WIC vs. MAD

I don't qualify for WIC.

Which is, for some reason, absolutely shocking to other parents my age.  When I tell them that I don't get WIC their eyes widen, jaws drop a little, and sometimes they manage to utter, "Huh...?"  They can't seem to figure out how Jellybean and I aren't living in a cardboard box behind Burger King without government assistance. 

My family falls in the unfortunate category of making juuuust too much money to qualify for WIC, but also juuuust too little money to have anything left over after rent.  However, having no brothers or sisters, I do qualify for MAD.  What is MAD, you ask?  Mom And Dad.

That's right.  My parents buy Jellybean's baby formula.  Without me ever having to ask.  Although I am extremely grateful, I am also a little embarrassed.  When I come home from work and see a case of Simliac sitting on my doorstep I experience mixed emotions of relief and shame.  It isn't easy to admit that I can't take care of my daughter all on my own. 

"We don't do it for you, we do it for Jellybean," my mom tells me.  But I should be doing it for Jellybean. 

It's always the guilt that gets us, isn't it, moms?  I put so much effort into making sure that she gets good nutrition, regular doctor checkups, lots of love, quality time with me, quality time with all grandparents, and everything else all while holding down a full time job--and I will float my boat and say that I'm doing a damn good job.  But at the end of the day, I still need help.  By myself, I am unable to provide her with formula, a college fund, or even a father who cares enough to spend a little time with her.

So, I still need help.  I know how lucky I am to have parents like mine.  I know how loved I am.  You never realize quite how much your parents love you until you become one.  I look at Jellybean with so much love there aren't even words for it and think,  Wow.  This is how much my mom loves me...  So I suck it up and I accept the free formula.  They're doing it for Jellybean.  And, even if they don't say so, they enjoy being able to take care of me in this way.  Because that's what MAD is all about.

Motherhood: What Not To Do

Ever since I was a kid--even really young like six or seven years old--I had the idea of keeping journal or a running list of things that I didn't want to do to my children when they were older.  Even at that young of an age, I realized that my parents had long forgotten what it was like to be seven years old.  I knew (because they told me so often) that a lot of times they were doing something that I would understand better when I would become an adult and parent.  Still, I thought they could do a better job at helping me to understand things or trying to be a bit more fair.

I am disappointed in myself for never starting that list.  I think it would really help.  However, I am still very much in touch with my inner-child.  I have been told it is because I am still a child myself.  Whatever the reason, I am not ashamed to admit that my T.V. is usually on Nickelodeon, even when my daughter is in bed.  I cannot wait until my daughter is old enough to enjoy coloring, making beadie-buddies (does anyone else remember those?) and Play-Doh.  Call me immature, but I think these attributes are going to make me a better mom in the future.

So here is the beginning of the list, from what I can remember thinking about as a child.

Notes To Future Amie:  What Not To Do With Raising Children

1. Don't laugh at their hairstyles or clothing choices, even when they're four or five and it looks really, really ridiculous.  I tried to braid my bangs when I was a child and my aunt and cousins laughed at my new do.  I was so embarrassed and can remember thinking that just because I was a little kid didn't mean that I couldn't understand when I was being made fun of.
2. Approach the subject of crushes very seriously and do not tease or make a huge deal out of it.  It is especially embarrassing for a daughter to be teased about a crush by her father, and for a son by his mother.
3. If I truly cannot keep a secret from my children's father, then don't promise them that I won't tell him.  Honesty should be the best policy for all ages.
4. Don't lie.  Ever.  Be accountable for every word that comes out of my mouth.  Even if I have to tell them that I will explain more after I gather my thoughts or when they are older.
5. Do not show signs of a low self-esteem in front of my children.  Being humble is one thing, but calling myself ugly in front of little ones who look just like me is not going to do much for their confidence.
6. Sometimes kids really do forget why they did something.  Don't call a child a liar unless I have proof.
7. My parents did not give me any chores at all.  Ever.  It has made me a very lazy adult.  I can not, for the life of me, keep a clean house.  There is a happy medium between making a child a workhorse and giving them no chores at all.
8. Don't assume that just because I did something bad as a teenager that my teens will do the same.
9. Don't tell a teenager that they have nothing to be stressed out about.  Schoolwork, after-school jobs, social issues, and trying to figure out your entire future is extremely stressful.  Just because they don't have bills to pay and children to take care of does not mean they are actually worry-free. 
10. For teenagers, it is also very stressful to feel like an adult but to be under some one's thumb constantly.  Imagine, as an adult, someone monitoring my work performance, spiritual performance, relationships, friendships, nutrition, sports, etc. etc. etc.  While necessary, it is a genuine pain in the ass and I, as a parent, should be sensitive to that.

I know I had a lot more items I have thought about over the years.  I will try to remember to add them as I think of them.

Does This Baby Make Me Look Fat?

Yesterday I was super excited that a friend was coming to visit.  Most of my friends have moved away (temporarily, I hope!) for college and can only come into town a couple of weeks out of the year.  Buttercup is one of them. 

Last night, as we were gabbing on about this and that, she said the most dreadful sentence I've ever heard:
"So, Amie, have you lost any of your baby weight?"

WHAT?!?!?

I will have you know, dear blogging world, that I have lost at least half of that weight.  I am even wearing pre-pregnancy pants right now.  Who cares if they are so tight they look painted on?  They're on, damn it! 

