The Dichotomy of Motherhood

(Photo courtesy of my obliging hubby)

Motherhood is this strange dichotomy.

A constant push-and-pull between the needs of the present and the desires of the future.  For me, the needs of the present shout and cry and wave their petulant fists: "I need to do the dishes (because we are completely out)! I need to pack up the house! I need to take a shower! I need to get some SLEEEEEP!"  The shouting is usually when she is refusing naps, or not going to sleep at bedtime. (The crying occurs in the 3am hour.)

But at the same time, my knowledge of the desires of the future are like little whispers: "The dishes can wait. She's only small for so long. You'll miss this some day. Look at her little fingers holding onto your shirt. Listen to her little breaths. She won't let you do this when she's 12, or 16, or 25. Embrace it now."

So I hold her a little longer tonight. I watch her little chest rise and fall, watch her eyelids shudder as she begins a night of dreams. I know this time is so short. Tonight, I think of the future, and leave the dishes for later.

The Worst Mom in the World

There's this mom I know. She makes some of the worst parenting decisions ever. I can't even believe it sometimes. Some of the things she does--how she can think of herself as a good mom at all??

Think I'm being harsh? Here are just a few of the terrible things she has done:

* She wasn't happy when she found out she was having a baby. In fact, she cried. A lot. And not happy tears, either!
* She didn't put her baby on a schedule at all. She was up every hour or two hours all night until her baby was like, 10 months old!
* This one time, she took her baby on a flight across the country, and it screamed the ENTIRE FLIGHT. Ugh--how annoying, right?
* I hear she lets her daughter watch TV EVERY DAY. Sometimes, more than one show a day!
* She gives her daughter the BAD mac-n-cheese.
* She uses canned baby food.
* This mom lets her kid run around the park and she doesn't even watch her every second.
* She left her baby in the car one time while she ran into the gas station.
* Once, she even forgot to strap her baby into the car seat, and then took the FREEWAY HOME. *shudder* Who forgets to strap in the baby??
* Oh my gosh, she lets her kids eat off of the floor, too!
* This one time, her kids were outside in 50-degree weather, and she didn't even have coats for them. Her little baby had blue lips!
* I'm pretty sure she has "heat and serve" dinners pretty much every night of the week. Sometimes, she even goes to TACO BELL for dinner. They have Grade D beef there!
* There have been several times she has said that she doesn't like her kids. Did you hear that? She doesn't like her OWN KIDS sometimes!
* Her daughter will ask, "Mommy, will you play with me?" and she doesn't always say yes. Sometimes, she gets frustrated by the question.
* She has spanked her daughter. In anger!
* Most of the time she looks like a hot mess. She went so long without doing her hair it just stayed put when she took her ponytail holder out.
* She leaves her daughter screaming in the childcare while she works out for an hour.
* Her daughter is 2.5 and STILL not potty trained. And she doesn't even care!
* She says that her favorite time of day is when both her girls are asleep.
* She has non-organic food in the house. And I know she cheats on her diet!
* She let the baby sleep in the bed with her and her husband.
* The baby doesn't have any idea how to put herself to sleep--she has to be rocked to sleep, even at 8 months old!
* She plays music in the car that has bad words and/or bad messages in them.
* Sometimes, she puts her older kid to bed just because she doesn't want to hear her voice anymore.

I mean, seriously. This mom has got a lock on the Bad Mom title. Look at that huge list! And I know there's more. Thank goodness I'm a better mom than her.

Only I'm not. Because, if you might have guessed, the mom "deserving of the Bad Mom title" is ME. I have done all those things above, and countless others. I'm firmly on the "don't" side of the "do's and don't's of parenting" sign.

I fail all the time. All. The. Time. Sometimes, it's an unconscious fail, but often, it's a fully-realized, I-know-this-isn't-the-best-thing kind of fail.

The one that kills me the most is near the end of the list. Lately, Avonlea (who is a very independent girl, and happy to play solo) has been asking "Mommy, will you play with me?" nearly 35 times a day. And every single time she asks me it feels like it is one of those Important Moments. Do I really want to be the mom that says "no" when my 2-year old asks me to play with her?  Of course not.

But...

What if it's the 30th time she's asked you, and you have been playing with her for the last hour, and the load of laundry needs to be switched out? Or the ants are invading the kitchen (again) because the dirty dishes from last night are still on the counter? Or you really need to take a shower? Or, for just this next 20 minutes, you just don't want to? You just want to sit and veg on the couch with a book or a project or an email or a blog post (or yes, Instagram), and have her play by herself.  WHY do I feel like if I choose "me" over "her" once or twice or three times a day (or some days more, if I'm honest), that she's going to end up in therapy because "I remember asking my mom to play with me and she chose to be on her phone instead."

