I Was Banned From A Mom Group In Under 10 Minutes

It finally happened.

I was banned from a group on Facebook.

Not just any group either. It was a rather large mom group. So as a follow up to my previous entry, in regards to the different kinds of moms on Facebook, I’d like to explain how I found my new favourite mom group, and how I got banned from another one in less than 10 minutes.

You see, I’m a nerd. I’m a Pokemon Go playing super nerd. So there I was chilling in a local Pokemon Go group and I asked if there were any other Pokemoms in the group. (Get it? Pokemoms? Clever right?) Of course there were plenty. The topic of other mom groups came up in a thread and I was lead to this awesome group that just takes in all the misfit moms. Every mom seems to do something a little different from the other and they may joke and play around but no one seemed to really bash or be extraordinarily rude to each other for their views. Sarcasm abound. But no straight up bitch faces.

But this group had a secret, dark side group. A no holds barred sister group. A Free For All. The only thing that couldn’t be brought into the drama was people’s kids and private profile. This group seriously releases the same endorphines in my brain that sex and chocolate do. Apparently, I’m a little catty deep down inside. Maybe not so deep. More like just below the surface there is a raging mean girl who wears black on Wednesdays. And so between these two groups I found a very fun and informative group of people (because there are a few dads hanging around too because they’re smart men).

I’m still pretty new to this group but I’m enjoying myself there. One day I noticed some people talking about a completely separate group and some drama that was going down there. I got curious. So I joined.

I scrolled through and didn’t see anything that really drew my attention or if it did… I knew better than to comment and chose to just scroll on past. However, because I was new to this other group it was required that I fill out a bit of a survey, and get this, post a picture of my infant in her car seat and preferably a picture of where she sleeps. The picture part weirded me out a little. Not that I don’t share photos of my baby on the internet, because, well we’re here, now aren’t we? But to REQUIRE it in order to stay in the group and not be harassed by page admins? Ok… I’ll bite. So I opened the thread to see what others had written and assess the situation.

It was an all out BASH FEST. If you did not answer their questions appropriately you were deemed a #shitmom and were “educated” accordingly. Harshly.

Well, I can take some criticism if I know it’s more or less a game. I can be a good sport. This shit had to be a game.No way were there an entire group of women (because it was no boys allowed) that knew they were this mean and all joined the same group. I know I’m a good mom. My happy, healthy baby lets me know every day I’m a good mom. But I decided to play along.

And so, I answered their questions.

What is your stance on:

Breastfeeding: My daughter is 8 months old and she’s formula fed. I believe in Fed is Best. I tried breast feeding. I failed. The End.

Crying It Out: Now that my daughter is 8 months old (and has weaned herself off her soother), I do let her cry it out at nap time for 3-5 minutes tops.

Vaccines: 100% for vaccines. Because science.

Solids Before 6 Months: I started my daughter on rice cereal at bedtime around 4 months. Began beginner purees at about 5-6 months. Now at 8 months we are starting to introduce “real food”.

Spanking: My daughter is still too young to really know, but I think there are better ways to discipline in most situations.

Extending Rear Facing Car Seats: My daughter is still in her rear facing infant car seat and will remain so until she meets the weight requirements. Then she will be moved to a convertible seat that will be rear facing until she meets the weight requirements.

I answered all their questions honestly. Every word was true. I had nothing to hide because I know I’m a good mom and my daughter is doing just fine. But I knew they’d come at me for a few of my controversial views.

And they did not disappoint.

Apparently I’m an “abusive twat” for allowing my daughter to cry for 3 minutes. I simply clicked “like” on that particular comment. They then started picking on some other girl in the replies to my comment and I asked them to please judge her elsewhere and to continue judging me. This was, clearly, a post designed to judge new members and test their abilities to handle criticism, correct? Correct. And so it continued. I was asked why I believe in Fed is Best? It’s simple really. Not all moms can breast feed and formula can save babies lives. Better formula than nothing. That particular answer seemed to satisfy the hell hounds. Then, when a link to a blog about “peaceful parenting” was posted (it was a .org website which someone tried to tell me was a .gov website), and I replied with “Neat blog. Thanks”, I apparently pushed the wrong button.

