About the mother who 'killed her kid over farmville'

A recent news article has been bothering me: Mother kills child for interrupting Farmville. Its easy to see a headline like that and shrug it off, forgetting it, because this could never be you, or someone you know. The truth is, she didn't kill her child because of Farmville. She killed him because he was crying, she got frustrated, and shook the life out of him. While visiting Colorardo we heard frequent PSAs over the radio that shaken babies are the leading cause of death amongst infants in the state. Its tragic. It happens. And its not because of Farmville.

Why then? It could be drugs, lack of support. Or maybe postpartum depression. Studies have shown that one in four babies are born to mothers struggling with depression. I'm glad to hear that pediatricians are now urged to ask new moms about depression because checking for that can not only help a mother going through mental hell, but also help her child. Motherhood is an adjustment. Writers like Anne Lamott have demystified it to some extent- but I can't imagine how hard it must be for a mother who has a beautiful newborn whom she loves but also has to struggle with overwhelming depression and admit that while everyone else is oohing and awing over her child she wants to curl up in a corner and cry. To do so seems to imply you're a bad mother- and we mothers are so afraid of the judgments that could be tossed our way. But not reaching out only makes things worse, leading to psychosis and the headlines we read and gasp at.

That's why sensationalized headlines like this bug me. They mask the everyday serious issues at the root of the situation. It wasn't farmville. It was frustration. It was depression. It was a host of things- but blaming it on a facebook game only removes us from the situation. Something was wrong in that house before that game turned on and that's what we should be talking about.  If we took stories like this to remind ourselves to keep our eyes out and our compassion open towards new mothers so they have a safe person they can talk to if they feel frustrated or feel like they're getting depressed- we could avoid these stories, one person at a time.  I know beautiful, intelligent, smart, funny women who love their children just as fiercely as the next mama bear but who had to battle postpartum depression. It doesn't just happen to farmville playing folks who are nothing like us. Headlines like these do everything to get attention but nothing to solve the root societal issue which truly needs to be addressed.

Guilt if you do, guilt if you dont: thoughts on being a stay-at-home-mom

When I was seven years old I got sick and went to the school clinic and saw another girl sitting there, sicker. The nurse called my mom, and hers. My mom picked me up. The other girl? Her mom was working and would be there when she could. It was one of those memories that stay with you. I vowed that day that when the day came, I would be a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM).

A lot happened since that vow. I worked ever since the state of Florida legally allowed me to do so. I got degrees, three of them and worked as both a teacher, and an attorney. It wasn't about the money necessarily since last time I checked teachers and public interest lawyers did not do it for the benjamins but it was nice to "earn my keep." I enjoyed holding a job. I enjoyed the intellectual challenges, and I wondered what would happen when I became a mother. Would I stick to my vow?

Its funny that I wrote about this half a decade earlier and had no conclusion. Now, as a SAHM the question still plagues me and I feel a little guilty: Am I doing the right thing?

I know mothers who work outside the home also feel guilty. Who wish they could be home with their children. Who worry what the impact of being away from them may be.  (And to those who do work full-time and feel guilty, a new study revealed that working mothers do not have the negative impact on their children that many have feared).

I don't find being a SAHM boring. I love cuddling with him each morning. I love doing yoga with him. Carrying him around as I do household tasks. I love snatching moments of time to get my writing in while he naps. Watching him gaze with amazement at the brightly lit aisles of Target. I love that each crawl, each smile, each giggle I witness is very likely the first because I'm there to see it happen. And I am grateful I am able to have this opportunity, because not everyone does.

But there's that lingering guilty feeling. It creeps up when I talk to other moms who tell me they're working in investment, or auditing, or attorneying, and when they ask what I'm up to. . . SAHM. . . Its strange to say it. The words feel foreign. No one is telling me to go back to work. No one is questioning my purchases. There is no logical reason to feel guilty. I guess I'm just used to it. I'm used to working. I'm used to "earning my keep" in the form of a physical paycheck that you can take to the bank and cash.

Its also inescapable that despite the fact that being a SAHM is a good reason to explain the gap in your professional resume, when you do decide to return to the workforce, former SAHMs make less money and have a harder time getting jobs. Its an interesting conundrum to feel guilt if you do, and guilt if you don't.

