First, Just Throw Away All Your Ideas

Michael and I were big fans of the "I'll never..." game. It's a fun game parents-to-be play to give you a sense of security and allow you to go through with parenthood because thank God YOU have it all figured out, unlike every other parent before you.

You have such a good time playing this game, you begin to share the better rounds with your friends; some of whom are already parents. "I'll never let my child watch TV, listen to 'kid' music or use a binky." Rest assured, this demonstrates unequivocally your naivety, absurdity and pretentiousness.

While I knew there would be some adjustments on my plans and schemes for parenthood, I didn't realize "I'll never" is completely useless. The game should be called "There's no limit to the desperate things I'll do to make it go smoothly-ish."

This seems like a good spot to send a universal apology to all the parents out there I judged silently (and not so silently) on the "choices" you made raising your children. I now know there are no choices. There are simply ways to make it through the day alive and sometimes with your sanity intact.

Parents out there are nodding their heads. 

Parents-to-be, are telling themselves how I just didn't have the discipline to set standards and now (they whisper knowingly to themselves) I'm letting the child run my life. Good luck you guys...call me in 8 months, we'll chat then.

Don't slit your wrists or send your child to live with wolves just yet. It's not entirely hopeless. You still have a say over what diapers they wear and (for now) what food they eat.

Top Moments in Parent-to-Be Delirium:

1. You will not catch me sitting in the backseat of the car with the child. Can you not bear being out of eyesight for the 15 minutes it takes to get to the grocery store? Clingy much?
   Oh...I didn't realize the child will scream as if you tore out her fingernails with pliers if she can't see me. And she won't stop for as long as it takes; 20 minutes to the store, 17 hours to Texas, she can scream the whole way - round trip.
   
   Yet, she instantaneously stops summoning the Lord of Death when I sit in the backseat with her; which allows me to go to the store to get food which I haven't done in three months.
   
   Call me Backseat Betty...actually don't.
   
   (FYI, this stage passed at about 5 months and now The Bean entertains herself fine in the backseat.)
2. Clearly the bassinet is something invented by the furniture makers of the world to sucker parents into buying yet another crappy, blocky item to take up space in their house. That child will never sleep in the same room as me. There is nothing she is going to need so quickly that the 10 seconds it takes to get to her room will be too long.
   
1. OK, fine...I can see the merits of sleeping in the same room for the first week or two. Everyone is tired and it's pretty easy to nurse throughout the night. But no longer than a month.
   
2. The first four months seems like an appropriate amount of time for the kid to be in the crib in the parent's room. I read somewhere they become better sleepers because they hear your breathing. But no more than four months.
   
3. Six months tops.
   
4. Definitely no co-sleeping.
5. Not past 18 years old.
3. My child will not watch TV or the internet until [some age I deemed appropriate that was not 2 months old].
   Oh hi Elmo! Hey there Wiggles!!! You mean, if I put you in front of my child I will be able to take a shower for the first time this week? Come on in!
4. A child with a binky is a clear indication of a lack of discipline and coddling.
   A child with a binky doesn't scream in my ear all night long.
5. There is no way this child will interfere with my social life. Children are portable. There are babysitters. We won't go out as much, but we will still go out and have our own lives.
   This one is tricky because for the first 3-4 months you are lulled into a false sense of security. The kid IS portable. They sleep all the time. You can go out to dinner and stick them in the car seat under the table on a chair next to you. Life is good and all those other parents just weren't trying hard enough.
   
   Until.
   
   The Schedule takes over the world.
   
   Someone needs to be at the house between the hours of 9AM-11AM, 1PM-3PM, 6PM-6AM. Those are The Bean's sleeping hours and LORD SAVE YOU if you make me miss a nap time. Overtired children don't just go to sleep. They scream at you for 5 hours first so you are clear about how tired they are.
   
   Yes. It is that dramatic.
   
   Mrs. D-Zo, get a babysitter and get your life back.
   
   *ahem*
   
   Let me break this down for you:
   
   A) We pay TENS (as in multiple tens) of THOUSANDS of dollars a year for child care. Money exceptionally well spent as The Bean is with someone all day who is doing a better job than I would at raising my child. Do you know what is not included in this cost? Extra hours. Our cost-free social hours (see The Bean's waking hours above) are not particularly aligned with anyone else's. Going out costs an additional $15/hour; which might be reasonable except that...
   
   B) I haven't slept in 8 months. Not a single night all the way through. I'm so tired my hair is crying. Which leads me to...
   