This was not a joke. This was very serious. How dare I scoff at their “education”. I was SUCH a moron. Such a #shitmom. How embarrassing for me.

banned

And thus, I was banned. It took no more than 10 minutes. That’s how fast they pounced. That’s how fast I laughed in the face of certain death…erm…condemnation. That’s how terribly obvious it was that I did not belong. I could not sit with them.

Boo! You Whores!

But that’s ok.

Your organic protein bars are going to make you fat anyway you judgemental group of sanctibitches. I hope someone puts foot lotion in your face cream. I don’t want to sit with you anyway.

 

 

 

 

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What Facebook Taught Me About Being A Mom.

When I first found out I was going to be a mom I thought “I have an awesome support system. This will be great.” And although I DO have an awesome support system, being a stay at home first time mommy can get lonely sometimes.

So what does a mildly introverted, new mom do when she’s feeling lonely? Play groups? Join a gym? Talk to people in real life? HA! How about find a few mommy groups on Facebook? YOU BETCHA!

Every mom needs a Tribe of other moms that they can ask those questions that a doctor will literally tell you to “try Googling it”. I do have some really amazing mommies in my life, but as we know, life gets busy and we don’t always have time for each other when we’re dealing with our respective clans. So it’s nice to have a virtual outlet of other mommies in the same boat as you. I even went as far as creating my own parenting group (which is awesome by the way).

The only problem with mom groups on Facebook, is that there are millions of people on Facebook. This means there are millions of different kinds of moms on Facebook. This can absolutely be amazing. Sometimes you can find an experience or point of view that makes things make better sense for you. Sometimes you can find someone who seems to be on the same wave length as you and you suddenly feel so relieved to not be alone in how you think and feel. Then there are those times that the Sanctimommies find you. The bleeding heart, organic food only, gave birth to triplets, naturally, in a crystal clear mountain spring while humming classical music to their newborn who has been signed up for a Montessori school since the day they were conceived, moms. Personally, I’m just hoping my daughter gets her Hogwarts letter when she turns 11.

These are the moms that make being part of Facebook groups difficult. These Sanctimommies are the pariahs of the internet that like to suck out the souls of new moms everywhere. I’ve been known to disagree with things I see on the internet. I’ve been known to voice my opinion on something someone has posted. But I’ve never called anyone a bad parent. I hope I have never made another mom feel bad about anything. I try my best to empower other moms in whatever choices they are making for themselves and their wee ones. It is difficult to decipher online what is actually something bad, and what is simply a bad photo or bad explanation of something. So 90% of the time, I continue scrolling. Sanctimommies, never just scroll on by. They always have something to say and it’s very rarely empowering.

Mom-Meme

The only thing worse than the Sanctimommies are the extreme Anti-Sanctimommies. These are the moms who “never judge”. I think these are the moms that are silently judging but don’t want to be dubbed a Sanctimommy. Or perhaps these are the moms that are guilty of the parenting mistake that is currently up for debate. You’ll find these moms saying things like “You don’t know their life. Let’s not judge other moms”. Anti-Sanctimommies are worse than Sanctimommies only in the sense that I think they would turn a blind eye to something truly bad if it meant they’d be “judging” another mom. Let’s be real here people, we all judge each other. Some of us are just really awful about it, and some do it silently to avoid confrontation.

The main thing that Facebook has taught me about being a mom, is that there is no one way to do it. Every birth story is different. Every baby is different and that alone makes every parenting experience different. I’m a firm supporter of Fed is Best. I don’t care what you choose to do with your baby boys genitalia.What you choose to do with your body is none of my business. Car seat safety IS important and really can’t be debated. Everything else? Not my monkeys. Not my circus. You do you and I’ll do me and in 16 years our kids will all hate us equally.

 

 

 

 

 

I Hate Pink. And Blue.

When I was pregnant my husband and I decided we weren’t going to find out the gender of our baby. 

Apparently this is a very old school way of doing things. People in my parent’s generation all praised us for keeping the surprise. Oh how fun! Nothing is a surprise these days! Doctors ranged from impressed to confused. You actually don’t want to know? People in our generation didn’t know how to handle it! But how will you be able to get ready for baby? 

