When Co-Parenting Is Harder Than Solo Parenting

toddler late nap.jpg

Marveling at my diagonally-cut stir fry vegetables for dinner, I waltz into the living room singing my offer of a carrot to my toddler, who I discover is napping on the futon next to Gym Hottie at 6:30 in the evening. I give my son’s futon companion so much side-eye. Can you guess the parent, who skipped the oh so sacred toddler nap? Hint: it’s not the shitty wife. Now that Father’s Day is over, my dear husband is not exempt from leaving the toothbrush on the counter and I won’t un-excuse his poor call to take Humnoy out for an errand during his daily scheduled nap time. Sorry, bro but you fucked up today. I don’t give into the myth of mom weekends so I honestly believe my husband should just work 7 days a week because he makes co-parenting so much harder on his days off. Solo parenting is a breeze compared actually tag-teaming during those days.

He fucks up nap When he’s in the same room with us, the kids refuse to nap. The kids love his presence that much (I don’t know either). He’s the jungle gym and the kids think it’s play time when he’s within ear shot. Humnoy has to be behind closed doors with his dad on the other side to even think of taking a nap. NAPS ARE SACRED; GET THE FUCK OUT.

He makes me a naggy wife Just add “nag” to my list of shitty wife accomplishments. Okay, well I wouldn’t nag if he just did it the first time I asked.

Me: Hey, babe, maybe you and [Hum] can fold that basket of clothes while I [slave away at this hot stove making us an elaborate family breakfast. I would surely appreciate the help].
GH: *ignores*
Me: Babe?
GH: uh, oh yeah. I’m busy at the moment; I’ll get to it.

Above is an extremely modified version of actual events but him not “getting to it” is very true to life. Six hours later, I take the kids for our daily walk to get mail and I have to nag again….

husbands never help with chores.jpg

Kids turn into gremlins Humnoy acts a crazy fool when his dad is home. He gets so pumped up and screeches and jumps and hoots n’ hollers and is just nuts about his father. This behavior then dominoes to his baby sister and it’s like Jurassic Park soundtrack up in here. When it’s just me, he just whines and throws things at me when he’s not pawing at my boobs. Same for the little one too.

I turn into a gremlin For some reason, I feel like I get a pass to get angry with the little brats but lord help him when GH gets mad with my babies. Maybe it’s because I’m with them all day and I’ve reached my breaking point at 72 hours of back-to-back late bed times and he reaches his in the 29 minutes he’s been home? I understand he’s tired and been on his feet all day working really hard. Not to toot my own horn but I have been too. So, when he lashes out, I lash out at him, and it’s just a shit show. He soon wishes he was at work as do I.

Days off is such a funny concept because I don’t know what it is. When co-parenting is harder than when I’m solo parenting, it makes me wonder what we are doing wrong. Are we so touched out as parents to two little kids that we are resentful during days where we can be a family? As hard as balls as co-parenting is, we laugh so hard with the kids in bed that I just melt and so does my stubborn pride when I think I’m better off without their father. After all, he is the one who got me into this crazy, beautiful, hectic circus of a mess but I wouldn’t have it any other way nor any other co-parent.

How does your partner make co-parenting difficult?

My Father’s Day Gift To My Husband and My Dad: No More Kids

I was a little bummed when the father of my children said, “No more children!” with Father’s Day right around the corner. Gym Hottie and I enthusiastically agreed with one another on the fact that this two-kids-at-once gig is plenty . . . for “right now.” My heart melted from the endearing thought that opens up the possibility for more mini-Laotian Commotions in the future. Another overwhelmed father in my life is my own. I called him tonight to wish him a “Happy Father’s Day” and I laugh at his 29th request for some odd task to research another fancy idea he saw on the computer (i.e., the internet). My father is an eccentric and odd Laotian man, who wasn’t ready for his daughter to even have one kid, let alone another one within two years. So, this Father’s Day I will give them the best gift both my father and my husband would appreciate: I’m starting birth control.

The last time birth control talk was initiated was during my final postpartum visit done when Lanoy turned six weeks with my midwife, who attended my home birth. She presented the options and the corresponding information along with risks, benefits, and what may work best for me. I listened to each option and tried real hard to find the best method to prevent my uterus from getting ransacked again.

