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I'm sorry, Mom

Dear Mom,

I need to apologize. There is something I said a long time ago that haunts me to this day.

One late afternoon when I was in high school, I informed you I wouldn't be home for dinner because I was going to be out with my boyfriend. As any mother would, you got a bit annoyed that I had failed to tell you until that late in the day. We got into a fight, and that's when I said something (in my most snotty teenage voice) that I remember close to 20 years later:

"I am so sorry if making dinner is the highlight of your day."

There I got it out. Do you remember it? In a way, I hope not. I actually said that to you -- the woman who stayed at home with four children (the first two children being identical twins born when you were 21), the woman who had a home-cooked meal on our table every evening and the house clean at all times, and the woman who had creative inspirations and professional abilities but always chose to be with her kids.

Am I an awful person or what?

As I have aged, I have regretted making that statement and I have never forgotten it. Sure I was an idiotic teenager who was capable of saying very mean things, but I really wish I could insert something into every teenager's brain to make them understand what their parents do for them ... and tell them why they shouldn't say hurtful things. I am a mother now and I get it (and I will probably "get it" in spades from my children as payback).

Not too long ago, and early on in motherhood for me, when I thought about that statement I felt badly because I assumed having dinner together may have been the highlight of your day. Your whole family was home and sitting around the dining room table and you hadn't seen our faces all day. I imagined that was the reason you were so hurt.

But in the last few weeks I have thought about it more. And a lightbulb went off. Maybe making dinner and having your family together (while a good thing) was not the highlight of your day. Maybe it was your job and you couldn't wait until everyone got into bed -- much the same way I feel at 5 p.m. every night. Maybe you just wanted to get into bed yourself and watch something mindless so you could get a decent night's sleep before the insanity of four kids began anew in the morning.

Until now, I never thought that could have been the case. You provided the illusion (if it was one) that you enjoyed doing everything for us, day in and day out. I never felt like you wanted to be in another place. And for that, I thank you-- and remind myself how to act around my children. But Mom, I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry.

I love you.

Kristin

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline, and one son, Max.

Ten tips for new moms: It's good, it's bad, and it's ugly

By Kristin

So, you're pregnant? You've probably read the girlfriend's guides, the "what to expect"s, and a slew of other pregnancy books. But what about after the delivery? What happens then? What happens to you and your life?

After having two children (my youngest is now four months old), I feel I am somewhat more qualified to talk about the reality of those early months. If you are expecting, this is not meant to scare you or depress you about what's ahead. Your case may be very different than mine, but my feeling is that it is always healthier to know what's in store: a magical, awesome, and amazing time that can also be very hard, tiring, and stressful.

So here are my lessons learned.

1. You may or may not be madly in love with your baby upon first seeing him/her. I was madly in "awe" and had a major need to protect my babies in a fierce way, but like most true love, I didn't start to really feel it until I got to know both of them. Don't feel guilty one way or the other. The love you develop for your child will be like no other and it will happen based on both your and baby's personalities.

2. You will probably have a major or minor panic attack after bringing baby home. The confusion of people being there, your house probably being a disaster, the reality that this baby now lives with you, and the exhaustion and stress from the whole birthing process will add up to a bit of a freak out. I felt this with both my kids. I felt like I needed to get out of the house and walk in the cold air, very fast for a long time.

3. The first few weeks will be a blur of doctor's appointments and possibly tests. Once again, you may have a different experience, but with both of my kids we had little issues (like jaundice and a teeny tiny sacral dimple) that I really wasn't prepared for. Both issues were resolved easily and were only dangerous in rare circumstances, but I had no clue. This meant lots of extra bloodwork, ultrasounds, or a phototherapy blanket for jaundice (light blanket), and many interactions with those in the medical community who didn't understand that when they said, "In rare cases, this can cause...," the new mother in me freaked out and cried.

4. Baby skin is not like what you see in the commercials. We have had baby acne, eczema, and rashes of every kind -- "no neck" rashes, drool rashes, diaper rashes, and new lotion rashes. I feel like I am in a constant battle to make the baby's skin look presentable.