How will we get ready for baby? What do you mean by that? 

How do you buy stuff if you don’t know the gender?

Oh, you mean do we buy pink or blue? Do we paint the nursery pink or blue? Do we buy pink or blue blankets and stuffies and accessories? 

Here’s the thing… it wasn’t the surprise I was most excited for. I honestly got more joy out of watching people squirm because THEY didn’t know. For some reason the gender of the cells dividing and multiplying to create this new life was important to people. They didn’t know how to purchase a baby shower gift if they couldn’t buy pink or blue. Pro tip: buy diapers or other useful items. New moms are going to buy their own kid PLENTY of clothes and we’ll have more money to do so if essentials like diapers and wipes are taken care of. Baby is going to puke and shit on any colour you buy them anyway, so relax.

I was fine not knowing. In fact, I was a little afraid to find out. I was terrified I’d have a boy. Not that there’s anything wrong with boys. I just felt I’d be a better mommy to a girl. It’s what felt right to me, besides the fact that the ratio of boy babies to girl babies in my extended family is about 3:9. I figured I just knew what to do with a girl better. Maybe it was an instinct that kicked in, letting me know very early on, without the help of an ultrasound, that I was indeed having a girl. 

I’m also not a huge fan of the colour pink. The idea of having a pile of gifts wrapped in 50 shades of pink wrapping paper and opened to find 30 different pink outfits for my kid to shit all over, made my stomach turn. I was equally repulsed by the idea of the same image done in blue. Baby stuff is adorable. I love shopping for my kid. But I really love variety in her wardrobe (I shop in both the boys and girls sections to find cool, fun clothes), and I prefer gifts be thoughtful and not generic gendered colours. Oh she’s having a girl, I’ll just grab this pink outfit and pink elephant stuffie. Done.

When she gets bigger and decides everything must be pink, so be it. I dont want my daughter defined by a colour though. I didn’t want anyone putting gendered expectations on my baby before they were even born. My fetus didn’t know it was a girl. The only indication I had that she was a girl was a few pregnancy dreams and the fact that girl-power pop music always made her roll around in there. 

So why does knowing the gender matter? Why are bakers everywhere making money off gender reveal cakes? I understand the excitement of finding out if it’s the gender you wanted. Everyone always has a preference. We’re going to try for a boy! We’re hoping for another girl! What if you find out its the gender you didn’t want? I didn’t want to feel any disappointment in my child before I had a chance to even meet them. 

Gender identity is something that can only be defined by the individual. As my daughter ages she will decide what kind of female she will be. It is a touchy and controversial subject in the world today and all I can do is support her.

My job as her parent is to love the shit out of her. My goal is to ensure that she is happy and healthy and safe. My hope, is that she will grow up in a world where it is possible for her to confidently walk down the street, proud to be exactly who she is. 

My favourite colour is purple, which just so happens to be both pink AND blue. Maybe my daughter’s favourite colour will be orange. That is the colour of her nursery after all.  As it turns out, it’s not THAT hard to prepare for a baby you don’t know the gender of. 

Maybe I’m a Lazy Mom…

I only have one child.

I’m only going to have one child.

And that’s probably a good thing. As it turns out, I might be a lazy mom.

I’ve been told multiple times that I might change my mind and want a sibling for my daughter. Like Hey kiddo,  I know you wanted a kitten but here’s a baby sister instead. It’s not going to happen. I’d rather get her the kitten because at least I can train it to shit in a box. 

I like kids. I don’t want more than one though. Besides the minor complications of my birthing experience  (my placenta was growing into the lining of my Uterus. It’s not supposed to do that),  I also didn’t revel in the joy of being pregnant. I don’t want to do it again.  

I also have an under active thyroid, so my energy can be limited beyond the point of inject iced coffee directly into my veins. There are days I have to force myself off the couch. I force myself, some days, to get on the floor and be the best mommy I can be. Some days I rock it like I really AM the best mommy ever! Chasing around my now rolls-to-get-where-she-wants daughter is entertaining and tiring. The idea of chasing her around while pregnant, or chasing multiple children around, sounds devastatingly exhausting. No. Just no. So maybe I’m a Lazy Mom? 

