Let me see the tootsee roll

I hate to admit that I sometimes watch "16 and Pregnant."  On one hand, I am truly disturbed that MTV has glorified teen motherhood and that my trashy Hollywood magazines (Um, Matt, my US Weekly subscription ran out...) have turned these mothers into celebrities.  On the other hand, I totally slow down to see the scene of a car accident and likewise, I love watching a good teenage train wreck. 

I was watching an episode yesterday (sorry, I don't recall the name of the mom...but she was young and didn't have all of her teeth...and her parents lived in a trailer...and they were in the deep South...oh wait, that's every episode!) and one of the new mom-to-be's friends asked her if she was scared of labor.  She replied, "They told me I'd have to push like a bowel movement.  I didn't know what that was.  I thought it was a new dance move."

Aside from the obvious "ohhhhmygawd are you kidding me, this girl's going to have a kid?" gut reaction, my next thought was, "what type of dance move could even vaguely resemble labor?", followed by a little chuckle as I recalled pushing like a bowel movement. (...after I made a bowel movement.  Whatever, you choose to read this blog.)

Anywhooo, I've been thinking a lot about what term we should use to refer to "#2". My parents believed that the more technical the better so they referred to it as "BM."  I casually call it "poop" (obviously).  So, is there a right and wrong word choice? 

Parenthood sure is tricky.  I don't know the answers to all of this crap. 

What did your parents call shit?

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Rehab

Hi, my name is JulieSue and I'm an addict.

It started so innocently.  I was having trouble falling asleep (even though I was exhausted) and staying asleep (I would hear my baby cry when he was fast asleep OR I would wake up and just stare at the video monitor) so I turned to the OTC aisle at the local CVS.  One night, I popped half a Tylenol PM before bed and, amazingly, I woke up, 8 hours later, feeling refreshed and revived and ready to take on the (baby) world.  It worked so well that I took 1/2 the next night, 1/2 the night after, and then incorporated the pill popping into my nighttime routine (brush teeth, remove contacts, take pill).  At some point, 1/2 a pill turned into 1 pill and occasionally, when I'm feeling extra spunky, I go crazy and take 2 whole pills. 

I called my mom to tell her about my little addiction and she said, "can't hurt you, in fact, you'll get fewer colds."  My mom attended the same medical school as this guy.

A shameless celeb effer, I'm following the lead of my US Weekly headliners and checking myself into Tylenol PM rehab.  This is the same facility that we used when we needed to cure Ari of his pacifier addiction.  Dr. Drew is not here...and it sure is not a "party at the palms" (if you get that reference, I salute you).  I doubt I'll get to see Lindsay Lohan or Catherine Zeta Jones, but if I'm lucky, the manager of this joint (a tall redhead easily bribed with gummy bears) will take pity on me (and my withdrawal symptoms) and slip me some benadryl at 2am.

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We came, we cried, we conquered

In her book The Baby Whisperer, Tracy Hogg refers to actions by parents like Matt and me as "accidental parenting."  I think the term is unfair and inaccurate.  I would define "accidental parenting" with the quote by the stars of MTV's Teen Mom who tell their parents, "it was an accident."  Contrarily, Matt and I knew exactly what we were doing that steamy night last January (fine, it wasn't steamy, a girl can dream).

Anyway, Hogg (who died in 2004, long before MTV and Gloucester High and US Weekly glorified teen motherhood) uses this term to describe actions parents take that they think are best for their baby, but ultimately cause unhealthy habits.  Running into the baby's room 20 times a night to replace the pacifier, picking the baby up every time he wakes mid-nap, and letting him snack all day and night long are a few examples in the book.  And oops, we did them all (on purpose...we are purposeful parents).  It shouldn't have been a surprise that he wasn't sleeping at night, but it sure was frustrating.  So we called in our own baby whipererer (auntie erin, mother of 4, heart of steel) who helped us develop a plan of attack.  Email me if you want the full plan, but the gist of it was let him cry, don't feed him at night, and don't go in his room.  She even convinced me that when he cried, he was saying, "Mom, give me a chance to put myself to sleep."  Sleep deprived, I believed her. 

It took a few nights and wasn't nearly as traumatic as I expected, and now, we have a 7:30pm-7:30am night sleeper.  And, the pacifier is a thing of the past.  Now that the baby is sleeping, and we're sleeping, there's only one thing to do...start working on #2.  And then claim it was an accident.

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