Momma Guilt

The Latin Cowboy and I want to have a baby! This will be our first and it is super exciting and nerve racking at the same time.  There is a lot to consider and a lot to take in and I happen to be an obsessive information tracker.  What is going to happen to my body? What is happening to the baby? How long will it take to get knocked up? Will I make my husband crazy? Will I cry over every dog food commercial? How much time off of work will I have? Pooping on the table, WTF? Pumping? Pumping schedule? Pumping at work? . . . . . . . . .

Oh, I could go on and on, and I haven’t even been off BC for a whole month! Regardless of all of my questions and concerns there is one thing that I know for sure, I am going to be a working mom.  So, being information crazy, I typed ‘working mom’ into Pinterest, I wanted to know what the challenges are, what the best crockpot recipes are, how to get organized and advice for pumping at work. What I found, was some of that, but an overwhelming number of pins that had the word ‘guilt’ in them.  “How to overcome your guilt,” “dealing with guilt,” “I enjoy my job!” “don’t compare yourself to stay at home moms” what the heck is this? According to the 2010 census 67% of mothers are working moms (yes I googled it, thanks huffingtonpost.com !).  So, if over half of the women in this country are working moms, why is a country full of strong, smart, hardworking, providers for their families still using June Cleaver as the bar to measure motherhood?  Ladies, this is no longer the 50s or the 60s, this is 2014, and even in 1957 the majority of moms looked nothing like June!

So, here is the deal ladies, why would you feel guilty? You are providing a roof over your families head, putting food in their mouths, paying for insurance and medical care and giving a powerful example of a responsible and hardworking adult.  Maybe this is not what works for every family or what your family may decide to do, but this is the right choice for my family, I will not feel guilty about that.  My husband and I both have good jobs, he has his own business and an extremely flexible schedule, I have a 9-to-5, with great pay, retirement and great health insurance. 

Now, with that said I have no doubt that going back to work after having a 'mini me' will be one of the hardest things I will do in my life.  I will probably feel like I am missing every important moment, that I will want nothing more than to be home snuggling with the little person that we created.  One thing I will not feel guilty for is working to make the house payment, to pay for insurance, food, diapers and toys.  I will not feel guilty for putting away money for a future college education and I will thank my parents for doing the same for me.  I will not feel guilty for leaving my child in the hands of someone else, because that someone else will be my husband, my parents and capable child care providers. 

You might be snickering at this point and saying, look at her up on her soapbox, telling us ‘how it is’, just wait you righteous mom-to-be, just you wait. I guess we will see, only time will tell. 

Unconditional Love

I love my dog. He is perfect.

He is black, big, eats more than a horse, passes more gas than Chevron and sometimes keeps me up nights snoring.

His bed is at the foot of our bed.

When I first brought Tucker home, the Latin Cowboy was determined not to like him. He had his dog and I had mine. Don’t ask me why or how anybody could not automatically love those over sized feet, and those big eager brown eyes and the little pink tongue that stuck out when he was asleep. They got off to a rough start, Tucker would look at the Latin Cowboy with suspicious eyes and the Latin Cowboy would avoid Tucker.

Tucker is one smart cookie. He watches and learns, he watched the other dogs jump in and out of the truck, he watched them nip and heal the cows, he listened to the whistles and watched them respond. He watched the Latin Cowboy.

He decided he was going to be a cow dog too. Now he spends every day with the Latin Cowboy.

Last night something terrible happened.

I was brushing my teeth. I could hear the Latin Cowboy’s hushed voice and thump thump thump.

Again . . . .

Whisper . . . thump thump thump

I leaned my head out the bathroom door and saw the horror. The Latin Cowboy tapping the bed thump thump thump, “come on Tucker.” He was trying to get my dog to jump into my bed!

Apparently only one of them realized what kind of danger they were in.

“No dogs on the bed!” I screeched (I am sure it did not sound pretty, part of it I think only Tucker could hear). I do not share my bed with a 90 pound methane producing machine or any other dog! I love my bed it is my sanctuary.

Tucker sat paws firmly planted on the ground, his chin lightly resting on the blankets his big brown eyes smiling at the Latin Cowboy, you’re in trouble now buddy (totally unfazed by by screeching, he knows better).

I love my dog. He is perfect.

The Latin Cowboy loves him too. The Latin Cowboy might need a little more training.