Buster is one month old today.
And I think I am finally ready to tell the story about the rabbi, my estranged mother and a bag of shit, and how this only partially holy trinity converged at my Koreatown home one Tuesday afternoon.
When Buster was eight days old, we invited a rabbi over to circumcise the kid. My husband – not a Jew – was okay with the snip snip but thought it was creepy to turn the whole situation into a party. Fair enough. So it was going to be just the two of us, until he started suggesting it might be nice to have my mom there, my mom who I haven’t talked to in about a year.
Just before the baby was born, a package arrived addressed to the unborn child from “Grandma Strasser.” Inside were a hand-knit orange stuffed dinosaur, a tiny sweater with pockets and a hood, and a powder blue blanket. Though she hadn’t called me since my brother told her I was pregnant, it looked as though she had been knitting ever since.
There was a note to the baby that simply said, “Grandma can’t wait to meet you.”
I cried my fucking eyes out with that orange dinosaur in my hand because I was hormonal, and it was a week before my baby was due, and my mother was reaching out in her own stilted way and while it would be nice if she could say “sorry” or “I miss you,” I stood on my stoop fully aware that some people speak with yarn.
That woman let me down in such a profound way that just the sound of her clearing her throat too loudly makes me want to toss her purse out of a moving car. Try as I may, I haven’t been able to process the backlog of anger at her even after all these years, which has made me an inpatient, puerile, irrational daughter. Yes, the woman put me on many a Greyhound bus when I was in elementary school, but I don’t know how to stop making her pay, so I just stop talking to her.
It’s kind of a mom sabbatical. I take one every few years or so.
Somehow, between the extinct knit creature’s baleful look and the post C-section narcotics, my husband convinced me that we should invite my mom to the bris.
Also, when we went to the rabbi’s website, there was a check list of things we needed for the procedure, gauze pads, kosher wine, ointment and other items the acquisition of which would have been impossible as I could still barely get up and down and my husband couldn’t leave me alone with the baby. I was a mommy and I needed my mommy. I really needed my mommy.
My husband called her for me, and as he predicted, she accepted the invite on very short notice, offered to pick up everything we needed plus a platter of bagels and lox. I could hear her voice over the phone, and the tone conjured something like enthusiasm, maybe even chirpiness. It heartened me that my chronically depressed mom would not only sound psyched, but also drive five hours from Vegas to see her new grandson at the drop of a yarmulke, salve in hand.
So, with the rabbi and my mother heading our way for the afternoon ceremony, my bowels decide, after having been removed and put back into place during surgery, to finally work after several days.
The resulting poop clogs the decrepit toilet in our old house.
At this point, I can’t bend, lift or twist. So, I sit there on the potty with my head in my hands just trying to think my way out of this mess. The rabbi and my mother are arriving in half an hour, my one-week old son is stirring in the next room with his dad, and I am both hovering over – and up – Shit’s Creek.
I am not now nor have I ever been one of those women who impress guys by being really open and carefree about their gas and bodily functions. Even writing this makes me vaguely uncomfortable. I wish I was that fart-in-your-face girl sometimes (I honestly hate even typing the word F-A-R-T), but there came a point in my 20s when I realized two things: I don’t dance and never will, and I don’t enjoy talking about gas or bowel movements, and never will. When I embraced being fundamentally inhibited, it changed my life. I am not the girl pretending to think gas is funny or grimacing my way through the Conga line at a wedding. I’m the one that insists she doesn’t poop, but instead excretes waste through her skin, like a frog. I’m the one finishing off your dinner roll and wine while YOU dance at the wedding, because YOU enjoy it. In summary, while I don’t relish being a pooper, being a “party pooper” suits me just fine. While I have few, if any, emotional boundaries, I make up for it by being private, almost proper, about the physical realm.
Never have I indicated in any way to husband, up until this moment, that anything noxious ever comes out of my ass, but now I’m fucked.
“Baby,” I yell, sheepishly, “I have a problem.” That’s when my husband rushes to the bathroom door. I start sobbing because I’m freaked out and exhausted and I don’t want this magical Jewish ritual to be marred by the smell of feces wafting through the house, my feces, and I certainly don’t want my husband seeing, smelling or experiencing my waste in any way, but I’m out of options. I scrub my hands like I can cleanse myself of this whole situation.
