Not that kind of mom

A few weeks ago, I was at a playgroup and all the moms started talking about the Easter baskets they'd already put together for their toddlers. They were so excited and giddy as they discussed and compared notes.

I? Hadn't even thought to make one for Baby Girl.

When it comes to teaching kindness and empathy? I'm a rockstar. Sign language and language development? I own that. And as for my love? Well, nothing is greater.

But birthday parties, scrapbooks, art projects? Not so much.

Which isn't to say I don't try.

In the past two weeks, I've bought finger paint. I made window painting bags. I made homemade playdough. I made a freaking sensory bin, even though I still don't really get the point.

And every time, her response was the same. "Mmm, no thanks." Or at least that's what I imagine she's saying as she wanders off to scrub my windows with a baby wipe.

I really want these projects to work, for a lot of reasons. The day at home is really long, and I need ways to fill the time. I love the idea of teaching her to be artistic, of helping her develop multiple intelligences. But most of all? It's because they look fun.

You know, in theory.

In reality? I just don't get it. I hate doing it. I resent it. And then when she doesn't even like it, I get angry. I'm just not the right kind of mom for those things.

And that's okay.

But it doesn't always feel okay. Sometimes I feel like I must be missing a gene. Other stay at home moms do such great things with their kids, and I just can't. And it's not so much an issue of my baby missing out. She's fine. Happy as a clam.

It's me. I want to get excited about things the way the Pinterest mamas do. I want to enjoy being with my daughter. And when I don't, it makes me sad.

But I know in my heart that more projects I hate aren't the answer. I know that all I can do is be the mom I am, no matter how much I wish I could be that kind of mom. Does that mean I won't ever look again? No, I'm not that fast a learner.

But.

This morning in her high chair, my Baby Girl signed "bunny."

"Where's the bunny?"

She pointed at the window, so I walked over and looked out. And she started laughing hysterically.

I turned around slowly, with one hand on my hip. With a twinkle in her eye, my tiny comedienne patted her leg, said "Do(g)!" and pointed at the window again, busting a gut as I turned to look again.

This game? I could play all day.

Just like mama

Yesterday, I did something drastic. I tried to read. An actual book. While my baby - err, toddler - was awake.

I had been reading during naptime, and she was playing on the floor, and I really just wanted to finish the book, so I figured I'd give it a shot. And do you know what she did?

She looked at me, crawled over to her shelf, picked up a book, and started flipping through it.

Wow. So,apparently, she's watching.

(Okay, before you are all jealous, she did that for about 2 minutes before crawling back over to me and climbing on my head. But that's not the point right now.)

I guess I've always known that she was watching everything I did. I guess I've always realized that the things I did were setting an example. But suddenly in that moment, her tapping away on her Fisher Price laptop with both hands didn't seem as cute.

I try to play with her. I try to make her healthy food. I read to her. I sing to her. But what am I really teaching her?

If I want her to be a reader, she needs to see me reading. If I want her to eat well, she needs to see me eating and cooking well. If I want her to take care of herself, to feel good about herself, to lead a healthy and successful life? I may need to reconsider the way I'm living mine.

Being a mom is humbling

I was sure I knew exactly the kind of mom I'd be. I'd be kind but firm, innovative, attentive, and fun. My daughter would be brilliant, athletic (okay, that one was always a bit of a stretch), and impeccably behaved. She'd walk early, talk early, sleep through the night early; we'd sign, we'd play, we'd go on outings. She'd love me and respect me and appreciate how awesomesauce I was at this whole mom gig. And I wouldn't ever brag. I'd be totally gracious about how perfect we were.

Bwahahahahaha.

Here I am now with a 9 month old who doesn't sleep and who has now begun to throw temper tantrums. (Does that count as an early milestone?) She eats cheerios with every meal. We have no consistent nap schedule. She doesn't sign. She has a giant bruise on her face from an unfortunate incident with the coffee table.

But she's a great baby. Don't get me wrong. She's beautiful, she's funny, she's pleasant, and she loves me like crazy. She's healthy, she's growing, she's hitting all her milestones within the average range (although not early. Oh no. It's okay baby, mom's a klutz too). I'm not in the least disappointed with her.

Me on the other hand?

Meh.

I've always been good at things. I was a straight A student. Usually I didn't have to try too hard, but when I had to? I did. Am I trying hard enough at this mom thing? Am I just incompetent at it? Why is it so hard?

I whine too much. I tweet too much. I forget to sign. I don't try enough new foods. I don't read enough books. I don't keep the house clean enough. (That Cheerio on the floor? Not for eating, Baby Girl. Not for eating.) I don't cuddle enough. I cuddle too much. I need to sleep train. I shouldn't think about sleep training.

I am not a star at this.

And I know other people struggle too. Although, not everyone, right? Some people are brilliant at it. So why am I not? It's so conceited of me, but I assumed I wouldn't just be AS good at this as all the other moms. I assumed I'd be better. I'm not even on the low end of average, people.

Probably it's good for me. Probably it's good for both of us. Hopefully, Baby Girl will turn out okay despite all my failings, and she'll have a mom who can tell her, it's okay not to always be perfect. It's okay to lose sometimes.

And, y'know, really mean it. Not just say it because I'm being gracious.