The ‘pill’ What seems to be the most known form of female birth control, I have taken the combination kind in my pre-kid life and even took the progestin-only kind during Humnoy’s infancy. The mini-pill is a progestin-only (the synthetic form of progesterone) birth control pill. I hated the mini-pill. It messed me up. Well, really though I messed it up because you had to take it every day at the same damn time. Shit you can’t do when you’re a new mom learning about your new baby and other mom life happenings. Also, the hormones in them messed me up. I didn’t feel right. After all, it is a pill with some trace amounts being passed into breast milk. Combined with exclusive breastfeeding, the mini-pill’s effectiveness against pregnancy is 100%. I can barely remember to run a full dishwasher so this option is asking too much from me.

IUD (intrauterine device) There are two options: ParaGard or Mirena. ParaGard is wrapped in copper and lasts for 10 years; Mirena contains progestin (like the mini-pill) lasts for five. I always hear horror and success stories with this. I’m more worried about its rumored effects than how it’s inserted: in my uterus. The nice thing is that I don’t have to remember to pop a pill and it can be as effective as surgical sterilization. Uh, wut and whoa. Also it can be removed at any time. . . from your uterus . . . from a medical professional, not yourself nor by your inventive ways to spice up parent date night.

NFP (Natural family planning) This wasn’t really discussed at my appointment because I don’t think the midwife didn’t want to suggest something that can leave room for error. I always thought of this as the good ol’ Pull n’ Pray (“withdrawal” method) but this thinking led to this. There’s also the book, “Taking Charge of Your Fertility” that helps you plan or avoid pregnancy without any contraceptives. You chart your fertile myrtle moments and either pounce on it or avoid it like folding clean laundry.

Exclusive breastfeeding Yeah, did you know that exclusively breastfeeding your baby can be an effective form of birth control? Yeah, me neither. It works only if you meet the following criteria though:

  1. Your baby is less than six months old
  2. Your menstrual periods have not yet returned
  3. Baby is breastfeeding on cue (both day & night), and gets nothing but breastmilk or only token amounts of other foods.

My cycle returned at 10 months with Humnoy, which is a couple months after I returned to part-time work. This may not work for me because *jinxy, no jinxy* both of my babies began sleeping through the night before or at six months. NO JINXY.

Condoms No pills, no invasive procedure, no hormones, sometimes surprise baby. Oh, shit. You know how many times I’ve heard “the condom broke” and it wasn’t even me? To their credit, I’ve also heard of pregnancy happening with the other methods above as well. See? Human error and I have made plenty.

I am bummed there won’t be another new -noy in the immediate near future but pretty sure Gym Hottie is even more bummed with my most preferable birth control in the form of condoms. No hormones, no remembering/forgetting, and usually free. The actual frequency of Parent Sex greatly reduces his actual encounter with condoms so beggars can’t be choosers. I am interested in learning to chart using NPF in addition to using condoms. With all the options laid (heh) before me, this method seems easiest and fool-proof so he will just have to deal with the monthly bi-weekly weekly glove love.

birth control methods breastfeeding natural parenting

if it were that easy, stork.

Tell me your experience with birth control methods.

Comparing (Your) Children To Each Other

4 month old sitting unassisted

Humnoy, 4 months old (Photobooth app)

I now realize that milestone checklists are shit. They make parents feel nervous, anxious, and sometimes failing. I felt that way with Humnoy’s language development while not one professional took into account his many other talents. Humnoy is a piece of work. We are constantly shocked at the stunts he pulls or can learn with just one example. I professed my stage-mom fear that I would try to ignore the highly possible sibling comparison. With Lanoy, I was at peace that she may not be advanced as her older brother. A running joke within our family but never comparing it to other children, of course, she will be the calm, collected child compared to her wild-child athlete of a brother. I admit we also joked that she needs to catch up when her three-month mark passed and she had yet sat up unassisted like her older bbrother. Unlike a checklist or other gene pools, I just compare my children to each other.