That list above *is* me. I'm going to own it. I screw up. I make mistakes. But I'm also an awesome mom. I have to remind myself a lot, because I screw up a lot. I have to try to not be an awesome* mom, with the asterisk pointing to a footnote that says, "*sometimes."

* I'm REALLY good with reading. We can read the same book 5 times in a row, and I don't get tired of it.
* I'm also good at making up stories on the fly. Today it was about a little girl who wished for adventure and so a magic butterfly came and granted her one wish and turned her house into a rocketship that went to the moon.
* We do amazing karaoke together. And I know every Disney song and I have excellent melody/harmony skills, so we never go off key, and we never start too high or too low. We always have music with us wherever we go, and we love to sing together.
* I am excellent at documenting. Pictures, notes, blogs, baby books--mine are all updated and beautiful. Yes, Aria, too.
* We explore new places together. We have zoo passes and go as often as we can when it's not 8000 degrees. We have been to all the Children's museums in the area and plan to visit a couple more I just heard about. We go to local parks and playgrounds together. We have gone to baseball games and soccer games and theater shows and concerts. We have gone to the pool and to the beach. We have been to Hollywood and to Philadelphia.
* I'm not great, but I'm getting better at making whole food for the kids. I'm reading labels and making better choices.
* I'm conscious about making sure my girls see me interacting with their Daddy in a positive way, and see me interacting with friends and neighbors in a polite way. I want them also to see me taking care of my body, which is why I take them to the gym 3x a week (even when Aria is losing her mind).
* I can ALWAYS make the girls laugh. And unless it's an unusual circumstance, I can always calm them down from a tantrum.
* Avonlea loves green beans and peas and carrots and celery. She loves natural peanut butter and greek yogurt. She loves turkey and ham. I'm trying to have her be as well-rounded as possible so that she makes healthy choices for herself someday.

I guess more than anything, though, is that I try. I WANT to do well. I want to be a good mom, to have my girls turn out mostly okay. I can't do it all on my own, and it certainly isn't easy when the mom guilt kicks in. But I'm trying.

Edited to add: After I published this, an article popped up in my newsfeed from Scary Mommy, and I realized that this sounds very similar to that article. I will link to it here, and say that I did read that article such a long time ago, and its format must have stuck with me. So I guess I was inspired by it, be it extremely unconsciously!

Giggling in the Rearview...

****

I'm going to not try to pretend I'm good at keeping up with blogging anymore. I'm still good with pictures. But blogging, not so much. Every once in a while I'll be struck by something, and so I'll attempt to get it out "on paper", but then the baby will wake and start crying, or I'll feel just guilty enough to do the dishes, or I'll just be so tired I need to go to sleep, and the writing will get postponed until I forget about it.

Aah, well. It's a season.

****

I grew up just down the street from one of my best friends. We grew up in church together, and ended up living across the street and 5 houses down from each other through middle and high school. We would spend an afternoon together, and then spend an hour or more "walking each other home" back and forth, back and forth between our homes.

I don't remember a lot of specifics of our conversations. I'm sure a lot of it revolved around our completely innocent crushes, church, school, friends, and other things, but a lot of our conversations were full of silliness. We grew up in Midwestern, middle-class comfort, with not a lot of baggage or trouble. We had very little knowledge of scandal or drama; most of our struggles were how to get our hair sprayed just the right way, or how to peg our jeans (and I NEVER got those things right, anyway). We spent the majority of time making up silly stories or laughing over games of M.A.S.H.Y. We had a very elaborate ongoing story that kept getting continued by the phrase, "and that was the beginning of pig snorting!" We had a habit of reading all street and business signs backwards, cracking up at trying to pronounce azziP tuH over and over again.

Ingrained in my memory is the sound of my friend's laughter, something I always recall when I think of her. It's an incredibly happy memory.

As with many aspects of the middle schoolers' existence, I recall sharing a lot of these laughing fits while in the presence of my parents. They would drive us to the mall, or to Kings Island amusement park, or to church and back again, all while we cackled and giggled and told completely nonsensical stories in the car. They would watch us in bemused wonderment, and probably ask us more than once, "What in the world are you girls talking about?" to which we would crack up again.

I read a story tonight about a local 12-year old who was talked off of a bridge by a police officer. Without going into too much about the story (because oh. my. God. It breaks my heart into a million pieces.--you can read about it here), it just made me reflect on what I was like as a 12-year old--and I was instantly taken back to those times with my friend, laughing and cackling in the back of my parent's station wagon. I have zero instances of moments where I wanted to take my life. None. And this is coming from someone who had a pretty terrible middle school experience. There were definitely days I never wanted to go back to school. I wanted to transfer. I wanted to melt into the pavement and never see certain people ever again. But end my life? Not once. It would never have even entered my mind.

