Tag: mama

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Mom Life

Living with that Mom Belly

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A woman’s weight. You’d think we’d be over this obsession, this thought that it is more than her worth, that it makes up her worth, and yet…

There’s nothing like putting your body through an absolute wringer. Getting pregnant, watching as your belly swells and all kinds of crazy shit happens to your body. People compliment you, tell you how beautiful you look, how you’re absolutely ‘glowing’. They cherish your body, worship it for bringing life into this world. And then, the birth comes and a month or two passes and it’s no longer beautiful. It’s no longer worshipped for bringing life into this world. It’s viewed at as disgusting, as lazy, as the thought that the ‘wife’ let herself go, that her husband must be just beside himself with disappointment that his partner’s body has not ‘snapped back’ yet.

There is so much that happens to your body when you’re pregnant, it’s wild. From organs rearranging themselves to your uterus expanding, to your brain, basically, short-circuiting itself, it’s a wonder why anyone would call pregnancy, and the days after birth anything but extraordinary. The fact that my body makes actual food is insane. Bodies are like that. They’re mind-blowingly extraordinary and wonderful.

We need to start thinking of our bodies in those terms. Extraordinary. Wonderful. Think about what your body has done for you today. Think about everything it has done for you in the past, whether it’s getting pregnant and birthing a whole damn human, or you’re participating in a triathalon. Bodies. Are. Extraordinary.

Unfortunately, the mass media and social standards we have adhered to for decades thinks otherwise. Yes, there seems to be a pretty big shift in how bodies are viewed nowadays, as people become more comfortable in their skin, but we’re not there yet. We’re not in the place where we can sit and love and our bodies unconditionally, never worrying about stretch marks (which happen to everyone, whether or not you’ve gotten pregnant), never worrying about cellulite (anyone remember the early 2000s? As a teenager — a fucking teenager — I was using anti-cellulite cream on my thighs so as not to look dimply), never worrying about a soft belly and a belly button indent showing through a skirt, dress, or shirt.

We have fallen in love with women of all shapes and sizes, and yet, when it comes to our bodies after birth, we revert back to those stupid social standards we’ve obsessed over. We wonder why our body is so squishy, as our baby nestles happily in our arms, laying their soft little head on our soft big bodies. We look at our breasts and remember when they used to sit upright without any help at all, as our baby finds nourishment. We lament the stretch marks, coating ourselves in creams and butters and oils that tell us everything will be alright again, that our bodies will go back to exactly how they were before, even though they are nowhere near how they were before.

We don’t want to give our bodies time to heal, time to nourish our babies, time to nourish ourselves. We want to look how we did pre-pregnancy. We want to wear the clothes we used to fit, and want them to fit just as comfortable as before. We want our partners to lust after us like they did before, even if they are still lusting after us; we assume everything has changed. Because that guilt creeps in. That idea that we need to look a certain way. That this celebrity or that celebrity has the most perfect body you’ve ever seen, and she just gave birth three months ago, all the while forgetting that said celebrity has money to throw at every problem that arises, has help around the clock so they can work out until their bodies look how they think they should look, how media tells them to look, starting the vicious cycle all over again.

So where do we go from here? We stop hiding what our bodies look like. We start to love what our body has done for us, everything it can do. We stop attacking ourselves, attacking our bodies, just to look a certain way. We start realizing that a little bit of a mom belly isn’t the end of the world. When dad bods are trending, it’s time to take a step back and wonder if we’ve really just fallen off the map as people. Because if a dad can not have birthed a human being but still have a belly, still be a wonderful person, still love his children, and still be sexy to not only his partner, but to others? Then moms can, too.

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Mom Life

I Used to be a Person

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I used to be a person. I used to have my own dreams, my own desires, my own time, my own identity. I used to do things for myself, working hard on those dreams of mine, wondering if they would be attainable.

