Archive | 7:26 pm

5 Ways That Motherhood Has Changed Me

8 Feb

1. I can’t stand silence.

I used to revel in the silence. Now if no one is crying, giggling, arguing, singing or asking me a thousand questions I feel like the apocalypse may have happened and I was left behind.
I also can’t stand it because I know what it means. . .someone is coloring on the walls, making hair and dresses out of the toilet paper, or gluing my new earrings to paper.

2. I cook

No, I don’t cook well. But I do cook. Before I had kids cooking consisted of pouring a bowl of cereal and adding milk. Now I am like a mad scientist. You can find me in the kitchen whipping up concoctions, smoke billowing from burning pots and pans and children begging me for McDonalds. (They just haven’t developed their pallets yet to appreciate my cooking.)

3. Drool no longer bothers me.

I seriously had a major hang up about drool when I was pregnant with my first child. Thick, drippy, smelly, liquid constantly hanging from a baby’s mouth was one of my phobias. Gross. I never thought I’d get used to it. Now I don’t even think about wiping my kid’s mouths with my shirt, pants, hands, arm, or the nearest toy or baby blanket if it suits me. Sometimes I’m sneaky and wipe one of my kid’s mouths on the back of my other kid’s shirt. Excellent reason to have multiple children. You never run out of clothing surfaces to wipe faces on.

4. I don’t sleep.

Ok I do sleep, but I definitely don’t sleep like I used to. I used to close my eyes and be completely comatose until my alarm went off the next morning. Now I am on night time mommy watch 24/7. I hear a cough, sneeze, or fart in the night and I am suddenly the world’s fastest, sneakiest spy. I creep into their room, find out which one made the sound, decipher if it needs further investigation and then escape like Houdini before I am spotted by the enemy.

5. I think yoga pants and pajamas should be a strictly enforced dress code for stay at home moms.

Before I had kids I wouldn’t have been caught dead without my hair brushed, make up on and a properly thought out wardrobe. Now I think. . .Why do I have to get dressed to go to the grocery store? Why do I need to put on my “good jeans” (you know. . .the ones that don’t make my ass look like a deflated saggy pillow) to go sit in a circle with 15 other toddlers, singing The Wheels on the bus, coloring happy faces and trying to keep my kid from gluing the picture to the table? No my good jeans are reserved for the times when even my pallet is too underdeveloped to appreciate my cooking and we need to go to out to eat. I mean really out to eat. Like going to McDonalds and forgoing the drive through to sit in the exceptionally fun play room. I mean Playscape. . .yes, my jeans must be worn to the Playscape. If for no other reason than to provide a thicker barrier between my knees and the pee soaked tunnels my kids ask me to crawl through.

Where do you look when someone doesn’t have eyes?

8 Feb

“what you need and what you want aren’t the same things,”

― Cherise Sinclair, The Dom’s Dungeon

Three weeks after we took Oli to LA to get her first pair of conformers we took her back to get her second pair. She was very fortunate because her right eye (the empty socket) actually stretched a considerable amount. The ocularist was able to fit her with a conformer twice the size of the first one. Sometimes conformer therapy just doesn’t work and kids are never able to wear them.

“So. . .Mr. Haddad, when are you going to lose the awful pegs and put flat painted conformers in? Next month? A couple of months at most, right?” I am incredibly impatient.

“No. It will actually be 2-3 more months before I can put a flat conformer in that right eye. It’s just too small. I wouldn’t be able to get it in or out of her eye without that peg. And she will probably be close to her first birthday before we put painted ones in that look like real eyes.” He explains quietly.

“Oh. That long huh? I guess that’s okay.” I almost start crying.

I was screaming inside my head,

No. No. No! That’s is absolutely not okay. I want to look into her eyes! Fake or not. I should be able to look into her eyes!

Where do you look when you are speaking to someone if you can’t look into their eyes?

To me, eye contact was very important. It showed people that I was paying attention, interested in what they were saying, and respectful. I could gauge their feelings and reactions to what I was saying when I looked into their eyes.

I had to learn with Oli that I could still do all of these things with her, in a different way.

I learned the delicate map of her facial expressions. The raise of her eyebrows and the little bit of furrow between them when she was listening. Her toothless smile, scrunched up nose and the turn of her head when she was happy.

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Her tightly pursed lips turned down at the corners when she was sad.

I learned to look at her whole face and body language to gauge her reactions and feelings. I learned to read her without making eye contact, but with the complete confidence that I knew her emotions.

I learned that I really didn’t need to see her eyes to make a connection with her.

I learned all of this. . .but it never changed the fact that I wanted her to have eyes. Real eyes, fake eyes, glass eyes, plastic eyes. I didn’t care. I wanted her to have them.

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