I love my daughter. She has these big, wonderful cheeks that draw a lot of attention, most of it positive. However, there are those that feel the need to talk about my "big baby" like she's a freak of nature.
"Whoo, that's a big baby!" said in a voice like they truly can't believe the girth of this child. Sure, she's nice and chubby, but no chubbier than she should be, so I definitely don't appreciate the uncalled for comments.
No, she isn't twenty pounds.
No, I don't feed her table food.
And yes, you need to stop talking to me because I'm about to get a big attitude. I'm a pretty nice person. I don't get mad all that easily, but it's the tone I find disrespectful. Some people say "Oh, I love those chubby cheeks." Or "What a cute little round baby," and they say it with love. I'm not talking about these people. I love those people. I'm talking about the ones that act as if they're looking at the craziest thing they've ever seen in their lives, like me and my baby can share clothes, or something. These are the ones that are about to make me lose my usually sweet disposition.
Just because she is a baby doesn't give people the right to say whatever they want. Just because you know me or are related to me doesn't give you the right to say whatever you want. My child is not oversized. She's a sweet little baby that loves to nurse, as she should.
Eid is coming up and Zara is really excited... Ok, maybe she's not that excited, because she doesn't even know what Eid is yet, but I'm excited for her. We put our huge "Eid Mubarak" sign up and have our "Eid lights," not to be confused with Christmas lights, hanging from the mantle. The gifts are wrapped and in a good hiding place (a spot she'll never think to look). It may seem silly to do all this for such a small baby, but I'm just following the tradition of my parents. Every year, they were sure to make a big deal out of our Islamic holiday, so that when we saw all the Christian kids at school celebrating Christmas, Halloween and Easter, we, too, had something to cling too.
When you are a part of any type of minority group, religious or otherwise, it's important to help your children form a strong sense of identity with that group. I never want my daughter to feel left out, because she isn't like everyone else. I want her to love and grow from her differences. May they make her strong and understanding. May they make her happy to be who she is.
I had to make a post dedicated to how wonderful Zara is. She really is the sweetest, cutest, smartest, most pleasant child you can be around. Yesterday, she, my mother and I spent all day shopping. The day before, she came to the movie with her father and me. She truly is an active part of our family. She likes to hang out with the big people and do big people things, like pick out shoes.
While at the store yesterday, we were looking at the baby shoes and I couldn't decide between two different styles. As I stood there going back and forth, she kindly reminded me that the shoes would be for her and that she should be making the decision. I sat both shoes on her lap and let her do her thing. She just looked at them for a while, obviously going over her outfits in her mind to see which pair would be a better fit. The look on her eyes let me know she was in deep contemplation. This was serious business. Then, with the flick of a hand, the decision was made. She grabbed toward the left pair and made a gurgly noise (Translation: "These are classy.") After hearing her explanation, I agreed. The other pair did have a hint of tackiness to them. They looked like they were trying too hard to be cute.
will be adorned with these shoes...
"Cuteness is natural. It doesn't come from accessories," she told me. Easy for her to say. She can wear nothing but a diaper and still be the cutest one in the house.
"Sometimes my cuteness takes a little work," I confessed to my mini me
"See that's the problem with you big people. You're always worried about what other people think. Who says your cuteness needs work? Take a lesson from me. I do whatever I want, whenever I want, and I dare someone to say something. For example, if I have to booboo, I just do it. Who cares if I don't have on a diaper, or if I'm sitting on your new jeans? Or if I'm upset, I just start yelling. I don't stop because I'm in the middle of a library. You should be like me."
"So, I should use the bathroom on myself and scream in quiet places?"
"No, no, no, you're not listening. You don't have to do the things I do. That would look crazy because you're not a fresh-faced baby. I'm trying to tell you to be confident enough in yourself to do whatever it is you want without worrying if someone else will like it.
"Wow, baby Zara, you're wise beyond your years."
"Of course I am, mother, because I'm the best, and I say that with utmost humility.