These thoughts have been with me since I made the decision to stay home but I'm not sure why I feel the need to share these thoughts today. Maybe because I applied for a part-time job (its a full time position but a job I would love to do so I figured it didn't hurt to see if they'd take me part-time). Or maybe its because as I was filling out some paperwork today I found myself staring at the line "mother's occupation" for entirely too long wondering what on earth to write. Mother? Homemaker? None?

I wish the concept of being a SAHM was as simple and clear-cut for me as it was when I was seven-years old, and that I could just allow myself to live completely in the moment without any doubts or hesitations of whether or not I'm doing the right thing. I guess that's the thing about growing up- you learn that nothing is black and white- life is lived within the shades of gray.

What are your thoughts on being a SAHM or working after kids?

The Baby Wearing Post

I never thought I'd be so into wearing my baby. Sunny would talk about the latest sling she was coveting and I felt confused. Why would you need more than one? As it turns out I love baby wearing. K doesn't get it- he hearts the stroller- and to be fair a stroller has its benefits what with the cup holder and the space on the bottom to stick a diaper bag, but for me a stroller has its place, but a baby carrier? Its so much more. I don't need to tout the benefits of babywearing, though there are many which you can read about here, but for me I wear him not because I'm an attachment parenter, or whatever other terms are out there- I wear him because I love it and he loves it and I know that I won't be holding him like this forever. I know some of you reading are new mamas or mama-to-bes so I thought I'd share my take on the different carriers I've gone through. The Baby Wearer is a much more comprehensive site but this is my personal take on the art of baby wearing.

Balboa Baby Sling: This is your classic sling, slung over your shoulder like a messenger bag and you wear your baby like Paris Hilton wears her puppy of the moment. This was my first venture in baby wearing. Back in the innocent days when I thought one sling would be enough. Right around the time I ordered this off Amazon the sling recall alerts began popping up all over the news. I figured it was mostly hype but truth-be-told it felt weird carrying him in this. He sort of fell into it. His chin would press against the fabric or his nose would burrow against the fabric and I got paranoid that he might suffocate. Now its true- if you keep your eye on your baby and make sure they're okay- nothing will likely happen. But in addition to paranoia the sling was a bit uncomfortable, weight distribution was funny, and I always had this sensation like I was going to drop him. In all fairness maybe once he got older this would have worked but I didn't give it too long of a try and quickly returned it.

Baby Bjorn: This seems to be the most popular one. I love that I could wear him snuggled against me, but when he got older I could also wear him facing out. There is some controversy about facing your baby outward but Waleed really loved this and when we went out for walks or I did the dishes I loved how engrossed he would get with the unique angle front-carrying provided him. The major downside for the Bjorn was that once he reached 15 pounds my shoulders and back hurt when I wore him and I could not wear him for more than one hour at a time, max. I also felt nervous if I leaned or bent down because it felt like he could slip out. Plus if I sat down while wearing the Bjorn, he would instantly start crying.



Moby Wrap: This is just one long piece of cloth that baffled me for some time. So much so it was on my list of 101 things to do in 1001 days. I'm happy to say that thanks to this video I can wear him in most of the positions Moby allows. I liked how easy it is to wash since its just one simple piece of cloth, and when he was a newbie the cradle hold soothed him like nothing else. Now that he's older I like that when I wear the Moby wrap my back aches less than it does with the bjorn but I often felt like as time went on while wearing it, he would sink lower and lower. Still, this can be adjusted. I've seen moms wearing the Moby Wrap while out and about at the stores or at the park but for me, its a bit time consuming to get on and really covers me up with fabric so on a warm day I can feel a bit suffocated by all the extra fabric wrapped around me. Its just not easy to park the car, unbuckle baby from the car seat and pop him in the wrap- it requires time unless you pre-wrap yourself before you go. My biggest issue with the Moby Wrap came when I read studies that raise eyebrows at hanging a baby from the crotch as it can cause spinal and nervous issues. While the company insists, if worn properly, no spine issue should happen, I just can't be 100% confident I'm wearing it properly or that if I had an option, if I'd like to be walked around hanging from my pelvis.