I’m now a mother and no longer an actual person. My time is eaten up by minding a — now — toddler, cleaning, cooking, taking care of everyone, and forgetting about myself. Even when you have all of the support in the world, it’s easy to get lost in it. Get stuck in motherhood and forget who you are, who you used to be. Because you’re not that person anymore. You’ve changed, some of it for the better, some of it not. There are so many things I’m happy for now, and yet, I’m missing the things that make me…me.

I used to be a person, but now I’m bogged down. I guess that’s the best way to describe it, because we know that other moms have done just fine and gone on to jobs and worked and achieved their dreams and goals. I try not to think about that, not just because it makes me feel like a shitty person overall for not doing everything so ‘perfectly’ or for getting so exhausted by day to day life, but because I still label those moms as career oriented women and moms separately. I still feel like my ‘regular life’ and my ‘mom life’ are two separate things needed to be kept apart so that both can flourish, and yet one of those quietly fades away.

The ‘mom life’ is always there because it is life, it is the mundane, the daily tasks, the behind-the-scenes work. There is the never-ending list of chores, the fun activities that take up most of my energy and day. The guilt that eats away whenever I do something for myself besides sleep.

It’s hard not to yearn for the person that I used to be. For the carefree life I used to live, for the freedom I had before everything revolved around one tiny creature. I know that some things will get easier in time, like drinking my coffee while it’s still hot, but will the person I used to be be waiting for me? Will she have turned, too tired of waiting for the ‘next weekend’ or the ‘tomorrows’ that always get pushed aside because something more important came up?

I worry that she will get lost, never to be found, while this newness and wonderfulness takes over my whole life. You better not forget the wonderfulness, because you’re not allowed to yearn for different times while you’re a mother. You’re not allowed to be the person you once were, barely allowed to be your own person. So, I tell her to hold on, that’ll one day I’ll reach out and take her hand, bringing her back to the here and now, but for now, she just needs to wait. Wait for a time when life isn’t so chaotic, isn’t so new, isn’t so all consuming. Like that time will actually come.

Once upon a time I used to be a person, but now I’m just mom.

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Mom Life

The Best Mom Advice, Ever

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The best advice you’ll ever get as a parent: take the entire day, and night, to yourself.

Whenever grandparents would babysit, I would rush around trying to do everything. I’d clean the house, workout, work on some writing, study a bit of French. In the early days, I’d either sleep, or lay on the couch watching TV, half asleep, just trying to survive. There is no better feeling than sitting on the couch in your jammies, eating snacks no one is stealing, and watching your favourite TV show. To think I took this type of relaxing for granted.

I may have been getting some things done, but I still felt exhausted and like I was drowning, constantly. It didn’t seem worth it to continue to try to get everything finished as fast as I could in the little time that I had to myself. Besides, my house was completely trashed in ten seconds once my toddler returned home. The level of clean and tidiness I was reaching for when she was away was not sustainable, which is a completely different topic. So, when my husband was away on a trip and my daughter was at her grandparent’s for a sleepover, I did something I hadn’t done in a very long time: I did absolutely nothing.

I did some things that needed to be done like making supper and a few dishes, but I didn’t try to write 5,000 words, or study, or run myself into the ground trying to clean the entire house from top to bottom. I sat on that couch and watched TV and read and did everything I used to do when my husband went away on his annual snowboarding trip.

At first, I felt weird. The house was too quiet. I felt like I was wasting my time and that I should be taking advantage of the free time by trying to make last minute plans with friends, or do something productive. But, I held steady. I told myself to just relax and do whatever I wanted to in that moment. That meant lying on the couch, eating snacks, and watching that TV. It also meant that my mind start get bored (I also got a little fidgety and twitchy, which is a little concerning that that was my body’s response to total quiet and relaxation) I felt like I could write, again. So, I did that. Because it felt right.

