead of the curve with his developmental mile stones and has grown from the 5th percentile to the 15th. I watched as he finally figured out how to scoot himself along in his little car excersaucer (a word invented by parents to describe the little seat with wheels that keeps babies content for 45 minutes :)) and then he crashed into my potted plants in the process. Later in the day he cried because his legs were sore from the shots he had received at his appointment. A few months ago I would have been completely undone by his tears and seeing the pain he was in. This time I gave him a little baby Tylenol as soon as we got home from his appointment and plunked him in a warm bath when he started fussing. It's amazing how much a rubber duck in a bathtub can distract him. He was still a little fussy at bedtime so I snuggled up with him on the couch and he was asleep in minutes.

  I still have bad days, days when I'm stressed and in tears by the time Brian gets home from work, but I also know how to turn most bad days into good ones. I let myself be upset for a few minutes and then I adapt and overcome. A little glass of wine at night never hurts. Bad days are a part of life, embrace them, learn from them and then just relax because things will always get better.