   C) Things I have no interest in doing: Wearing something other than sweatpants, putting on makeup, going somewhere where there may be noise, having to say something intelligent, having to say anything, not sitting, and staying up past 9PM since...
   
   D) The Bean doesn't get memos on schedule changes and she has a tight morning of activities planned that just does not allow for wiggle room. There's waking up at 5AM and yelling until someone gets her a bottle and a new diaper. There's the hour-long discussion she has with her bottle millimeters from the monitor microphone. Then she has to fall asleep for 30 minutes - just enough time for the family to all fall back asleep - and then wake up ready to really start her day at 6:30.
6. I'll definitely blog, workout, clean, shower, have a career, walk the dogs, pick up tennis, get my hair dyed every 4 weeks, cook dinner, repaint the bathroom, plant a garden...
   See the response for point #5.

Oh You're Pregnant? Let Me Ask You This...

The general population is familiar with exactly three symptoms of pregnancy. Thusly, when you tell others you are pregnant you are greeted with one of, but no more than, the following three questions:

1. Do you have morning sickness?
2. Are you tired?
3. What have you been craving?
   * Answers below because I know you’re dying to ask them yourself.

And while I never (read: always) get tired of answering these queries, I think there are far more interesting side effects of pregnancy to be discussing.

Are those your boobs or are you having twins?
I was always a well-endowed woman prior to being pregnant—since we’re not holding back here: a 36D. Within ONE MONTH of being pregnant, I was wearing a 38DD…and apparently, these things KEEP GROWING. You. Have. To. Be. Kidding. Me.

Now some of you mean-spirited people are probably thinking, “Hey Jen, lay off the ice cream.” I’ll have you know, I’ve lost 5 pounds since being pregnant (which by my calculations means I really lost ten pounds, but gained 5 back in my boobs alone).

Now my husband and I are in great disagreement about the new pregnancy physique. Apparently he doesn't mind if I look like some ridiculous cartoon character drawn by a hormonal teenage boy ("I'm not bad, I'm just drawn that way").

How’s the pooper running?
Pre-pregnancy I was not one to discuss to my “import/export” system—not with friends, not with my husband, if I could I would opt to ignore that portion of my life completely. However now, it refuses to go unnoticed.

I would like for you to imagine eating how you normally do for an entire week. Now throw in the IMPOSSIBILITY of going pooper—because it ain’t going to happen. Then, much like the Bible, on the seventh day God said let there be pooping (I may or may not be paraphrasing). Let me tell you…that seventh day is a bitch.

Because I care about your well being, I’ll not discuss in great depth the associated gas, cramps and (what I’m sure will be on the horizon) hemorrhoids.

Why is everyone treating you as though you have a debilitating disease?
You got me. I tried to move a chair—a regular ol’ kitchen table chair—and you would’ve thought I had suggested tightrope walking across a lava pit filled with alligators (just go with me on this one). At least three people yelled at me to sit down and rest.

News alert: I’m pregnant; newly pregnant, in fact. A time when doctors encourage working out and increased activity because the fetus is more protected now than it will be at any other stage of the pregnancy. I know this because I’ve managed to fall down and throw myself into traffic on at least three separate occasions since discovering I was pregnant and everything is still fine.

I’m lazy by nature, so when the time comes I’ll be more than happy to let you do everything for me. But for the time being, please let me continue to be a normal human for as long as possible.

***

My instinct is some poor soul must have asked these questions and received honest answers from a pregnant woman and spread the word to only ask the three “safe” questions.

1. I’m growing a human being inside of me. Couple this with my penchant for forgetting to eat and you have the precise formula for feeling queasy.

No, it is not limited to the morning.

It’s less “sickness” and more “nasty gagging and dry heaving I have no control over.” Things that make me gag include, but are not limited to: noxious smells ranging from the trash to roses, standing up too quickly, seeing dog poop, having to clean up cat puke, bending over to put on my sneakers, walking up a flight of stairs and thinking about anything at all.

Yes, it’s starting to abate as I enter my second trimester.

2. I work between 60-70 hours a week for my “day” job. I also had the bright idea to start a catering business which I continued through my first trimester of pregnancy (did you notice the usage of past tense?). Catering took roughly 90-100 hours a week. By my calculations, that left me with approximately -2 to 10 hours of free time each week. Tired doesn’t begin to describe it, but it had very little to do with being pregnant.

3. Sleep and a day where I don’t gag.

Honestly, I haven’t noticed any real cravings just yet. I’ve never been shy around food so a sudden desire for artichoke dip or a cheese sandwich with pickles is not out of the question—pregnant or not.