The Mommy Project

Project: Make the Baby Laugh

Mazzy is 8 months old and although she smiles a ton, she hasn't laughed yet. She's not ticklish and no matter how hard I try, I can't elicit that coveted belly laugh. I've come to the conclusion that either she is a very serious kid or I am not that funny. 

In my efforts to get her to laugh, I've gone on Youtube to see what works for other babies.  What I am confronted with is that other parents seem to have it ridiculously easy. They can get their babies to laugh from making animal noises, ripping paper, sneezing, playing peekaboo, pretty much anything. But when I try any of these things, Mazzy just sits there staring at me like I've lost my mind. We've even tried watching the videos together in hopes that Mazzy just needs examples of other babies laughing to push her over the edge. But nope, that doesn't work either.

My mother, a few weekends ago, bought Mazzy a doll that laughs when you press the belly. All weekend we were determined to make the doll Mazzy's new favorite toy. We pressed that belly at least a hundred times until I'm sure even the baby wanted to throw it out the nearest window.

And then yesterday something monumental happened.  It wasn't quite a belly laugh but it was a definite laugh none the less. You know what did it? I kissed the back of her hand. How sweet is that? It's as if Mazzy was saying, "See, Mommy? You don't have to try so hard."

Read another take on making Mazzy laugh on Mommy Shorts

Project: Becoming Mommy

Having a baby has been one of the most rewarding tasks I have ever had the pleasure of taking on.  But identifying as a mother and with the other moms around me has been more of a work in progress.  I work in advertising and advertising is all about branding.  And since I had a baby on the later side, I have spent a long time cultivating the "single career woman brand".

The first crack in that brand was when I got married three years ago.  To this day, I feel a little funny using the word "husband."  I think it's because of two things- 1) it feels too grown-up, even though I am well aware I am now in my thirties and 2) it feels like I'm admitting that I wasn't entirely happy with the "single woman" brand, even if that's probably true.

The second crack came when I got pregnant.  I remember walking around those first few months like I was carrying a big secret.  It made me nervous that soon my personal choices would be on public display.  But it's funny how you look at something a certain way and then when you embody that role, it becomes something completely different.  After it all sank in, I didn't feel exposed, I felt special.  It's as if my whole life I wanted people to think I was destined for something greater and now the proof was right out there for everybody to see. 

And then the baby was born. During delivery, I know people scream and cry but my husband can attest to this, I couldn't stop laughing.  It just felt so monumentally ridiculous that it was me in this pushing scenario that I've seen played out in the movies a billion times.  All of a sudden, instead of motherhood being a concept that I'd digest some time in the future, it was a right there in my arms wrapped in a blanket.

I live in the East Village of Manhattan so people around here talk about the invasion of the stroller mommies as if it's the end of everything cool and interesting.  The first time I walked down the street with the stroller- I felt a little proud but mostly unnervingly conspicuous. After seven years of people seeing me out and about in the neighborhood, I was now outing myself for what I had been all along- a mother whose sole purpose was to use more than my fair share of the sidewalk.  To the casual passerby, the stroller said I was Mom first, person second. I have used a sling or a baby carrier almost exclusively ever since.

Before I got pregnant, I was very active on facebook.  I wrote updates that were mostly random things I found funny.  I thought the people who were constantly updating with stories about their kids as if there was nothing else going on in their lives were a whole other breed.  But when I got pregnant, talking about anything else as if it mattered almost seemed like lying.  So I stopped status updating all together.

Of course, when the baby arrived, I shared my happy news with my corner of the online world. And then for a while afterwards, all I did was share pictures and anecdotes about my incredibly adorable, smart, precocious, personality filled little girl.  If I had a funny update, it was about diapers,  If I discussed a problem it was about lack of sleep.  If I posed a question it was about feeding solids.  In short, I was becoming one of THOSE moms! So after a few more baby centric updates, I made a pact with myself to talk about something else.  The gym, the weather, The Bachelor.  Anything.

But then I realized that the baby WAS what I wanted to talk about.  It's not the only thing going on in my life but it's certainly the most important and the most entertaining.  And the moms I know on facebook not only seem genuinely interested in sharing experiences, but they also offer a ton of great advice. There are no judgements.  And as far as everybody else is concerned, they can block me if they want.  