5. Having a baby may not strengthen your relationship with your spouse (at first). My husband and I are still in lots of love, but having children is tough on a marriage. Maybe you will have a different experience, but I spent a lot of time being very angry at my husband during the early infancy periods with both kids. He just couldn't understand how hard it all was. I was breastfeeding every two or three hours, 24 hours a day, for the first few months, and he had the nerve to complain about his sex life? Or the fact that I didn't want him to leave the office and go get drinks with coworkers when I hadn't spoken to an adult all day long?

6. Sleep deprivation may continue for a while. My youngest slept through the night for the first time this week. Doctors will probably tell you that sleeping through the night is really only considered sleeping about six hours at a stretch. To me, that is not sleeping through the night. When mine slept from 7:30 p.m. until 5:30 a.m., that's when I woke up actually feeling rested (because like most of you, I don't go to bed at 7:30 p.m.). I was lucky with my first -- she slept through the night at 11 weeks. But it might not be that way and you should be prepared. And if you are breastfeeding, and thus the only one waking up with baby all night long for months at a time, this can be one of those "anger points." See number 5.

7. Breastfeeding is hard. I breastfed my daughter for the first year and I am four months into it with my son. It is hard. It is not necessarily natural. I had latch on problems with both, my daughter would nurse from one side only, and my son has had a hard time with my letdown being too fast/reflux and will only nurse in the Baby Bjorn while I am walking around and bouncing him. In the first few weeks your nipples are raw and you will feel afterpains (which are the result of your uterus contracting down to its normal size) every time you nurse. The nipple pain will make your toes curl. But if you take it one day at a time, it gets easier. It does. But it is not easy to start and you should definitely not feel bashful if you need to see a lactation specialist. Try that before giving up.

8. Being at home all day is hard. It is hard to get out of the house and sometimes harder to stay there. In the early weeks, it will take you until lunchtime to get ready to do anything. By the time baby is fed, you take a shower, get the baby dressed, feed him again, and eat something, the day may be winding down. But try to get out. Even if it is a trip to Target. It is good for you to see that the world is still out there and it is even better to look at yourself with some makeup on.

9. The change in laundry will be exponential. Even after being used to three people in my household, the addition of a baby added a tremendous amount of laundry. Washcloths, burping cloths, jammies, onesies, blankets, towels, outfits, bibs -- they are all very little, but add up to a lot. You will have the washer and dryer going all day, every day. And breastfed babies are prone to huge diaper explosions that never allow you to know if their current outfit is a sure thing. If you want them to wear something special somewhere, put it on about three seconds before that event. You might have a chance.

10. Your new hobbies will be showering, brushing your teeth, and clipping your fingernails. It is sad but true. Your baby will be your new world. Everything will revolve around baby's schedule in the beginning. Once you feed the baby, the clock starts ticking and you better get your butt in gear or you will not exit the premises until after the next feeding three hours later. If you are at home and your husband is going to work, do everything in your power to take a shower before he leaves. Even if you go back to bed and wake up with bedhead. At least you are clean, and that is a good thing.

And the biggest lesson is this: There's always another stage. One will be outgrown, only to be replaced by something else. Once they are mature enough to sleep through the night, they start to teethe and are awakened by that. Once you finally get them nursing well, they start to notice their surroundings and will get distracted by the drop of a pin (let alone another sibling on the premises). Once they are old enough to get themselves dressed, they start to pick out the most outlandish outfits you could ever create and throw fits if they can't wear them (BTW, give up, let them look like fools).

It is such a blur, I already feel like I am forgetting my son's newborn face, even as I carefully study the changes occurring every day. The change is so gradual, it is difficult to see stages. So promise me this: Don't spend too much time worrying about the minor details -- like the house being a mess or the fact that you haven't taken a shower in more days than one should ever count. Just try to keep looking at that baby and trying to remember every detail. The good, the bad, and the ugly. All of it.

Try to keep a journal for you and the baby, take lots of pictures, blog if you wish, and as my daughter says, "Take a picture in your mind, Mommy." My first baby will be starting kindergarten this year. Her first five-year segment with us is over. We have about one more period of five years before she probably will start thinking her parents are crazy. To be followed by one more when she hates our guts.

Treasure every minute. Everyone always says it. But they speak the absolute truth. I'm going to try, too.

That is, after I take a shower, feed the baby, get him dressed, pick my daughter up from preschool, feed her lunch, feed the baby again, take him to his checkup, stop at the grocery store, fold the laundry, make dinner, give them both a bath, feed the baby, get both kids to bed, put my comfy clothes on, fall into bed, and tell my husband we can't have sex tonight.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline, and one son, Max.

