In my opinion, the best part of Google Analytics is seeing how people have gotten to your blog. This can also, however, be an “interesting” find. Recently I was examining our traffic and came across one person who came to us by searching “mothers dripping.” Ummmm, I’m not sure what they expected to find, I do know that they didn’t find it and left…quickly. (I’ve been telling Paula and Carrie we need to add a bit of spice to our site but they have yet to agree, maybe they’re just not sure what kind of porn we should have?)

So back to the main question, what were they looking for? Mothers in wet t-shirt contests? Mothers getting out of the shower? Or, more likely, a few things I won’t go into here since we’d like to keep our readership, AND, no matter what you guys think I DO have boundaries! (Sure, they’re loosy-goosy but they are there, people!)

The more I thought about “mothers dripping” (which gets looked up at least 50 times a month on Google, btw) the less disgusted I was and the more flattered. Hey, I thought, there are pervs out there who want to see pics of us moms!! Even if it does involve some sort of liquid…which is just back to being creepy. And this led me to wonder why I have to get my ego boosting from some porn-addicted, trash-dwelling tweaker (I may be adlibbing at this point)?

It’s sad that I have to resort to niche porn addicts to make me feel sexy, but hey I’ll take it where I can get it because, let’s face it I’m not Heidi Klum or Pamela Anderson. And if you just look at the comments left on my past post Babies in Bars you’ll see that there are quite a few folks out there who view moms as just sagging boobs with legs. NICE. Thanks for that. No wonder plastic surgery now has its own monthly magazine and the majority of the upper east side of Manhattan looks perpetually surprised! Since, it is becoming more apparent that once you choose to have children you’re no longer a person with sex appeal but rather used goods riding the coattails of memories past.

Now pass me the damn vodka.

Other “interesting” ways people have found us: becoming a psychopath, I’m stapling, hair mildew bun wet hair, Ambien in toddlers, bar cookies blog mom mormon, germany bird mom.

AND a few more searches, these make me feel better…and a bit dirty: large MILF breasts tubes, MILF like suck, MILF women wet, milk rushing from MILF breast, professionally dressed to suck you!

I keep avoiding my mail. Not because of bills (although I’m not too fond of those either) but because I am pretty sure the furniture people are out to get me. They send me this constant stream of catalogues with pictures of rooms that I. WILL. NEVER. HAVE. Sure, one reason has to do with money (I’m not Beyonce) but mostly: I have 2 dogs, 1 cat, and a CHILD! Do they not have this information? They taunt me on an every day basis with their ridiculous yet aesthetically pleasing rooms! Whispering in my ear: “Oooo, ahhhhh, look how beautiful…but not for you…mwahahaha!” They are quite Machiavellian, these bastards and their perfectly coifed rooms, ones that make me want to take machete to every bit and bobble while yelling “How ya like it now assholes?”

Here are a few bits of my torture:

Wow! These folks don’t even need a medicine cabinet! Obviously, they store their drugs elsewhere, perhaps somewhere the police won’t look? Also, how many people are there? I count 9 bath towels! I’m sure that with that many people the glass and mirrored objects will always stay this bright and fingerprint-free! Not to mention, I think the perfect place for priceless drawings is always in the bathroom. This way the paper and fragile pencil lead always get just the right amount of humidity and heat. However, I would be quite upset if I spent so much money on designing my bathroom only to find out that I had to go out and purchase a fan from the 1950s for circulation (see upper left corner, top shelf)!

Now, this is definitely a kid and pet friendly space. Nothing says “come play with me” like a glass vase of possible poisonous flowers and a large steel ball. Also, there is a dark couch for my white dog and a white couch for my black dog. Perfect! We will know which one is theirs by the hair they leave behind. And if you get tired of using the small cubicles as tables, I’m pretty sure you can use them to build your own maze. Which is kind of cool because then you can do experiments with your child and some cheese. (I shouldn’t even have to address the carpet…but, really, white carpet? Even if you’re J. Lo. you’re going to track some shit in the house! It’s NYC!)

