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Sneaky snake

By Ellen

I had a scary experience about a month ago. I was typing on the computer when my daughter crawled across the room to tug on my legs. I picked her up and walked toward our kitchen to fix her dinner. Imagine my surprise (well, blinding terror) when I looked down and there, in the middle of my living room, was a snake.

I froze. My mind raced. What do I do? What do I do? Should I stand there, frozen, until my husband got home in an hour? Should I run screaming out the back door? What do I do?

I finally, slowly picked up a nearby bowl and dropped it on the snake. Whew! It was officially trapped.

After my husband came home and disposed of the snake, I thought about the situation a little more clearly.

I am not, by nature, a squeamish woman. I like most animals, including snakes. If it had been a little green garden snake, I probably would have just picked it up and tossed it outside. But I couldn’t identify this one and so I was a bit more jittery. However, I think that the main root of my terror came from being a mother. That snake had invaded my home and could have bitten my daughter. That thought terrified and infuriated me.

Don’t go there, snake. Don’t mess with Momma.

"Here come the germs!"

By Ellen

I've had to make a decision about germs. They might take up temporary residence in my child, but they are not going to take up permanent residence in my sanity.

My 9-month-old daughter loves to get out of the house. Frankly, I don't know where she gets it from, as my husband and I are both introverted homebodies. She loves play groups and nurseries. She thinks that other children are fun new toys for her amusement, and tends to crawl all over them. Lately, when I enter those rooms full of children and pre-licked toys, I find myself cringing at the potential for sickness. Every runny nose, every raspy cough shouts to me, "Here come the germs!"

But I've made a decision. I cannot lock Anna away from the rest of the world, and I cannot protect her from every slimy Barbie that she is inevitably going to stick in her mouth. I will go nuts if I attempt it. As hard as it is, for my own peace of mind, I'm just going to have to let it go. I'll take Anna to get the flu shot, but I'll also probably still pick up the pacifier off the floor, lick it and put it back in her mouth. 

Will pay for sleep

By Ellen

The other day I realized that I had not had a good night's sleep in eight months. And I found myself thinking that I would actually pay money to sleep for eight hours straight with no interruption.

When my daughter was three months old, my husband took me to stay in a hotel overnight, while my sisters watched Anna. I was so excited. Dinner! A movie! A real night's sleep!

But I found myself too preoccupied to enjoy dinner, and too tired to go see a movie. We ended up just crashing at the hotel, where I had a horrible night's sleep due to a cruddy mattress and loud air conditioner. Anna, as I was informed when I returned home, had a fluke sleeping-through-the-night episode. Oh well. We tried.

My daughter is finally sleeping through the night. Well, sometimes. Sometimes she still wakes up three times before greeting the day at 5 a.m. I still don't sleep well, what with my super-sensitive mommy ears and snoring husband. But I am trying to remember that this is a sleep-deprived season in my life, and someday I might actually miss the night feedings and back pats. Right now, however, I'd still pay money for that sleep.

Attachment parenting and other schools of thought

By Ellen

I don't know whether or not I'm an Attachment Parent. I agree with the basic principle -- treating your child as an individual and meeting his/her needs. I've read a Dr. Sears book or two. I like that kindness, not rigidity, is at the center of Attachment Parenting. But I haven't been able to swing some of the finer points.

Babywearing didn't work for us. I tried three different kinds of slings and carriers. My daughter hated the sling from the get-go. The Bjorn fared a little better, but started to hurt my back after a month. I had such high hopes for my beautiful pink brocade Mei Tai carrier. It was gorgeous. But I put Anna in it and she screamed bloody murder. She only loves her umbrella stroller, so I sold all the carriers a month ago. Oh well.

Co-sleeping was a bust, also. Anna kicks. And wiggles. And snorts. So back she went into her crib and all of us sleep much better.

However, I breastfeed and I don't plan on spanking my daughter, which means I've got two of the Attachment Parenting elements in my parenting repertoire. Check and check. Is that enough to be AP? Who knows.

The truth is, I'm just a mom and I do it the best way I can. So maybe that's my school of parenting philosophy thought -- "Try Your Best" Parenting. And everybody is welcome to join.

DotComic: As long as no one's bleeding...

By Ellen

I grew up with sisters. There wasn't a lot of roughhousing or physical clobbering in our house. No, we preferred the ladylike approach to fighting -- emotional clobbering. We'd whisper to my youngest sister, "Sara is just your nickname. Your real name is Fred." She'd be horrified and run to ask my mother. We perfected the Silent Treatment. Or we'd just insinuate that the other's bangs were flat on top (the ultimate no-no in the '80s.)