Please remind me that breast is best

By Kristin

Hello, my name is Max. (Hi Max!) And I am the first child on the face of the planet who prefers the bottle over the breast. You see, I was born back in September and the breasts? Oh yeah, I liked them. For the first several weeks, they were pretty great. But then, something happened. Maybe I started to really grow and got really hungry. Maybe Mommy's milk started flowing too fast. Maybe something in her diet started to bother me. Whatever it is, I am not so thrilled with those breasts any more.

I like to nurse for about five minutes. Just until Mommy thinks, "Hey, this is going well." Then I usually get a big burp. After we deal with that, I have two other little burps, and on the third? Well, I always spit up on the third burp. Just a little bit. But at that point, I usually like to begin howling. Sometimes I just become disinterested and start to smile or look around. Or sometimes to mix it up a little, I just fall asleep. When I wake, I completely forget I was on the breast and scream as if I have no clue where I am or what I'm doing there.

But, I never, and I repeat never, get back on the breast after those first five minutes. Until Mommy changes position or forces me. We usually walk around a little bit and then switch rooms or chairs or whatever she thinks might actually help (and sometimes I throw her a bone and actually nurse then, just so she gets this glimmer of hope that she might have found a solution.) She actually moved a green La-Z-Boy from the basement into her bedroom because I nursed well in that for a few days. Of course, now I pretty much refuse it completely.

I generally require total quiet to have a good nursing session. So that 4-year-old girl who kisses me and says "Hi Buddy!" all day long? Well, you need to keep her quiet. Good luck with that.

Sometimes I am so upset I need my pacifier. I suck like mad on that and sometimes I let Mommy pull the bait and switch; as she pulls out the pacifier, I take the breast and nurse for a few minutes. But then I just squirm and bob on and off. You know, to sort of drive her crazy. We are usually about 20 minutes into the feeding by this point and I have usually nursed about three minutes total.

Sometimes she rubs my gums because they are starting to really hurt. I like that a lot. After that, I will sometimes nurse for a few minutes.

The key is to get about 15 minutes of good feeding, and then I will nurse for a solid 45 minutes.

But I like to make Mommy jump through lots of hoops to get there. She has found that feeding me before I get ravenous helps sometimes, that feeding me when I am rested helps sometimes, and that different positions help sometimes. Gas drops helped for a while. Feeding me standing up in front of our loud fan helps, but I suspect that isn't too comfortable for Mommy (you should have seen the positions she had to nurse me in when she had Mastitis... now that was comedy).

I like to nurse lying down sometimes, but please don't start me there. I have to move into that position after about 10 or 15 minutes of nursing (which takes about 45 minutes to accomplish). That's when I am ready to relax. And I suspect by that point, Mommy is ready for a nap too.

Nothing is a cure-all. She has gone off dairy, eggs, nuts, and now wheat, thinking that I might have food allergies like my sister (who, by the way, never had issues like this). But nothing seems to really help, and she is complaining about eating Rice Krispies with Rice Milk for breakfast every day.

I do, however, like the bottle. If she pumps me a bottle when I am at my fussiest and refusing to eat, I will usually take that like a champ. You know, the Avent kind? That's the good stuff. But Mommy is part stubborn and part lazy, so she will refuse to bottle feed me. Something about bonding, she says, but I suspect she just doesn't want to sterilize bottles and use the breast pump.

Now that I am two months old, I should probably be figuring this out. At least, that's what Mommy keeps saying. I have a feeling if I don't, she will probably be driven to a bottle of a different kind.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline, and one son, Max.

My hierarchy of needs

By Kristin

I remember having a very well-intentioned, but very bad high school health teacher. I will never forget our lesson on Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. Imagine a poor to mediocre basketball coach trying to explain how one progresses through each of Maslow's stages. He managed through the basic needs (physiological, safety, love and belonging, and even esteem) so a class of 16-year-olds could somewhat follow what he was saying. Or they weren't paying attention, instead studying for their driver's education exams the next day. He made sense when conveying that it is pretty difficult to move forward in your life when you are hungry day in and day out. But when he got to the concept of self-actualization, he was dead in the water.