He hands me the baby, and runs to the garage for some sort of drain “snake.” I try to place my thoughts elsewhere, so that I can easily delete this memory in the future. I bounce the boy and look out the window at Koreatown.
There is some running back and forth from the garage to the front door, to the bathroom in back. I hear him call the plumber, who can’t make it until tomorrow. He calls the hardware store to see if they have a larger snake; they do not. I bounce the boy and watch the clock. Fifteen minutes to go.
It is at this moment that I glance outside the window again and see my husband running gingerly along the side of the house holding a bag of shit.
It takes my mind a moment to register the image (again, drugs, lack of sleep, major surgery, sudden life-changing transition to motherhood, heavy emotional family issues about to be addressed, impending removal of my baby’s foreskin).
There it is. My husband walk-running around the side of the house carrying – as one might a goldfish won from a county fair – a bag of toilet water and the offending, drain-clogging crap that he had somehow liberated from the bowel.
Nothing says your life has crossed over like seeing your husband carry a bag of your shit.
If one could die of cringing, I would have.
This is all my fault, I tell myself, for not better orchestrating my life, for having a breech baby and a C-section, for moving to this old house just weeks before the baby’s birth because I couldn’t make up my mind any sooner, for all the chaos of unpacked boxes and curtains not hung. I want everything to be slender and clean and tucked away and predictable, but I can’t go back and I smell Buster’s fuzzy head just to get a hit of the good stuff.
This, too, shall pass, I tell myself, just as that poop did through my colon.
Until now, I didn’t even discuss going number one with my husband and now I’m anxiously running to the front door to find out how it went when he hand-delivered a bag of number two to the trash can out front.
“No big deal,” he says, trying to pass it off. “All fixed.”
A tacit agreement that this didn’t happen is made.
Before the rabbi arrives, a bearded man right out of Central Casting, my mom shows up. She has been driving for hours, so her lime green linen shirt is a bit rumpled, but I can tell she has dressed up. She is carrying a plastic platter of bagels, cream cheese and lox for fifteen, as well as a bag with doubles and triples of all the items on the rabbi’s list. When she opens the door, I hug her and point to the baby, sleeping in his bouncy seat perched on the sofa. She strains to keep a neutral expression on her face, but tears are landing on her shirt. She doesn’t make a move to wipe them away, because her face is still trying to say, “This is no big deal.” I hand her the baby and she cries right onto his blankie, which she must have recognized from her months of knitting it.
“He’s beautiful,” she says. And she manages to sound a way she never has before. Maternal.
And just like that, we make small talk about Buster, his dimples, will his eye color change, did he know what terrible thing was about to happen to his pee-pee. We have a nosh. Like the unspoken agreement never to discuss the contents of the bag, my mother and I silently conspire to act as though the past year, and many of the years before that, have not been crap.
The rabbi arrives, and dips a cloth into some wine while gathering the four of us to talk about the “covenant” and the idea that a circumcision happens on the baby’s eighth day, because there is no eighth day of the week and so the concept is to transcend the earthly plane – or something like that. I don’t know. Anything a guy with a long beard who has done 15,000 snips has to say seems deep. And we give the child a Hebrew name – David – because my stepfather’s last name was Davidson and I know this will make my mom happy. When my stepfather was around, I could deal with my mother. He was a buffer, like the baby will be.
The rabbi asks my mom to hold the baby and let him suck on the wine-soaked corner of a cloth. This is anesthesia, old school style. The baby is sucking on that Manischewitz rag like maybe his gentile half is taking over, which gives us an easy laugh.
After looking around, the rabbi sets up shop on my desk, because that’s where the sunlight filters in and he wants a clear view. My husband holds the cloth in the baby’s mouth as the rabbi does his thing. Thirty seconds later, with barely a peep from the boy, it’s all over.
The rabbi gives us instructions on how and when to apply the ointment and tells us to bury the foreskin in the dirt to show God we are earthy. It feels like I’ve been sucking on a wine cloth of my own, but I’m just tipsy with a double shot of relief and gratitude; my husband not only fixed the toilet, but he at least duct-taped over the mom problem, which can never be truly repaired but can at least be patched and re-patched. Now, she isn’t just my mother, but my son’s grandmother, and I would be an asshole to rob my son of his grandma because I can’t forgive her.
The rabbi was a man gifted with babies.