 Take, for example, when he rolled over at three weeks old and the reaction from our Facebook friends/family made us realize a baby born less than a month prior doing this is uncommon. As the law of amazing things not occurring often, I figured my experience with a child with impressive gross motor skills could only happen that one in a few chance. Focusing on other things like feeding and clothing and entertaining two young kids, I had no time or energy to constantly stay up-to-date with where they ‘should’ be on their milestones. As it turns out, comparing siblings to each other is a bit more accurate than the generic charts because they’re more similar than I thought they would be. I think big brother antics is rubbing off on our sweet cherub because she’s discovered screeching and putting all the things in her mouth while doin’ big girl things.

4 month old sitting unassisted

How do you measure your child(ren)’s development?

Even Shitty Wives Get Love Poems

photo courtesy Melissa Reagan of Seattle, WA

My shitty wife life began well before my peaceful parenting journey. I also wasn’t the most pleasant of girlfriends either but we somehow managed to stay together through drunken fights and major egos. My once-again doting husband went above and beyond and offered to take most of his morning before work to try and fix my MacBook from its serious injury that cleared out the first year and a half of Humnoy’s life. I rummaged through a very neglected craft drawer to look for the installation CD. Rather than scoring jackpot with my years-old MacBook product, I ran into past mementos that were stuffed in the drawers. Mixed in between college documents and middle school pictures, I found a love poem by my baby daddy and I fell in lust all over again. The sweet-nothings was written while I was still pregnant with Humnoy and craved all the food.

Today, we exchange love gifts in the form of trading favors for whoever switches wet laundry or does ass-wipe duty for the toddler. GH and I aren’t love-dovey. We don’t hold hands or kiss everyday. Our common interests are our beautiful children and most of our discussions are about our beautiful children. We rarely have 100% nice things to say to each other but we share a love for very bad-for-you food and surprising each other with it even until this day. A pre-kid life inspires the poet in all of us.

I noticed you forgot your purse
Forgetting things can be such a curse
Im sure your tummy & [Humnoy] are hungry
And your probably tired & Angry
So I hope you enjoy the wonderful smell
Because I got you an XXL Chalupa from Taco Bell!

taco bell love poem

Aren’t the grammar mistakes so presh?

What is your favorite love memento between you and your partner?

Co-Sleeping Saves Lives

co sleeping saves lives

Fun fact: I used the beautiful dark cherry crib that was gifted by my mother-in-law as a glorified laundry basket for a good part of Humnoy’s first year. Up until I discovered the amazing secret to more sleep, Humnoy slept in his bassinet because even I succumbed to the fear ads of sleeping with a little baby. Once I ditched the bassinet and just let him sleep with a boob in his mouth in our bed, I (no shit) got more sleep and (no shit again) Humnoy slept through the night after a couple months of co-sleeping. It saved my zombie ass and I no longer resented the poor little human screaming his head off in the middle of the night. I love having my babies close to me for the ease of breastfeeding and saving money and space when sharing a bed. It wasn’t until a dangerous sleep habit unexpectedly occurred that makes co-sleeping more than a lifestyle decision but a possible life-saving one.

Humnoy had been dealing with what the urgent care doctor considered a stomach bug. Think: toddler shit runs, toddler cranky pants, toddler screams, and toddler puke. Poor boy couldn’t keep down any food for an entire day and even threw up water. It was heartbreaking seeing a once skillful and adventurous eater turn down his usual favorite foods and gag at the sight of bacon. A day of a watchful eye was in order but he was normal and energetic albeit dehydrated and had an empty stomach. He thankfully kept down breast milk and went to sleep for the night until a very uncommon and terrifying episode happened in the middle of the night.

I was up per my usual nightly wind-down with my iPhone’s modified brightness keeping me awake while shielded from my sleep mates. I had just taken my midnight shower and relaxing before passing out with my slumbering family. All of a sudden, the room’s silence is interrupted by a gurgle sound coming from my 2-year-old in his side car crib. Humnoy vomited and then gagged on it. He threw up a couple more times but GH was close enough to swoop in and assist our child onto his side. I flash-clicked the bedside lamp and grabbed some towels after scanning my poor baby’s state and his eyes were still closed. He didn’t even stir long enough to fully wake up from an intense night episode. He falls back to his angelic mood but his father and I plan a visit to the doctor in the morning and then we wallow on the “What ifs?” What if he slept alone in his own room down the hall? What if he couldn’t wake up? What if I never brought an infant Humnoy into bed with me?

