Tag Archives: milk

Denial and Avoidance, Works For Me!

23 May

I think surviving Motherhood takes a certain amount of denial and avoidance. Last night was a prime example of how I deny and avoid when it comes to my children. My friend M.O. was over visiting the kids and I when she looked at TR’s foot and said, “What is up with the bottom T’s foot?” I looked at her foot and lo and behold she had what appeared to be multiple thorns and or splinters of some kind in her tiny little mini foot. What was my reaction? Did I say let’s get her to a Doctor immediately, let’s call my husband for back-up, let’s help this poor child?! My first reaction was, “She’ll be fine I’m sure it’s just another ouchie, ok, bath time!” My friend M.O. who doesn’t have any children of her own yet had to look me in the eyes and give me a What The F—  look and straight up said to me, “Your two year old has a foreign object in her skin it’s going to get infected if you don’t do something right now.” Yup, another mother of the year moment for Leslie. All I was thinking was these kids need to finish dinner, get a bath, get in their pajamas, drink their milk, brush their teeth, read stories, and be put down. I didn’t have time tonight for a strange object lodged in my baby’s foot that could become a festering wound.

Within 20 minutes M.O.’s Dad, the Mitzvah Man himself, Dr. Orwasher, a well known Beverly Hills Podiatrist, was knocking at my front door to inspect TR’s foot. My girl promptly sat down right in front of Dr. Orwasher before he could even make it all the way in the front door, ripped off her socks and said to him, OUCHIE. After a quick exam in my playroom it was confirmed that we had to head into the office so Dr. O could remove whatever was in T.R’s foot. At this point I had a flashback of  the day before- I saw her coming from the backyard barefoot, where we have thorns, wood chips and other dreadful things which coincidentally is all being removed this week. I immediately put her shoes back on when I saw her bare feet, but I didn’t check to see if her feet were okay. So here we were at 7pm sitting in Dr.O’s office distracting TR with my IPhone while the Doc worked his magic with a smile on his face and the patience of a Saint. She didn’t cry, not even a peep, all she said after 20 minutes of sitting nicely while having needles poked into her foot was, “All done Missa’s Daddy?”

If left up to me, she would have been sleeping in her crib with thorns in her feet and probably limping before I noticed anything was remotely wrong. Denial and avoidance, it gets me through because some of this parenting stuff is just way too scary to face head on.

xoxo

Should my Mother of The Year Award be revoked? I dare you to comment and say yes…

 

When Mel Gibson shows up, it’s time to go home.

20 May

I hereby swear to abstain from over consumption of alcohol for the rest of eternity. I went out last night with the single ladies and let’s just say this very married Mommy can’t party like she used to.  I’ve been out of the scene for so long that I forgot the rules. Like, always eat something before drinking. Or to drink a glass of water to match every cocktail you consume. The one about not mixing types of alcohol, forget about it. Unfortunately, I didn’t play by the rules last night and now I am paying the price.

It had been a rough day with the kids, TR had dumped yet another Horizon milk box on her head in the Coffee Bean and then had a hissy fit when I wouldn’t buy her a new one. Does this kid think I’m a moron? You just sprayed three dollars worth of milk into your eyes and and all over your clothes in a matter of seconds and you want me to stage a repeat?  JH Houdini’ed from his stroller and was two seconds from heading into traffic on Beverly Drive before I even noticed he had escaped. I thought tourists were going to take my picture so they could show people back home just how terrible the parents in Beverly Hills are.

I just wanted to be out somewhere where strollers and sippys were unwelcome. I needed to be out of this house, away from these kids and wearing a shirt that said Dry Clean Only. I love my kids, I live for my kids, I obsess over my kids and about once I need to forget that I have them. The night started out innocently enough, a glass of wine at a friend’s house and some girl talk, ahhh this is nice. Then we headed over to BOA on Sunset, the fact that it’s on Sunset Blvd should have been my first clue to not go there. There should be a uterus check before you enter The Sunset Strip, and if you’ve had kids you should not be allowed up there past 10pm. Nothing good happens on Sunset after 10pm, ever, except  maybe some weddings at The Beverly Hills Hotel. I settled into my swanky love seat by the fire pit and the drinks just kept coming. To put all this in perspective, my husband and I are pretty much teetotalers. We will maybe have a cocktail on date night once a month but that’s about it. So you can imagine where my alcohol tolerance lies compared to my wild and free friend. I can say at this point in the night I had lost track of my drink total and I forgot to order myself Dinner, yes I swear I have a College Degree. The night concluded with an odd encounter with Mel Gibson where I’m pretty sure I invited him for a tour of The Museum of Tolerance, but that’s a different story.  At 2am I found myself on the bathroom floor thanking GOD that the floor was tile and not carpet because wow it felt good. I learned my lesson, and I will be staying in for awhile.

Why has this upstanding moral Mother of 3 shared her story of drunken stupidity with you? As a teaching guide:

1. Always eat before you drink.

2. My Dad was right when he said that Midnight is a good curfew for everyone.

3. Just because I had a rough day with the kids doesn’t mean I need to go all Tara Reid and everything.

4. Sky High Heels feel like hush puppies when you’ve had a few too many.

5. just because you can’t taste the vodka doesn’t mean it’s not in there.