As we say in advertising, it's time for a re-brand.  After all, the only person who was hanging on to the old brand was myself. 

Project: Ferberize (or something like that)

Letting a baby "cry it out" is agonizing. Especially if you are a first-time parent. If the cries had words they would be- "Mom!!! Can't you hear I'm miserable?? Don't you LOVE ME ANYMORE??!!" We successfully sleep trained Mazzy about a month ago at about seven months. It wasn't nearly as hard as I expected and it's up there with one of the best gifts I have ever given myself. 

Putting the baby to sleep used to be the most stressful part of my day. First I would go through our bedtime routine. Yes, the routine. You can't join the mommy club if you have no bedtime routine I have learned. Change, bottle, book, rocking with lullaby. The words go something like this- Go to sleep, little baby, cause this process is painful... Somewhere around the second verse, Mazzy would catch on, arch her back like a gymnast, flail her arms, swaddle be damned and start screaming.  It was almost impossible to hold onto her. The goal was always to hold her tight and get the pacifier in her mouth no matter how much she resisted. You see, she doesn't think she wants the pacifier but OH YES SHE DOES. Isn't there some Shakespearean phrase where he calls sleep "little slices of death"? I can relate. Between the iron grip, the force feeding of the pacifier and the swaddling, it felt like I was killing her every night. 

Even when Mazzy is dog tired- yawning and rubbing her red little eyes- she fights sleep with everything she's got. The second she closes her eyes and nods off, she jolts awake in a panic as if you tricked her. She hates sleep with such a passion that it would seem strange if it wasn't so familiar. I've struggled with sleeping my whole life. When I was little I remember every night I would lay in bed, waiting until I thought it was just long enough and then I'd come downstairs and announce to my parents, "I can't sleep". And up until this day, after my husband goes to bed, I like to stay up to watch TV and play on the computer and futz around the house. At night it seems like you can accomplish anything- there are no other places to be, no agonizing over making it to the gym, no trying to squeeze in an errand, no job, no baby- it is free time pure and simple. For as long as I can remember, I wait until my eyes are practically closed and my brain is about to shut down before I have no choice but to drag myself to bed.  I get why Mazzy doesn't like to sleep- life is much more interesting when you are awake.  

We decided to start sleep training at six months but our first few attempts were unsuccessful. Consistency is key and we had none. Mazzy started turning over in her crib and getting trapped so I had to keep going in and helping her out. And each time I went in she got even more inconsolable when I left, which meant starting from square one every time. I have read Goodnight Moon more than any one else on the planet. A couple of weeks went by and she figured out how to turn herself back over so I thought we were finally ready. Turns out my husband was not. As the cries got worse, he would stare at me with these big eyes that said, "Are you sure she's not going to remember this when she's older?" And then the next thing I knew, he'd walk into the kitchen with a red-eyed, sniffling, teary Mazzy in his arms, claiming, "I saved her". 

But then my husband went away for a few days and I realized this was my opportunity. Forget Ferber, forget Weissbluth, forget The Sleep Lady Shuffle- I was going cold turkey. Mazzy just got more upset every time I went back in and out anyway. And I don't know- if the baby is crying hysterically, doesn't it make more sense to make her feel like she is truly on her own, then that you are sitting right beside her and not helping? My child doesn't care if you offer words of encouragement- she wants to be picked up. NOW. 

The first night the crying sounded like it went on forever but when she finally quieted down, I realized it had only been 39 minutes. (Timing the crying is the key to EVERYTHING). I could handle 39 minutes! And once you know that yes, the crying will eventually stop, each night gets shorter and easier.  The whole thing took about a week. To my utter amazement, I can now put her to bed with barely a fuss. She gets upset at the beginning of the routine- when I change her into her PJs because she knows what's coming. But after a minor fit, she surrenders and we are good to go. She might even look completely awake by the time I put her down in the crib but she lies there like a champ while I leave the room and we don't hear a peep.

Well, every now and then we hear a peep. Like the time my mother was over for dinner. The baby went down fine but about an hour later she started crying. My mother stared at me in horror as I continued to eat my dinner. "She's fine," I said. To which my mother replied, "I never let YOU cry it out." And I said, "Yes, I know, and I've had sleep issues ever since."