He told us to stay calm, always calm, so your baby will do the same. This isn’t always easy for me, because I love that little fucker so much that the idea of making a mistake, of not knowing what he needs or failing him, the worry that something may be broken in his body or mind that I can’t fix, the idea that I don’t have the patience or sweetness or wisdom to deserve him, well, that is the big bag of shit my soul carries around.
The rabbi leaves. My mom heads back to Vegas. Later that night, I send her a photo my husband took of her holding Buster, tears dotting her green shirt, mouth slightly turned down at the corners, staring down at her first grandchild. She emails back, “Please keep the pictures coming, love Grandma.” And we bury the foreskin in the front yard.
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Tags: Bad Moms, Craziness, Moms, motherhood
I have so much in common with this blog it’s ridiculous. I have been estranged from my father and had a lot of issues with reconnecting. My son, David, made it easier. He is the buffer, as much as I try to deny it. But it’s working itself out, and I am okay with that. I too had a difficult delivery, and while I didn’t have a c-section, I did flood the toilet with extraordinary amounts of crap, and my husband also had to come to my rescue with a plunger and towels. My son is two years old and I literally forgot to have him baptized. I don’t take tons of pictures and I am allergic to keeping a babybook and tumbling class. You may very well be elected Mayor of the commune I eventually want to build. Love your words. Well done.
you are a sick woman. only pedophiles mutilate their children for their pedophile god. sometimes… I wish there was a hell for disgusting people like you and your family.
It’s a great written blog, though I wish next time you read about Brit Shalom.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bx89xECfHG4
Awww T, I can literally feel the love you have for your son in just that 2nd to the last paragraph. You are a great mom ALREADY! I, too, have had a very complex relationship with my (adoptive) mother throughout the years so reading about your resentment is very relatable… I constantly tell myself that the healing will ultimately come when I am a parent–hopefully. It’s refreshing to know that you’ve turned out just fine: Intelligent, Great Sense of Humor, Married & now a mommy
Loved reading about poop,
-tania
FYI I just googled infant circumcision for approx. 15 minutes.
Schedules & Discipline: My mom was a schoolteacher and she had a long-time babysitter “Mildred” for us 4 kids. The babysitter also sat other kids. The number of kids ranged from 6-8, so she had us all on a very strict schedule of potty times, food times, outside play, very strictly enforced nap schedule, and we sat perfectly still to watch our Brady Bunch, Adamms Family & Beverly Hillbillies. We did get swatted a few times, but it was rare. She’d watch us like a hawk. With weaker babysitters like my grandma, we were like “Lord of the Flies” and truly evil, but we minded “Mildred”. Both of “Mildred’s” kids, and 5 out of the 6 of us “babysat” kids are college grads. My aunt, another schoolteacher, was very permissive and the kids had no other influence to model self-discipline, etc. Of her kids, only 1-of-4 is a college grad, and employed (they are close to middle-age & long-term slackers).
Resentment towards the Parents: My dad was not ready to be a dad when he had us (during the Rat-Pack & Laugh-In Era), and after the 4th kid was born, the bedlam of 4 kids under 5 got to him and he tried to leave. His friends pressured him back, but he stopped talking to us kids, was mean to Mom, was heavy drinking. It was only after we were out of the house for a number of years, that he started talking to us. It is weird. Now he is great fun to talk to, and is somewhat lonely as he’s outlived a lot of his friends.
BUT it does hurt to see how much he fawns on my little nephew, and yet I think my sister is taking advantage of my parents Through the kid. Yet, I do recall spending a lot of summer vacation with my grandparents, and feel they enriched my life and gave me a calm place to stay away from my crazy family. (Lots of siblings can be like “Lord of the Flies”). I, too, use the “timeout” on my family when they get a little too rude or whatever. I’ve spent too many decades working hard trying to “fix” them.
Toilets: I am the unwilling handyman in the household–(Sidenote: Don’t let BF use Draino in the toilet). When you get a clogged toilet, try this: Make sure you have a plunger always around each toilet. But first, get a bucket, fill with hot tap water. (You are trying to loosen up the solids). Slowly fill the toilet bowl up to 1-inch below the inside rim. Close the lid, and let it sit for 30- minutes or more. If, after 30-minutes, the water has gone down without taking the solids with it, repeat again with hot water (2-3 times). Plunging time: If the water is gone again leaving the solids, set the plunger in, and slowly fill with hot water again, but not as full. CAREFULLY, start pushing the solids with the plunger. Make sure it gets a good seal around the hole, and push it hard. If you are patient, it should work. (Note this may not be a great option if you are short on time.)
