And so it has begun.

I love sharing my life and opinions with you, but we’ve entered a new realm of the blogging world and I confess I’m having a hard time coping with the adjustment. Previously the criticisms felt easier to write off, because they were often a matter of “well that’s your opinion and this is mine, let’s agree to disagree.” Now though, the attacks are starting to revolve around my ability to properly care for my son, most certainly my second favorite person in the entire world (TH is numero uno of course).

I desperately want to be a good mother and give him the best start in life (and I know that this post and the sentence this aside is embedded in will likely prompt many to write and let me know they think I am a good mom — thanks in advance for that!)  but man, I can already tell I’m going to be making a lot of mistakes. And those mistakes are sometimes going to get posted on the blog. And unless you’ve personally make that mistake yourself, or one similar to it, it’s going to be easy for you to think to yourself If I were in her shoes I would do it so much better.

But could you? Let me tell you, this parenting thing is hard my friends. 8 weeks in and I’m just now celebrating a nighttime ritual where if I’m lucky I go to bed around 11, wake up at 2 for 30 minutes, wake up again at 5 for 30 minutes, and wake up again at 7:30 for the day. And this sleep schedule feels like a luxury! My husband is sleep deprived as well, which means more petty arguments between the two of us. I rarely can do one thing at a time for more than 2 hours. It can take 45 minutes to get everything packed up, him dressed, fed, and changed, and in the car seat so we can go somewhere (and that didn’t even count the time getting me ready). My life revolves around him, in wonderful ways of course, but he also leaves me feeling at times like screaming GIVE ME A FREAKING BREAK.

And now I kind of want to yell that at some of you. And I might do it sometimes. Because I was struggling before to remain calm and not get snarky with the commenters who feel they can cancel out all tactlessness by starting out their comment with phrases like Not to be rude or anything but, (Here’s a hint: If you start out your comment with that phrase, it’s probably a rude one and you should just go along on your merry little way. Rarely do constructive additions to a dialog start with such phrase.) and now I’m feeling myself begin to overanalyze and question and wonder how much of my life I want to share and cheeky/brusque Jenna hops up on my shoulder and whispers things in my ear that I type out and then regret after the reply button is pressed. Maybe it would be easier for all of us if I carefully worded my posts and photos to make sure my life looked sparkly and happy and easy, and that I looked like A+ Super Mom on steroids, then there wouldn’t be anything for you to criticize. It is possible, you know, to present yourself that way if you really want to.

I don’t want to do that though. I like to be me, and what you see on That Wife is 100% what you would get if you met me in person (except if you met me in person I would probably get dressed, something I don’t always do when writing my posts… that’s pretty much the only difference though). As I attempt to adjust to this new stage in life, you’re often going to see a snarky defensive side come out, at least in the beginning. I see the comment trolling for replies and I tell myself to leave it alone, that they don’t deserve the attention, but sometimes my ego wins out and I have to engage in a stand-off with the often-anonymous troller. Sometimes I’ll be mistaken and think an innocent commenter is a rude one, because it’s so easy to misread tone in print. I apologize if this happens to you and I hope you will give me the benefit of the doubt and come back again. Give me another try, and hopefully you’ll see some improvement over time.

It’s not going to be easy for me to adjust to this thing called Mommy Blogging though, and I hope you’ll have patience with me as I wriggle and squirm my way into this new capacity. If you stick around, you’re going to see my son go from baby to boy, and maybe, if I write that long, to man! (That’s weird to think about though.) Often, we’re going to have to agree to disagree (don’t we often do that anyway though?). And please, always keep in mind that I love my little screaming mass of terror and joy and am working to figure out what’s best for him. As my first, he’s a little guinea pig to my parenting undertakings, and it’s going to get messy at times. But hopefully he knows that is what he signed up for.

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