The life of my 12-year old existence and the life of the 12-year old in the news seem so diametrically opposed to each other. So much so that it actually makes me worry.

Is this what I have to prepare myself for? I am raising two girls. In Los Angeles. In the social media-driven, celebrity-obsessed culture for which I am immersed but also well-prepared for. HOW IN THE WORLD am I supposed to get my girls ready to handle it while they're also up to their necks surrounded by it?

I picture myself now, not as the kid laughing with her friend in the backseat. That careless abandon and whimsy seems almost weird now that I'm immersed in "adult land", full of bills and responsibilities and mothering. I now picture myself as the parent, and it is a much more wistful scenario. I now see myself as my mom probably saw me--hearing laughter, looking in my rear-view mirror. And where she saw my friend and I, I *hope* that I get to see my girls laughing together with their girlfriends in the backseat. That they're laughing over silly stories and songs, and not laughing at others' expense. On a more basic level, that they're *laughing* together, and not crying over boys or their bodies or (God forbid) their existence.

God, I need your help in raising my girls! Help me to protect their innocence to the world while also preparing them for the reality of it. Help me to instill in them a love of laughter and friendship and staying young. Help me to be an example to them of silliness and loud songs and climbing and dancing wildly. Lead them to friends like I had: friends that smile and laugh and joke and act their age. Give me grace to make mistakes and not feel too guilty about "screwing them up totally." Bestow upon them courage to make mistakes and live boldly and serve humbly and make this world better than it was when they came into it.

It's gonna be a wild and crazy ride. I hope to see them giggling in the rearview.

What I Want for Mother's Day

Avonlea and I go to Mommy and Me class every week at the local adult education center. We have talked about all sorts of things--family traditions, potty training, teaching your kids about sex and death, tooth care, burn care--everything that parents could want to know. The teachers are great, and they are very caring towards the kids and the parents.

But today's topic really hit hard for me. It was about Mother's Day. About what you remember about your mom, and what you hope your kids remember about you as a mother. Needless to say, it was a hard class for me. I cried pretty much the entire "share" time.

This will be my 4th Mother's Day without Mom, and they don't really get easier, especially now that I have my own girls. I wish that they had their Nana to celebrate. After all, she was a major part of how I turned out the way that I did. I will just do my best to convey to Avonlea and Aria about what an amazing lady she was, and how cancer really sucks for taking her away from us so early.

We went around the circle and people shared one of their favorite memories of their Moms. It was *really* hard listening to several of the moms talk about their moms being there for the births of their kids. I ended up being last--and as everyone was sharing, I was really struggling to narrow it down to *one* thing to share.

A few that came to mind:

• My sister got a karaoke machine (for a birthday? I'm not sure) and true to Hume fashion, we had an "oldies karaoke" CD with a bunch of Diana Ross/Supremes. We sat around the dining room table, and sang "Baby Love". My mom wasn't a singer (she could carry a tune, but she would NEVER have gotten up in front of anyone to sing), so this was a fun memory because it was such an unusual thing to happen.
• When I was in middle school, Mom and I would sit down for an hour or so after school (or sometimes in the evenings) and have Dr. Mario battles on the original Nintendo. She was SO GOOD at it! We used to do "battle mode", and we would start on the 2nd hardest level. I swear she was practicing at night after I went to bed.
• We loved watching sports together--especially football, college and pro. We went to an Ohio State game together, and also several Bengals games. She would always squeal and jump up and down on the couch. She had the OSU vs Miami Nat'l Championship game on DVD and would often re-watch it while working on mailings.

(Yes, we went to a Bengals game at the Colts stadium. Thankfully, Indy fans are polite)

• She was an incredible Realtor, and one summer, I was her "assistant". I use quotations, because I really wasn't that much help. But I remember getting to spend every day with her, and going out to lunch at the Jewish deli across the street from her office. In fact, there are many memories of going to appointments with her, or going to spend the afternoon in her office when she had "phone duty" back when she worked at The Realty Group.
• Every year at the start of the school year, Mom and I would sit down together and set goals for the school year together. She would set her business goals, I would set my school/athletic goals for the year. I found it a little annoying, I'll admit. But now I love looking back on that time that we spent together, looking forward together.
• I loved when I found my wedding dress, and getting to walk out of the fitting room and see Mom's face. When she was first diagnosed with cancer, she hoped to see me graduate, so to have her still around so many years later, and getting to watch both her girls get married was amazing. She and I both looked at the dress in the mirror, and said, "This is the one!"
• My final memory of Mom is holding her hand when she passed away. Being with her in her last few days on Earth was immensely difficult, but also precious.