Ergo: The Ergo seems to be the Lamborghini of baby carriers but its hefty price-tag kept me at bay for a while. My friend Baraka loves her, and the pictures of her with her beautiful baby boy out and about the city did nothing to help me talk myself out of it. I was determined not to get one telling myself that I had enough carriers, thankyouverymuch. But then a friend gave me a gift card to Amazon and well, the temptation proved too strong. [For the record, giving me gift cards to Amazon and Target are like handing a toddler a car full of cupcakes and telling them mommy went out for a long walk and won't be back for a while.] Ofcourse I consulted with K to get his perspective before buying it.

Me: So I think I'm going to finally get the Ergo carrier
K: But don't you have two other baby carriers?
Me: Yes.
K: But you need another one?
Me: Yes
K: Not, want, but need? Do you really need it?
Me: Yes.
K: *pause* okay.

He tolerates my baby carrying love much like a parent may smile indulgently at a child who likes to eat crayons- you've tried to make them stop- you can't- but hey, at least they're non-toxic? [Though in my defense- I too bite my tongue when he agonizes over fantasy football deliberations as though he actually owns the team. Tis a give and take.]

I've only had it a few days and I'm already truly, madly, deeply, in love with it (though I do wish it had the forward-facing option).  First, the baby sits in it like a chair, not hanging from the crotch. The weight distribution is also great with most of the weight on the hip area instead of in the shoulders and upper back. Essentially, I carry him in this carrier as I would carry him in my arms. I took him to the zoo last Sunday and it was hassle-free with space to put your money and even a few diapers, taking away the urgent need for a diaper bag at all times. Plus, it has a sleep-cover you can use that works as a great sunblock as well for when its bright out. I was even able to nurse him with privacy without even having to pause and sit out. Walk and nurse. That is as cool as cool can get. I love that I can wear him for hours without even realizing it. The back carry position rocks but its really hard for me to get him on my back without help. Once he's there though? Awesome. I can cook, fold clothes, even flame throw if I am so inclined while he chills out safely on my back. And blessedly I can sit while wearing it without him getting frustrated so I foresee eating out at restaurants being much easier with me able to wear him when he gets fussy without him putting his hands in the mashed potatoes. From what I've read I can use this until he's 40 pounds so I know that despite the price-tag this is a long-term investment and I will certainly get my money's worth.

So that in sum is my baby wearing post. Some women covet purses, some hoard shoes. Me? I love my baby carriers. Do you use any of these? Any I haven't heard of but really should look into?

The book update I never wanted to give

Thank you for your kind words. Luckily, it didn't take weeks to feel better, just a few days. As most of you who read this blog know, I've dreamed of being a writer for years, probably since I first learned to put pen to page. My love for writing naturally led to dreams of getting published. I've written articles, I write this blog, but my novel- that was the ultimate dream. That dream inched closer when I got an agent at my dream literary agency. I thought once you got an agent, a difficult task in and of itself, the rest was cake.

It wasn't. My agent is awesome. She got my foot into doors at major publishing houses and I'm still amazed these editors read my novel. They gave feedback and I revised. For nearly a year. But ultimately, in one area I could not revise because for me it changed the core of the story and then I couldn't stand behind it. So for now, my book is put to the side. For now, my dream is deferred. 

Obviously, this news breaks my heart. I dreamed of seeing my book on bookshelves. The fact that it won't be there- well how else can I feel but hurt? You hear a lot about writers who almost didn't make it. Who went to the last publishing houses- and just then they sold and now they are living legends. We are a country proud of overcoming obstacles and these stories give us hope and inspire us. But the truth is- for every writer who makes it, there is one who didn't. Failure is rarely spoken of but its there- and sadly- its a part of life, albeit a bitter part. It hurts to share but share I must because its my truth.

When I first found out, I didn't want to write anymore. All that effort and for what? I thought. But as the days passed clarity set in. As much as this hurts, its not the end of the road. That effort is not all for nothing. There are good things that have come of this. I have an agent who stands by me and will support my next book. I have confidence in my writing- as the reasons for the no wasn't my writing abilities but technicalities that could not be overcome. And the truth is, while the ultimate dream is to be published- I never wrote for that. I wrote because I had to give Naila's story a voice. I wrote because its what I love to do. Because I find peace within the written word and because its just a part of who I am. I can't not write. Publishing or otherwise doesn't change that.