Sorry,guys, I know I've been MIA for a few days. Eid (my religious holiday) is coming up and I've been doing my gift shopping. Anyway, on to today's post...
I've never had a problem finding cute bras. I could always bop into any ol' store and get a cute one with fun colors and pretty designs for a low price. Now that I'm breastfeeding, I no longer have that luxury. These manufacturers must think that once you have a baby, you could care less how you look. I've gone from store to store and all I can find are plain nursing bras in a sweeping assortment of black, white, and that ugly "flesh" tone that in no way matches my flesh.
What am I supposed to do with a drawer full of plain black and white bras? Is it too much to ask for a purple or a pink, a polka dot or a stripe? Something! And what about a matching set? Can a sister get her match on? I'm a mom, not an old lady. It's bad enough that a lot of maternity clothes are either really ugly or really expensive. Now, I've got to deal with this. Uncool.
Part of me feels like it shouldn't matter, as long as it's fits and is easy to open. But the other part of me can't accept that. I deserve to be cute, even if it is hidden under my clothes.
P.S. That picture is NOT of me, just in case you were wondering.
Zara and I watched the president's speech to school children yesterday. It was pretty good, all two seconds of it. I have a feeling it would have been longer had he not received the backlash from the "conservatives" that hate him so much. I guess the idea of a black man (even if he is only half) talking to their children is too much too bear.
Or maybe it isn't his blackness that makes him evil. It could be his attempts at improving health care. Some people are extremely incensed at the idea of something changing for the better, people like the pastor that prays for Obama's death in his sermons. (Corrections, that's "pastors." He isn't the only one with this prayer.) If a pastor of a church is able to say this aloud to his congregation, imagine what people are saying in private in their own homes. It's really disturbing, so disturbing that I've taken to building a protective bubble for my daughter.
Plastic? Rubber? Glass? I'm not sure what material will be best at protecting her from such hatred, but I need to find out soon, because while some parents are scared of Obama telling their children to stay in school, I'm scared of other people telling my child a far more hateful message. I know I can't shelter her from everything, but can I at least keep away such intense hatred? I shutter to think of someone talking to my baby like that. What if she wants to run for president one day? Is this what she's signing up for? Well, she probably wouldn't win anyway, because I doubt the electability of a candidate with an over protective mother that will fight anyone that disrespects her daughter.
Yea, I can see the news coverage now: "Presidential candidate Zara Ba had to bail her mother out of jail this morning for scuffling with a haggler at last night's debate." Sorry, Zara, I think I've ruined your political career already. I can't help it. I just love you so much, little girl.
I know this is kind of random, but I think it could be helpful to anyone struggling with getting more length. Who knows? Maybe I'll be adding more videos if you guys like this one. Leave a comment and let me know. Oh yeah, in my green smoothie post I said the smoothie has helped my skin. In this video you can see how it looks.
P.S. Be on the lookout for my green smoothie how to video!
I’m really new to this mom blogging thing, but I’ve noticed it’s pretty normal for moms to put themselves down…a lot. I consider it normal to have moments of self doubt, as evidenced by my Fat Cow Moments post, but to regularly talk down about yourself is not cool.
It doesn’t matter if you’re a SAHM who’s lost contact with most of her friends and rarely sees the light of day. It doesn’t matter if you’ve lost your girlish figure and have been trying to get it back for the past decade. It doesn’t matter if you’re divorced (and kind of bitter) or single (and kind or bitter) or married (and kind of bitter). Love yourself and the wonderful children you’ve been blessed with, even if they do terrorize your house.
There’s nothing wrong with wanting to make changes in your life, but complaining about it and making yourself the butt of jokes doesn’t change anything. If you’d like to get out more, lose weight, go back to school, get a man (or lose a man), do it. Of course, it’s a lot easier said than done, but it’s not impossible. Make it a priority in your life the same way you’ve made your children a priority. If your daughter needs new slippers for ballet and you don’t have the money, you find a way to get them anyway. If your son needs you to pick him up from school because he’s feeling sick and you're in the middle of something important, you find a way to get there anyway. We make time for the things that are important. If you’re important (and I know you are) then make time for yourself and begin to reach for some of those goals that you’ve abandoned. It’s your life, and no one else’s. You have the responsibility of making it what you want!