I like to think I’m OK at this whole mom thing. My friends and family seem to agree.  Then I get online and those thoughts of feeling lazy are confirmed by Internet moms everywhere. Because of course, whatever you’re doing as a mother is wrong…according to Internet sanctimommies. 


For example:

I feed my kid baby food. From a jar. I so do not have the motivation to boil chicken and puree broccoli.  I live in Canada so I know we have pretty strict food laws and such, so I know they wouldn’t allow wonky ingredients in what’s on the shelf. When  I read the ingredients list I never buy anything for my kid that I can’t pronounce. It’s just pureed food, and someone else did the work for me. Win win. 

I formula feed my baby. Amazing science milk for the win. Don’t get me wrong, I understand the benefits of breastfeeding. I tried. I tried for 4 days while I recovered in the hospital. After several meltdowns, bruised and bloody nipples, several super awkward moments of nurses manhandling my breasts, and a mildly dehydrated baby, my husband and parents convinced me to admit defeat and just buy formula. It was the best decision I’ve ever made. The huge relief I felt, once I got over feeling like a failure,was amazing. I could feed my baby! She was happy and healthy and growing like a weed. All was well in the world.  

My baby stays up til 10pm. My baby also sleeps til 8 or 9 in the morning. I see no reason to be up before the sun and my daughter caught on real quick to that way of sleeping. Not to mention my husband would only see her on the weekends if she went to bed at 7pm. 

I use disposable diapers. If I could train her to poop in a box like the cats I’d be set. But since that’s wrong on so many levels, and I hate doing more laundry than necessary, we use disposable diapers. They hold in all the pee (most of the time). They travel well, and I don’t have to fold hundreds of cloth diapers and diaper covers. It works for us.

That’s the key. We’re doing what works for our little family. It’s all any parent can do. It’s all we can expect from each other as parents. Some days I feel super lazy. Other days I remember it’s good to work smart not hard. My daughter is a bright, happy, healthy, wonderful tiny human. I must be doing something right by her. It’s cool if you’re a gourmet baby foodie. I’m just not. 

I may be a bit of a Lazy Mom.  But I’m pretty confident that I’m still a Good Mom.

What Is An Aunt?

My husband and I both have sisters. One each, to be exact.

My daughter though, only has one Aunt.

Alright, so that’s not entirely true. She has lots and lots of female adults in her life to look up to. I have like a million cousins and a group of good friends. Ok, not a million cousins, but my tribe IS strong.

Apparently, yesterday was National Aunties’ Day. I read another blog on Scary Mommy about PANKs (Professional Aunts,No Kids.) which made me really think about the other women in my life, or more importantly, in my daughter’s life. Who are these women who love my daughter almost as much as I do?

Well, one of them is my own sister. As an Auntie she’s pretty wonderful. She loves the shit out of her niece. She spoils her when she can. She’s only 17 but she carries the responsibility of being an aunt like a badge of honor. It’s the kind of love every momma hopes their babies will experience from family members. My husband’s sister, is another story. She made it clear before my daughter was born that she didn’t want to be known as “Aunt”. She wanted to be known by her first name only, in order to “keep it casual”. I made it very clear this was unacceptable to me. Not that my words mattered. My daughter is almost 8 months old and this young woman has had nothing to do with her. Yep, she doesn’t even look at her when we’re in the same room. So, as I mentioned above, my daughter only has one blood related Aunt.

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[My sister falling in love with her niece the day she was born.]

The simple definition of an aunt is “the sister of your father or mother…” according to Merriam-Webster. I, however, think it’s much more than that. You see, my daughter actually has several aunts (and uncles) who have no blood relation to her at all. I even have cousins who are more like aunts to my baby, than my own sister-in-law. So to these women, I’d like to say thank you. Thank you for loving my daughter.

