The Best of Diary of a New Mom: Now in an Ebook!

Hi, and welcome! You might have found me by Googling “new mom” or “new mom blog.” If so, I’m afraid I have bad news and good news. The bad news is that this blog is no longer active. In May 2011, after 5 years of writing here at Diary of a New Mom, I launched a new blog, Abby Off The Record. But WAIT! The good news is that I have just published an ebook based on this blog. It’s called Mama Insider: Laughing (And Sometimes Crying) All the Way Through Pregnancy, Birth, and the First 3 Months. It’s a collection of 20+ of my best posts, plus some new material, all in one pretty little e-package. For just $4.99, you can download the PDF version here or get the e-reader version here.

Mama Insider will give you the real scoop on pregnancy, birth, and new motherhood – the good, the bad, and the funny – from one (formerly) new mom to another. For the past 5+ years, I’ve been chronicling the joy and the craziness on my blog, and have heard from tons of other new moms about what’s on their sleep-deprived minds. I’m here to reassure you that you are not alone. You are not crazy. And you are going to do just fine as a mom. The proof that other people have been through it and survived is in this ebook.

You’ll find out:

• Why you shouldn’t be concerned by the size of your unborn baby’s nose
• What happens when you’re 10 days overdue and your doula goes on vacation
• New moms’ Frequently Asked Questions on such topics as cankles and clueless husbands
• The differences between Nervous Moms and Mellow Moms
• What “me time” looks like once you’re a mom
• How real moms lose the baby weight (hint: it’s not salad and Pilates)

Each of the 23 chapters in this 50-page ebook is short and easy to read while you’re feeding the baby, waiting for the pediatrician, or reheating your cup of coffee for the third time because you’re running on 3 hours sleep and are constantly being interrupted to pump, change diapers, start a load of laundry, or search under the couch for missing pacifiers.

Thanks for stopping by, and please come visit me on my new blog!

The End of an Era

I’ve been living a lie, people. It’s been bugging me for a while now, especially whenever I meet a mom-to-be, or when a new person finds my blog.

Because the fact is, I’m not a new mom anymore. Not by a longshot. My “baby” – the one depicted in the cartoon lady’s belly up there in my header – is starting KINDERGARTEN next fall, if you can believe that. And I’ve got another baby now, too. Heck, that one’s not even a baby anymore – he’s a full-on toddler!

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t have this motherhood stuff all figured out now. I don’t pretend to be any kind of expert on pregnancy, childbirth, breastfeeding, sleep, or ANYTHING baby-related, really. Although I have become an unwilling expert on diaper rash, unfortunately. E-mail me for the nitty-gritty on that one.

And the truth is, new motherhood is sort of like wedding planning, in a way. When you’re in the midst of it you’re literally OBSESSED. No detail is too small to warrant hours on message boards and endless polling of everyone you know. For a few delusional days as a bride-to-be, I was actually concerned with tussy-mussies, if you can believe that! And don’t get me started on centerpieces.

As a new mom, I filled notebooks with charts of my newborn’s sleep patterns and bowel movements. I pestered his pediatrician with endless questions about how many ounces to feed him and whether a stray encounter with a peanut was the end of life as we knew it. If anyone dared ask me, after enduring a half hour of baby photos and a soliloquy about nap schedules, “So, what else is going on with you?” I looked at them blankly. What ELSE? I’m a NEW MOM, you moron! There is no “what else”!!

But after I became a wife, not a bride, and a regular old mom, not a new mom, I wanted nothing more to do with my former obsessions. Nada. You couldn’t pay me to shop for veils now, nor could I muster up any enthusiasm whatsoever on the subject of diaper pails. I’m over it.

So the time has come to say bye-bye to Diary of a New Mom. BUT WAIT! Don’t cry, freak out, or rend your garments in distress. Because nursing tops aren’t cheap. And besides, I’ve got a NEW blog! I do! It’s right here. It will be the same hilarious, heartfelt musings about life and kids and writing and all the other stuff you’ve come to expect from me. Only this time I’m using my real name! My real identity! And my REAL FACE, even!! (Insert gasp here.) So come on over and join me at Abby Off the Record, won’t you?