T,
I have to tell you I was cracking up reading the story about your husband carrying the poop bag. It reminded me of when it came time to “finally” poop after my c-section. The same day my milk came in was the day I HAD to go poop. Like you I don’t like discussing such matters with people so when the poop would not make an appearance we had to resort to other means. Which meant I had to admit to my husband that there was an issue. After explaining in tears that I was in pain and everything was a no go, he went to the store and brought home everything they had that could help with the no poop situation. After reading every box we decided to go with the supository. So now my husband not only knows what is happening but now he has to help in getting it resolved. Since I can’t twist or bend over, he had to “place” the suppository for me. He could tell I was humiliated so he laid down with me and talked me to for an hour while we waited for a verdict. Thankfully it worked and then we had to deal with your situation. It came out but wouldn’t go down. Lots of plunging later it was on its way and I was euphoric that the whole thing was over. Gross I know but maybe you can appreciate.
Miss you and Adam and I am glad I can follow you now with RSS. Congrats on your baby!
Tina (also “T” to friends)
T~ What a wonderful piece of writing. I really admire you for being a strong, talented, beautiful woman. It sounds like you’re already a fantastic mom and I wish you the best!
P.S. I always get so excited when I see that the latest Adam podcast will feature you and BB
You guys rock!
Fantastic piece. I wish your husband would have understood the seudah is only celebrating the covenant between God and your son.
None the less, mazel tov!
Wow! Brilliantly written. I found myself reading this post with the same intensity that I get from reading a great book in that I become more and more involved and entertained as I get closer to the end and then I’m pissed because I wish there was more. I get that feeling when I’m eating cake too. Anyway, good stuff.
Just saw you on Dr. Phil. Krystal is a better name than Theresa without an “h”.
OMG, T’s on Dr. Phil!! I’ve loved you since the radio show, but I am a lurker-lover, never having made myself known till now. You’re my favorite guest on the Carolla podcast now. I think you’re the perfect complement/foil to his thing and I never would’ve listened to the radio show so loyally without hearing you every morning. Thank you for sharing your lives with so many appreciative (and not-so-) friends, strangers and FANS!
Uh, that should have read your “life” (unless you’re a secret catwoman with nine of them).
I am listening to today’s podcast with Adam and you mentioned getting booed at Dr. Phil’s because of your anti-spanking stance. I just want to say, KUDOS!! I think you would be disturbed at the number of parents who still spank. The reaction of the audience isn’t surprising to me but it’s still really depressing. From one anti-spanker (and I’m a crazy militant anti-spanker) to a probably not so crazy non-spanker, THANK YOU!!!
have a good first Thanksgiving Nathaniel and family, lots of love to all you!
Hi Teresa – i just saw the video of your ring being cut off and I remembered that your rock on your ring was man made; can you let me know how to find a reputable dealer? thanks & congrats on the baby!
I got my stone from Gemesis and had a jeweler make the ring. The stone is gorgeous – I have no relationship with Gemesis, I just love their yellow “diamonds.” You can find outlets online, or ask your jeweler to acquire a stone and fashion something to your liking. Blood diamonds are such a rip-off.
t
Thank you! I totally agree. g
Teresa,
Your “What if you were pro scleroderma?” comment today had me veering off the road in laughter. Nice.
Great meeting you at LFBB!
Pat
I think it’s great that you were able to do something so MATERNAL and get that duct tape slapped on! My mom just moved in with me and, judging by her retirement planning, that is probably permanent. Would I ever have wanted that? NO! Do I have any fewer issues than you about my childhood? Absolutely not. Do I wish my mom had stopped wallowing in her own bitter feelings about childhood long enough to ensure that I didn’t have so many? Sure. But she’s my family and if I ever had a baby I would want the chance for her to be as thrilled as your mom was. If I were your stepdad I would be incredibly proud of you. I thought this would be the case…you’re a great mommy. Buster is lucky to have you and you can give him the kind of childhood you always deserved.
you’re awesome
Mazel tov! I’m very happy for you & your husband. I love listening to you, Brian & Adam on the podcasts.