My analogy of feeling like a tree without leaves is accurate. I felt like a leafless tree. Not a tree-stump. Not a hollowed out tree, dead but standing. No, my sadness is natural but it is seasonal. Trees lose their leaves (except those hoity toity evergreens) but leaves grow back. Spring will return. Its the natural order of things.

Perspective too, is a beautiful thing. The day I heard the news, tears falling down my face, my son looked up at me while I held him in my arms. He put his hands on either side of my face, leaned his chubby face towards me, studied me with his large brown eyes before he leaned in and gave me a wet kiss on my cheek. My first kiss.

When we lost everything in Hurricane Andrew my parents firmly told us, we can fall down but as long as we have each other, we can always get back up. As I sit here typing these words while he sleeps in the swing across from me, I know those words to be true. He heals my wounds. He soothes my aching heart.

My book is put to the side but life is not. Its just as beautiful as it ever was and despite this mountain-sized bump on my path to authorship- I'm down but not out. Thanks for all your support along the way. Your comments have been like virtual hugs and I can't thank you enough.

What happens to a dream deferred?

Does it dry up
like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet? Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load. Or does it explode?
-Langston Hughes-

Sadness is a tree without leaves

Fall is coming, bringing with it wistfulness and backwards glances as you wonder where the time went, where its going, and what could have been. I admire the yellowing foliage but feel a bit verklempt because it is a harbinger of the leafless winter to come.

I'm not feeling particularly cheerful today. All is well in the places that count but today I'm nursing a broken heart. Intellectually I know it will be okay and its just a mountain-sized bump in my road, but right now, at this moment I feel like a tree without leaves. I'm not ready to talk about it yet but someday soon, I will.

Sometimes I wonder: I don't watch TV as much as I once did but I'm online more than ever. Did I just trade one diversion for another? While I can justify using the internet as the pursuit of knowledge, connections with others, and a creative outlet, the truth is, despite its benefits the internet can also create a great deal of mental clutter- and I really need some clarity right now.

So for a little while, I'm going off the grid. I'm hoping a few weeks offline will be what I need to nurse my wounds, dust myself off, get back on course, and keep on keeping on.

In the meantime I hope you are well. See you in a few.

How I almost stole a sharpie pen and why I didn't

When I was seven my best friend at the time filled me in on a very cool secret. Guess what my dad does when we go to McDonalds? She asked with a proud smile. He tells them he wants water because its free and then he gets Sprite because its the same color! Free soda! I thought this was beyond cool and told my parents on the ride home that next time at McDs we could order water and get Sprite instead. I paused waiting to be congratulated on my cleverness but my parents stared at me horrified. It's stealing, they said. But its just soda I replied. You can find reasons to justify it, they said, but stealing is stealing. 

We have a bunch of people coming into town this weekend. I'm looking forward to it since its not every day that all the people you love most in the world are under one roof, but getting ready for guests, with a baby in tow, and prepping for the meals that will be expected is exhausting. Bone crushing exhausting.

Waleed and I went grocery shopping today. He sat in the car seat in the buggy while I popped cereals, milk and OJ around him inside the cart. I kept my eyes peeled to see if Krogers carried Sharpie pens. I knew they might be more pricey here but being able to pick them up in a one-stop shop would save me the headache of the extra drive to Target, getting him out of the carseat, popping out the stroller, and then doing it in reverse when I'm done just for a simple little pen. Luckily enough Krogers had the pen I wanted- and on sale to boot! I looked at where to toss it but by then Waleed was surrounded in the cart by piles of towering carrots and cucumbers resembling, what some in flat as flat Florida might consider a small mountain range. So I handed him the pen. He stared it and then at me so gratefully, babbling away as though he was accepting an Oscar, not a pen.