P.S. Don’t worry, new moms who just found this blog and think it’s the answer to your prayers. ;) Diary of a New Mom isn’t going anywhere. So sit back and browse the archives to your heart’s content. You know, in all your free time when you’re not feeding, pumping, burping, washing, changing, or otherwise taking care of your new baby.

Raising 'Em Right

Pre-kids, I was the type of person who wouldn’t do anything if somebody cut in front of me in line. It would certainly irk me, but I’d tell myself that person must have somewhere really important to be and wasn’t just a big jerk. What good could come from confrontation, anyway?

But now it’s not so simple. That’s because I often have 2 little sponges with me who are observing and learning from every moment. (And also, commenting. “That lady has a mean face, Mommy.” *Blush!*)

It feels wrong to work so hard at teaching my kids to share and take turns and say please and thank you and then do nothing when someone flagrantly ignores the basic rules of human decency. Like, who spits out GUM on a SIDEWALK? Were you raised in a circus?! (Speaking of which, go see “Water for Elephants.” It’s good. And Reese Witherspoon looks so glamorous.)

Of course, most times these badly behaved people are adults, not kids. And I’m not THEIR mom. But still. It bugs me to see people -- especially fully grown people who should know better -- setting a bad example.

For instance: We share a driveway with 2 of our neighbors, which is common in our area. Over the many years we’ve lived here, one neighbor has claimed the driveway as her own, parking at the end so no one else could get in or out. For the most part, we don’t care. We park in front of our house, and it simply wasn’t something that affected us much. Until...

We were having some work done on our roof, and the contractor needed access to the driveway. A non-issue, right? We’d simply ask our neighbor nicely to park elsewhere for a few days, right? Any normal person would be happy to comply, right? Especially one we’ve been cordial with for years and allowed to use our shared driveway as she pleases.

Instead, we found our requests ignored. First, she “forgot.” Then she left town for 2 days, leaving her car blocking the driveway. Phone calls, knocks on the door, notes on the car – ignored. One morning I was so irate I called the police. They got her to move her car, but the next day it was back. Because the driveway is private property, the police said, there was nothing we could do. It wasn’t nice, but it wasn’t illegal.

It’s hard to overstate how much this incident has upset me. I prepared long speeches in my head, ranging from friendly concern to vicious threats. It’s not fair. It’s not right. Who DOES that?! Wasn’t this woman raised to be considerate of others? To know right from wrong? Were we supposed to ignore her from now on? Tell the kids not to talk to her?

Somehow, this relatively minor issue became for me a metaphor for the monumental importance of parenting. What I teach my boys, through words, actions -- and inaction -- will shape who they become as adults. And God forbid they grow up to be the kind of people who would block a neighbor’s driveway! (On the scale of parenting failures, that’s below serial killer and puppy-kicking but above spitting and not recycling.)

I don’t know, fellow parents. Am I overreacting? Should I go back to worrying about grass stains and who’s eating their vegetables and other things I can control? What would you do?

PIC O' THE WEEK: He finally learned to put the bubble wand in FRONT of his mouth instead of IN his mouth.

The Kindness of Strangers

You know those times you worry about something and then it turns out much better than you expected and you wonder why you ever worried in the first place? This was not one of those times.

My friend was having a surprise birthday party. It turns out C. would be out of town on a business trip that night, and I couldn’t get a babysitter. The party was being held in the early evening at a bar/restaurant with an outdoor deck, live music, and a playground. “Just bring the kids,” said the host.

Right. Cut to me juggling a cocktail and a diaper bag, trying to chat over my shoulder with my friends while I chased the kids around trying to keep them from throwing sand as a Jimmy Buffet-wannabe sings “Margaritaville.”

At least that was how I envisioned the evening going. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe some of my other friends would bring their kids for my boys to play with. Not so much. “Hell, no!” was, I believe, how one friend replied when I asked. As would any sane parent with the option of leaving the kids at home.

But because I am such a good friend -- or because I was in desperate need of happy hour after 3 days of solo parenting -- I went to the party with my children in tow. Sure enough, we weren't even there 5 min. before they’d had enough of chit-chatting with the grownups and wanted to go play. Off we went. So there I was, standing alone on a playground, without a cocktail even, while all my child-free friends enjoyed themselves up on the deck. The only party I was having was a pity party.