But I guess as I think over the different memories, one thing stands out the most: Mom was *there*. She was at every game (and as a 4-sport athlete, there were a LOT), even through college when I was playing in Pennsylvania or Indiana or Michigan. She was at every concert, every church performance. She had a wonderfully successful real estate business that kept her away more than she would like, but I really don't remember that. I remember always looking in the stands and seeing her. Her continual presence was such a comfort to me.

And what I really wanted to say to the Mommy and Me class is that what I want my girls to remember about me as a Mom is what I remember most about my Mom. I want Avonlea and Aria to remember me being there. Being a part of their lives. Caring about what they are doing, supporting their efforts, encouraging them and challenging them to set goals. I want them to be able to look out into the stands, or across the auditorium, or even in the car pool line and see me there. Have them know, with confidence, that I will be there for them.

2 Months To Go...

I haven't written for a while.

It's not because I don't have anything to write. I usually fall asleep thinking of all the things I could write about. Maybe I just have too many things to write about, and I get overwhelmed thinking how to condense it all into a blog post. And why sit down to write for 45 minutes when I could zone out to an episode of "Buffy", or (better yet) take a nap??

But here I am, writing a long-overdue post.

Only 2 months to go in this pregnancy. It's like a freight train that is coming, non-stop, and I am so unprepared.

As I reminisce over my last pregnancy with Avonlea, I realize how similarly I went into motherhood as my journey into becoming a wife. It was all romance and rose-colored glasses. I knew parts of it would be "hard", but I had NO idea what that meant until I was deep into it. And yes, it WAS hard. In fact, "hard" isn't an adequate enough word. I felt overwhelmed and anxious and in-over-my-head, and seriously wanted to give up and drop the baby off at an orphanage and take back my precious "me time".

It all stemmed from being completely, wholly, over-the-top 1000% afraid. Not only did I feel like I had no idea what I was doing (and, let's be honest--I really didn't have any idea what I was doing), but because I felt like ANYONE would do better than I could possibly do at raising this tiny human.

As I am faced with this new baby, I realize I have more experience and am better equipped this time around. Practically, I am much more prepared. I know better how to feed and dress the baby. I have been through the drama and struggle of delivery. The drama and struggle of breastfeeding. The drama and struggle of a baby who wants to eat every hour. The drama and....well, you get the idea.

But I guess the problem is that there are so many MORE things to be scared about this time around. So I sit here, 2 months out, and I am just completely, wholly, over-the-top 1000% afraid...again.

So many unknowns. So many questions. So many worries. So many fears. And this time, I left the rose-colored glasses off. There's no more romanticism going into life with a newborn this time around. I'm prepared for the worst. The crying, the lack of sleep, the searing pain from being sliced open and taped back together. I'm prepared for that. What I am not prepared for is all of those things added to the fact that I have a TODDLER. A very needy toddler. A toddler that, I might add, HATES when I hold other babies (like, claws my pants legs and whines and cries and throws a fit hates).

I don't know how to do this. I don't do well in situations where I don't have even a slight grasp on how to handle it. I tend towards avoidance or complete shutdown. But this? I can't avoid. I can't shut down. I have to put on my big girl pants and take it head-on.

I hear from a lot of moms that have already done it. I know it can be done. It might not be pretty, or graceful, or worthy of my own parenting handbook, but it can be done. It has to be.

That said, in a couple of months, if you see me walking around with my yoga pants on and mismatched socks, hopefully you'll extend me some grace.

Unhinged by the UnGame

Nick and I recently returned from vacation. Actually, I should probably call it a "vacation", as it was a LOT of work, and not a lot of rest, or escape from my daily reality, as often a vacation purports to be.

But I can write about that (and about how Avonlea did with it) at another time.

In this post, I'm going to write about the sad realization I came to on vacation (and, in the days since our return, have continued to dwell upon).

In the car, whenever we have long drives, Nick and I play the "UnGame".

This isn't really a game (hence, the name UNgame). It's a box of two sets of cards. Each card has a question or a statement on it, and you take turns answering the questions or responding to the statements.  For example:

We got the game as a gift from my friend Jenn for our wedding, and it is one that we carry with us on all of our trips. It's good to pull out when someone is getting tired, or we have a long distance to travel.

Well, for the first time since we have had this game, a question really stumped me. It's a question that, prior to maybe 9 months ago, I would have had a ready answer for. Definitely one I could have answered 3 or 5 or 7 years ago.  That question was,

What are 3 things you would like to be doing in three years?

Now, perhaps I am being overly dramatic. Perhaps pregnancy hormones are getting the better of me, and making me all down and dreary. Perhaps I just had a brain fart.  But I could not, for the life of me, think of 3 things.