He danced his way around the topic, trying to explain that self-actualization was when you have essentially perfected yourself (not entirely accurate). He then told us that there was really only one thing you could do when you reached self-actualization. Hold on to your hats. He told us that if anyone ever got to that point, they might as well commit suicide, because life couldn't get any better.

Right.

I realized even then what a terrible misrepresentation that comment was (probably why I remember it so clearly) ... and beyond, what an entirely irresponsible thing that was to say to a class full of teenagers. Thank goodness most in the class were more interested in the fact that the mall just got "The Limited" or that the soccer coach was a jerk than they were about self-actualizing.

Aside from the argument about why we desperately need to attract and pay quality teachers, why have I been thinking about self-actualization?

Well, I think the other night I reached self-actualization as a parent.

My four and a half-year-old daughter just seemed to miraculously get it. We were cleaning up after dinner and all of a sudden, she started doing all of things I have been harping about and longing for her to do. (At 38 weeks pregnant, bending over to pick up toys and repeating myself 17 times is getting very old.)

The first thing she did was to go to the basement and pick up her train set "so Mommy wouldn't have to do it." OK. She then proceeded to pick up all of her toys and then asked (get this) "Mommy, do you want me to get your slippers for you?" Uhhh. Yes. But who are you and what have you done with my daughter? After that, she took herself upstairs and got herself completely ready for bed, without me even having to lift a toothbrush. She went to bed easily and was sweet and manageable and helpful and loving. Most nights we see only one trait from that list.

In that moment, I thought of the self-actualization concept according to my old health teacher. That night, I felt like I had done everything right and I couldn't get any better as a parent. She was perfect. I was perfect. Life couldn't get any better.

Thank goodness I didn't decide to off myself based on poor high school instruction. Because clearly I needed to save that option for the following day, when everything returned to normal.

Apparently, self-actualization for a parent is a very temporary condition, so it would be very unfortunate to do anything permanent about it. Just a word of advice if you were a member of the BHS Class of '90.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.

I'm good enough. I'm smart enough. And gosh darnit, people like me.

By Kristin

Who among us does not question our abilities and choices as a mother? I generally schedule in time for self doubt in between making coffee every morning and sweeping up the kitchen at the end of the day. Self doubt seems to go along with modern motherhood just as much as store bought apple pie, youth soccer, Paxil, and playgroups.

My husband brought up an interesting point the other day: maybe it's not so much about the "mommy wars" as it is about a "war on motherhood." Because we, as mothers, are not battling against each other. It seems more like everyone else is waging war against us -- our decisions, our choices, and thus, our abilities.

What brought up that point was a recent recommendation that breastfeeding mothers completely abstain from alcoholic beverages while nursing. That concept raises particular ire in me because at eight months pregnant, I am looking forward to a nice glass of wine almost as much as seeing the baby. Okay, so maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. Or maybe not.

The reasoning is the same as it is in pregnancy: since we have no idea what the safe amount is, you should abstain completely. Never mind that our mothers imbibed occasionally while pregnant even (GASP!) and I think we are all doing okay. Never mind that my daughter is 4-years-old and I safely breastfed her for the first year of her life, while consuming very moderate amounts of alcohol. A glass of wine here. A light beer there. And okay, okay, the occasional "pump and dump." But she is still very bright, sociable, and well-adjusted -- and doesn't seem to have any strange twitches or anything.

As my husband and I talked about it, we came to the conclusion that mothers (and parents in general) were being bombarded with these "damned if you do, damned if you don't" issues. And what does it all lead to? A war on every decision we make and a tremendous amount of self doubt.

On one hand, everyone says you need to breastfeed. On the other, don't do it in public where someone might be offended by the sight of half of your unclothed breast. And certainly don't expect your employer to make any special accommodations for you. Don't expect your insurer to cover the $300 breast pump you need. Oh, and now, don't think about relaxing with a small glass of wine at the end of one of those maddening, exhausting days of early babyhood.

At least don't think about doing it unless you want to feel tremendously guilty. It's no wonder we are stressed to our breaking points... working vs. staying at home, part time vs. full time, daycare vs. at home care, breast vs. bottle, vaccinating vs. not vaccinating, cloth vs. disposable, television allowing vs. television banning, activity scheduling vs. "letting kids be kids." The issues and the experts are at war with each other dealing with the things that define our daily existences. And we are just little pawns in the middle of it all trying to do the right thing for our kids.