My husband, on the other hand, had two brothers. They had BB gun wars, forced slug-ingesting, mud fights, and spit-sucking torture (don't ask -- it's gross). They were always getting hurt. Quite a difference from my youth. I barely recall ever getting dirt on my clothes. (Maybe if Barbie took a ride through the mud with her Jeep...)

In fact, the only time I was seriously injured was when my male cousins came to visit one Thanksgiving. We were goofing around on our couch when one of them jumped on my arm. SNAP! My sisters and I were so proud of my cast. A real injury! Nobody ever gets a real live arm cast from the Silent Treatment.

Boys and girls are just innately different. Of course, you get the sensitive boys and the tomboy girls, but from the beginning, they are just different. I think that each requires different parenting tactics.

My friend, Shelley, has one 3-year-old girl, Sadie. When she is around, I hear Shelley say things like, "Please don't throw the Russian nesting dolls. Thank you." "Let's not run." Stuff like that. I haven't seen too many injuries with Sadie. My friend, Mindy, on the other hand, has two little boys, ages one and two. When she is around, I hear "Not in the eye! Not in the eye!" "For Pete's sake, just don't hit him in the head." and "Come down from there!" Their parenting goals are very different. Shelley tries to ward off any impending scuffs, whereas Mindy mainly tries to keep the damage to a minimum.

I don't know if God will ever bless us with a little boy. If so, it will be quite a change for me. I never had brothers or nephews or such. But I'm sure that I'll figure out what to do… even if it's just preventing a few slugs from getting eaten.

DotComic: Addicted to baby products

By Ellen

When I was first pregnant with my daughter, my husband sat me down. "Honey," he said, "Try to refrain from the buying of the baby products. You will have several baby showers. The baby has two desperate grandmothers with disposable income. You have lots of friends who will loan you baby stuff. Please try to control yourself." "Okay," I said.

Well, that lasted about a week. I'll admit it, I am a baby products junkie. I bought my first baby sleeper before I even met my husband (a tie-dyed sleeper from a hippie friend of mine.) By the time my husband and I started "trying," I had already collected an arsenal of baby clothes. Between my frequent trips to Toys-R-Us, my two baby showers and all the loaners from my friends, my daughter was swimming in "stuff." (And furthermore, as soon as my husband laid eyes on his beloved daughter, he was out buying her a wipes warmer before cold wipes could touch her bum.)

But in the six months since her birth, I have discovered that a great deal of it is unnecessary. Anna's butt would have survived cold wipes. Her development would not have been stunted by not having a Johnny Jump Up. There is probably no difference between a used garage sale swing and the Oceans Aquarium Cradle Swing (the "Rolls Royce" of the baby swing world) that her Auntie bought her.

However, let me tell you, any contraption, such as that Johnny Jump Up, that gives me a few minutes reprieve to go pee by myself, well, I'd spend the money on it all over again.

DotComic: Caveman Ultrasounds

By Ellen

We found out that my daughter was a girl when I was 17 weeks pregnant, not that I didn't try my best to figure the sex out at every appointment before that. At my eight-week appointment, I was squinting at the ultrasound monitor, asking, "Okay, doc, what do you think?  A penis right there?"

"Ellen," he said, "That is the entire fetus."  Oops. 

I know that some families choose not to find out the sex of their child, and I honestly admire their tenacity. I couldn't do it, though. I'm too nosy. 

I liked finding out that Anna was a girl ahead of time. For some reason, I felt more bonded to her. I picked a name, I started buying pink clothes -- but mostly, it gave me a sense of relief that, whatever was coming my way, there was one less surprise. I had no idea what childbirth was going to be like, or breastfeeding, or motherhood. But I could at least picture my little Cracker Jack prize a bit better. 

If we are able to have another baby someday, maybe I'd be able to wait until the birth to find out the sex. But knowing me, I highly doubt it.

DotComic debuts

Starting today, you'll find a new, exclusive cartoon each Friday on DotMoms. The cartoons about life as a parent are created by a very talented mom blogger, who writes and illustrates The Reign of Ellen. Meet Ellen, in her own words:

I am a 30-year-old mom to Anna, born in February of 2005. Before my daughter was even a twinkle in my eye, I dreamed of becoming a stay-at-home mom. I had all the usual maternal reasons (you know, wanting to make homemade Play-doh and wipe boogie noses), but I also thought it would free me up to cartoon in all my "spare" time. Ha. I'm discovering that there isn't any spare time, but sometimes I manage to squeak out a cartoon after she's asleep.

I have a fabulous husband, who encourages me greatly. I love making people laugh, or at least raise their eyebrows a bit. I also love to help others work through issues that I struggled with, namely depression, infertility and breastfeeding. I hope you enjoy my work.

E-mail Ellen and let her know you enjoy her work. And check back next Friday for a new DotComic.