There are always stories sensationalized by the campaign against co-sleeping like sudden infant death syndrome (SIDS) or a drunken parent smothering their child in an unsafe sleep situation. Rare is the news about the immense benefit of co-sleeping when it can prevent possible danger or worse. Even though he barely managed to avoid choking, our ability for an immediate response alone carries as much weight as the many other reasons combined on why we co-sleep. I made myself consider the risks of choking on vomit or swallowing vomit into the lungs as a way to be grateful for lack of personal space or assault by baby appendages. If the sight of sleeping babies wasn’t reason enough (and more sleep, oh my, the sleep), responding to these sleeping babies in a possible dangerous situation makes co-sleeping the safest option for our family. Cosleeping has improved my life in many ways but it also could mean the difference in saving my children’s.

How has co-sleeping helped you?

How I Ended Up Like My Tiger Mom With Peaceful Parenting

Welcome to the June 2013 Carnival of Natural Parenting:

Parenting in Theory vs. in Reality

This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month our participants are sharing how their ideas and methods of parenting have changed.

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In Laotian ceremonies where blessings are the cultural spotlight, “get good grades” was the most common blessing for children by elders next to lifelong health. Another common blessing was also to “be good children,” disguised as don’t fail your parents; “get good grades.” Academic success is financial stability is parental success. My mom was born in Laos, a tiny country in Southeast Asia, and she is known to be a classic “Tiger Mom.” By the time my siblings and I were in school and my memories were valid, I was raised to succeed in school and I did. I began earning as a straight-A/B student during the grade years that counted and earned a varsity letter in tennis my freshman year of high school then go on to be the first female in my family of immigrants to graduate college and, hell, high school in my immediate family. In Tiger Mom finesse, she still attributes all my achievements in the way my mom raised me, the way she talked to me, and even disciplined me.

Tiger Mom is a term used to describe a mother, who uses strict ruling and tough love to drive their child(ren) toward academic success. The stereotype is the overbearing, always yell-talking Mom, who seems to hate all your friends. That example is loosely based on my experience growing up with my mom, who moved to the U.S. in 1979 and was (arrange) married to my father six years later. There are a few definitions which narrow Tiger Moms down to being Chinese but it can cross many ethnicities. In all accuracy though, Tiger Moms usually are Asian and their children are first-generation American students, who are terrified of getting spanked by a flip flop for anything less than an top of the class.

I felt deprived and embarrassed like when my mom vehemently denied for me to attend a sleepover across the street. She was so rooted in her our culture that she would’ve done most of anything to keep me from assimilating into sleepovers and Hanson music videos and focus only on academics. Her parenting energy was devoted toward my success and stripped my emotional well-being that I rebelled so hard that it shattered all her work with underage binge drinking and a few citations to show for it. Lavishing in my selfishness and proclamation to be forever child-free, I was smacked harder than the fly swatter when I became pregnant in 2010. I made this internal vow to never be like my mom. I will never heed her advice, I will never let her teach my children, I will never forgive her. Two grand-babies later, the proverbial apple didn’t fall far from the motherhood tree no matter how hard I intently reached for the opposite of my upbringing.

It took me 20 months of gestation and two natural births then 26 months of peaceful parenting to finally realize I’m my tiger mom. I want my children to succeed. I want them to have a stable life. I want them to be driven. Most of all, we both want the best for them. My tiger mom wanted me to achieve more than she was able to and I have the same wish for mine. She had her way of making it happen and I have my peaceful ways to guide them. Though using eccentric methods, she was selfless in wanting me to always do my absolute best. I believe that’s all my mom knew and I know differently as a mom so I do better. Disguised under “peaceful parenting,” I’m driving myself to excel at parenting so my children will be successful people much like the wishes from my tiger mom.

tiger mom

How are you the same/different as your parents?