It's raining this morning. My husband seems to think it's a bad thing. "I hate rain," is what he said. I told him that rain is a blessing and without it everyone and everything would die. He wasn't that impressed. Oh well. Maybe he's just in a grumpy mood this morning.
Zara, on the other hand, is not in a grumpy mood. She woke us up this morning with a medley of her favorite songs (all of which she wrote herself). She noticed that we weren't responding to her sweet tunes, but didn't give up. She sang even louder, in the loudest voice that an 11-week-old can muster. She’s always so happy and positive.
And I pray she stays that way, always able to find the silver lining. I want her to grow up and appreciate the rain, despite isn’t reputation. I want her to be able to extract the good from any situation and take it with her, creating a protective barrier against the many forces in life that tend to bring us down. It’s so easy to get caught up in the muck of stress, anxiety, anger and jealousy. Maintaining a constant goodness about yourself is harder, but well worth it.
Twenty years from now, when she’s grown and maybe thinking of starting her own family, I hope she continues to sing, even when no one is listening.
So, I guess this title is pretty harsh, but, really, I think it's kind of fitting. Or maybe video ho-in-a-box is better. No? Still, too harsh? Well, I don't know what to call it, then. All I know is it’s not appropriate for little girls. A scantily-clad, makeup-covered doll that comes complete with her own bling? What a perfect way to advertise sex and materialism to our daughters.
What ever happened to dolls that look like this?I used to LOVE my cabbage patch doll. Now, dolls look like you have to show ID just to buy them. This, on top of shows like Toddlers and Tiaras, is a recipe for disaster. Childhood should be a time of fun, learning and innocence, not mini skirts, blush and mid drifts.Why is there such a rush to grow our girls up?
I tried on a dress today and couldn’t zip it up. I tried it on some weeks ago and couldn’t zip it then either, but I wasn’t bothered because I had just had the baby. Now, I’m bothered. Zara is 11 weeks. That dress needs to be zipping. I didn’t gain that much weight while I was pregnant (20 lbs) but it’s taking long to come off. The baby alone was 6.5, and I figure the placenta and whatever else came out was around 3. So, that’s almost 10 lbs right there.
Why in the world can’t I lose this last ten? Disregard that last sentence. I know why. Because I’m not doing anything to lose it. I do eat pretty healthy (which I assumed would be enough) but clearly it’s not cutting it. I was working out for a while, but we’ve had some houseguests that have been staying in the workout room/guest bedroom. I called myself only taking a few days off, and… well, you know. Procrastination become full out abandonment.
It really bothered me that I couldn’t zip that dress. I felt so… so… fat cow. Yea, I know “fat cow” isn’t an adjective, but it really summed up the feeling I’m trying to portray. 10 lbs. isn’t really a big deal, or at least it shouldn’t be, but I really need to get back to my pre baby weight (which wasn’t all that small to begin with). I have a lot of cute clothes that need to be worn. Plus, I know that this 10 lbs. can become a breeding ground for other ugly little lbs.
I was doing pretty good, feeling like I was doing a nice job of slowly getting back to my original weight, but that defiant dress zipper alerted me to the fact that I’m no smaller now than I was 4 weeks post baby. Apparently, my weight loss progression marker took a sudden plunge to zero immediately after the baby was born. I’d like to say I’m going to get back to working out, but that’s a statement that is often made and rarely fulfilled. I’d rather just hit you with a “down 10lbs.” post. We’ll see.
Baby clothes, especially those for little girls, have to be the cutest things in the world. They purposefully make them insanely cute and then charge an arm and a leg, because they know you'll pay it. When Zara gets older and is able to wear her clothes longer than a month or two, I may invest, but for now, its thrift store, baby.
Don't make that face. There's nothing wrong with the thrift store. If you're patient and willing to sift, there are some great finds in there.