Even now, a few weeks later, I can't think of anything.  Why is that??

I've been dwelling on the "why" of this situation for weeks. Why am I having so much trouble thinking of what I would like to be doing? It's not like this is a life or death question. There isn't any money on the line. No one is going to be recording my answers--after all, how I would have answered this question 1 or 4 or 10 years ago is no longer relevant.

But the fact that I have trouble answering the question disturbs me.

I guess it is because every time I think of what I would LIKE to be doing in three years, a little voice (or block, or hiccup) in my brain says, "Yeah, but you're going to have a 5 year old and a 3 year old in 3 years--what are you REALLY going to be doing for yourself?"

I think over the 16 months I have spent as a mom, and consider how dramatically my life has changed--the infrequent nights away, the slow loss of personal time during the day (less time to do things for me--more time doing things to just get by), less and less ability to do hobbies that interest me. I have lost myself as I have become a mom, and I guess I don't see that changing at all now that we're having another one--in fact, I only see it becoming worse.

I guess I kept waiting for "the moment" when I would be able to become "me" again. Maybe it was when Avonlea would sleep through the night (still hasn't happened), or when she stopped breastfeeding (still hasn't happened)--I would be able to do some of the things that I loved before I had a baby. I would be able to devote more time to it, instead of squeezing it in during nap time or after she goes to bed, when I'm too tired to do what I love.  But, that "moment" hasn't arrived, and now that we're having another one, that moment seems to have moved so far down my life timeline I can't even see it anymore.

I guess I need to pause and clarify--I love my daughter. I love staying home with her. I love that I have been able to breastfeed her and take care of her daily. Please, in light of everything else I am writing, let that be very firmly said.

I just wish I didn't feel like I have lost myself along the journey. I look 3 years down the road, and I can see myself staying up until 11pm--but I am not watching a movie, or having date night, or having friends over to play games, or reading, or going for a run--all things that I used to love. Instead, I see an exhausted mom, cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing a high chair, scruffy hair and no shower, and wiping down the bathroom counters for the first time in weeks because this is the first chance I've gotten to do it. I see many years of jiggly belly and peeling nails and much-delayed haircuts and gray hairs, and it's discouraging.

I so much want to have an answer to the question--What would I LIKE to be doing in three years?--but right now, my life is getting in the way of being able to answer it.

A Second Kid? Are you CRAZY??

(this post was written June 7, 2014)

I heard that after you have your first kid, people started asking you when you were going to have another one. I experienced this a little bit, but really only from people I didn't know (or my mother-in-law). See, I think it was that the people close to me knew what a traumatic experience Avonlea's babyhood was, and so they knew better than to ask me.

As time went on, among other people and among other mommies, the baby question would come up, and people would be surprised at my emphatic "NO!" when asked if we were going to have another kid.

I don't think it is a permanent "no". I just say that I need more time to recover from the trauma of the last kid. It's not the birth that traumatized me. It's the having a BABY thing that traumatized me. I love looking at babies. I love it when friends have babies. I really liked being pregnant and growing a baby. I learned that I do NOT like babies.

I also can't imagine having another kid right now, with Avonlea still so young. I imagine a 3-4 year spread between my kids. I like the 3 or 4 year spread, because they'll have one or two years together in middle and high school, but not too close together. They also won't be too far apart and grow up hating each other, like Ashley and I did with our 6.5 year spread.

I am also seeing what it is like to have a toddler and a baby first-hand. Several of my mom friends are on baby #2 with their first being around 16-20 months old. And while it's exciting in theory, I see what a toll it takes. The energy you needed for one baby is now multiplied, but the energy you're given isn't. My friends are doing an amazing job--but I spent one afternoon with one of them, and I came home saying, "We canNOT have another baby anytime soon." Just watching what it was like terrified me.

I don't do well in situations where I am overwhelmed. I tend to lose my balance mentally, and I constantly feel like I am underwater. I just don't do well. I mean, one of my extended family members told me she was going to fly to California to help me after I had Avonlea because I sounded like I was doing so badly. Did I also mention I'm not good at concealing how I really feel?

I guess you have some things figured out with your second kid that make some aspects of it a little easier. You're not dealing with the first-time Mom thing, which is huge. But on the flip-side, you're dealing with the new thing of raising another kid AND a baby.

And to be honest, I'm kind of content with our little 3-person family. I really would be completely happy if we never had another kid of our own. I did the pregnant thing. I did the baby thing. I'm happy to move on with my life. I would love to consider adoption, but that's not something Nick is interested in right now. Maybe I can work on him in that regard, but it's not something we would pursue even in the next 5 years.

