Motherhood Uncensored

Going natural

Edited to add: You can learn more about Johnson's Natural Line on their new site (more updates coming - this is just a teaser!). And if you're interested in getting your hands on them, they'll be available for pre-order at Target.com on July 4!)

The ongoing joke in our house is that we love kid's natural body products, we just hate watching our $15 for bubble bath get dumped down the drain when our kids decide that a tub full of bubbles is just not enough.

And so I had this in my mind when Johnson's asked me if I'd be interested in working with them on their new Natural line.

Of course, there are a bunch of good reasons I pay good money for natural products. I've got two girls with very sensitive skin and eczema. And I'm not so into slathering my kids in chemicals.

Now don't get me wrong. I definitely beat to a drum that's of the lighter green variety. We still reach for whatever bottle we have in our shower sometimes. And I've yet to find a great natural aerosol sunscreen and so we often use mainstream kid's brands.

But it's definitely on my mind. I don't grab and purchase blindly.

So when Johnson's introduced me to their new Natural products, I went in with an open, but skeptical mind.

I also said "It's about time!" because, well, it is!

I could go into tons of details about how they've used their expertise to create a 98% natural and free of all known allergens, dyes, and the "P" words we all try to avoid (pthalates, parabens).  Or how it doesn't smell like a lavender forest that wafts from the container when you open it, but still has a nice, light scent (they use the term Allerfree which means no essential oils) because that's important to my husband aka "THE NOSE."

Or that it's extremely affordable - 18 oz Head to Toe baby wash for $6.49. Seriously.

Intriguing, right?

I definitely thought so.

And so, after using them for a good few months, I'm pretty stoked. And so is my wallet.

You'll have to wait until July to get your hands on the new Johnson's Natural line. But I can promise you that they really listened to what moms wanted, and in my humble opinion, it's definitely worth waiting for. And I'm very excited to be working with them as a spokesperson for it.

[Disclaimer: My participation as a paid spokesperson for the Johnson's Natural line (which includes this post as well as other duties) was contingent on me actually liking these products. Obviously I do.]

She Talks

Every day my husband asks me if Margot has said anything, and every day, I offer him a disappointing "no."

She definitely communicates with us, through a series of pitched grunts and squeaks and sign language, all of which we've learned to interpret fairly well.

"Fairly" being the operative word.

She actually does quite well with "b" words - like baby or bub-ble, ball-ball, bro-bro, and boon-boon - which sound almost exactly alike.

"Almost" being the operative word.

There's "done" and "more" - both quite helpful additions to her vocabulary.

And she can say "Dada" particularly well when he walks in the door, or "Mama" for the other bazillion minutes a day, like when she needs absolutely anything, even if it happens to be at 5:30am. 

But that's about it.

Now after waiting what seemed like ages for Drew to talk, there's no turning him off now. And he speaks quite well for a 3.5 year old.

And I know that Margot is the third kid, which means can do everything from get her own snacks and bowls (at the ripe young age of 20 months) to rope someone into pushing her around in a baby doll stroller all day long so she doesn't have to make that long walk down our hallway.

Let's just say she knows how to work her two very doting and loquacious siblings.

Yeah, yeah. And us too.

But hey! What's parenting without something to obsess and worry and Google 400 times about?

That was until this weekend when she came up to me and said "pee-pee," which could mean "pee-pee" or a few hundred other things.

Except she was pointing. To her diaperless bottom. And then to the carpet, which had a towel strategically placed on it.

So apparently the girl can talk when she needs to. And is probably smarter than us all.

I, Dread

At the risk of sounding ungrateful, I'm trying to separate the feeling of being pregnant for the 4th time and having a 4th baby, because I know in my head they are totally different things.

But in my heart, the pain and tiredness and raging hormones and discomfort (already, good God) of pregnancy is becoming intermixed with the actual baby part and I don't want to send those kind of messages to my unborn fetus.

When I joked about having another kid way back when I could just joke about it because "ha ha! a 4th kid!," I said I'd happily accept one if he or she (as it stands) was dropped off at my doorstep.

Don't get me wrong. I have easy pregnancies compared to many.

But I'm hardly basking in the glory my gihugo-ness, which lately has been slowing me down and rendering me almost catatonic on the couch by 3pm every day and in bed by 10pm.

This does not bode well when you have three other children and that you use naptimes and evenings to work and that things in the marriage department, particularly when you're pregnant, are challenging.

This also does not bode well when you realize that you will soon have four children, and then if you're me, the self-loathing, self-doubting, all other negative "self" type things start flowing through your mind until you realize that you're an ungrateful bitch, which, surprise!, is not the most productive thing.

So I'm doing my best to myself that it's not the baby part that I dread. For once, anyway. 

Scared out of my mind? Yes.

But imagining that the baby will be coming out fully potty trained, equipped with a personal chef, and practically perfect in every way helps.

I'm pregnant with Mary Poppins!

But I admit that it's the next 16 weeks, or at least being upright for most of the next 16 weeks, that I dread.

Well, that and actually having to get this baby out of me. But I'll wait a few more weeks to start dreading that part.

Don't blink or you'll miss the awesome

There are days where time outs and taken toys are the sum of my entire existence.

Count to 3. Set the timer. Repeat 310 times.

And when that's all you're dishing out, it can be hard to see otherwise.

But it's my job as parent, #1 cheerleader, and molder of the future of America (hello cliche') to do so.

Sure, the one time out of 20 that they remember to ask for juice using the word "please" might not seem like the big deal. Or the 4.2 minutes they play happily with their siblings without fighting.

But it's catching those moments that can make all the difference in their day.

And yours.

But if you're not really looking, or listening, you'll completely miss them.

And really, the same goes for you too.

You can spend half your day beating yourself up for the numerous times you yelled instead of counted to ten. Or 200. You can bog yourself down by the seemingly neverending to-do list that somehow gets foiled by pee accidents or World War 3 sibling arguments over a tiny plastic toy that no one could have given a shit about 2 days ago.

Or you can celebrate the little victories, your own little victories, that would otherwise go unnoticed.

Sometimes it's just that you got out of bed or it's that instead of tuning your kids out, you actually listened.

Other times, it's that you didn't completely and royally fuck up.

These moments won't win you or your kids any parent or child of the year awards. These aren't lifesaving rescues or gold medal achievements that will get you the key to your city or a some sort of "super hero" moniker.

They're probably not even completely obvious to anyone but you.

But by noticing them in your kids and yourself, by acknowledging their presence, no matter how ridiculously small they might seem, you have the power to change your minute, your hour, or even your day.

And sometimes that's really all we need.

When time stands still

I returned home to my dirty clothes still on the floor where I left them on my bathroom floor, the laundry I had folded piled high on the dryer, and a completely empty fridge.

It wasn't exactly the welcome home I wished for.

Even with my mom here watching the kids. Even with only two kids and not three.

I could list out a thousand evens.

Of course, a few spots on the carpet and couch had been steam-cleaned.

But like every single time I go away, they're in a holding pattern.

It's certainly no worse than it was when I left. But it's no better.

And really, I should be thankful. Everyone is alive and fed. Clean and bathed. Mostly happy.

And apparently it's just my job to pick up dirty clothes, put away laundry, and go grocery shopping.