So……After careful consideration and a lot of muttering to myself, I’ve decided that even if I had lots of money and not a care in the world I would prefer to live on the set of Shogun. I like the simplicity and lack of furniture, the moving walls (is it a door, is it a wall? It’s both!), and the meditative earthly tones. Also, I would get to carry a sword. They certainly wouldn’t send me anymore damn catalogues!

I’m not really a glass half full or half empty kind of person.  I consider myself a drink whatever’s in my glass and refill it with MORE as quickly as possible kind of girl.  I’ve had some good stuff in my glass, and I’m sure to appreciate it and enjoy it whenever possible.  But lately, I haven’t been feeling like I have enough time or energy to do that.  I seem to be distracted, all over the place and have had trouble keeping up.  I’ve got the blues. .  FOR NO GOOD REASON.  I mean, I have your standard every day worries about work and money like everyone else.  But luckily they fall into the category of “first world problems.”  My family is healthy, we have food, shelter, etc. etc.  So, why do I feel so edgy?  And more importantly, how do I fix it short of taking a warm weather vacation we can’t afford, drinking large quantities of alcohol or hiring someone like Alice from the Brady Bunch (see comment about why we can’t take a vacation).  While I’m joking, and grateful to not have REAL PROBLEMS, the truth is, moms get pulled in so many different directions, and worry about so many little details, from “did we pay the cable bill?  to “Damn it!  We’re out of diapers” to Crap!  I’m out of my anti-anxiety mediation!  to “where is the bride registered?” to “we really need to start looking for plane tickets” to “Ugh, we don’t have any stamps.” To “it’s going to rain. . YOU NEED TO BRING THE RAIN COVER TO DAYCARE” to “Oh, wow, I HAVE TO DELIVER 40,000 WORDS TO MY PUBLISHER IN FIVE WEEKS.”  To, “um, I guess I should make that two year appointment with the pediatrician, since the baby turned TWO like TWO MONTHS AGO.”

But here’s the thing, I didn’t even mean for this to come off like a big fat rant.  I love family life, and all the mess that accompanies it.  I just think that it can be easy for moms to short circuit, and if you’re not careful, you end up in tears over one stupid email (this was me at 10 a.m.).  So what’s the solution?  A massage?  Wine?  Valium?  I’m not going to pretend that I know, but while I was eating my lunch  at 4pm last week while watching Oprah (as you know, June’s non-napping has resulted in some scheduling snafus).  Malaak Compton Rock (wife of Chris Rock) was talking about the importance of service, and how she took a group of underprivileged kids from Bed Sty to South Africa to help others, because they needed to see that no matter what they will always have something to contribute.  So I started to wonder, even though I feel like I’m about to totally drop my basket, could helping out someone else put a stop to my big fat pity party?

I started digging around, and service is shown to have ACTUAL PROVEN HEALTH BENEFITS!  A study from the Corporation for National & Community Service showed that “volunteers have greater longevity, higher functional ability, lower rates of depression and less incidence of heart disease.”  Does that mean I won’t cry when I get ten emails from clients asking me particularly challenging questions?  I was intrigued – but not 100% convinced putting more on my plate wouldn’t push me over the edge.  Then I stumbled upon www.bettertogether.org.

Okay, so basically the BetterTogether project is about “social capital.”  They get way too fancy with their explanations, but basically, as far as I can tell, they are saying that all the stuff a collective group knows is pretty valuable, and any inclinations that group might have to do stuff FOR EACH OTHER is a good thing.  And I started to think about how awesome my neighborhood is and how lame it is that I DON’T CONTRIBUTE ANYTHING.  I’d be flat out lying if I knew how I was going to fit this in, or what it is exactly that I’m going to do, but I’m going to figure out something.  Here’s a start anyway.  Bettertogether.org has this very cool list of 150 things you can do to create “social capital” in your community.  Think of it this way. . the more you know your neighbors, the more likely it is they’ll watch over your kids, or bring you a plate of cookies.  I think I’m going to have myself one last cry and get started with number 73.

http://bit.ly/bettertogether

Whaddya think?  Do any of you find time to volunteer?

My friend alerted me to this ridiculous article in the   NY Times, “In Sleepless Nights, A Hope for Treating Depression,” where a professor of biological sciences, a one Terry Sejnowski, suggests that studies prove losing sleep can temporarily help depression, even extreme postpartum depression.  Really Sejnowski?? You want to go mano y mano?