I continued to feel sorry for myself as the party moved inside. Now the kids were climbing up barstools and knocking over people’s drinks. I had barely had the chance to say “Happy Birthday” to my friend, let alone have an actual conversation with anyone. Enough!! I wanted to scream. Don’t I EVER get a night off? Don’t I EVER get to be a regular person again instead of always a mom?

Then I noticed a woman next to me smiling. “Are those your boys?” she asked. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, since at the moment they were diving into a stranger’s nachos, I said that they were.

“I have 2 boys, too,” she said. One was in the military and one was off at college. "I miss them." She pulled out her phone to show me pictures of herself flanked by 2 tan, muscled, shirtless men. She didn't look nearly old enough to have sons that age. “I miss them,” she said again with a smile. She told me how she remembered them when they were small, like my boys. She told me how she works 2 jobs to keep herself busy so she won’t notice how empty the house feels without them.

The whole time she was telling me this, she was interacting with my boys. She asked my 4yo about his Cars shirt and did he know the new movie was coming out. She put my 2yo’s shoe back on, and helped him up onto a chair. She found a plate and served them some food. She kept them from knocking over their lemonade. “I’ll babysit any time you want,” she said, only half-jokingly.

I thought of this woman as I left my friends and drove home, a mere hour after we’d arrived. I thought of her as I wrestled the boys into PJs and brushed their teeth, mopped up the spilled water and broke up fights over which bedtime story to read. I thought of her as I collapsed into bed, exhausted, dreading the thought that I’d have to get up in a few hours and do it all again.

I thought of how nice she’d been to me, a stranger. How she didn’t lecture me about enjoying every minute or warn me these precious days wouldn’t last forever. She didn't say, "You certainly have your hands full" and then turn away. She simply said, “I miss my boys,” and helped with mine. And while she may not realize it, she helped me more than she knows.

Look, Kids, a Backhoe!

“So we need to run to Target to get a birthday present, and don’t let me forget to – look, guys, an excavator! Ooh, and a big crane, you see it?”

It’s like I have a strange form of Tourette’s. I’ll be in the middle of a conversation and I’ll randomly shout out things like “Police car!” “Ambulance!” “Big red dump truck!”

As the mother of 2 boys, these sightings have become par for the course. Reflexively, I point out things of interest to them wherever we go, and they do the same.

“LOOK, MOM! A cement mixer!”

“Gah-bage tuck!”

I have to admit, I was almost excited as they were the time we passed a trailer on the highway that was carrying 2 tractors with wheels the size of a VW bug. You don’t see that every day. And while I find the endless readings of books about construction vehicles and farm equipment mind-numbingly boring, it IS sort of interesting to see them in action in real life.

What’s embarrassing is when my kids are not around and I lapse into truck-spotting-lady in front of other adults. My friends look at me like I’m crazy if we’re, say, having coffee on the patio at Starbucks and I go nuts pointing and waving when a helicopter flies overhead. Unless they have small boys, too, in which case they probably don’t even notice my weird tic.

Usually my random shout-outs are limited to large vehicles, but sometimes I like to point out wildlife, too. I was beside myself yesterday when I looked over at a stop sign and there was a family of little brown rabbits munching grass right next to me. And no one was in the car to share it with!!

Really, anything is worth pointing out to small kids, especially if they’re stuck in the car on a long trip or a round of boring errands. Look, kids! Balloons at the car dealership! A giant American flag on the roof of the bank! An electronic billboard advertising Hooter’s! Well, that’s just inappropriate...

So if you ever happen to be having a conversation with me and I cut you off to point out a dog wearing a sweater or one of those SmartCars that look like something Lowly Worm might drive, just ignore me. I’ll grow out of it eventually.

The Secret to a Long, Happy Marriage?

My parents just celebrated their 41st anniversary. Think about that for a second: 41 YEARS of being married! To the same person!! (Embarrassing side note: last year on my blog I congratulated them on their 30th anniversary. Soon after my mom asked me, “How old is your brother?” Um, 39? Why is she asking ME? Ohhhh… I get it. Sorry, I inadvertently shaved a decade off their marriage. Math was never my strong suit.)