But no more. I am a good mother. No matter how much self doubt I may have, I know I am a good mother.

I am a staying at home, consulting at home, working at home, breastfeeding, vaccinating, disposable diaper using (but thinking of switching), television allowing, wine drinking mother who loves her daughter, and soon to be son, with every fiber of her being. I respect science and progress as much as the next person, but I refuse to allow experts, so-called experts, researchers, government, mass media, corporate interests/self-interests, and busy body strangers to continue to insert all of this doubt and guilt into my mind. I will continue to listen to what they have to say, but they will no longer keep me up at night. I am doing my best and I am guided most of all by my gut instincts and the love I have for my children.

That's the best I can do.  So there.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.

In the News: An AWOL soldier in the Mommy Wars

By Kristin

I really tried to read Linda Hirshman's piece in the Washington Post without bias. I really wanted to understand where she was coming from after inciting near riots by arguing that women should not give up their careers to raise children. She summarizes her piece in the American Prospect by saying:

"...Women who quit their jobs to stay home with their children were making a mistake. Worse, I said that the tasks of housekeeping and child rearing were not worthy of the full time and talents of intelligent and educated human beings.They do not require a great intellect, they are not honored and they do not involve risks and the rewards that risk brings."

She focuses the piece on how angry she made the stay-at-home mom community... and in the same turn, how she received little feedback from working mothers who were happy that someone had finally validated their choices.

I really tried to identify. But I couldn't. She had already tried to pigeon-hole me in a stay at home mommy category -- which I am sure she imagines as scheduling playdates on iCal and focusing very little on my own intellectual development.

Call me a quitter. I did quit my job after three plus years of nervous breakdowns trying to find the right balance. The right balance between working in the office and working from home. The right balance between how much breastmilk I could possibly pump and how much time I could be sitting in meetings. The right balance between safe childcare and time spent with my baby.

I never found it. I had bosses who didn't understand the notion of a female professional who pumped her breasts while they were pounding their chests. I had to give up my management title, take a pay cut, and fight for my work-from-home time. And childcare, as we all know, is a wild roller coaster with a tendency to make you throw up on a daily basis. I had babysitters who didn't show up or decided they were going back to school and daycares who didn’t respect my daughter's food allergies. I found no balance, and my sanity was getting crushed day-in, day-out in the fulcrum of that seesaw.

So I quit. But I never gave up my professional outlets. I continued to consult and have focused a lot of energy on writing, while taking care of my now four-year-old daughter.  Now, granted my writing primarily occurs in the blogosphere, something that Hirshman doesn't seem to respect as evidenced here:

"I heard from women, all right. But not from as many female CEOs …as mommy bloggers, out there in cyberspace documenting their lives for one another."

Ouch.

But, Linda (can I call you Linda?), someone has to raise the children. When we choose to have a child, we are taking on a responsibility to that child -- and no one helps us with this responsibility. A responsibility that means I will love her and care for her and educate her. Yes, reading Hop on Pop ten times in a row and wiping her sticky face and cleaning up a bag of spilled marbles is probably "below" my intellectual potential. But, I'm sorry, it's still part of my responsibility. I am truly happy for those women who find quality, loving care which enables them to continue to fight the battles in the workplace. I guess I am an AWOL soldier in the fight to change all of this inequity.  But I am a human being with only so much capacity to fight the fight.   

She finishes up by saying, "I guess working women are too busy at work to blog about their lives and are already on their way to their jobs when "Good Morning America" puts me on at 8 a.m." 

I am a working woman. I consult and write while my daughter is at preschool or asleep or playing intently. I blog when I feel like it to support and feel supported by the larger community of mothers. And I am usually feeding my daughter breakfast or shuttling her to school while GMA is on. Sorry, I generally don't get too much TV time.

Somehow I don't feel like I have abandoned my potential.  Somehow I feel like I have never challenged it in such a huge way.

For an extended version of this post, please visit Imperfect Mommy.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.

Cord blood dilemma

by Kristin

Before I walked into my OB-GYN's office the other day, I was relatively sure of one thing. And for me, that's saying a lot. I was convinced, despite the costs, that we were going to privately bank the cord blood of our second child. It was just becoming an option when I was pregnant with our daughter and I simply didn't know enough about it at that point. But since then, I have read more and seen more people doing it -- so I was convinced we would do it too. 

