Maybe it’s  because it’s Shark Week. Maybe it’s because of that scary story that came out this week about Usher’s son. But, water safety has been on my mind this week. We have decided we officially have a water baby. I swear our child is part fish. She LOVES being in the pool. She loves summer and our little daredevil is happy to push away from us as she learns to jump off the side of the pool into our cautiously open arms. I in no way want to squash this enthusiasm. I love the fact that my 2 1/2 year-old  loves kicking, blowing bubbles and dunking her whole head in the water. I remember to my younger sister wailing during swim lessons at the pool because she didn’t want to get her face wet. I was far from a super swimmer myself, even though I was on the swim team for a few years.

As my daughter grins and giggles, inside I am reeling with anxiety that she will go under and we will not be able to get to her. I have horrible flashbacks to my early days of motherhood with Postpartum Depression when I was forever worried that she would drown in a pool, the ocean 2 hours away, lakes 20 miles away, the bath, a puddle or a heavy rain. I often let my husband take the lead on swimming in the big pool. I usually relax after a little while and we have a great time. The pool we joined rocks and we always have fun with neighborhood events on Friday nights.

It seems to be a trend that every toddler wears a Puddle Jumper. Have you heard of these? They’re like an arm floatie/life jacket hybrid. I felt like a sorry excuse for a suburban pool mom for not having my kid stuffed in one of these.  I held off on buying any type of floatation device because I heard it stunts their swimming progress or whatever. I’ve also heard “No! You can’t buy those because then they might not know when they aren’t wearing one and jump in and sink!” Huh? I mean, I think she’s going to know when she’s wearing one.  We don’t own a pool because of my anxiety. (Okay, right. We don’t own a pool because that shit is expensive and we would never clean it.) I feel like that’s a problem for pool owners. She’s never going to wander into our backyard pool and sink, nor will she ever be at the neighborhood pool by herself.

I bought a life jacket anyway.  Why?  Because it made me feel more secure. It reduced my mama anxiety, which made it worth every penny of $24.95. I didn’t get a Puddle Jumper because we tried arm floaties and she hated having something on her arms. I went with a Speedo life jacket for toddlers. She calls it her “puffy vest.” We had a very serious conversation about how she can float above the water with her puffy vest on and how she needs to always hold on to Mama and Daddy when she doesn’t have it on. I think she has a pretty good grasp of this concept and it has made pool time much better for me.

What do you do to ensure water safety with your little one? What do you think of my life jacket decision?  Any thoughts?  Did I do the right thing?

Alright, let’s get through Shark Week with no water injuries, shall we?

Greyson let me sleep in while he got up to make me a spectacular breakfast.  Before that, he had to deal with a massive out-of-Pull-Up explosion Charlotte had overnight.  (Remind me of this before Father’s Day.)  We watched Kristen Wiig on Saturday Night Live on the DVR.  We took some time to blow some bubbles in the yard before I took off to get a much needed pedicure and made a Target run.  

After a family nap my mom came over to play with Charlotte and we ate dinner.  Mom and I left to see Carol Burnett perform at a theater.  My mom was always a fan of the Carol Burnett Show and we knew her being in town on Mother’s Day night would be the perfect gift.  The loud cackling across the theater?  That was us.

I figured this would be a good day to debut the bump at 15.5 weeks.  I hope your Mother’s Day was this awesome!

My child sleeping in a crib meant she was a baby.  She could stand and peer over the edge and push toys between the bars, but she was still confined to an infant’s sleeping conditions.  She may be a walking, talking toddler during the day, but she was my baby by night. I would rock her in her rocking chair before letting her retire to her crib.  It was heaven.

It was a little bittersweet removing that front part of the crib to make a toddler bed.  She suddenly seemed so grown-up in a bed instead of a crib.  We made the change just when Charlotte turned two back in November.  I had no idea, but this turned into the most delightful little surprise in my mommy life.  Every night for the last five months I have gone upstairs to check on her before going to bed.  Sometimes I have to arrange her ever lengthening limbs to keep her from falling eight inches onto the carpet.  I cover her with a blanket.

I’ve found I absolutely love not having the front of the crib on her bed anymore.

I sit on the floor and lay my head next to hers and let my fingers get tangled in her curls.  I listen to her breathe.  I rub her back and feel the rise and fall of each of her breaths.  I brush the back of my hand against her  cheeks and thank God that this beautiful healthy child is ours.

This is usually when she startles and pushes my hand away.  Then I smile because I really know she’s mine. I hate to be touched when I sleep, too.  I give my little independent sleeper one more peck before slipping out of the room.

I wonder what other bittersweet milestones will end up being very sweet, after all?

I’ve seen and heard lots of women lately identifying themselves as “boy moms” or “girl moms,” meaning they are the mothers of children of only one sex or another.  There are even cute poems on Pinterest and fun t-shirts to celebrate this identification.