Now I realize, Prof. Sejnowski has quite the impressive resume and can be seen as an expert here but HELLO I’ve had PPD AND Insomnia! Sure I’m not a Francis Crick Fellow nor did I graduate from Harvard (I could have though…damn you) But I had these issues At. The. Same. Time…Yes. Together. It did NOT help. In fact, I would have to say that not sleeping made it worse. So I decided to write him a letter:

Dear Prof. Sejnowski,

May I suggest for your next phase of research that you have a womb implanted and become pregnant. Then practice reverse sleep hygiene until baby is born. This way you have a good case of insomnia going before newborn arrives. Once delivered take whatever hormones you need to reach full PPD symptoms: excessive crying, suicidal thoughts, extreme anxiety, etc. Now, go almost 9 months like this and then tell me how this works out for you. (Oh, and for realism sake hook yourself up to nipple torture device known as breast pump and watch LOTS of E television – only crap you can emotionally handle and even then Lindsey Lohan can even make you feel bad about yourself).

I will give you a hint at the result: your mother-in-law will have to travel several times to come and help ward off complete emotional breakdown. Husband will also be completely sleep deprived and, most likely, contemplating divorce or your complete hospitalization, or both. Psychiatrist will be throwing tons of meds at you. Therapist will be crying with you because nothing seems to be helping. And in between your crying, awful thoughts, and ridiculous level of anxiety that causes you to not eat periodically, you put the baby in his pajamas AND totally forget the important diapering part thus causing emotional and physical breakdowns all around. This, Prof. Sejnowski, is how PPD and sleep deprivation really go together. Not in a lab but in real life.

So, good luck with that. Please do not call me when this is happening to you as I did not bother you when I went through it.

Thanks and You’re welcome,

Tonya

Here is Prof. Sejnowski Now:

Here is the Professor after my proposed NEW research procedure (pic may have been altered…possibly):

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.

Ralph Waldo Emerson

I could pretend I completely agree with Emerson’s quote, but these days by the time I actually get my daughter to take a nap she’s usually far from lovely.  There’s generally been at least one change of clothing, the bedding is halfway across the room, I’ve had to put her diaper on backwards and secure it with packing tape (long disgusting story, I’ll spare you), there are tears all around, and it’s a toss up as to which one of us is more exhausted and frustrated.  “Lovely” is about the last word I’d use to describe the situation.

My husband and I worked very hard to get my daughter on a nap schedule.  June’s napping, in her crib (and not ON me) was key to my status as on ad hoc mom, and I’m seriously not exaggerating when I say it is one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my entire life.  Until I actually had a kid I thought babies napped all the time, no big deal.  I mean, how many napping babies do you pass on the street every single day?  What you don’t know, is that the very second that exhausted parent passes through the doorway of her apartment – that baby is wide awake and ready for action.  Babies do not give you a minute to take off your coat, much less eat a sandwich or god forbid sit down for 30 seconds.  After hard work and loads of patience and persistence, I got June on a good nap schedule.  We’ve of course had periods of interruption, but nothing major.  I can’t tell you how essential nap time has been for me as a mother.  Not only has it given me time to get work done – answer emails, get stuff done around the house, etc., I desperately need that afternoon reprieve.  A little bit of time to myself to eat, read, surf the net, ENJOY SOME PEACE AND QUIET.  And watch Wife Swap, obviously.

Six weeks ago June’s naps went out the window.  Sometimes I’ll be lucky and get one, but not without a huge amount of drama.  The days of reading her a story, tucking her in and shutting the door and sitting down with lunch and a book ARE GONE.  I’m usually so defeated by the time I get her to sleep (if I’m so lucky) that I end up watching DR. PHIL.  I realize this must sound insanely whiney.  I mean, there are loads of mother’s with multiple kids who must never get their kids to sleep at the same time.  I’m sure if they were to read this they’d think I was a spoiled brat and I needed to rise to the occasion.  And that very well may be the case. . . I just hope that I have the energy to do it.  Cause right now, after six weeks over hanging out with an over-tired toddler, I’m just not sure I have the energy to do it.  Sigh. . or maybe this is just a phase????