Every mother in the world I know has talked about it: that damn Publix Mother's Day Commercial.
I saw several posts on Facebook about it before I even saw it. Most posts pretty much cursed Publix & said something along the lines of "that commercial made me cry!!"
Seein these multiple posts, I prepared myself. I knew I would eventually see it. I told myself it'll probably make you cry. I thought if I knew it would make me cry, I would be prepared. Maybe just a sniffle. Maybe a little tear.
And one day, it happened.
Laying in bed with my husband, both of us absorbed on our iPads, only half listening to the TV, it came on. Since I wasn't paying attention, I didn't realize it was THE Publix commercial until I was halfway through. I was unprepared. It was an emotional ambush

It begins with a pregnant mother and daughter making pinwheels. Harmless enough. They grab mayonnaise (I think they use too much) and grab white bread (I would have used a wrap or flatbread or at least whole wheat) and they make their pinwheels. Baby kicks & mom says she used to sing to her daughter when she was a baby in her belly to soothe her (it only worked sometimes--she must not be a very good singer). Then mom proceeds to tell her daughter to talk to the baby; tell baby a secret or something about herself. The girl is hesitant and mom suggests she tell her about what a good soccer player she is, but the girl doesn't want to (probably because she isn't actually very good and plays for one of those wussy leagues where everyone gets a trophy despite of their mediocre ability to play).

I continued to watch the commercial with this sardonice running commentary in my head because this is not only the way I enjoy watching TV but also how I harden myself against things that might get me emotionally weak (I despise feeling emotionally weak).

I was successfully passive to be commercial until...that damn cute little girl touches her mom's belly and whispers her "secret": "You're going to really love our Mom."

And as for me: no tears. I succeeded. I did not succumb to this cheesy commercial--a ploy to make me shop at their establishment using pure ethos.

But then--images of Micah kissing my belly flooded my mind (he gave my belly 8 kisses the other day!!!)
And suddenly I started thinking of things my son would teach & tell the baby& suddenly...my husband was asking me if everything was okay and i was sobbing like an idiot, I said, "No!!! It got me!!! The commercial got me!!"

And the thing is...every time I even think of that commercial I cry. So thanks a lot Publix. Thanks for hiring such a successful advertising company that roped my feelings and invested it into your company.
Every time I see that damn commercial, like clockwork, I cry (I even start crying BEFORE the girl says it!!! I am Pavlov's dog!!!!)
And for some damn reason, I now want to make pinwheels at home. With white bread and mayonnaise.

iIn Chinua Achebe's novel, Things Fall Apart, the protagonist's uncle tells the protagonist that "Mother is Supreme".
He explains how although in their patriarchal society the father makes the rules, it is always to the mother that one runs to during a time of need. If one is hungry, lonely, or in pain, it is the mother's comfort one seeks.

kThese words sang to me as I read this novel. It isn't that i think that women are more important than men, or that a mother is better than a father in any way. It's just that these words encapsulate the beauty of the relationship between mother and child. It is our wombs that house life from the earliest moment. Our bodies morph and shape themselves to provide the safest possible vessel to protect this being in its formative process.
No matter what our relationship with our children will be like in the future, nothing will change the fact that we were the sole caregivers of this human being in the most fragile moments of his/her life. Our bodies helped make his/her heart. We were the only ones around when it beat for the first time.

This Mother's day, I only want to do two things: I want to hug my son and thank him for the gift that he gave me by turning me into a mother. It is exhausting. It is frustrating. It is exhilarating. It is rewarding.

The second thing that I want to do is thank my mother for giving me life and being there for every part of my life.
She taught me how to enjoy reading: now I am an English teacher. She taught me to appreciate music: a commonality my husband and I share that helped us fall in love. She taught me that family comes first: and I will sacrifice anything for my children the way my mom has sacrificed for her own children.

With these thoughts, I wish every one out there a Happy Mother's Day.

While talking and carousing with a few of my knocked up girlfriends the other day, we started to swap stories of offensive and rude things that people do and say to pregnant women.
As my Zooey Deschanel-esque friend, Caro, so nicely put it, "I've spent a lot of time crafting my air of unapproachability. A lot. Now that I'm pregnant, everyone wants to talk to me. Air of unapproachability--gone."
I don't know what it is about pregnancy that makes every stranger feel like they can say the rudest, strangest, and intrusive things to someone. Is it because of this so-called "glow" that everyone sees? Is it a secret hormone that we are releasing into the air that makes the crazies come out? Or is it because we are now slow moving creatures that can't waddle our way out of a situation fast enough and are therefore easy prey to the public?
Either way, I have compiled a bucket list for those of you who are wondering what horrible things you can do or say to someone who is pregnant. Go ahead and try them out. Feel free to improvise.
These items are not a countdown and are in no particular order, so feel free to cross these off in any particular order, because whether we like it or not,people are going to say it to us anyway.

1) JUDGE MY BABY'S NAME.
Ask us the baby's name. Make a ton of suggestions. Be very upset if we do not want to tell you. If we do tell you, tell us exactly why you would never name your own child that name. Proceed to mispronounce or butcher the spelling of the name to everyone you know. Publish it on Facebook.