Because I had so many things, the bagger, an older Somalian man was kind enough to escort me to my car and help me load it up while I loaded in Waleed. As he finished loading, I took out his tip and walked over to him just as he pushed the trunk closed. Oh, he glanced at the cart that had carried Waleed, the pen, I'll take it inside don't worry. I shook my head, and reached for it, no I bought it, I need that pen. He looked confused, but it was in this buggy. We both stared at the pen.  Then at each other. Before I had a chance to speak he quickly smiled and said never mind its okay. Before I could even hand him his tip or respond he walked away.

Sitting in the car I looked over the receipt. Bread, cereal, onions- no pens. I leaned back in my seat and sighed as I stared at the distant entrance. I would need to get my seventeen pound baby out with the car seat. Unfold the stroller, pop him in, soothe him (as he was crying now), and run in to pay for it and then repeat it all again as I put him back in. It's just a pen I thought. They'll hardly notice its gone. The effort of going in to pay for it felt exhausting, and I was already bone-tired.

I remembered a story I once heard of a wise man approached by a father who asked him to advise his son, who respected this wise man greatly, to stop eating sweets. The wise man told him to return in a month. When he did, the wise man told the boy: stop eating sweets. The boy nodded and obliged. Perplexed, the father asked the wise man why he couldn't have said this one month earlier. Because, the man replied, I liked sweets too. How could I tell him to stop a thing I myself did? I had to rid myself of the habit before I could advise him to do the same.

I am going to mess up in a lot of ways in this parenting journey but I hope that I can as best as possible avoid being a hypocrite. It won't always be possible I know, but when I can avoid it I must try. How could I tell Waleed when he was five that he couldn't slip the tic-tacs into his pocket as we walked out the store because it was stealing when I myself, albeit inadvertently, stole?

Luckily, Krogers  had a "walk up" pharmacy so I pulled my car up and left it running as I walked up and asked them if I could buy the pen I walked out with. I felt bad that the bagger thinks I walked away with the pen without paying for it. But I guess its okay since I didn't it do for that. I did it because someone taught me years ago that I could justify it all I want but drinking sprite from the water cup is wrong.

I look at my son and while I know that right now he knows little more than the fact that his toes are the tastiest treat south of the Mississippi, he is soaking things up faster than a sponge. The pharmacist thanked me for paying for the pen. I shook my head because the cost of not paying for that pen was much higher.

Happy Five Month Birthday

Dear Waleed,

Today you are five months old. Its been such a busy month I don't even know where to begin but I'll try to organize my thoughts as best as I can.

You had your first Eid this month. We spent it with nana and nani. You wore your first shalwar kamiz ever. It belonged to your cousin, your Phupo was kind enough to mail it to you. You had an outfit change in the afternoon due to, shall we say delicately, technical difficulties with your diaper. Your second outfit was your Mamu Aamir's. He wore it over two decades ago. It was a bit surreal to see you in his outfit because your mamu is all grown up and as small as you seem in his old outfit, you are growing up too.  

I think the whole concept of you growing up has been hitting me this month. You see, you began rolling this month. Now, I knew babies crawled, stood, walked, but no one told me they rolled. You roll and roll and roll. You head for the hookah, the DVD player, anything except for the stuffed animals and toys we have lined up for you. We can no longer swaddle you because you roll in your sleep. The other day I walked in to see you asleep in your crib with your arms over your eyes, your legs crossed like you were tanning the beach. And suddenly I could see you five years old, or ten. I could see myself standing over your bed to wake you for school. As much as your babyhood is my reality and your childhood to come quite abstract, its beginning to grow more clear as glimpses of the child behind the baby begin to emerge.

This month was your first vacation. We traveled to Colorado. We had a blast though you weren't a huge fan of the whole time-change thing. It was amazing to see the Rockies with you. You seemed intrigued beyond measure but you know what? It was our first time here too. So while these were your first mountains and waterfalls and babbling brooks, they were our first here in Colorado. It was awesome to experience a first with you. 