All that being said, I took these pictures today:

Oh, shit.

Contentment? As a Mom?

Do you ever feel like you were meant for something...else?

90 percent of the time, I love my life. I live in a great city, with tons of opportunities. I have an amazing husband, who works hard to provide for our family. I have a beautiful daughter, who fills my days with joy. I have a nice home and a place to exercise and health and a great church community. I am able to sing and run and read and exercise my creativity in different ways.

But.

I still struggle with contentment. That 10 percent just eats away at me. I wish things for my life that aren't possible right now, and I find myself frustrated that I'm not able to do those things. I wonder where this stems from. Is it some weird effect of the feminist movement, to make me feel like my being a stay-at-home mom is unfulfilling in some way? If I had stayed in my career, would I feel better about things? Would I be more content? It's almost like I see the grass as greener on the other side of the fence.

But see, here's the rub: I don't think I would like it any more if I were on the other side of the fence. Because I was there. I have experienced the other side of so many things. I was single until I was 26, and didn't date a lot, and I just wanted to be married. I had a marriage with no kids for 8 years, and I just wanted to add kids to the mix. I had a job as a teacher, and I never felt completely comfortable in it enough to enjoy it all the time. Same with being a photographer--I always felt like I knew just enough to get by, but not enough to really excel. And now, as a mom, I feel similarly--I'm doing an okay job, but I'm not doing an exceptional job.

Is it a lack of confidence that causes this discontent? I have noticed a pattern in my life--I get involved with something, and then after a while I get bored, or I realize I am inadequate in some way, and I move on. I was 100% into sports growing up. Then I did some theater in college, but not enough to really consider that a career (even though I majored in it). Then I was a teacher for 8 years, but never felt comfortable in it, and then I did photography for 3 years, and now I'm a mom. I've dabbled in sewing and scrapbooking and baking and aerobics and acting and blogging and gardening and so many other things, but have never stayed with anything for too long. And is it because of this dabbling, this bouncing back-and-forth between interests and passions--that has caused me to develop this weird discontentment? That I essentially have "life passion ADD"?

Or am I just setting myself up with expectations that are too high? Can anyone really feel 100% like they're doing their life's work? They choose a career when they're 19 or 20 and stick with that education and training and then every day they do that chosen career they feel like they're exactly where they belong? Because to me, that seems completely foreign.  People have asked me, "What do you want to do?" and I have never felt comfortable giving a solid answer. Because the true, honest answer is, "I don't know." I feel like so many of the choices that I have made in my life have been by default.

I chose a communications major because there were classes I could actually pass.
I went to China because my friend convinced me.
I started teaching because I couldn't find a theater job anywhere, and it was something I could do in the meantime.
I'm staying at home with Avonlea because teaching here isn't really an option (and I probably couldn't find a job anyway).

I kind of wonder, when Avonlea gets to the age where she starts deciding what she wants to do, what will she learn from me? I don't ever want Avonlea to think that choosing to stay at home with her was a "default" choice--but how do I tell her that I never expected to stay home? I grew up in the household of an amazing career woman, and always expected to follow in those footsteps, and now I'm going back on everything I ever said I wanted. I want to give Avonlea a strong sense of self to stand on, but my track record for advising her isn't so great, since my "sense of self foundation" is wobbly at best. And what about after that? When she does decide what she wants and moves out of the house--what will be left for me? I'll be one of those weird women who takes up underwater basket weaving because she has nothing to do with her time after her kids moved out of the house.

I guess, in the end, it's about transition. I had a really hard time after Nick and I got married. About a year into the marriage, I realized how much had changed for me. I had to "report to someone" (for lack of a better word) about how I spent my time, how I spent my money, where I went on vacation, what I wanted the house to look like, etc. I didn't even get to keep my own name! I felt like my identity had shifted so dramatically, and it took me a while to get used to "the new me". To get a feeling of how a marriage worked, and how to be a partner in life to someone else. I wasn't just me anymore. I was now "wife".

And now, I'm at another transition. Now I'm a "mom". I'm a year into it, and I'm realizing how hard it is for me to come to grips with it. That this, this mom thing that I'm in right now is what I am doing, and that maybe it isn't what I thought it would be. When I became a "mom", did I leave everything else behind? All my goals? All my wishes? I didn't think about the sacrifices I would have to make, or the changes I would have to make to my expectations. I didn't realize what I would lose.

But I also didn't realize what I would gain.

I'm still trying to figure it out.

The Inconvenient Truth

Avonlea is 5 1/2 months old now. She's sitting up all by herself, she's smiley and giggly and overall a lot of fun.

But there are 2 things about her that are really inconvenient.