Anyway, I think we can all agree that being married for several decades is a major feat. There are some days I marvel at staying married to MY husband for 7 years. Like on days he calls me at 4:30pm and the kids are screaming and fighting and starving and I’m counting down the minutes till their dad gets home and then he says, “Oh, by the way…” and mentions a work happy hour he’s supposed to go to that night.

I remember on our honeymoon, there were several other newlywed couples at our resort and we all ended up at the same restaurant with some older married folks one night. Someone asked one of the older couples what their secret was for a long and happy marriage and the wife said it was about letting the little stuff go.

I should have asked her to define “little stuff.” Does that mean not flying into a rage when -– for the millionth time -- he leaves his muddy, sedan-sized sneakers in the entryway for you to trip over? Or does it mean overlooking his ineptitude at dishwasher-loading? (Very funny post on that subject here.)

So obviously, I’m still working on the “letting stuff go” thing. But I will note that the husband of that long-married couple said the secret to a happy marriage was that his wife was always right. I would say MY husband is still working on THAT one.

Just today he coerced our boys into agreeing with him that it was totally my fault we missed the exit for my brother’s house on the way to Easter brunch. It’s not enough that we drove 20 minutes out of our way? He had to get our 4yo to chime in, “Yeah! It’s all Mama’s fault!” Obviously, C. didn’t get the “Yes, dear” memo. Good thing he’s cute and makes cute kids.

I like to imagine that 34 years from now, MY sons will be asking me what the secret is to our long and happy marriage. I’ll tell them, “It’s that I am always right.”

QUESTION O’ THE WEEK: Speaking of marriage, who’s looking forward to the royal wedding this weekend? I don’t think I need to wake up that early to see it live, but I’ll certainly DVR it.

‘Good Enough is the New Perfect’

I first started following Hollee Schwartz Temple (the one on the left) on Twitter mainly because she’s an author and I loved the title of her book: Good Enough Is the New Perfect: Finding Happiness and Success in Modern Motherhood

Then I heard her speak at a conference on a panel about work-life balance. Hollee began by asking the audience, “How many of you were raised to believe you could do anything and be anything?” Most hands went up. “And how many of you took that to mean you should DO EVERYTHING and BE EVERYTHING?” Everyone laughed -- and raised their hands.

Her talk really hit home for me, so I was thrilled when she sent me a copy of her book. (Can you tell by the picture I found a thing or 2 of interest?)

FINALLY, someone has addressed the real issues that plague me and most of my mom friends these days. Why, when we have so many choices, are most of us still struggling? When the real world isn’t as clear-cut as working or staying home with your kids, where are all the role models who are successfully navigating the in-between? And why do so many of us feel like we’re going it alone?

While Hollee and her co-author, journalist Becky Beaupre Gillespie, surveyed over 900 women and conducted in-depth interviews with 100 of them, it’s the authors’ personal stories that resonated deeply with me. When Hollee describes counting down the minutes until bedtime when her boys were small, then feeling guilty for not appreciating them, I thought, That is me. And when Becky describes how she didn’t want anyone to think she was “just a mom,” so when someone asked her what she did, she described what she’d done BEFORE becoming a mom? Yeah, that’s me, too.

I’ll be honest: at first, several of the high-achieving women interviewed in the book sparked envy in me. Prominent lawyers, a VP for Christie’s, successful entrepreneurs. But then I read on, and discovered all their worries and frustrations sounded eerily similar to mine. Also? The women who weren’t happy were longing not for more prestige or bigger paychecks, but for more time with their families, more fulfilling work, more connection with friends and neighbors – all stuff I have in spades. Hmmm, so if you look at “success” in THAT light...maybe it’s not just the moms with the impressive business cards who can claim it.

If there’s one common theme I’ve noticed among all the moms I’ve met over the last 5 years since I became one myself, it’s that nearly every one of them -- stay-at-home, working, or somewhere in between -- is WAY too hard on herself. I’ve heard moms apologize for letting their kids eat an occasional donut, for their child not being potty trained yet, for not enrolling their second or third child in enough enriching activities. I’ve heard moms beat themselves up for working too much, earning too little, and needing more help. It’s madness, people. MADNESS.

Not only that, but it’s a terrible example for our kids. You’re not successful unless you’re awesome at everything? Gwyneth Paltrow notwithstanding, that’s an impossible goal for most of us mere mortals. (BTW, even Gwyn admits she’s bad at math. Possibly the only thing we have in common.) Personally, I’d like my kids to have a broader definition of success -- and to learn that it’s OK to define it for themselves.

