Perfect Flavor

this is me pregnant at 8 weeks. You can only imagine how big my belly is now...=)

Today I am 23 weeks pregnant! And what a celebration it is…

With 4.5 months of horrid morning sickness under my belt, I’ve seen a lot of improvements in my physical health in the past month. I’d like to think that my family, particularly my two teenage stepkids, ages 14 and 11(trust me, in girl years age 11 is classified in my book as a teen), are happy with my new demeanor as well. Due to my raging hormones, combined with their raging hormones, our home life has been a little less idyllic when it comes to the rocking-chair-knitting-in-front-of-the-fire-with-my-loving-children-at-my-feet picture that I often attempted to paint for myself. In fact, what pregnancy has done to me, I see now, is turn me right back into my hormonal, irritable, easy-to-anger teenage self. I can only imagine that my loving and overly-tolerant husband has had his fair share of 3 teenagers in the house. And he thought he married a beyond-her-years 26 year old. Sigh, I wish.

My pregnancy has certainly brought forth its fair share of surprising challenges when it comes to my ability to parent while at the same time growing a rather demanding (and heavenly) life inside of me. But I must say-I can take all of this. As my wise mother-in-law says quite frequently when faced with a tough situation, “This too shall pass.” And she’s right. What I’m having most difficulty with is not the often immature fighting and nagging that occurs in my house when someone forgets to flush the toilet, replace the toilet paper roll, or hang up their wet towel post-shower. I’m actually struggling most with what goes on in my little parenting/pregnancy world when I leave my house.

I feel that when I leave the comforts of my home and enter into the parent/pregnant lady environment these days, whether its a prenatal yoga class, a new moms group or other,  I am bombarded with what I’d like to call: “The Battle of the Best Parent.” Now, donning my battle armor when entering into these situations is not new to me. Being the young second wife of a man 14 years my elder, with two stepkids and an ex-wife in the mix has never been an easy fight. I guess I thought that I would feel like I had earned my stripes when, once pregnant, I could proudly tout the fact that yes, I am the mom of two teenagers and that this experience would make me ideally suited to being a parent of a newborn. After all, what other women do you know who are pregnant with their first but already have two kids at home? If anything, I should be handing out the advice, right? Wrong.

Apparently, according to almost all of the women whose children are under the age of two, I have no idea what I’m getting myself into. In fact, they even seem to think that I “have it easy.” Here’s an example:

When sitting in on my first, very large, prenatal yoga class in a room of twenty or so women, about half of whom are on their second pregnancy with an “under-24-month” old at home, we go around the class doing amicable introductions about who we are, how pregnant we are, and if we’ve got any kids at home. (I’m assuming this last offering of information is to help us feel the support of the other moms in the room; to induce a sense of empowerment and shared wisdom—boy, how wrong I am!) Everyone nods knowingly when moms express that they have a “20 month” at home and are due in a matter of months. “Wow, you’re brave!” is the response from most in the room. The instructor in particular coddling this woman with courageous euphamisms concerning the challenges she faces but the remarkable strength in which she’s approaching her situation. When it comes to me, I take a deep breath, gaze knowingly at every individual face in the room (well, not really, but you get the picture) and state that this is, in fact, my first pregnancy, but that I’ve actually got two stepkids at home, at which point the instructor begs the question: “Well, how old are they?” to which I respond, “Ages 14 and 11.” This is met with a response that again and again I am only beginning to be able to predict, much to my dismay. “A 14 year old and an 11 year old? That doesn’t count.” or “How fantastic, they can help babysit, change diapers, etc.” or “How easy it must be to have older kids.” or my personal favorite, “Teenagers practically take care of themselves!” The list of rather ignorant and condascending responses goes on and on…

Each day my husband returns home from work and I relay to him the newest response from my newest class members, to which he exclaims, “Next time that happens, you should just walk out!” It is, indeed, ignorant beyond my understanding that a woman would feel so insecure in her own role as a parent as to put down the arduous journey of another. Everyone’s got it tough, no matter how old your kids are, right? Well, maybe, but that’s not how I look at it. Instead, I accept parenting for what it is: an vastly enriching experience in which our children are our teachers. Each parent is experiencing their own set of lessons, and I am so grateful to be learning as much as I am from my kids. Of course being a parent can be hard. I have no doubt that changing diapers, tending to a crying infant, and being spit up upon are exchanges between parent and child that can be wearing no matter who you are. But what kind of karmic aftermath are you asking for if you expect that raising a teenager is a piece of cake and nothing like raising an infant or toddler.

Parenting is for a lifetime, and what I hope most for these women is that they not only accept that, but that they begin to embrace each others hard work, no matter how old the child.

After all, ironically I have more “experience” as a parent than all of them, being that, if I were to count in months how long I’ve been parenting Nick and Kate, I would have everyone beat by 26 months. And you don’t see me belittling their experience or holding that number above their heads.

If you’re the mom of a toddler and are expecting a baby, I respect your daily, hourly, and minute-by-minute hard work.

If you’re the mom of a teenager, I respect your daily, hourly, and minute-by-minute hard work.

Now, let’s just see if we can all work together.