The potential upsides are so tempting. If your child gets ill with a variety of disorders, the stem cells from the cord blood could be used for a bone marrow transplant. And not only could it treat the donor child, it could also be used for treating a sibling or a family member. But the key word is could. It is also very expensive and is driven by commercial entities. The total costs, depending on which company you choose, is in the thousands of dollars. There is an initial fee plus annual storage fees.   

So when I mentioned that I thought we were going to do it to my obstetrician, he looked down at the floor and sort of smirked like he had heard it a thousand times before. He went on to tell us that he didn't recommend it (and neither does the American Academy of Pediatrics) because we don't really know that it is any more effective than obtaining blood from public cord blood banks, or current treatments already available. Plus, you really don't have any guarantees that the sample would actually work when you need it to. In short, he felt it was a money making endeavor for those doing it and that we simply don't know enough about it to recommend it given the high costs. In shorter short, he felt the companies were preying on pregnant couples at a time when they were emotionally vulnerable. 

But the tragedy envisioner that I am, I feel like even if there is a chance it might work if something happened, shouldn't I do it? How awful would I feel if something happened and I hadn't banked the cord blood when I had the chance? As mothers, we all know that the only fear that matters in our lives is that of losing a child. If I can mitigate that risk at all, shouldn't I do it? Or am I letting fear cloud my decision making?

So, I am putting out an all points bulletin to the moms community. Did you bank your child's cord blood? What was your reasoning for or against?  Expert and non-expert opinons are welcome. Help me make this decision. 

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.

From zero to seventy-five in five minutes

by Kristin

Does it ever seem like it's all just made up?

On Monday, I will turn 34. Yes, 34. I have to habitually subtract my birth year from the current year to confirm. (Wait, is it 2003 or 2004? Oh, that's right it's 2006). I am pregnant with child number two. Am I really a mom to even one?  Am I not still in high school stressing over some impossible quandary like ....? Umm, what did I even stress about then?  Now I am going to be a mother to two children.  And we have just found out that number two will be a son to balance out our four-and-a-half-year-old daughter. OK, I know I baked the birthday cakes, but when did she become an almost-kindergartener?

My husband, Cole, and I have officially been married ten years next month. But we have now known each other for twenty-four years. Huh? We have a house and two cars and bags of fertilizer in the garage and an understanding of when it is helpful to create a roux. We just bought a king size bed because we were starting to wake up sore and figured we might as well go king size for the middle of the night slumber parties with two kids. The two of us who used to sleep together in a single bed in our college dorms?  The king size is more like sleeping alone if the truth is to be told, but neither of us feels even remotely bad about that.

I suddenly have seven nieces and nephews -- and the weirdest part is that my baby brother (who I remember coming home from the hospital and toddling around and marching off to kindergarten) is now a father himself. Isn't he still standing in front of the family television blocking my view of some Cassidine building a weather machine on General Hospital? And the first granddaughter of our family, Cassidy, is going to be ten years old. Her mommy stood by my side at the altar on the day we got married so pregnant we thought she was going to pop. And now she is on the verge of thinking that her aunt is weird and not cool and "can I please just go hang out in my bedroom?"

Even the damn cat is 15 years old. Cole and I got her as a kitten our sophomore year in college. If she were a child, we'd be talking about learners permits and driving lessons.  As it is, she's still just a nasty cat with very little tolerance for human beings. But 15 years old?

I remember at my mom's 50th birthday party, I had just turned 25 and my nephew Dillon was a newborn. At the time, I said "just imagine, in the same time it took me to get from birth to 25, Dillon will be 25 himself and I will be the 50 year old (and yes Mom, you will be 75)." But I was completely wrong. The time it takes for you to grow from zero to 25 might as well be thousands of years compared to the speed with which you progress through adulthood. 

I really don't mind the being old part. You are truly blessed with each year. But what I wouldn't give for one of those eternal summers of an eight-year-old. 

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.

Are you going to find out?

by Kristin

I have come to the near midpoint of my pregnancy and Monday will mark the big ultrasound. For many people, the overriding question is whether to find out the sex of the baby.  Not for us. My husband and I have felt strongly that we are "people who find out."  With our daughter, there was not a chance in Vegas that we weren't going to find out if possible.