Baby Gap Checkered Overall Dress .
I got a lot of good things today (all of which totaled nine dollars) but this was really the catch of the day. It's a size 9M so I'll have to hold it for a little, but thats ok. I know she'll be so adorable once she can fit it. A lot of people think thrift stores are full of old, nasty used clothes, and you will see clothes like that there, but you can also get nice, popular brands Baby Gap, Carters, Children's Place, and Osh Kosh. Sometimes, you can even find brand new items with the tags still in place.
If you're ever bored one day and have about 5 dollars in your purse, try your local thrift store. You'll be so surprised at the great things you’ll find for super low prices, like a 100% cashmere, knee-length coat for $5.98. I found that a few years ago. Don't know if I'll ever beat that. (Note: When I say thrift store, I mean real thrift store, not those fancy, schmancy "gently used," well-decorated places that pass themselves off as thrift stores. They charge way too much.)
For those that have never been to a thrift store before, be aware of a few facts:
-All thrift stores have "that smell." Don't be alarmed, its normal.
-The clothes will be in a huge undifferentiated mass. Don't get discouraged. Take a deep breath and get to searching.
-There will be a big 1985-looking wedding dress with puff sleeves on display. It's cool. You don't have to buy it.
-There will be tons of porcelain statues and garden gnomes that are pretty freaky looking to me. If you feel the same way, just don't look at them.
My girls asked me to ride to the mall with them on Monday to do some shopping. I almost said no because I had a cold and didn't really feel like packing up the baby to bring along. Luckily, I changed my mind.
Her father was home, so I decided against bringing Zara. She goes EVERYWHERE with me and I was really in need of some me time. I needed to be able to relax and not worry about if she's hungry, wet or tired. And it wouldn't hurt to have two free hands with no baby in them. Of course the decision to leave her was a gamble, because I'd tried leaving her with him before and it didn't go over so well. See for yourself.
I was out, enjoying myself and having a great time, when I got a call like this:
*My phone rings and I answer*
Husband: She's crying *Spoken over the intense yelling of our daughter.*
Me: Well, did you give her the bottle?
Husband: She won't take it. *Baby still yelling. Same intensity.*
Me: *Thinks for a second* Put her in the car and bring her to me. (I was only five minutes away at a party. I’d been dropped off and didn't have a ride home yet.)
Husband: I can't drive with her screaming. *Starting to sound agitated.*
Me: Well, I don't have a car. What am I supposed to do? *Sounding just as agitated*
Husband: I don’t know. CLICK
Me: Hello? HEEE-LLLOO? I know he didn't just hang up on me. *Calls back* Did you just hang up on me?
Husband: She's crying I have to go. *Hangs up again*
My initial reaction was to get a huge attitude and go home to have a nice argument about how that was so rude and uncalled for. After about 30 seconds, my more relaxed and logical reaction was to not take it personally and to understand that he's just frustrated and is still getting used to being a father to a newborn.
I got a ride home from my aunt and rushed into the house, arms outstretched, ready to relieve him of our crying daughter. I expected to hear the same yelling that had played interference on the phone call, but it was silent. I went upstairs and found my husband holding a quiet, but wet, towel-wrapped baby. He had put her in the tub to calm her down. She loves the water.
Sidenote: I do believe she could give Michael Phelps a run for his money.
Anyway, it turns out I had rushed home for nothing, but I was glad he had gotten it under control. To ward off the chance of a cry attack happening again, I took her with me and went back to the party.
So, that's what happened the last time I left her with her dad. Still, I left her again, even though I was going far more than five minutes away this time. I figure he's got to learn how to handle that type of behavior sooner or later.
I didn't do much at the mall. Just walk around with my girls and help them pick out clothes. I didn't buy anything other than a .97 cent pair of leggings for the baby, but I had a great time. Just being able to get out of the house and do something that had nothing to do with mothering was great. By the end of the night, I was missing my poopoo and ready to get back on the grind. What a difference a few hours makes!