Parents: Selfless or Selfish?

Oh the joys of parenthood...

Back in my baby-less days, I used to engage in the type of conversations that I now find insulting and inconsiderate. I’d rant on about how parents should control their children’s temper tantrums and complained whenever a child so much as breathed in public. I would shoot parents the death stare and wonder why in the world they weren’t able to take hold of the situation…little did I know…in fact, I didn’t know SHIT.

As parents, some of us are blessed with kids that we can take everywhere; kids that find restaurant highchairs awesome hangout spots and are willing to sit through an entire meal. Those lucky fucks only propagate the image of the “poor parenting skills” of the rest of the percentage of the parental population; whose children think a restaurant is in fact an obstacle course and that menus are flying boomerangs conveniently placed at arms reach just waiting to be hurled across the air. I’d so wish I could claim that my child belongs to the prior set of well-behaved souls, but in actuality I think she is the founding member of a new breed of excessively hyperactive and “curious” species of little humans. Back in my days of pre-parental close-mindedness, when I too was independent and free of the pressure of keeping another being alive, I thought that kids were a product of their parents; that as parents you are responsible for each of their character traits. I was wrong. As a friend of mine once pointed out, these things come pre-wired and we’re simply here to try to channel their energies and personalities in a certain direction.

Soooo, when we say that our child is strong-willed, what we’re really trying to say is that they’re bat-shit crazy and we simply have no clue how to control them. The thing is, we have no power over how, when or where our little gifts from above are going to decide to have full-on meltdowns because you didn’t let them plow through a rack of perfectly organized shoes. And furthermore, just because they do this doesn’t make us bad parents, it makes us really really patient motherfuckers who have the self-control to calmly address and tame the flailing spasm that is our child, instead of pretending like they’re not ours and running in the opposite direction. You see, people are too quick to judge (I speak from experience). ”If that were my child, I’d have it trained like a horse.”…”Ugh, why can’t these people control their child, what are they animals?” Well lady, guess what…you come try telling my utterly determined 13-month old that no, she cannot walk around on her own and that she has to stay strapped to a stroller so as to ensure that your shopping experience is pleasurable. Not gunna happen, bitch. (Ok, that needed to be let out…)

Believe me, for the most part, when we take our children out into the world it’s because we’re suffering from a severe case of cabin fever. There’s only so much entertainment a house full of toys can provide a child (and mom) day after day. So we pack up our cars and diaper bags with all the useless crap you could ever possibly need and head out for a few hours of public humiliation. Believe it or not getting kicked square in the face at PetCo because I refuse to take my child to see the fishies for the umpteenth time is not my idea of fun. Nor is finding out you’ve basically stolen half of Gap Baby ‘cause your mini me was stuffing random items into the stroller while you were shopping for a birthday gift. Almost going to jail for petty thievery just isn’t part of my bucket list.

With all that out in the open I’ve come up with a few arguable points that call into question whether most parents are selfish assholes or selfless super humans…you be the judge:

• Under no circumstances will you EVER disrupt your child’s naptime. The house can be burning down, Aunt Mae’s last dying wish could be to spend precious few moments with your son/daughter, you name it…if it’s during naptime, you can stick it where the sun don’t shine.
• After well over a year of NEVER being able to go out with your other half on an adult date, you finally decide it’s time to overlook all the babysitting horror stories most first time parents cling on to for dear life and ask your niece’s significant other to babysit…only to find out she’s broken up with her and you’re back at square zero. While I believe getting pissed at your niece is irrational, is it too much to ask that she extend her unhappiness for just a little longer so you can at least go out to dinner? (C’mon people, I think this merits a universal…FML!)
• Your gym offers a questionable daycare service that, again, you have never opted to go for. Then, 13 months into this whole baby ordeal you decide the day has come to when you no longer want to go to the gym at 5am while baby is still asleep. Instead you are going to go at the perfectly perky hour of 10 am. You pack your kid in the car, arrive ready to tackle a workout while actually awake…and you’re met with the surprise that the daycare people are nowhere to be found. So you have to leave your human version of the Energizer Bunny strapped to her stroller while you simultaneously squat and sing the ABCs…

Need I go on…? I will just for craps and giggles…

• Bath time has now become a communal occasion in which you have to actually shower with the offspring (because apparently staying in the tub is so boring compared to running around in the shower)…let me put it to you this way, I don’t mind teaching my child about body parts, but I’d like to avoid having those body parts poked and pinched as I’m doing so. I have soap in places I never thought possible on a daily basis.
• And finally, when you ask me or any other mother to “meet up” for fill-in-the-blank or go over to your house at a certain time and we show up an hour late. Please understand that for that past hour we have been 1) waiting for our child to wake up from their nap, 2) stuffing said child’s face as quickly as possible so that we can 3) chase him/her down, clothe them and pick up the mess they left behind before walking out the door. Also, if we show up looking like a train wreck, please revisit the three steps we had to go through to get here and keep all comments to yourself.