And now, with number two, we feel the same way. My whole philosophy is that there are enough surprises in the whole process that I would take one less thing to obsess over. It's sort of like the people who have outdoor weddings versus those who don't. Do you obsess for a year about what the weather will be like or do you just have it inside?   

We got married inside.   

Now, I know that it would be cool to be surprised. But really how much of a surprise is it?  It's either a boy or a girl. Pretty known quantities. And I know that it's not foolproof.  I've heard all the warnings about the woman who decorated her nursery with flowers and bought all the pink clothes and then had a boy. (By the way, does anyone know that person in real life? Because I have never met her. Sometimes I think those stories are simply mother-in-law urban legends.)

My husband thinks it's a boy.  And my four-year-old daughter is convinced that it is a girl. For her, I think there is quite a lot of wishful thinking going on -- as a baby girl sounds much more interesting than some creature who potentially may not have taken the Disney Princess Appreciation Course.  And I think it might be a little wishful thinking on my husband's part also -- he is hoping against hope that there might be balance to the estrogen dominance in our household. He is looking for a creature who can appreciate the reasons why one must watch the same exact editions of ESPN's SportsCenter in a back to back fashion.

And me? I go both ways. On one hand, I would love to balance out the tables and have a boy for our family. But in another way, I know what to do with a girl.  I have all the clothes and toys boxed up in age increments in the basement (trust me, it doesn't look as organized as it sounds). I would love to reuse some of it. We have pretty much decided that two children is our limit, so if I don't have another girl, I will have to start giving it all away. But if I go with my gut, I am feeling like giving it all away isn't going to be necessary yet.  This pregnancy has been somewhat different than my first, but I still feel like it might be another girl.

Rather than obsessing for the next twenty weeks, I am just going to see if the kid cooperates and is reclining in full spread eagle come Monday.  It will all be secondary to simply making sure that the baby is healthy.  That is the only thing I truly obsess over.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.

Diary of a pregnant brain

By Kristin

My mind is blank. All the pre-pregnancy gray, spongy matter that used to fire off neurons or synapses is now old and dirty, unable to absorb anything. So, here's what I expect of my pregnant brain (and yours).

1. For the coming months, your brain is only open for simple tasks like judging how many Cheerios to put in a bowl so it doesn't overflow. You may be able to predict who will be in the bottom two of "American Idol" this week, but don't even think about trying to follow a disjointed half-coma/half-dream state episode on "The Sopranos."

2. Don't attempt to perform any complicated mathematics -- you know really hard things like doubling a recipe's ingredients. Because you will surely double some things and not others and forget which ones you have doubled and end up throwing the end result away as you utter expletives through the whole process. Nobody likes a pregnant woman with a gutter mouth.    

3. Stick to light and easy reading like your 4-year-old's leftover board books. You would be surprised how much entertainment value you can get from "Pat the Bunny." Oooh. Soft and furry. Oooh. Scratchy. That one gets me every time. 

4. Don't attempt to choose this time to understand the politics of the Middle East. While you may have some extra time on your hands, it is simply inadvisable and will most assuredly give you a headache that puts you to bed. Same goes for Sudoko or the Sunday New York Times Crossword. I have found the children's games on the back of the kids' menus at the big box eateries to be the best way to challenge a pregnant brain. 

5. If you find yourself in a room of your house with no clue why you are there, don't panic. Just leave. You will never remember why you went there in the first place, so give it up. An hour later when your daughter yells that she is ready to get out of the tub because it is cold, you'll remember.

6. Forgo all activities for your other children. They are simply too complicated. How is one supposed to remember that it is "bring a stuffed animal day" to gymnastics and "wear your beach clothes" at preschool? Alternatively, if you don't care what the other parents think of you, take your children to the activities in their normal clothes with no props and ignore the tears. Seriously, the parents and teachers would never talk about you behind your back.

7. Pudding is the new steak. Brain food has nothing to do with nutrient value anymore. Stick to foods that are soft, comforting, and don't require effort to swallow. And definitely avoid anything crunchy. All that noise inside your head will start to get on your nerves. 

8. Don't worry that you have no idea what the date is or what day of the week it is.  That is your body protecting you from realizing either A) how much longer you have to go without a glass of wine or B) how soon you are going to have to expel a human being from your body. Some things are better left unknown.

And with that, I think I need to lie down.

Kristin is married to her high school sweetheart and the mother of one daughter, Madeline.