Because to me, the definition of an Aunt or Uncle, is someone who gives a shit about my kid. A person who has been there for me, as a new mom, from the beginning. Someone who has held my daughter and looked into her eyes, and fallen in love with her sweet smile. An aunt or uncle will see her after not being around for awhile and exclaim “wow she’s gotten so big!” or “I’ve missed you baby girl!” These adults who have adopted the title of Aunt or Uncle, or even those who don’t call themselves Aunt or Uncle but their actions speak for themselves, are the people who will inquire about her well-being, as well as mine as her mother.

I understand that the concept of a tiny human emerging into the world from my lady bits might make certain people a little squeamish, but even my best male friends can handle my epic tales of child birth and new momhood.  There’s also those people who just don’t like kids and that’s OK. It’s ok if you don’t like kids. It’s even ok if you don’t particularly care for my kid specifically. Not everyone is going to like her in this life. The fact of the matter is, she’s an infant. Infants can not offend someone (sense of smell not withstanding). It’s impossible for an infant to be like “Hey Jerkwad! I hate you. Go vote for Trump, then jump off a cliff.” They don’t know what being vindictive means. All my daughter knows is that when someone smiles at her, she smiles back.

These are the people I want in my child’s life. The people who smile at her. The people who take 2 minutes out of their busy lives to occasionally text me “Hey! How’s momma and baby doing?”

I’ve learned over the last 8 months, who is worthy of the title of Aunt or Uncle, and these people are not always blood related. I’ve come to terms with it finally. In my world, and in the world of my daughter, the only people that matter, are the people who give a shit about us. Some people are in our lives because we don’t have a choice. The best people though,  are in our lives because we choose to have them there, and more importantly, they choose to be there.

So, what IS an aunt (or uncle)? Simply stated, “a person who loves and supports the child of a person they care about.”

Yah know… The people who give a shit.

 

 

It’s OK To Not Be A Mom – From a Mom

Hi.

I’m a new mom.

And I’m here to tell you that if you’re not a mother yet, or don’t plan on becoming one right now, or ever, that it’s ok.

There are no rules saying you have to become a mother. It’s your choice, as a modern day woman, to do whatever you want with your uterus.

Not that you need my permission to do what you wish, but maybe you need my support.

You see, because I’m a new mom, I still remember what it was like 2 years ago before I became a Mom. Yep, with a capital M, because apparently what I choose to do with my vagina makes me special somehow.

I remember being told that I would understand once I became a mother. I remember hearing my mother get told that SHE would understand when she became a grandmother. Even though she was ALREADY a mother, I guess she hadn’t leveled up enough to hangout at the adult table with the rest of the old women. Because being a grandmother makes you old. But that’s a blog only she can write ha ha ha.

But what were we supposed to be understanding? What otherworldly knowledge was supposed to be imparted on me once I pushed my little Nugget from my lady bits? Because someone seriously dropped the ball on sending me this information. Maybe I should check my junk mail folder?

I mean, I can now understand the kind of sleep deprivation you don’t really get upset about. I may be up in the middle of the night feeding my baby (not really. She’s been sleeping through the night since she was 2 months old), but maybe you’re up super late finishing a project for work. Or maybe you have severe jet lag from all your travels. All three examples can feel equally exhausting and rewarding. People get tired. We just get different kinds of tired. This doesn’t mean I didn’t understand “tired” before I was a mother.

I can also understand an unconditional, chest bursting kind of love. But who hasn’t felt a chest bursting kind of love for something or someone? My heart fills with pride when I look at my daughter because she is my masterpiece. But I’m certain I felt pride in my work before I was a mother. I know my chest bursts with joy when someone loves the work I’ve done for them. Now my life’s work is being a mom, but your life’s work may be something else. And that’s OK. Feed starving children in Africa. Bake cakes. Teach others. Model. Eat an entire pizza in bed, naked. Do whatever fills your heart with joy; because I understand what a full heart feels like and it’s awesome.

I don’t know who decided that it was acceptable to tell other women that they “won’t understand” until they are mothers. But it’s not acceptable. Every woman has the capabilities to feel and understand love and compassion, joy and fear, hope and pride. So the next time someone pressures you about having kids, or belittles you because you choose not to be a mother, make sure you remind them of all the cool stuff you’re doing that’s just as amazing as being a parent.

You probably don’t understand what it’s like to get baby poop on your finger though, but I’m sure you don’t mind.