Archive for June, 2010

Pledging Theta- June 30, 2010

Wednesday, June 30th, 2010

This is my post contributing to Theta Mom’s blogaversary contest.  The topic is “Proud Theta Mom”.

Pledging Theta


Theta.  The eighth letter of the Greek alphabet.  Seven away from Alpha.  So if you’re a Theta Mom, that’s six better women between you and an Alpha Mom.  We all know an Alpha Mom.  Her children, her hair, and her on-time thank-you-notes are perfect.  

I truly believe the letter mom you are starts before motherhood.  Alpha Moms are Alpha Women.  I know this because I’m not an initiated mother yet.  I’m pregnant for the first time.  So I’m kind of in my pledge period.  (Oh sorority!  Those days were fun.  Now you know how I know my Greek alphabet.  It’s because I can recruit Freshmen, change lyrics of popular songs for rush, and play a mean game of flip cup.  It’s not because I studied Greek or Latin.)  I’m pledging.  I got in.  Sperm met egg.  Nausea’s done.  I’ve bought maternity pants.  I’m on my way baby!  But, God I know nothing!  It’s like I’m even less than a Theta.  


So, down to Iota.  I don’t know one Iota about having a newborn in my home.  How often do I feed her?  Then there’s the breast/bottle battle.  Which do I do?  Here’s a secret of an Iota Mom.  BREASTFEEDING FREAKS ME OUT!  There I said it.  I’m afraid of chaffed, chapped nipples.  The word chaffed is even annoying to me.  The thought of saliva on my breasts is gross to me.  Go ahead La Leche, string me up!  I already feel guilty enough about it.  If I can’t (pardon the pun) suck it up and make breast feeding work, I feel like I’ll be a terrible mother.  


Kappa.  Now I’m a Kappa Mom.  Why?  Take a look at the dishes in my sink, they’ll distract you from my unmade bed and the tumbleweed of dog hair that just blew across my living room.


A messy house has to drop me down to Lambda. Only a Lambda Mom would spend an inordinate amount of time online looking for a designer diaper bag, while not having bought a single pack of Onesies for her child.


Mu, thank goodness for child safety seats today because I drive like your grandma if she were behind the wheel applying lipstick and adjusting her Depends.


Nu.  Who Nu your kid needs a name?  Apparently the Federal Government and Department of Social Security highly recommend a name for your baby.  We have not come to a consensus on this and the baby continues to be referred to as the “fruit of the week” courtesy of the What To Expect When You’re Expecting iPhone app.  Granted, we are at papaya this week and Papaya could be lovely for a little girl.  Too bad we don’t live in Costa Rica.  


I could keep going through each letter, highlighting my every fallacy.  But, let’s just skip ahead to Omega.  My biggest fear is becoming an Omega Mom, bottom of the parenting barrel.  What if she inherits my worst traits? 


My Omega trait is a doozy.  One I’m terrified everyday of passing to my daughter.  Okay Internet, ready for my big bad secret?  I had a terrible eating disorder as a teen.  I mean in-the-hospital-what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-that-girl-anorexic.  There.  It’s out.  Omega.  The thought of passing on this disease to my child makes me want to scream and beat something.  How will I handle losing baby weight?  People with a history of mental illness have huge red targets on their backs for Post Partum Depression.  I understand it’s an illness, a chemical problem in your brain, but daughters pick up on the weaknesses of their mothers anyway.  


But, I think I’ll make it.  Through this pregnancy I’ve realized more and more that the sick girl I once was is nothing like the woman I am now.  I beat it.  I conquered my eating disorder and I am AWARE.  I have knowledge, and I can admit when I need help.  


Even with this alphabet of faults, by the time my pledge period is done and I’m a full-fledged mother, I’ll be okay.  I won’t be perfect, mind you, never an Alpha Mom.  I’ll be a Theta, proud to be in the sorority of Theta Moms who understand that while they’re mothers, they’re also human.  


It will be an honor to be in this beautifully imperfect sisterhood.  (Do I learn the secret handshake at the hospital?)  


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"Paging Dr. Dude, there’s a sexist in Exam Room 2."- June 29, 2010

Tuesday, June 29th, 2010

Okay, call me a sexist.  But, I like a woman Gynecologist better.  I’ve always had one.  I’m more comfortable.  I look at a man who’s an OB/GYN and I think, “So, are you some kind of perv or something? I mean, what possessed influenced you to go into this field of medicine?”  To me it’s like an auto mechanic who’s never owned a car.  


I know you’re waiting for the standard double standard that goes along with sexism and I won’t disappoint.  Here it is.  I wouldn’t think twice about a woman being a Urologist.  I mean, an OB/GYN is so overwhelmingly personal.  (Although, correct me if I’m wrong guys but I hear the Urologist can get pretty personal too.)  But, I don’t just mean the speculum.  Think of the decisions you make in the OB’s office, the questions you ask.  This doctor is helping you make life choices concerning reproduction, fertility, and childbirth.  Those are a big deal.  I’m not saying a man couldn’t do it.  It’s just not the same.  The only man I want to discuss childbirth decisions with is Greyson. 

The OB practice I’m going to now has six doctors.  Five are women and one man.  You rotate through all of them during your pregnancy and you get whoever’s on call the day you deliver.  

Today was the day to put my prejudice aside.  It was our 22 week appointment.  I got to meet the Man Doctor.  Mr. OB/GYN himself.  Thankfully this was a non-invasive appointment.  (But, it’s not like that will matter delivery day.)  

I sized him up when he walked in, the formentioned questions zooming around my brain.  But, I have to say.  He seemed alright.  He was obviously experienced.  We talked about weight, he measured the belly, we heard the heartbeat.  All was right in babyland.  