Parenting and the Internet

The Internet can be a powerful tool in parenting, just like it can in anything else. For me, at least, it can also be very dangerous.

The good: Unprecedented access to information. If I want to find how to say something in sign language, or a picture of the rash my daughter has, or advice on breastfeeding, sleep or solid food, I can find a ton of it almost instantly. Since I live far from my mom and don't know a lot of other parents, this can be a lifesaver for those moments when I realize just how clueless I am.

The bad: Unprecedented access to information. Unfortunately, there's no one to sort through that information. Do I really need to read 27 answers to a yahoo question about when babies clap their hands? If there is one thing an anxious and insecure new mom really doesn't need, it's unlimited information. Especially when it's wrong or dumb information.

The good: Instant networking and connection. The isolation of motherhood can be tough, and I've met so many wonderful people online. The network and community I've built here is precious to me.

The bad: Constant connectivity. Especially when I'm lonely, it's tempting to spend all day online. I'm online instead of cleaning my house, taking walks, reading books. I'm online while I play with my daughter. There needs to be a line somewhere.

Also? When people CAN get back to you instantly, it's easy to feel slighted when they don't. I end up taking a lot of things personally that really shouldn't be.

What other good/bad things are there about how the Internet affects parenting?

How do you entertain an 8 month old?

For the past 8 months, I've been saying how it seems to be vastly wrong that when you have a baby, they teach you how to feed, bathe and swaddle, but not what to do with them the other 20 hours a day. Okay, so they spend about 15 of those hours sleeping (except Baby Girl who's capping out at 10? Maybe? Including naps?), but what the heck are you supposed to do with them the rest of the time?

We read books. We play peek-a-boo (a lot of peek-a-boo). I sing The Itsy Bitsy Spider. And then there are still 3 hours left until she's ready to think about napping again.

Baby Girl has toys. A ton of toys. She has blocks, rings, stuffed animals. She has toys that sing, talk, count to 10. She has a playmat, a swing, and a playpen. She wants none of this.

Every day we take a walk. Every day we get in the car and run some errands. We go to library story time even though I'm not sure what's going on. We have been to the zoo (where she was more interested int he kids than the animals). Last week we walked 20 minutes to the nearest playground where she played on the swings for the first time. She loved it. For 5 minutes.

And then there was the rest of the day left still.

To be honest, it's a little easier now that she's crawling. She's much less bored and frustrated and is content to crawl around the living room and climb on things. She'd be the happiest baby in the world if I'd just let her play with my shoes, the remote controls, and the audio receiver. Which, of course, I don't. Much.

But I feel like a terrible mother, sitting on my computer and tweeting or reading while she crawls around. I mean, I talk to her. Sometimes I play music for her. (Children's music. And it's totally for her. Honest.) I stop what I'm doing to chase her around the house every 10 minutes or so. But I feel like I should be giving her more, whether it's more interactive play or more interesting things to do on her own.

So, please, bloggy world. I need help. How do you entertain an 8 month old?

No, she isn't sleeping through yet, thanks

Every conversation I have about Baby Girl eventually ends up like this.

Random Person: So, is she a good baby?
Me: Oh yes. She is SUCH a good baby.
Random person: Oh good. So she's sleeping through the night?
Me: ... no ...

I am crazy about my daughter. She is beautiful, hilarious, and so good at so many things. Sleeping isn't one of them. At 8 months old, she still wakes up twice every night, and her naps are sporadic at best.

I blame myself.

Shocker.

I know that there are a lot of things I don't do right. At night, I let her fall asleep eating sometimes. If she's fighting bedtime, I bring her back downstairs to watch Glee with me. I tried to sleep train once and was so ambivalent that I ended up in the nursery rocking chair sobbing, while my wide awake baby looked at me incredulously. For her naps? I don't have much of a schedule. I usually snuggle her to sleep. And then sometimes keep holding her all through the naps - not because she needs it but because I do. Although she's a fan too.

Is this why my 8 month old isn't sleeping through yet? Or is she just not ready? Does she wake up at night because I'm spoiling her? Because she's hungry? Because she's teething? Because she's just so darn crazy about me she can't stand to be away?

These are the questions that keep me up at night. Well, that and the baby. Okay, mostly the baby.

I want to "trust my instincts." I want to "do what I know is right." But years of school and academic experience have taught me that the answer to problems is research. So I've read everything on the Internet and half of what's in my library and, instead of making me feel better or fixing the problem, it's only made it worse. And my solution to the information overload is more information.

I'm tired. 8 months of interrupted sleep is a lot. What's much worse than the exhaustion though is the shame. When I admit she isn't sleeping, other mothers look at me like I'm crazy. My doctor gently scolds me and tells me I should let her cry. My mother in law says "but why wouldn't she be? She's eating solid food," as if to say that she doesn't believe me. My own mother just tsk tsks and doesn't say anything.

And I smile and make a joke and then go home and cry. I sit thinking Am I a failure as a mother? Is she a failure as a baby? Should I let her cry it out? Will I have to breastfeed until she's 4? and on and on.

I want to be a good mother. I want to get some rest. But right now, honestly, I think I just need to love Baby Girl the best way I know how and start to learn to trust the both of us that this will all work out in the end.

I'm tempted to start lying when asked. But maybe that's what everyone else has been doing all along?