I have many friends with sons and no daughters.  99% of these women are wonderful and never say things to disparage other mothers.  But, some things have been bugging me lately when I’ve talked to a couple of  “boy moms” I know.

• Comment #1 from a boy mom at a “Mommy and Me” type of class- “I’m SO GLAD I had boys!  It’s so much easier!”

Okay, so you just said that in front of my daughter.  Granted, she is only two-years-old and probably doesn’t understand, but since you were so comfortable saying it, I imagine you would not edit yourself in front of a little girl who is say, 5-8 years-old and would know exactly what you meant by that comment.  Basically, you just told my daughter she’s not good enough that it’s a huge hassle for me to be raising her.  

Ma’m, you are the example of women for your son.  You just made that comment in front of him as well.  What is he supposed to think about girls and women when you disparage your own gender?

• Comment #2 from a woman with one son contemplating having another baby- “I just don’t even know what I would do with a girl!”

Um, okay.  YOU WERE ONCE A GIRL!  Someone knew what to do with you.  It’s not like female humans are a different species or something.  It’s still a baby.

Now, let me say.  I’m not innocent in the “Girl Mom” versus “Boy Mom” thing.  During a discussion about whether boys or girls are easier, I took it a little personal when a boy mom said, “Girl stuff is just too much.  All the bows and tights and stuff.  I mean, I don’t have to deal with periods and emotional teens and stuff like that.  Ugh!”  I fired back with, “Well, it’s boys who drink too much, drive too fast and don’t call their mothers!”

I am sorry for that comment.  I in no way meant to imply that all young men behave like that.  I probably shouldn’t have taken her comments personally.  It just grates on my nerves sometimes.  I LOVE having a daughter.  Not because she’s a girl, but because she’s ours.  I didn’t care when I was pregnant if she was a boy or a girl and I don’t care now.  I love her for who she is.

Let’s drop the titles and just be “moms.”  Okay?

So, as I was writing this, I started thinking about all my good friends who might think I’m talking about them.  I’m not.  Ya’ll are awesome.  I’m talking about acquaintances.  I promise.  

This is a collection of some of Charlotte’s newest things:

Do you see a theme?  Well played Disney marketers, well played.  Good job getting your characters on everything from the cup my kid drinks from to the training pants on her little hiney.  Disney has an even further reach than the toddler department.  I’m interested to see what’s next.  I’m not picking on Disney, exclusively.  Sesame Street seems to have their hands on preschool merchandise as well.  You should see all the Elmo stuff in our house.  The thing that has been sticking  out to me lately is PRINCESS.

She loves those snow boots.  I’m a good little suburbanite mommy so we searched the aisles of Target for the perfect pair.  I gave her the choice of all the boots on the shelf and she said “Pincess!”  We went to a 3-year-old girl’s party this weekend.  Princess theme.

Hmm.  I’m not sure how I feel about all this.  I’ve read the criticism of the whole princess industry and how it’s making our daughters image obsessed, subservient prince-seekers who will end up on the pole if we let them watch The Little Mermaid.  I’m worried I’ll have to start dressing like Pam on “The Office.”  She was “Dr. Cinderella” for Halloween to show her daughter positive princess role models.

Courtesy: NBC

I love princess stuff.  Love it.  I can try to deny it, but I’m a pink, glittery girl-girl at heart and always have been.  We watched “Tangled” this weekend because I LOVE THAT MOVIE!  Of course Charlotte loved it too.  I find the more recent princess movies have much stronger, more confident female leads then classics like “Snow White” and “Cinderella.”  I think they send better messages.

I took a class in college called Gender and Media Culture and it ruined every story for me, ever.  This is the class where we had to watch “The Accused” and “Boys Don’t Cry.”  We got to analyze the rape scenes and discuss how the Cinderella Syndrome is a worldwide epidemic, forever infecting women’s psyches.  Apparently all the princess fairy tales of our youth are the reason women end up contestants on “The Bachelor” because the only thing they’ve ever been told is that they have to find a man to be happy.  Oh, did you know that EVERYTHING is a metaphor for deflowering a virgin girl?  I didn’t either until I took this class.

So, you see my dilemma.  I decided to take it easy and just go with it.  She’s just a little girl and princesses are just a part of that.  If I make a big deal about it, it becomes a big deal.

She got that “Tangled” book pictured above with a little hair clip of Rapunzel’s hair.  I showed her how it lit up and you put it in your hair.  I was never more proud of her after what she did next.  She didn’t want it in her hair.  She took it and made it a stethoscope.  She “listened” to our hearts before making it the thing doctors use to look in your ears.  Then she said, “I doctor!”

I don’t think I’ll need to dress like Dr. Cinderella after all.  My little princess is already practicing medicine.