Regardless, this was a wake up call.  Even though I have lost quite a bit of the weight, it is probably a good time to start looking into dropping the last twenty or so pounds.  I feel like if I don't lose it by Jellybean's first birthday then I might never lose it.  And people are going to stop looking at me like the chubby girl who just had a baby and start looking at me as the fat girl who had a baby and stayed fat.

So here are my goals:
a)  Figure out how much I weigh.
b)  Figure out how much I need to lose to get back to 145.
c)  Do it.
d)  Wait for Butterncup to get pregnant and await apology.

And Speaking of Nutrition

Well, even though I have been asking about nutritious foods for my daughter... my parents decided to spoil her anyway with a creamstick.  I mean, what are grandparents for, right?  As aggrivating as it is to have parents that don't follow your rules, it did make some interesting photos...

"How was the donut, Jellybean?"

"Ohmigosh it was SOOOOO good!"

"But ohhhh I shouldn't have eated da whoooole thing..."

Nutrition Schmutrition

Jellybean's nine-month check-up was on Friday.  I am very proud to announce that Dr. Gray says she's in her twelve-month milestones already!  Insert smug, braggy momma smile here.

I didn't have an encyclopedia's worth of questions this round, just one simple inquiry about Jellybean's nutrition.  As in, what the heck am I supposed to feed this kid?  It seems Pureed Peas and Fruit Medley (or Fruit Melody as my mom calls it lol) just aren't cutting it anymore.  I thought that I was doing pretty well ripping up grilled cheese sandwiches and mac-n-cheese for her, but apparently preservatives are lurking in the delicious cheese just waiting to attack my baby's health at the first chew...

Those microwavable Gerber Graduates Lil Entres aren't doing the trick either.  Although Puffs and Lil Crunchies are still favorites, child can not live on snacks alone.  And isn't a strictly snacky diet just asking for bad habits later in life? 

So I ask, all three of you who read this blog on non-You-Capture-days, what is a momma to do?  Are frozen peas and canned green beans okay, or do they have to be fresh?  Will homemade mac-n-cheese using grocery store ingredients make the cut, or is it out of the question all together?

Onesies - A Great Shower Activity

Our baby shower was a year ago today!  Instead of those lame baby shower games that nobody likes, we had a pretty fun activity that was interactive, kept the kids busy, and gave Baby a sweet keepsake.  I bought a few packs of different sizes plain, white onesies and some fabric markers.  Everyone got to design a onesie for the baby to wear. 

I have tried to take pictures of Jellybean wearing these hand-decorated onesies, but there have been some incidents--Jellybean growing too big before I got the chance for her to wear it, Jellybean soaking the onesie in runny poo, etc.--and I have not gotten pictures of ALL of them. 

Here are a few, and it's always something fun to keep in mind for your next baby shower :)

This NB size is the one I designed.  Notice the phrase "Potty Like A Rock Star" written on the butt, lol.  No, I am not super-creative.  I actually ripped off this slogan from a pair of pants I saw at Dollar General.



This fabulous example of "modern art" was done by my three-year-old cousin Eva.  Not bad for a three-year-old, considering that those fabric markers are difficult to write with.  You can see on the back where she tried to write her name.



Another NB onesie, but whoever designed it didn't write their name on the tag, so I don't know who did it.

0-3 months.  My cousin is very artistic!  The date below the duck is the date of the baby shower.

 0-3 months designed by my husband.  As you probably guessed, he is a Chevy guy.  Sorry, Ford fans, you can see where you rank.

 3-6 months by my dad.

 3-6 months from a girlfriend of mine .

 Another ducky onesie from my cousin.  She must have been into ducks that day.

(3-6 months)

THE END!

(0-3 months by my husband lol)

I Find You Offensive For Finding Me Offensive

There are so many things that you truly don't understand until you become a mother.  For instance, how easily offended we are by the most innocent of comments made by others.

I've talked before about the stigma this culture has on young moms.  According to most of my friends and coworkers, you have to be absolutely off-of-your-rocker, banging-your-head-into-the-wall, out-of-your-mind crazy to actually want to have a child in your early twenties.  I haven't forgotten that Jellybean was an "OOPS baby," but an accident doesn't necessarily mean a mistake, right?  You wouldn't believe--or maybe you would--how many times people have asked me if I wish I had waited to had kids.  (I do not.)

"But, Amie, don't you find that there are certain challenges that come along with being a young mom?"

"Just the challenge of dealing with people who ask stupid questions..."

During a conversation with a coworker, she (is not yet a parent) said, "Well, obviously you wouldn't have chosen to be a mom at twenty-one."  Is it unreasonable to be offended by this?  I mean, isn't raising my daughter--therefore being a mom--my choice?

I remember when I was six or seven years old, I accidentally bumped the car parked next to ours with my mom's car door.  And the car owner was sitting in the car.  And she heard and saw everything.  She didn't get out of the car, she didn't even roll down the window, all she did was glare at me through the windshield.  My mom FREAKED. OUT.  on this completely innocent lady.  I pity the fool who looks at her child the wrong way...

One thing about being a parent, is we get the chance to be on both sides of this matter.  More than likely, you have been on the offending side of the conversation.  More than likely, feeling like an ass.

In some cases, I have even been offended when another mother was offended by me... I know, shut up.  My friend's daughter was almost two at the time and she slapped my newborn in the face with a baby doll bottle.  On instinct, I grabbed her hand just before she hit my daughter again and said, "NO," resulting in tears from her.  Her mother--who, might I add, watched the entire thing without saying a word--was offended by the tone of voice I used towards her daughter... are you kidding me?

I wonder exactly what it is about childbirth that turns this...

...into this...