Welcome to the Church, Miles

So, I've run away and joined the circus.

Not really, but that's a far more interesting reason for not posting since Saturday than the truth, which is that I just haven't had a spare moment.

On second thought, I really have run away and joined the circus. It's called the Renaissance Festival. But that's beside the point entirely.

Because the point is: My baby is baptized!!!

Sunday morning, after Mass, in front of 31 (seriously) of our closest friends and family, our Priest poured water over the head of my precious little boy. He anointed him with the oils. He blessed him. Miles' godmother, Stacey, held his baptism candle, lit from the Easter candle on Pentecost. His godfather, Chris, put the white tabbard over his head. And dozens of pictures were taken.*

And the entire time, Miles was calm. Serene. Happy.

My little angel baby has now been welcomed into our Church, and has received the gift of the Holy Spirit. On the day the Church celebrates the gifts of the Holy Spirit. The day could not have been more perfect.**

*I don't have a single one, by the way. My camera died, and no one has sent me their copies, yet. (Hint, hint)

**Except, of course, if I had pictures of it. (HINT, HINT) :)

Bad Mommy

So, apparently, I am a Bad Mommy. But, then, that has been established by my kid's lack of socks.

This time, though, it's much worse than going without socks. This time, it's over something that could affect my child 'for a lifetime.' I don't know if I can even type the words, but here goes. . .

I rock my baby to sleep.

I know, I know. I'm setting him up to be an insomniac for the rest of his life, unable to fall asleep unless I'm holding him in my lap.* I mean, no mother in the history of the world has ever rocked her child to sleep. And the few stupid ones (like me) who did had children who turned into serial killers and prostitutes because of their insomnia issues caused by too much rocking.**

I may be exaggerating slightly, but I was called out yesterday on one of the Mommy Forums for rocking my baby to sleep. I was told that if I didn't let him cry it out, he'd "never learn to fall asleep on his own!" Never mind the fact that letting my child cry for even a few minutes only pisses him off beyond belief. In our house, there's no such thing as "crying it out."*** Too bad, say these Judgy Gertrudes of the Interwebz. Let him puke. It will teach him to self-soothe.

What?!?!?

My child falls asleep every night, content in the knowledge that Mommy (or Daddy) is right there, keeping him safe and warm. And I get a precious few moments to cuddle my little boy, who is growing too fast as it is. Gone already are the days when he would cuddle in my lap for hours on end. Now, he is far too busy crawling around, pulling toys all over the living room, pulling up on the couch, chasing the dog, and trying desperately to figure out how to walk. The only time he will sit still long enough to cuddle is if he's sick. Or very sleepy.

So, I rock him to sleep, drinking in the sweet, relaxed moments with my boy before they disappear forever. Breathing in the scent of his hair, feeling the warmth of his little body curled against mine, listening to his steady, even breathing, and watching his eyelashes flutter until they close for the night. I know these moments will be gone too soon, leaving me only with the memories of the scent of his hair, the warmth of his little body, and the flutter of his tiny eyelashes. Maybe I am selfish to keep rocking him, but I am not going to stop any time soon.

And if that makes me a Bad Mommy, I am entirely okay with that.

*Which will get awkward when he's taller than me. . . or perhaps before then? :)

** I mean, what else can you do if you're up all night? I guess your options are limited to murder or selling your body for money. Or working at Denny's. :)

***There is however "screaming your fool head off until you barf," which is what usually happens in these situations.

Friday Photos

Time to start the weekend right with some pictures of our Boy!

Using a bottle lid to bang on a pot.

Knight in training.

Watching the bubbles.

Discovering already the magic of an empty cardboard box.

Crawling!

Miles shows off his crawling skillz. :)

The Great Divide: Part 2 - Choosing Sides

On Monday, I talked about this problem I called "The Great Divide". The distance between Working Moms and Stay-at-Home Moms. Now, let me explain why I care so much about this issue.

The Great Divide widens every day. And I find myself caught between the two worlds. I am a working mom - I work outside of the home, and (at least for part of the year) I contribute financially to our income.* I leave the house most mornings and go to an office, where I spend my day at a computer, just like so many other working moms out there. But, I am also a stay-at-home mom - I am the primary caregiver for my son. I spend my time balancing housework with interacting with my son.

Like all new mothers, I look for ideas, support, and understanding from others who are experiencing the same things as me. But, it's harder than it should be. Because I don't feel like a working mom - I'm with my kid all day long. And I don't feel like a stay-at-home mom - I'm rarely at home, truth be told. Which is why I describe myself as a "full-time mom". But there are no forum boards, no blogs, no support network that I can find for "full-time moms".