6. Morning sickness and a hangover feel almost identical, except with morning sickness you get a human when it’s over.

7. Meditation and Yoga is the new Red Bull and Vodka.

xoxo

Thoughts? Comments? Should I have told you this? Are you judging me?

She’s going to end up in therapy anyways…

15 May

I know that labeling and comparing children is wrong. I went to college, I took Psychology classes and I get the basics on how to screw a kid up. I’m going to go ahead and label and compare my twins anyways. TR is totally and completely defiant and mischievous. She goes above and beyond your average two year old limit testing on a regular basis. It’s as if she has this side to her that just has to mess with the adults in her life. She doesn’t just throw her food off her high chair tray to see what happens like her brother does. TR will specifically request oatmeal or bananas and blueberries just so she can smush it all in her hair and then fling it all across the room. As the other two kids get wide eyed and let out big UH-OHS! All you hear from little Miss T are her giggles of self satisfaction.
At the playground we go to every morning there is a large opening with a drop that scares the daylights out of me. I have trained the twins to not go near the opening because it is dangerous. J steers clear of it at all costs, but not my 21 pound angel. Every chance she gets she will grab my attention as she dangles her body over the edge while hysterically laughing. She will even yell out to me, “Other way?” Yes, other way, you damn well know your supposed to go the other way because this way freaks Mommy out. But you know that don’t you little girl. I might as well dye her hair purple and pierce her nose now.
TR also has a special capacity for intense volume. By that I mean she can scream louder than any human child on the planet. If you don’t believe me then I dare you to take her to the Coffee Bean and refuse to buy her a chocolate milk. My oldest daughter was a screamer and a vomiter so I’m no sissy when it comes to evil glares from strangers. But when TR decides to flex her vocal pipes it’s quite a display.
Since I’ve already labeled her and compared her to her twin I’m going to go ahead and predict what she will be when she grows up.

I’m going to go with a) an Opera Singer b) The President of the United States c) My Clone

xoxo

We’re you labeled as a kid? Did it stick?

Excuse me, is my baby supposed to be blue?

10 May

I was the poster child for Attachment Parenting before I had my children. When I was pregnant with my oldest daughter I read the famous book The Breastfeeding Book by Dr. William Sears from cover to cover, over and over. Everything he said made perfect sense to me. His theories felt like home and I was going to do exactly what the book told me to do with my sparkly pink baby girl when she popped out. What I didn’t anticipate was that, as I sat alone to nurse my angel for the very first time, she would stop breathing and turn the color of a freezer pack. This was supposed to be my big entrance into the land of warm breast milk and love. How could this be happening?! I looked up at the nurse that had walked into the room and casually said, “I think my baby is blue.”

The next day was a blur of the NICU at Cedars Sinai and nurses coming into my room asking where the baby was, and me bursting into tears. She was poked and prodded and I stayed up all night calling the nurses every hour asking if she was still alive. It turned out that HB had a common issue that newborns sometimes experience where it takes a little while for them to get the hang of eating and breathing simultaneously. Soon after, she figured it out and was returned to me. Unfortunately, the damage had been done. She was healthy and ready to breastfeed, I however was not. All I knew was that the last time I tried to take things into my own hands, she stopped breathing and I was left alone in a room while my baby got rushed away with my husband in tow. I took her home and tried to continue with my perfect plan. I wrapped her up in my Maya, Moby and New Native slings even though she wailed endlessly. I nursed her for hours on end even though she was not gaining weight and I was slipping deeper into the hands of sleep deprivation. I did not want to let go of my dream of being the mother that Dr. Sears and La Leche League wanted me to be.

It wasn’t until HB’s 6 month check-up, when her Pediatrician finally had the balls to say to me “Leslie, you’re a mess. I think you have Postpartum depression and HB is not getting enough food. It’s time to stop breast feeding,” that I realized what was happening. HB and I were both beyond miserable with the way things were going. She had acid reflux and my elimination diet wasn’t working and she spent most days vomiting up my breast milk. I had PPD and was hating almost every single second of motherhood. I needed to hear it from my Pediatrician that it was okay to let go of the Mother I thought I would be and become the Mother that I am.

It took time for me to fully realize and recover from what had happened and to have the guts to have more children. One thing I was sure of was that this time I was going to do what felt right to me. Even though something makes perfect sense in a book, it may not be right for us if my children and I are not happy. Did I end up breastfeeding the twins? That’s another blog post entirely…

Every Mother has to find what is right for her and her children. When I see a Mother breastfeeding her child while wearing the baby in a sling, I always smile because I get it and I believe in it, it just didn’t work for me. If that Mom wanted to breastfeed her 4 year old while standing on her head and wearing high heels, that works for me too, as long as they are healthy and happy.

Today’s post is inspired by my friend and fellow blogger Jamie Lynne who is featured on the cover of this week’s TIME magazine!

Go Jamie!

xoxo

Did you breastfeed your kids? Do you judge me for quitting after 6 months? Comment and let me know!

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