Glad I was drinking champagne that day...

A Meat Lover's Worst Nightmare: THE VEGAN DETOX

Those of you that know me well are probably asking yourselves what in the world has gotten into me. For those of you who don’t know me, let me give you a small intro…I LOVE MEAT. I bear no resemblance to the vegetarian cliché. I consider animals and all their by-products an integral part of my life; and though I wish I could survive on quinoa and spinach, I simply can’t. And believe me, all of you who have to deal with me on a daily basis are all the better because of my animal-eating ways. I wear Tom’s because they’re comfortable, not because of they’re eco-friendly, humanitarian cause. I shop at Whole Foods and at Costco. I use foul language on an hourly basis and am too lazy to protest for absolutely any cause (not proud, but it’s the truth). Furthermore, I hate yoga. Instead I prefer to go to a warehouse to climb 15-foot ropes, flip over tires and lift heavy shit. It makes me feel like a bad ass and instills the fear of god in my husband.

Having said all that, I am also the first to acknowledge that eating half a cow every night is probably not the best thing for my 5-foot 2-inch frame. Not to mention that after having labored a small human my body isn’t quite what it used to be. So, when my MOTHER suggested I do a three-day vegetarian cleanse I was left with no option but to set aside my butcher’s block and whip out my herb mister.

For those of you lettuce with a side of oxygen eating friends of mine, this cleanse should be a walk in the park. For those of you whose idea of a romantic date is a visit to a Brazilian rodizio joint, just know you’re not alone in your misery. I keep telling myself that I was able to quit drinking for over a year…anything is possible bitches!

3-Day Vegan Detox:

DAY 1:

Breakfast Shake:

Kale +  Celery + Pineapple + Ginger + Prasley +  Chia or Hemps sedes

10am Snack:

Pineapple w/ cayenne pepper or red pepper flakes

Lunch:

Spinach soup w/ small green salad (lettuce, cucumber, parsley, lime)

3-4pm Snack:

Carrots w/ lime OR 15 raw almonds

Butternut Squash soup w/ Wok style veggies (mushrooms, carrots, celery & sprouts)

DAY 2:

Breakfast Shake:

Kale +  Celery + Pineapple + Ginger + Prasley +  Chia or Hemps sedes

10am Snack:

Pineapple w/ cayenne pepper or red pepper flakes

Lunch:

Carrot soup w/ beet salad (beets, carrots, cilantro, lime & vinegar)

3-4pm Snack:

Carrots w/ lime OR 15 raw almonds

Zucchini soup w/ sauteed spinach, red onions and celery

DAY 3:

Breakfast Shake:

Kale +  Celery + Pineapple + Ginger + Prasley +  Chia or Hemps sedes

10am Snack:

Pineapple w/ cayenne pepper or red pepper flakes

Lunch:

Broccoli soup w/ small green salad (lettuce, tomatoes, avocado, red onions & parsley)

3-4pm Snack:

Carrots w/ lime OR 15 raw almonds

Mixed Veggie soup w/ Wok style veggies (mushrooms, onions & sprouts)

***DO NOT CONSUME CAFFEINE*** (yes, you read it here...no coffee!) 

Basic Recipe for Carrot & Butternut Squash Soups:

Yields 4 servings

• 1 tbsp. Olive Oil
• 1 large white onion, diced
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 12 carrots / 1 small butternut squash, chopped
• 2-4 cups vegetable broth
• 2 tbsps. fresh ginger, grated
• 1 tsp. curry powder
• Sea salt to taste
• Cayenne pepper to taste

Saute onions and garlic in olive oil until tender. Add carrots and saute for approx. 3 minutes. Add broth, ginger, curry, salt and cayenne pepper.

Bring to a boil. Once boiling reduce to low heat and allow to simmer for approx. 20 minutes. Blend until smooth and serve.

Basic Recipe for Zucchini, Spinach & Broccoli Soups:

Yields 4 servings

• 1 tbsp. Olive oil
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 small or ½ medium red onion; diced
• 5 celery sticks, chopped
• 3 medium zucchinis / 1 head of broccoli / 1 pack of baby spinach
• ½ tbsp. chives; chopped
•  salt to taste

Saute onion, garlic and celery in olive oil until tender. Slice zucchini in half and roughly chop into half-moon shaped pieces. Add to pan and cook thoroughly. Salt to taste. Cooking time varies depending on the thickness of the veggies, but it usually takes about 15 – 18 minutes.