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Carnival of Natural Parenting -- Hobo Mama and Code Name: MamaVisit Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants (posts will be live and updated no later than afternoon on June 11):

  • My little gastronomes — “I’ll never cook a separate meal for my children,” Maud at Awfully Chipper vowed before she had children; but things didn’t turn out quite as she’d imagined.
  • Know Better, Do Better. Except When I Don’t. — Jennifer from True Confessions of a Real Mommy was able to settle in her parenting choices before her children arrived, but that doesn’t mean she always lives up to them.
  • Judgments Made Before Motherhood — Jennifer at Hybrid Rasta Mama looks back on her views of parents she came in contact with before she became a mother and how much her worldview of parenting has changed!
  • A Bend in The Road — Lyndsay at ourfeministplayschool writes about how her visions of homeschooling her son during the elementary school years have changed drastically in the last year – because HE wants to go to school.
  • I Wish Children Came with Instruction Manuals — While Dionna at Code Name: Mama loves reading about parenting, she’s not found any one book that counts as an instruction manual. Every child is different, every family is different, every dynamic is different. No single parenting method or style is the be-all end-all. Still, wouldn’t it be nice if parenting were like troubleshooting?
  • The Mistakes I’ve Made — Kate at Here Now Brown Cow laments the choices she made with her first child and explains how ditching her preconceived ideas on parenting is helping her to grow a happy family.
  • I Only Expected to Love… — Kellie at Our Mindful Life went into parenting expecting to not have all the answers. It turns out, she was right!
  • They See Me Wearin’, They Hatin’ — Erin Yuki at And Now, for Something Completely Different contemplates putting her babywearing aspirations into practice, and discussed how she deals with “babywearing haters.”
  • Parenting Human BeingsErika Gebhardt lists her parenting “mistakes,” and the one concept that has revolutionized her parenting.
  • Doing it right: what I knew before I had kids… — Lucy at Dreaming Aloud, guest posting at Natural Parents Network realises that the number one game in town, when it comes to parenting, is judgement about doing it right. But “doing it right” looks different to everybody.
  • A synopsis of our reality as first time parents — Amanda at My Life in a Nut Shell summarizes the struggles she went through to get pregnant, and how her daughter’s high needs paved the way for her and her husband to become natural parents.
  • Theory to Reality? — Jorje compares her original pre-kid ideas (some from her own childhood) to her personal parenting realities on MommaJorje.com.
  • The Princess Paradigm — Laura at Pug in the Kitchen had planned to raise her daughter in a sparkly, princess-free home, but in turn has found herself embracing the glitz.
  • Healthy Eating With Kids: Ideal vs. Real — Christy at Eco Journey In The Burbs had definite ideas about what healthy eating was going to look like in her family before she had kids. Little did she realize that her kids would have something to say about it.

Measuring Success and Value In Motherhood

motherhood success.jpg

Motherhood success done right.

My jaw dropped from her text. I couldn’t believe my mom would try for the umpteenth time to coerce me to move back home with my family and return to work full-time. Only this time she really hit a nerve. She wondered why I don’t have long-term goals and what a 40-year-old out of the work force for a decade will gain. First off, I’ve never made a plan to wait to work when the kids are in college. Okay, just kidding they’ll be teens when I’m 40. Second, how can a former full-time stay-at-home-mom to four kids have such harsh words? Third, I’ve got plenty of goals. I’m most upset at the fact that she doesn’t see the actual value I place in staying home in these early important years with her grand babies.

It boils down to my maternal instinct to be there for this important time of their lives. They’re only young, vulnerable, and passing major developments in these early years once and that means so much more to me than being able to have a home in my name or to be able to afford a vacation or this weird concept of saving money. Living from one paycheck to one paycheck, we do, however, plan for a second income when the kids are older like as early as (pre-) school age. Gym Hottie said it right when he said we need to live poor for three to four years to then live more comfortably the rest of our lives.

I honestly think my mom thinks my college degree will expire and that my field will banish me if I don’t join their workforce within an allotted time frame. I also honestly think she just wants the best for me still. As an immigrant, she places high value on living “the American Dream:” a home, two cars, two kids, and khaki pants for all. In my journey as a parent, I place value differently. Success isn’t artificial but ethereal. Success is measured in helping my toddler work out his emotional meltdown with a time-in. Success is measured in celebrating extra money one month to enjoy a meal not cooked by me. It’s also measured in doing what’s right for us and respecting two-income families, who solely wish they could be at home. It’s the little things that really matter right now and I have huge goals for life and they’re not even mine.

success.jpg

What does success mean for you? Have you reached it?

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