As we were leaving Greyson asked me if I’d be alright with him at the hospital.  I said I would be.  But, really what choice do I have?  If I had to guess, I’ll end up with him delivering my baby.  Proving once more, if you’re prejudice, you may get no deliverance.  

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A million words for my child- June 27, 2010

Sunday, June 27th, 2010

Our baby got the most thoughtful gift this week.  Our friends Trish and Dave gave us this.  I hope it rings a few reading bells for you like it did for me.



My heart nearly burst open when I read this note to my child.  ”Our wish for you is that you always know how loved you are and that the message of this book be with you all of your life.”  Love, Dave & Trish.  

Not only was this the most wonderful gift, it also got me so excited about all the books to come.  Baby, I have saved most of these on a shelf.  They’re waiting for you.  Here’s a few….

1.  Bible Stories for Children- I had a Christian upbringing and the most wonderful church family growing up and I’d like the same thing for you.  I think it’s important to have some faith basis for your life.  However, I would never expect you to read the whole Bible.  Granted, it is the world’s most popular book and we have several copies for your future reference.  But, I have little faith in those who act overly pious and say they’ve read the whole thing.  God knows it’s 2,000 pages.  

2. The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle- Your Dad and I heard being able to count is a good thing.  Apparently it pays off in the world of academia.  We’ll make sure to get you this book before preschool.  We’ll throw in one about the ABC’s too.

3.  Where the Wild Things Are by Maurice Sendak- Who doesn’t love Max?  It’s one of Daddy’s favorites.  

4.  The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein- I can’t wait for you to find out what makes the tree happy.  

5.  Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein-  Yep, he has two books on this list.  I hope this book shows you the beauty of good poems.  Maybe you’ll recite “Sick” for your 3rd grade talent show too.  Your Mama brought down the house with the line “I think my hair is falling out!”  

6.  The Polar Express by Chris Van Allsburg- We’ll read it at Christmas, or the Fourth of July, or Arbor Day.  Any day you want a reminder of what it means to believe in Santa Claus.  

7.  All the Ramona books by Beverly Cleary-  When you get old enough to read “chapter books” it doesn’t get any better.  Your Grandma and I read all of them together curled up in my bed in my pink room.  I got to be good enough I could read chapters to her.  I’ll be so proud when you can read to me.  We’ll be another generation laughing and crying at all things Quimby.

8.  Little Women by Louisa May Alcott- Whenever I misplace a glove I think of Meg.  I can’t look at a clothes pin without an image of Amy popping in my mind.  I think of Jo whenever someone gets a drastic haircut.  You’ll cry and that’s okay.  

9.  Anything by Jane Austen-  ”A lady’s imagination is very rapid; it jumps from admiration to love, from love to matrimony, in a moment.”   That’s from Chapter 6 in Pride and Prejudice, my favorite book.  I hope you will understand Ms. Austen’s wit and jab at her society in a quote like that.  If I weren’t worried you’d have the same name as every other little girl in your Kindergarten class I’d name you Emma,  for Miss Woodhouse herself.  

10.  Harry Potter 1-7-  I’ll make you some pumpkin juice to sip on while you read.  I can’t explain how much I hope you will love this world.  I hope the characters will become your friends, your enemies, and your family in each novel.  Dive in every adventure.  Soak up every moral.  Cry at death.  Cry when it’s all over.  It’s okay.  Daddy did.  (Yep Grey, I just told the Internet you cried at the end of Harry Potter 7.  Sorry.)  


Invitiation by Shel Silverstein

If you are a dreamer, come in.
If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar,
A hope-er, a pray-er, a magic bean buyer . . .
If you’re a pretender, come sit by my fire,
For we have some flax golden tales to spin.
Come in!
Come in!



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Jumping on a blog trend- June 23, 2010

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

Okay, so I’ve seen some blogs with “Wordless Wednesday” where you only post an awesome picture.  Call me a slave to trends, just don’t call me a lazy blogger. 

My first Wordless Wednesday….here ya go…..
Ginger enjoying the summer grass, while making me laugh.  
Oh, there I go with the words.  Wordless, Amy! Wordless!  Well, for chatty gals like me it may be word-LESS.  I make no promises.   
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Green is not my color- June 22, 2010

Tuesday, June 22nd, 2010

So we have summer interns at work.  I was looking at one of them today.  She was so beautiful in her pencil skirt, blouse tucked in,  with a trendy belt cinching her tiny waist.

With a sigh I adjusted my tightening pants around my expanding waist, and tugged my shirt down a little.  That’s when the green hand of envy reached out shook my brain for awhile.

I decided she must be what, 21 or 22?  It wasn’t that long ago I was a 21-year-old intern in little skirts.  It wasn’t that long ago I was fresh off the proverbial university turnip truck.  A skinny 22-year-old who had no idea she’d meet her husband at her first job and be engaged to him less than a year later.

Will I ever be able to cinch up pencil skirts again?  Will I ever have clear skin without the pimply marks of out-of-control hormones?

The only person that could smack the green hand of envy was the little person hanging out with me for the next few months.  She gave me a sweet little nudge, a nice reassuring flutter.

I looked at the intern again with new eyes.  I wouldn’t go back to being in her stilettos.  I decided I like the comfort mixed with excitement in my life right now.  I don’t think I’ll trade the wisdom I’ve gained in my 7 years out of college.  I know I won’t trade my life with Greyson and our little fluttering person.

So I’m embracing the bump at 21 1/2 weeks….

Round is totally the new cinched.  
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