Teresa,
I laughed, and I cried when I read this post.
Keep on….
Meanwhile, it is so refreshing to hear a chick tell it like it is, not girly it all up so everything sounds like sunshine and roses. Keepin’ it real…LOVE IT.
I heard about your website from the Adam Carolla podcasts and just wanted to say you are an awesome writer. It’s very obvious you have a gift and a talent for this.
T,
This article clearly proves that you chose your husband well and that he’s clearly a keeper – because when it comes down to it, the secret of a great relationship is really just finding the person who can put up with our own personal shit! =)
Congrats on the little one!
EG
Wow, T. Dynamite story. I have a similar relationship with my father, only it does make me angry that he didn’t want to raise my brother and me, yet he fawns all over my brother’s children. I haven’t spoken to my father in 15 years, and I get my fetal position on just thinking about it. I wish you the best of luck with your Mom. It’s a tough battle between resentment, duty, and sanity.
I love the way you write.
Teresa ~ I swear I am your psychological twin. Same messed up childhood, evil step mom, and (literally) crazy mom. I was estranged from my mom and then I gave birth to her clone. Hmmm think that was a coincidence??? Geez, thanks God.
Anyway, I think babies are the best salve for family dysfunction. In my case it worked with some relationships and not others. My mom died when my kids were 11 and 8 and they were young enough that they didn’t realize how crazy she really was. She realized how wonderful they were and even commented a few times what a great mom I was. They were the only thing that could have ever have enveloped my wounds enough to let her back in my life. Our conversations were focused on what the kids were doing and the weather. It turned out that it was enough.
Enjoy your blessing and I hope that for his sake and yours that he too will be the Divine bandage that my kids were for me.
Keep us posted on your progress – you are doing great!
T-
I love this article. Love it. I read it. Then read it to my mom and sis. Now my husband has just finished it. Well done!
Looking forward to the next update.
Catie
Cute story. I do think its weird that the subject of pooping has never come up with your husband… you dont want him “seeing, smelling or experiencing my waste in any way” ?? who cares?! you’re married!! seems kinda uptight and 5th-grader-y to me. overall though, nice blog.
As a person in an all-too similar mother/daughter relationship, your piece truly effected me. And what a wonderful husband! Never-happened-poo-bags and relational wisdom, beautiful.
Why are you advertising and pushing your website when you aren’t even posting on it??
I just heard your latest podcast with Adam and Bryan and I couldn’t agree with you more about Babywise. The idea of sleep training your newborn is a joke. Those people who tout the merits of the Babywise philosophy are those parents that have kids who sleep well naturally. When I heard you had thrown out this book I wanted to reach through my headphones and give you a high five. Kudos to you. Come on over to our house and we can have a book burning party. Keep up the good parenting decisions!
T- Great site! I loved you on the ACP on the 11th. Great job as usual. I had the same reaction as you about having a child in that I didn’t know I was going to enjoy it as much as I do. I went into not knowing too much about it, except what my wife told me, and kind of figured it out as we went along. There were some things that we read that helped, but most of all it’s hands on training that helped the most. We have a 4 1/2 year old boy and 18-month-old girl and learn something new about being parents everyday. Sure it’s not all peaches and cream, but when your son whispers in your ears before bed that my ears need to “Please stop growing” you just can’t beat it. I hope that your schedule will permit some more podcast time with Adam because you are truly funny and smart and have such a great way with him and Bald Bryan.
DEAR T:
Congrats on ur baby. He is adorable. My husband listens to u and adam religiously, he downloads new podcasts on a daily basis to listen to on his way to and from work. He was the one that told me about ur website and that i should check it out. After reading it i found that we have much in common. I to did not have such a great relationship with my mother, in fact my grandmother raised me. The state declared her an unfit mother, my greyhound was a foster home, and i find now that i am having my second child she is trying to make up for loss time by sending money and gifts. She has MS (Multiple Sclerosis) and i swear that if it was not for that b/c of everything that i went through (that i can remember, i blocked out so much b/c it still hurts) i would not talk to her. So i have to give you tons of kudos for having ur hubby call ur mom. There are times when i want to, but i ask myself do i want to deal with the stress or have a fight. So i don’t. but enough of me rambling on. I am 35 wks and just found out that i will be having a c-section, due to the hard labor that i had with my son. I had 4th degree lacerations and my vajay jay and butt well lets just say they kisses. So i have to have a c-section. I am scared out of my wits end b/c this is the 1st time that i will be away from my son, now 16months over night. Not to mention i will have to be in the hospital for 3 days. Any words of wisdom i would great appreciate. Don’t get me wrong i am excited about my little girl, but scared about the suregery and not being able to give my son the attention he deserves when i return home. I know that i will have my hubby for a week at least but after that i am screwed. Please help
Pamela -
First question: are you sure, sure, sure you need a c-section? Doctors love doing them, because it’s convenient and easy and virtually risk-free, but I’ve been doing some reading lately and starting to wonder if we aren’t conned into these things sometimes. I know you are so close to delivery, but if you can, get a second opinion from someone who is PRO vaginal delivery.