1. She only sleeps in 4-hour stretches.  I'm working on this, trying to sleep-train, but I am convinced that "sleep training" is loosely translated as "baby is fine and mommy gets no sleep".  Last night, she fussed for an hour before I just got so sick of it, I went in and fed her.  I didn't feed her very long--I cut her off after just a minute or two on each side--but I still fed her.  I was just tired of trying to get her to go back to sleep! But of course, after feeding her, she fell asleep immediately, and I was wide awake.

2. She won't take a bottle.  I've tried. I've done different bottles, different nipples, warm milk, cool milk, from a straw...nothing.  She gnaws on the bottle and gets a little bit, but there's no sucking at all.  Which means, she is handcuffed to me as her primary source of nutrition.  It makes "date night" a non-concept in our household.  Even me going out and doing anything by myself is a thing of the past.  I am limited to sub-3-hour excursions.

Both of these things are frustrating and inconvenient.

But, really, in the scheme of life, is it really that big of a deal?  Yes, it's inconvenient.  But, at most, it is a year. A year in the life of my sweet girl who is learning how to sleep and eat and, you know, live. Aren't there worse things to be handcuffed to than the life of the little one you birthed and are committed to help grow and mature and learn to do things in this crazy world?  Yes, breastfeeding in public is inconvenient, and carrying around an increasingly heavy baby is cumbersome, but when you compare it to the next 35 years when you'll be wishing you were able to control exactly where they go and what they eat, isn't it worth it to just suck it up for a year?

A year is nothing. It goes by so quickly, it can seem like it is a vapor. You look back and realize that the years have vanished, and you wonder what happened. I just think of the lyrics to the Trace Adkins song:

You're gonna miss this.
You're gonna want this back.
You're gonna wish these days hadn't gone by so fast.
These are some good times,
So take a good look around.
You may not know it now,
But you're gonna miss this.

There are so many things that I will look back on and wish I could do over again--and getting to snuggle with my baby is definitely one of them.

So while it is inconvenient, I do not regret it. I choose not to be angry or frustrated by it. I choose to embrace it, and hold my little girl for as long as she'll let me.

Chiming in...

I'm not one to comment on social or political happenings--at least, not on my blog.  Go ahead and look back--I usually write about what's happening with Avonlea, or how I'm feeling about being a mom.

It just so happens that the whole "Miley Cyrus debacle" hits on one of those areas.

There have been SO many posts about Miley, condemning her actions and calling her all manner of names. I was disgusted by the whole situation, as well. I, however, was not only disgusted by Miley's actions, but by Robin Thicke's. He is singing a song that has a repeated lyric of, "I know you want it." He is a married man, onstage doing inappropriate things with another woman.  There are double standards of sexuality on display that rankled my sense of morality. So, yes, the whole situation bothered me.

But mainly, it made me worried.

This isn't the first time in my lifetime that the standards of sexuality have been lowered in the public eye. When I was growing up, it was Madonna who was setting the standards. I remember a huge brou-haha when her "Erotica" video was released. When I was a little older, it was Madonna and Christina and Britney and their kissing fiasco.  Later still was Janet and her "wardrobe malfunction." And even on the show with the Miley issue was another superstar pop icon wearing a seashell bra and thong throughout the telecast (no one comments on that, however).

I don't think we're going to have a culture that stops any of these actions anytime soon. Sadly, it's what happens when we live in a fallen world.

My worry comes from the fact that I'm raising a little girl in a culture that accepts and values warped views of the female body. A culture that hails "women's rights" as an equal exchange for a distorted view of sexuality. A culture that turns a blind eye to the sexual deviancy that is prevalent in every single American city (see my friend's blog for a great post about this).

I grew up in a culture completely different than the one Avonlea is going to be exposed to. Even though I grew up in the Madonna zeitgeist, I was pretty sheltered in my little Baptist house and church. I remember sitting on the bus when I was in middle school, looking at the boys and girls sitting around me holding hands and snuggling up to each other, and being fascinated with it. Thank God He kept me just on the ugly side of the "ugly duckling syndrome" long enough to not get caught up in the physicality of relationships too early.  Even though I wasn't holding hands with anyone, I desired it so greatly. I wanted someone to cherish me. From the pictures I see of some of my former students on social media, I know that those same things happen still--only they are even further down "the line of sexual progression" than we were.

While my growing up was sheltered (and yes, there are negatives to that, too), there were also a lot more days of childhood innocence. While I spent my middle school years yearning for a boyfriend, I was also saved from dealing with physical pressures too early.  While I spent 3.95 of my high school years without a boyfriend, I spent that time in school activities and sports with friends (both guy and girl), not wrapped around a guy in the hallway 24/7.