Once cooked allow to cool slightly. Add cooled ingredients to blender. Add chives and blend with vegetable broth to reach desired consistency.

My first day is tomorrow…wish me luck!

Stay away from me for the next three days!

A word on men and babies...

Terror #1 & #2

They say men don’t fall in love with their offspring until well into the first months of parenthood. Whoever made that observation couldn’t be more accurate…When our daughter was born I thought she was the cutest little ball of human ever to grace the face of the earth. Looking back on it, I can now say that she looked a bit like ET. Let’s just say the phrase “A face only a mother can love,” takes on a whole new meaning once you’ve had children. This brings me to my next point, men have the luxury of maintaining their sanity and composure during and after childbirth, they’re not exhausted and groggily doped up from just having pushed out a living being though their hoo-haa. This alone grants them the rationale to look at that baby and think, “Damn, I hope it improves with time.” And thank heavens they do. Furthermore, this emotional detachment of sorts is what makes watching the progression of the father/grandfather/uncle/fill-in-the-blank-male-role and baby relationship so goddamn entertaining.

As our baby is about to turn a year old, I’d like to take a minute to reflect on the evolution of three key male figures in Tilly’s life. Allow me to elaborate…

The Sound Machine:

Granddads who seem to have forgotten everything about being around babies usually take up this role. My poor dad is no exception. When Tilly was a newborn, he would stiffen up the moment she was within three-feet of him, and should he have to pick up the baby he would start sweating so profusely he required a wardrobe change. His coping mechanism for his thorough physical discomfort was to make high-pitched noises at the poor child. Now, imagine you’re new to this world and you have a large man coming at you like a raging bull while squealing “A-goo-goo-gaa-gaa” followed by a dizzying series of tongue clicks and finger snapping.  Hell, just the thought of it makes ME want to cry right now. As time has passed, my father has greatly improved. However, he is still a fan of the incessant noise making. So, now my child sees my dad and turns into a tiny beat box, which of course he find hilarious; it’s a vicious, never-ending cycle! For what reason grandpa believes that the only form of communication between an adult and a baby is to spew gibberish at an exceedingly high speed and volume, I have no clue. But believe me, it is not.

The Baby Whisperer:

I would give my left boob to have this man around 24/7. This is the man that replaces Ryan Gosling in your post-partum dreams. You no longer care about that sexy, rain-drenched Adonis waiting for you at the end of a dock...no no no, now all you want is that certain someone that the mere sight of makes your child yawn. Allow me to explain: I call my child “Tilly The Menace,” not because I think this is a cute hash tag, but because this child doesn’t sit still for more than five seconds at a time. She is the Tasmanian devil incarnate, and unless I take her to bed in the sanctity of her dimly lit, nature sounds-infused room, she just won’t stop. Ever. So, when it turns out that her godfather is a walking BabyNyQuil, you better bet your ass that I want this man around, forever. When she was 3 months old and would fall asleep with him, we thought it was cute. But when it kept happening, every time he was around, we started to suspect that he might be slipping a lil’ somethin’ somethin’ in her sippy cup. Regardless…don’t ask, don’t tell.

The Credit Taker:

This is, of course, the father of your child: the proverbial genetic god that only passes on desirable qualities to your offspring.  The same man that possessed the objectivity to admit that, no, your baby wasn’t cute when she was born (like 99% of newborns out there). As this year has progressed though, my husband’s previous clarity has been replaced by a spellbound googly-eyed-ness that is quite frankly pathetic at times. Every time our daughter so much as blinks it’s all because “she’s just like her daddy.” And while yes, I will admit, the girl is 90% daddy there’s something about your genetic gene pool getting brushed under the rug that doesn’t seem quite fair. I don’t recall him carrying her around for 9 months and then pushing her out his nut-sack, no siree. Nor do I recall him thinking she was so cute and perfect when she was up at 2 a.m. Actually, I seem to recall his complaints of lack of sleep and energy, even though I was the one up in the middle of the night. Catch my drift here people?

The truth of the matter is I envy these men in my life (ok, maybe I even resent them at times). They get to enjoy the baby at their convenience and hand her over when they’ve had enough. Don’t get me wrong, my husband does take on quite the load with Tilly the Menace, but at the end of the day he still gets to take leisurely showers, sleep in past 6am, and even (dare I say it) go to the bathroom with the door SHUT. Oh the joys of motherhood, never did I imagine I’d be sharing my most intimate moments with a wobbly 11 month old day in and day out…and yet, here I am, blogging while she dips the roll of toilet paper in the dog’s water bowl. Meanwhile, where’s my husband? Sleeping in on a Monday morning ‘cause he had one too many adult beverages on Sunday Funday…yay for mommy. 

Daddy on Duty...Let's just hope she doesn't inherit his laziness...