If it truly is the best idea, let me tell you this and I wouldn’t bullshit you — the procedure does not hurt a bit — even the “spinal” – a shot in your back, hurts much less than giving blood. It’s nothing. From first slice to baby in the air — nine minutes. It’s very quick. Some women get really cold, that didn’t happen to me, but it was a strange sensation not being able to feel my legs. Just know, going into it, that it feels weird but lasts only a short time before your adorable little muffin will be safely in the world.
As for your 16 ms old — jeez, you’re giving him a sibling. Lucky him. He will be psyched for life, so a few days away from you will be a small trade-off.
The recovery can be tough. I can’t lie, but get any and all help you can for that first two weeks and know this: c-section moms don’t have to change diapers for at least two weeks – no bending, lifting or twisting. You will be FINE. I swear. And don’t be shy about taking the painkillers. The first few days you will just be in a haze of euphoria, fatigue and narcotics. It’s not so bad.
Sending you best wishes for a beautiful delivery.
t
Thanks T
as for the c-section this is my second opion. With my son we delivered at an army hospital and my Dr. out there recomended that all my future delieveries be c-section. Otherwise i risk fecal incontinence. And now that my hubby and i are both out of the military deliveraing at a civilian hospital and getting back into the swing of things has been a bit difficult. Never the less i have my in laws that live in LA so they will be helping out when they can. But the hubby only has 2 wks of leave. After that i am screwed and left to care for both kids. I asked my dr if he was sure about the c-section and he sad that it is the best thing for me and my baby. With my son the had to use forcepes to get him out b/c he was wedged on my pelvic bone and with each contraction he recieved brusing. I don’t want my daughter to have to go through that too. Thanks for the advice if i could ask you one more thing how do u feel about the h1n1 shot. feel free to email me if you don’t want to post it.
Awesome post, T. Really enjoyed reading it. Kudos for posting such personal stuff. You’re going to be a GREAT mother and you’ve got a great husband who will be a great father. Get it on!
T – I seem to be late to the party, if you will, regarding my mother. Is there somewhere that you have written about what happened there.
I’d really love to know, too, how you seem to know so much about sports on the ACP. You’re like Mary in There’s Something about Mary – pretty, smart, funny, and loves sports!
Meant to say “your mother.”
Have I written about my mother? Hmmm. Before I was exploiting my baby, I was exploiting the shit out of my crazy mom.
Heres is one piece right here on this blog. Lots of others.
http://teresastrasser.com/blog/2009/06/inner-child-meet-new-baby-please-don’t-smother-it/
Thanks, T…….That’s quite a read. I want to give you a hug………At least you got her brains. If you don’t have an above genius IQ, I’m sure you are very close. You wouldn’t be who you are without her, and I’m a big fan of who you are.