We lost your Pluto on the trip. We frantically called up all the places we stayed but no one knew what happened to it. I've lost things along the way traveling over the years: glasses, belts, hair clips. We shrug, replace, and move on. But losing Pluto? It felt like someone stamped on my forehead: worst. parent. ever. We tried giving you other stuffed animals to play with, you'd grab them politely and then fling them at the first opportunity. I went to get you a replacement. Unfortunately they no longer make that size anymore. They had one Pluto as big as you, and one closer to the size of a beanie baby. I bought the smaller one. When I handed it to you, your eyes lit up, a large smile swept over your face. Then you held it closer and looked up at me, one eyebrow raised as though to say, um, what did you do to my Pluto? It shrunk. You squinted and studied it for a good while, turning it over and inspecting. Finally you sighed and hugged it close to you, tugging its tail and snuggling close to it. I guess we couldn't fool you but you accepted tiny Pluto and it was the sweetest thing I've ever seen.

You love it when I sing to you, you always have, but lately only one song will do. Its a simple little song I sang to you when you were just a few days old and lately it has the power to calm you unlike anything else. You can go from a sobbing, hysterical mess to a serene newborn sucking his thumb when I sing it. Your shoulders relax and your eyes widen with recognition. It's magical. I get a lump in my throat to know how easily my voice can soothe you, and the knowledge that it won't always be so. That there will come a day that a simple hug and my silly songs just won't do.  My friend Shabina reminded me yesterday that despite the struggles, and the challenges and the sleepless nights, they are only visitors in our home for a short while. It feels like forever but it will be gone in a flash. Its an important reminder and one I hope I remember for the rest of my life. Thank you Waleed for being my son, and as my silly little song that you love so much goes: Waleedie, Waleedie, I love you Waleedie. You'll always be my baby, my baby Waleedie.


Love,

Your Mama

You know you're a writer when. . .

You're driving down the road at 12:30 to go grocery shopping and come across fifteen parked police cars leading up to a house in your neighborhood, and while your first instinct is to think of all the ghastly possibilities your second instinct is, well maybe one of the fellow cops is pregnant and they're having a baby shower during their lunch break at a fellow officer's home, alarming everyone around for miles while they are inside playing how big is mommy's belly and eating donut-shaped baby shower cakes. 

I mean, that could have been it, right? [Am writing chick-lit at the moment. Clearly the work has saturated my brain]

Top Ten Linkety Links

It's been a long time, years maybe, since I've done a blog post sharing my favorite links of the moment. If you find these interesting (or not), please let me know, by commenting, you quiet lurkers you! [I see you!] If you find these helpful or of any use I'll try to make it a regular thing.

The funny: Thanks to Rozeena for sharing this funny office e-mail exchange about a missing cat, you have to read it down to the end to get the full humor.

The scary: A scary pediophilia scare for a mommy blogger, and how the internet can draw universes smaller than we can ever imagine.

The mommy: Baraka shared an interesting article on nursing in Mongolia- the practice is starkly different from the US, so much so, my jaw literally dropped as I read it. Still, there is a lot we can gain if we adopted some of their attitude on the subject.

The reading: JK Rowling gave a fantastic interview with Oprah (even if parts of it broke down into a "I'm rich, your'e rich too! Isn't it crazy?!") but the cool part? she didn't rule out more Harry Potter books!

The creative: Just found this awesome site with tons of articles on creativity that are more than just pat advice but real inspirational stuff.

The writing: A bunch of you have asked me about writing a book, how to get an agent, etc. I refer you to wonderful blogger and author, Mel, she has the whole process from writing to publishing broken down for your edification. Just look at the side bar on the right and click away!

The fooding: Tracy sent me here and I. am. in. love. The pictures of the food are gorgeous and I've made a few meals from the site that have turned out spectacular! My favorite recipe so far: Garlicky baked french fries!


The rallies: 10-30-10 Jon Stewart's rally to restore sanity (alongside Colbert's competing rally to keep fear alive). Seriously hoping to go. Seriously think you should too!


The political: And speaking of Stewart, he was on point with his thoughts on the Obama administration: I think people feel a disappointment in that there was a sense that Jesus will walk on water and now you are looking at it like, 'Oh look at that, he's just treading water' … I thought he'd do a better job," said Stewart.

The bloggety blog: Yasmine is back to blogging after an extended hiatus, check out her beautiful reflections on life and her equally awesome photography skills! [Ahem, Yasmine this is my way of politely nudging you to keep on keeping on! :)]

Thoughts? Any linkety love for you?