That said, I have been lucky enough to be a part of a forum board for stay-at-home moms who have been kind enough to overlook the fact that I am also a working mom. I find a lot of advice and support on this board, but I still feel like the outsider in the group. Like I don't really fit in.

Unfortunately, if that's the case, I don't really "fit in" anywhere. I am an anomaly. A very lucky anomaly. Few have the opportunity to walk with a foot in each world, wearing both the working mom and the stay-at-home mom hats at the same time.**

I just wish that The Great Divide didn't exist. After all, we're all moms. We all deal with some of the same issues: colic, teething, illnesses, potty training, raising our children to be the best people they can be. We all struggle. We all have bad days. And we all love our children more than we ever knew was possible. Why, then, can't we support one another, regardless of where we spend our days?

Wouldn't that be a lesson worth teaching our children?

*Granted, I also help spend a lot of that on Festival, but that's beside the point. :)

**And I'm sure that, like anyone wearing two hats at the same time, I probably look a little like a goober sometimes. But that's not really the point. :)

The Great Divide: Part 1

Since Miles was born, and more specifically since I began reading parenting blogs and participating in parenting forums, I have come to discover The Great Divide. No, I'm not talking about a piece of geography you probably don't remember from middle school social studies. I'm referring to the divide between Working Moms and Stay-at-Home Moms.

I've seen this referred to regularly as the "Mommy Wars". Moms who work contend that they are "actually contributing" to their household income. Moms who stay at home will often counter by saying that they contribute by making the household run more smoothly. Working moms accuse those who stay at home of being lazy, watching television all day while their kids run amok. Stay at home moms accuse working moms of "paying someone to raise their children for them." And the argument devolves from there in a hurry.

Here's the thing: they're all wrong. And, by the same token, they're all absolutely right.

Working moms do provide for their family financially, as well as in all the other ways that moms provide for their families. And moms who choose to stay at home often do keep the household running like a well-oiled machine. But, I know working moms whose homes run incredibly smoothly. And I know stay at home moms who manage to pull in money after the kids are in bed. On the flip side, I've seen stay at home moms who are the definition of lazy - their children running in and out of the house, flinging food and toys in their wake, while the mom watches the television. And I've worked in daycare enough to have seen working moms who only see their children for an hour a night before bed. Regardless of whether a mom works or not, some are wonderful, and some could definitely use some improvement. But regardless, all moms love their children. And I truly believe that most moms are doing the best they can, given their situation.

Why, then, do we attack each other? Why do we judge one another? Why do we insist on making our fellow mothers feel guilty about their parenting choices? None of us has all the answers. And until we start coming together, accepting one another's choices even when we disagree, the Mommy Wars will continue.

And that, to me, is incredibly sad.

Long Week . . .

I tried to write a sunshine and rainbows post. I really did. Because I am blessed in so many ways.

But, even so, this week sucked. A lot.

Start with the fact that Patrick was out of town all week.* Mix in a healthy helping of Festival drama. Add a pinch of hysterics over the Frankie and Johnny show. Plus all of the normal demands of working and keeping up with a very active little boy.

By Friday, I was literally in tears - tears of frustration and pure disappointment at how things were going. As I said to Maestro several times: everything this week just felt harder than it should have been. Meetings that should have taken fifteen or twenty minutes turned into hours-long marathons of arguing points that had already been decided. Frankie and Johnny had to be entirely re-blocked to be performed inside instead of outside, three days before it was to be performed. Helping a friend with living arrangements that should have been easily dealt has taken all week, with nothing entirely decided yet. Even Miles decided that he had to fight sleep at every opportunity.

Meanwhile, Patrick was dealing with his own situation that turned out to be harder than it should have been. Originally, his trip was supposed to last two days. By Wednesday, it was obvious that they wouldn't be finished in time, so their stay was extended to Thursday evening. Then late Thursday night. Then Friday afternoon. Patrick finally returned to town at 6:30 pm on Friday - a half an hour after my dress rehearsal began. I would never have gotten to see him, except for the fact that he's amazing and brought me dinner.**

Today was the exception to the rule. I woke up early and went garage sale-ing with some amazingly beautiful women, had lunch with some wonderful friends, and spent a wonderful evening entertaining a house full of people. I have to say, being a (too) pious church woman can be a lot of fun, if you know how to play with it. :)

I am merely hoping that today is the beginning of a new trend - one in which things do not turn out to be twice as difficult as they should be. And if not, I'm afraid you'll know me when you see me: I'll be the woman who is missing patches of hair, because I pulled it all out. :)

*Yes, again. Third time in a month. Ugh.

**Besides, he needed the van keys - which I had at rehearsal. Oops.