Buy the book. It’s $9.41 on Amazon. You probably spend that much at Starbucks on a latte and overpriced baked goods. I guarantee you will come away with a new perspective on success, motherhood, and what “having it all” really means to you.

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: “We do not need to be perfect to be successful moms, professionals or women.” - Becky Beaupre Gillespie and Hollee Schwartz Temple

A Working Mom's Wakeup Call

Back when I was single and childless, I got into a heated discussion with my future brother-in-law (also single and childless) in a cab on the way home from a bar one night. I don’t remember how we got into it, but we were discussing whether mothers should work or stay home to raise their children.

With the self-righteous conviction that only clueless 20-somethings can have, we were both convinced that we were completely right. My BIL was firmly in the SAHM camp; I was staunchly in favor of working moms.

Boy, was it a cruel wakeup call when I found out the issue wasn’t that black-and-white. I suppose I could’ve looked around the global media company where I was working then and noticed not a single person I knew was a mother of young kids.

There was a pregnant woman (what ever happened to her?) and there was one with school-age kids who lasted less than a year. But that’s it. In fact, the 3 most senior women in my department were all childless.

Marriage and kids weren’t even on my radar at that point, so I didn’t give it much thought. Though I do remember thinking that the on-site daycare they bragged about in those “best places to work” articles was kind of a joke. I’d heard ours was pricey and had a year-long waiting list.

That job was a bad fit for me for many reasons, not least of which was that while I ostensibly was hired for my editorial experience, I wrote almost nothing. Just a lot of e-mails and memos. I was essentially a highly-paid meeting attendee.

So when I got married and had a baby, I wasn’t all gung-ho to be that corporate working mom I’d argued so strenuously for in my 20’s. I’d found a nice little niche as a freelance writer and I got to spend time with my baby. And then I encountered another round of wakeup calls. Like how hard it was to work around a baby’s schedule and drum up assignments I could do from home. Also hard? Finding part-time affordable childcare.

Even now, years later, when I’ve finally found some semblance of balance, I am shocked at:

a) how many people think I don’t “really” work because I’m self-employed, don’t go to an office, and have irregular hours;

b) ask when I plan to get a “real job” (as if I could just waltz out and command a lucrative, flexible staff position in my field whenever I felt like it);

c) how many people still think staying home with your children full-time or working outside the home full-time are the only 2 options for moms.

This is all a long wind-up to telling you about an amazing new book, Good Enough Is the New Perfect: Finding Happiness and Success in Modern Motherhood It delves into all these issues and more, backed up by new research and extensive interviews with all sorts of working moms -- doctors, lawyers, pretzel entrepreneurs, mom bloggers, web-TV hosts.

I devoured my advance copy in 3 days. In another post, I’ll tell you more about the book. But for now, I’m happy just to report that it assured me I’m not crazy, I’m not alone, and I don’t have to choose between 2 oversimplified options that don’t fit my life.

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: “I don't believe the world owes me a living, although for the amount I make, an apology would be nice.” -- Unknown

Family Meals Made Easy

In theory, meal plans sound like a great idea for busy families. Plan out your meals for the week in advance, buy all the ingredients in one trip to the grocery store, and it’s smooth sailing, right? Only I’ve never quite been able to get the hang of it. Inevitably, I end up staring into the pantry at 5pm, night after night, a few ingredients shy of whatever dish I’m trying to make. Add in 2 picky, impatient kids, 1 vegetarian, 1 low-carbotarian, and it’s a recipe for failure.

So when a woman I met at Blissdom contacted me about trying out E-Mealz, a site that lets you customize a meal plan for your family, including vegetarian, low-carb, and meals based on sales at your local grocery store, I said “Heck, yeah, sign me up!”

Here’s how it works: you pay $1.25 a week for the service, or $15 for 3 mos. (No, seriously. That’s really how little it costs. I waste 5 times that much each week buying random ingredients I never end up using. Like mushrooms. And weird cheeses.) You can choose plans for 2 or 4-6 people, for a specific store (Walmart or Kroger, for example) or any store. I did the vegetarian 7-day family meal plan for any store.