2) TELL US OUR OB/HOSPITAL CHOICE SUCKS.
Tell us who we should go to and what hospital you prefer. Don't care a rat's ass if they are not covered by our insurance. Disregard the fact that we have probably already researched who we like, and disregard the fact that we have decided that they are compatible with our own values. Remember: our values don't matter. You know, because we're pregnant.

3) WEAR A TON OF PERFUME.
Our senses are over sensitive. Our senses are on hyperdrive. It is only natural for us to not want to wear any perfume ourselves. Please wear enough perfume right before you visit us so that our unborn child can taste your perfume through the amniotic fluid. Take it a step further by wearing so much perfume after we give birth that when you hold the newborn, it smells like you when you leave. Secretly, we'd rather we smell you than our baby anyway.

4) TELL US WHAT WE HAVE TO DO.
We don't ask for your advice, but please share anyway. Tell me what book I have to read before I give birth. Tell me if I ferberize my baby I will pay for years of therapy. Tell me if I don't ferberize, I am enabling and coddling my child. Tell me to buy the most expensive items ever, just because how much debt I accrue is correlational to how much I truly love my child.

5) ASK US INTIMATE QUESTIONS.
Ask us if we are still having sex. Ask us what night we conceived and where. Ask us which position because that determines if it is a boy or girl. Ask us if the mucus plug has come out. Ask if the cervix is effaced and how much. You know, I often wondered if people were still going to be as concerned about the state of my cervix after I got pregnant as they were before pregnancy, and I am so relieved to know that people still care.

6) JUDGE EVERYTHING WE DO.
Tell us why it's so horrible for the baby if we don't exercise. Give me a death stare because I ran 3 miles. Tell me exactly why I shouldn't be eating what I am eating right now (it's not organic! It's fried! It's not gluten-free!!) Compare me to every pregnant person you've ever known or have heard of. Especially compare me to Heidi Klum and how she bounced back after pregnancy.

7) TELL ME HOW BIG YOU THINK I SHOULD BE.
Please choose from the following statements:
Wow, I thought you were in your third trimester!
You look huge!
You are way bigger than______.
You look like you swallowed a basketball.
You look great! No, you really do! Really!!
You must be ready to pop.
I bet you're uncomfortable.
Is it twins?

8) TOUCH ME.
Please grope my belly. No, it's not inappropriate. No, you're not invading my space. Yes, if you rub it, you can have good luck. In fact, fondle me now then buy a lottery ticket! Oh, ok...my turn! You know that if you rub my belly, I get to pinch your muffin top and jiggle your arm fat in return, right?

9) TELL ME MY MARRIAGE WILL CHANGE.
Duh. Obviously. Everything changes. But go ahead and use me as your own free therapist and tell me how your marriage sucks. (For the record, my marriage got stronger after my son was born, so I now get to judge you and your problems as you confide in me)

10) TELL ME HOW HORRIBLE YOUR BIRTH STORY WAS.
Frightened, nervous, and anxious do not cover the range of feelings we have (especially for first timers!) We are about to pop out a watermelon through our lemon holes. Please regail us with stories of how you did not reach the hospital; tell me about your painful, week long labor; tell me how your epidural was not working;  and  tell me how you tore so much down there that you now no longer have a difference between your vagina and your anus. It comforts us. I think it comforts everybody. Please keep telling us.

I think this about covers it. But don't just stop there. I think everyone can be a little more creative, though, right? I'm sure there's more that we can do to pregnant people out there.

For those of you who know me and my son intimately, his birthday has long passed. However, this blog post is not about him, but about the cute little theme I threw for him. 

I know that everyone loves Evites. I, for one, think that Evites are great. But for something with a little bit more pizzazz, I absolutely lovePaperless Post. Paperless Post has the feel of real stationery (something that I love and obsess about). When a person receives the stationery, an image of an envelope appears with their name on it. The envelope opens up and pops out an invitation. The invitation can even be double-sided. 

Chime in if you feel this way, but in a second pregnancy,  all the excitement of having a baby seems to have been birthed out with the firstborn child. Not like I'm not excited about this baby, but I've noticed myself being very much less preoccupied about the progression of my pregnancy this time around.

With the first pregnancy, I remember obsessively tracking the progression of my baby. Every week, I would get
a weekly email that I would sit and read, engrossed and awed by the miracle of my body and how I was creating a human being. I would sit quietly on my couch and read about how my baby was growing fingers (oh, it could hold my hand!) and how it could now open its eyes (can it see me?) and how it was the size of an avocado (what kind of avocado? I often wondered, but then decided it was probably a Hass avocado).

As an English teacher, I love names. I love the sounds of names, I love the meaning behind the names, I love names overall. So when I found out that I was pregnant for the first time, I instantly started considering names. I considered both male and female names and unisex names. I considered traditional, trendy, and new names. But even though I LOVE LOVE LOVE names, I found it ridiculously difficult to find a name for my baby.