Hi T,
Loved hearing your hilarious take on the news on the ACP. I’m glad that you tossed Babywise into the trash – bleh, the guy has a body count on him. If I had babies to torture them – I should be in jail not running to a publisher with a step-by-step guide for other parents to torture their kids. I also think you’re on the right rail for balancing doing the “good” things for your kid with doing the “good” things for yourself. Of all the parenting skills – I think it’s one of the hardest – but also one of the most important…. because your children learn how to treat *themselves* the way they see their parents treat themselves. We want to give our kids a picture of self importance and self sacrifice that hits the middle most of the time. You should take care of others (even those who don’t seem to deserve it) but in order to do that, you need to take care of yourself too. Lastly – I totally agree with Glen that your statement “I don’t know how to stop making her pay, so I just stop talking to her.” was a moment of pure truth and courage. My parents have shoved off their mortal coils – which makes the “not talking” so much easier and less uncomfortable at family holidays – but I’ve made very good use of the ‘adult timeout’ – whenever someone in my life torques my jets, I give them a timeout so that I can let go of my irritation and they could re-think the encounter. My now 20 year old daughter was mentioning to me that she uses and loves this technique. Ah legacy …
I dont know where to post this, but I heard you on Adam’s podcast today and something you said struck such a chord with me that I have to respond! Its about your experience with different parenting books especially the ones that put the baby on a schedule. I want you to know that you are COMPLETELY wrong about this and should take another look without the “I am a failure when I try this” blinders on. My wife followed this schedule with our baby only because she is in competition with my brothers wife and felt pressured. Even though it sucked at first, I am so glad she did it! We had 7 friends have babies around the same time and all the others that didnt do it have nightmare kids. My brother and I have great kids that have been sleeping through the night since week 2! I dont really understand it all, but I could see that by having a rigid schedule of feeding, playing, and sleeping in that order all of the baby’s needs were addressed before he felt the need to cry about it. That way when he did cry we knew it was something more serious because he couldn’t be hungry or tired, etc. I have listened to you for years via Adam’s shows and feel a kinship to you now since you have been a daily part of my life for so long that I really hope you take it into consideration.
Good Luck!
You got lucky J. We also tried Babywise and our baby cried for 1.5 hours before initially falling asleep. Then he woke up an hour after falling asleep and cried for another 40 minutes straight. This repeated throughout the night. We tried this for 6 days straight and every night he would continue waking up and cry for over 30 minutes. He was fed and had his other needs met, so why didn’t this work for us? That is because it is up to your baby as to whether this training will be successful. It doesn’t work for every baby. You got lucky. Good for you, but consider that others may not be so lucky.
“I don’t know how to stop making her pay, so I just stop talking to her.” That rang so true for me. I’m sure I’m not the only one. Excellent line, T!
you will be an amazing mother…because you know what not to do and that is just as important as what to do. good luck
I laughed so hard, I cried! Oh T….bless your heart!
I can’t believe you are the same person I used to watch on TLC on Saturday afternoons as people made over their homes. You are one talented writer, wife, daughter and most importantly, mom.
T — You are a really great writer! I love laughter and heartbreak together. Congratulations on your baby and new life. It sounds like Nathaniel is working miracles between you and your mom. What a blessing.
I feel the same about my mom. We are kindered spirits of the crazy upbringing.
I have listened to you, Adam, and Bryan since the begining and always had a swell of pride when you would talk. I don’t know you or pretend to, but I am proud to hear another strong woman speak so clearly. Good luck to the new family….keep writing.
T, you did good. you will keep doing good. I am proud of you.
[...] MEET TERESA’S NEW BABY NATHANIEL JAMES! – And Read Her teary reunion with her estranged … [...]
Hi Teresa,
Congrats on the new little one – and on getting through the first month!
I listened to the podcast and am so glad to hear things are going okay. Also it warmed my heart to hear that you understand the whole natural birth thing after having experienced a C-section. I had our first baby in the hospital, and the second baby in a tub with a midwife at a birthing center. I’d never go back to the hospital given any choice.
Life does get easier after the first month, given there’s no colic. And if there is, check out a book Colic Solved. I researched enough for baby #2 to save her from 3 months of misery. Wish I’d had my wits to do it for baby #1 as well…
You are such an amazing writer -You paint such vivid pictures and you make me feel like I suck. I had to fan my face three times to keep the tears from spilling out but I giggled just as much. I’m due in April and have been documenting my pregnancy and my little life in my own blog. Since you’ve inspired me as a blogger, here’s a recent post I did about my pregnancy. Hope you enjoy! http://mrsmikey.blogspot.com/2009/10/baby-got-quack.html
This made me cry too. My relationship with my mom is almost exactly the same way. She wants a relationship with my kids but not with me, and with the help of therapy I won’t allow it, and I know it’s healthy but it’s still very painful. You seem great. I’m so happy for you and your baby, there is nothing better! xo
This is my favorite piece you’ve ever written. It’s SO well done.
Thank you for sharing.
Congratulations to you and your entire family.