I went to bed that night feeling a little weird, but relatively satisfied with my evening. The next morning, I woke up feeling refreshed, cheerful, and exactly how my old self used to. I got up and had my coffee, still hot, and read a magazine. Don’t worry, the lazing stopped there as chores needed to be done, but they didn’t feel quite as ‘chore-y’. I scooted through the list of to-dos, stopping to watch an episode of TV or read a little more. Even though I was being productive like I had originally that I had to be every single second away from my child, it felt good. I didn’t mind the chores because my mind was well-rested, and I had some actual time to myself.

It’s so easy to get caught up in the trap of trying to be as productive as possible every waking second, kid(s) or not. Once you have that free time as a mother, the whole perspective changes. What are you going to do with those few hours? See friends? Hang out with your husband/partner? Workout? Relax? Sleep? Work on fulfilling projects? The list is endless on what we feel like we have to do, but not what we want to do. It’s time we started thinking about ourselves and letting our own wants and needs take over. If all you want to do with your free time is absolutely nothing, then do it. You’ll reset your mind and feel a whole lot better about everything. Trust me.

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Mom Life

Making Mom Friends is Harder than I Thought

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Everyone talks about how hard it is to make friends when you’re older. And they’re correct. For the most part. I made friends easily from elementary school to high school. It was easy, still, to make friends in university and find friends at work. You’re seeing the same people day in and day out, so you get to know them slowly and yet so fast. That’s the funny thing about making friends in an office — you may only know your deskmate for a month, and yet, they feel like your childhood best friend because of how much time is spent with one another.

Now, instead of in an office, my time is mainly spent with my daughter. As a stay-at-home mom, I’m realizing the difficulty in finding friends, especially in an age where there are fewer of us, with more moms returning to work. That means fewer moms at home in the neighbourhood to get together for coffee or play dates during the day. Which means less easily made connections. While I’m not looking solely for stay-at-home mom friends, it would be nice to be able to have a little break during the morning or afternoon, the longest and most tiring part of my day, and talk to an adult.

I joined Peanut, an app for moms to meet one another and chat. I also joined Bumble, hoping for some friends who may not be moms but would love to chat or meet for lunch. I wasn’t picky and just wanted to expand my circle a little more. Damn, guys, she’s rough out there. Even with using the Mom Tinder, as my husband calls it, I’ve yet to find a good mom friend. People don’t respond, you don’t click, you can’t arrange meet-ups between two schedules, conversations get forgotten and fall away. When the Mom Tinder wasn’t working, I looked toward the activities I signed up for with the baby. They were supposed to get me out of the house to meet new people, and yet…

Why are we all so closed off? Are we just nervous? I know I felt that way when I had my first ‘mom date’ with someone I met. I was worried about what I’d wear and how I’d look to this other mom, who probably had it together more than I did. I bet she did the dishes that day or doesn’t have a pile of laundry staring her in the face constantly. Don’t worry, the worry was for naught, and the friendship fizzled away like most first dates.

We see jokes that moms will befriend any other mom with similar-aged kids, even if they’re a serial killer, but it doesn’t seem to apply to real life (for that, I am thankful, of course). I’m not going to lie; part of it is true…when I saw a mom walking her baby a few weeks ago, I wanted to run up to her and say hello! Let’s be friends, or at the very least, walking buddies! She was further up the path from me, and I really would have had to hoof it. Alas, running up to strangers and shouting at them to be friends is seen as terrifying, so I refrained from chasing her down and just kept walking to the park, hoping by some form of kismet, we’d meet again.

Maybe we’re all too shy, too nervous to sound silly, too tired, or too mom-brained to form normal sentences with adults. Maybe I need to wait until my daughter is older when she makes her own friends, where I can then latch on greedily to whatever parent is nearby. Whatever the reason why forming mom friendships is so hard, I’m surprising myself with how outspoken I can be and yet incredibly shy. And finding out new things about yourself is always rewarding. Right? I’ll wait patiently for now and try my best not to run after moms I see on the street. No promises, though.