So you log on to the site and pull up the weekly menu. (See sample menus here.) You also have access to the previous week’s menu if you want. Then you print out the recipes, along with a grocery list, which lists the ingredients you need, listed by aisle. The grocery list ALONE was worth it for me. No more losing scraps of paper on which I’d scribbled “2 bell peppers, froz. spinach, eggs.”

The pros of E-Mealz: how easy it was, how you only buy what you need, and how there are so many options. The cons: how much food the plan produced. I soon realized I couldn’t keep up – with the cooking or the leftovers. On a good week, I manage to cook dinner maybe 4 to 5 times, tops. Then I peter out and it’s takeout and Trader Joe’s frozen entrees. But it’s also because we don’t eat that much food. I soon began off-loading the leftovers to my neighbor. (She didn’t complain.)

The meal plan also highlighted how picky my family is. Unfortunately, there were lots of recipes I had to rule out right off the bat because I knew they’d never fly in my house. Like Walnut Cheddar Loaf. Not happening. But I did try a few new things like Quinoa- and Vegetable-Stuffed Peppers (good, but lots of chopping) and Greek Eggplant (easy and tasty!)

The bottom line: I think E-Mealz is a great idea and the price makes it a no-brainer. It could actually save you money if you’re prone to wasting food like us. For a family that eats pretty much the same thing every night, I say give it a try. For us? Until the kids get a little less picky, I’m better off cobbling together our own meal plan based on the limited recipes my whole family likes. But I sure will miss those print-out grocery lists.

DEAL O’ THE WEEK: E-Mealz is offering 15% off for new subscribers. Sign up here and use the code BLISS at checkout. (Note: this is an affiliate link.)

RECIPE O’ THE WEEK: Believe it or not, this Linguine with Shrimp Scampi was a crowd-pleaser in our house. I left out the hot pepper flakes for the kids.

A Place for (Almost) Everything

I don’t know if it’s the spring-cleaning articles in all the magazines or what, but getting organized has been on my mind a lot lately. A recent post on a friend’s blog reminded me that I, too, feel peaceful and happy when everything’s in order. May explain my feng shui phase in my 20’s. (Tip: Always close the toilet lid. Something to do with containing bad energy or allowing good chi to flow, I forget. And also, if you have flush-happy toddlers around, it just makes sense.)

Too bad my family could care less about being organized. I mean, what’s the point of having a coat rack, a shoe cubby, key hooks, and a change jar if everything gets dumped in a big pile the second everyone walks in the door? Work with me, people!!!

I’ve also realized that one person’s organized is another person’s OCD. For instance, did anyone see that article on Jamie Lee Curtis in Good Housekeeping a while back? The woman wears dust-rags on her feet, repackages everything in her house from cereal to CDs, and has only has 3 colors of clothes in her wardrobe. Um, OK, Jamie Lee. She does admit, though, that her husband and kids don’t maintain her organizational vision, so she sees it as her job to keep things in order.

I don’t need my environment to be THAT orderly. I’m fine with having a pile of mail on the counter, a pile of books on the table, and a pile of dirty clothes in the corner. Hey, Jamie Lee has her Tupperware, I have my piles, OK? And I do love those fabric bins. At one point I tried to keep my kids’ stuffed animals in one bin, toy cars in another, and blocks in another, but now I don’t care if everything’s all jumbled up together as long as it’s off the floor and out of sight.

The important thing is being able to find something when you need it, right? I may not be the neatest person in the world, I may not have clear systems for everything, but I can usually tell you where something is. The extension cords? They’re in the bottom kitchen drawer next to the disposable placemats and flavored drink mix that no one likes. (No matter what, we end up with bunches of random stuff that don’t fit neatly into a clear category.)

And yet, I alphabetize my spices. For some reason, this is a source of great hilarity among my family and friends. Why?! Are spices not arranged alphabetically in the grocery store? What’s so crazy or OCD about that? If you want to spend 15 minutes rooting around for the cumin, be my guest. I have better things to do with my time. Like put everybody else’s stuff back where it belongs.


PICK O’ THE WEEK: Miles talked me into buying these dust-mop slippers. At first I thought they were ridiculous but now I think they’re awesome. Especially because the kids will put them on and slide around the kitchen. Anything to get them to help clean!