And I worry that Avonlea won't get to experience that. I live in the 2nd largest city in the United States. The opportunities here are endless for both good and bad.  I also live in one of the most image-conscious cities in the world. Everyone here is so obsessed with health, fitness (not bad things in moderation), fashion, and being thin, it is like a god.  There are ads everywhere for liposuction and plastic surgery. The photoshopped images shout at you from every corner. I want to keep my little girl sheltered from all that.

At the same time, being sheltered from all of it doesn't teach you how to process it, either.  How many stories are there of "good girl gone bad" when released on their own to college life? Even for myself, I did some things I'm not proud of after I was out of my parent's eye, because I wasn't taught how to engage in culture without compromising.

I think at the heart of so many of these things is what my pastor taught about a couple of weeks ago. If you have the chance, I would encourage you to listen to the podcast on Proverbs 22:6:

"Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it."

(There is a link to the podcasts here. Look for the 8/18/13 message.)

The crux of Joseph's message was that as parents, we have to do what we can (with God's help) to give our children a strong moral base for their lives--and that beyond that, God will fill in the gaps.  I can't hold Avonlea's hand through every step of her life. I can't guarantee that she will make the choices that I think she should make--in fact, she might go the opposite of all my hopes.  But I *can* do the best I can to raise a daughter that has a strong sense of self, and a strong desire to love God fully.  I can't guarantee that Avonlea will remain a virgin until she gets married (like her ugly duckling mom was blessed to do), but I can do my best (with God's help) to help Avonlea know truth:

• God loves her with an uncontrollable, unquenchable fire.
• God wants us to seek after Him with every fiber of our being--and he is waiting for us at the end of every search.
• God's plan for love isn't self-serving, the way that our culture views it.  The love that God has for you is self-sacrificing. Putting the needs of the other person above your own needs. The love that God has for you looks like the love that Jesus had for you.
• God wants us to have a love that consumes us. God wants you to have the passionate love story that you've always dreamed of. Think of Jesus--he loved us so much that he died for us. It would have felt better for himself to stay off of that cross. But He put himself at the mercy of others because He loved us.
• (and now I'm crying)
• A boyfriend is not the be-all-end-all. Most boys are just that--boys. They aren't mature enough to put your needs above theirs.
• A marriage isn't a guarantee. It is WORK. It is TIME. It is HARD.  Unlike the movies, the credits don't roll on a happy ending when the boy tells you he loves you. In real life, that's where the movie starts. Sometimes your movie is a comedy, sometimes it is a tragedy, sometimes it is a farce, or a romance, or an adventure.

What I want Avonlea to know above everything else is this:

The real be-all-end-all in life--the real adventure comes in living your life for someone else--and that someone is Jesus. Because in reality, boys will let you down. Dating will let you down. Marriage will let you down. Sex will let you down. But God--my dear, sweet girl--GOD will NEVER let you down.  He cares about every single morsel of your life. He knows how you will yearn for companionship. He knows how your heart will desire a boyfriend and a husband. He knows how you feel, because He desires US in the exact same way.

I wish I could tell Miley this. That living her life for herself isn't going to fill any gaps. That giving more away isn't going to bring her any satisfaction. It isn't going to make anyone respect her more.

I wish I could tell Robin this. That singing about desire and power over women isn't going to help him feel more in control. That the power this world gives in money and fame and sex isn't enough to fill a void. It's a drug that simply needs more and more from you, but gives nothing to you.

I worry for my daughter. I worry for her innocence and her little mind. I worry for her heart.  After this weekend, I won't just pray for her. I will pray for US.

Why I Love My Life

I kind of feel like my last few posts have been really negative in nature. I did have a rough week last week, so often my posts will skew to how I am feeling.

But I don't want to give anyone the impression that I don't love my daughter.  I love her greatly. Instead, I hope my blog reflects that being a mom is hard, and I often feel like I'm doing terribly at it.

So, I thought I would do a more positively-themed blog post, can call it, "Why I love my life". I know I need to spend more time focusing on the positive things in my life. I'm not sure exactly when I became a pessimist!  As a friend of mine once said, "No matter how bad your life is, there's always someone out there who wishes they were in your shoes."

* I get to spend every day pouring into my daughter. Do you know how many people wish they had that opportunity, and aren't able to do it for one reason or another?  I am blessed to have a husband that works incredibly hard so that I can stay home with Avonlea.

* I am so glad that I am able to be active. With the exception of some torn muscles in college, I have never had any injury that has kept me from being physically fit. Granted, certain times in my life I have been more fit than others. But I can say without hesitation that I can go out and run a 5K at any point, whether I have trained or not. A lot of people aren't able to do that. I'm training for my 7th Half Marathon.

* I am part of a mom group with women from our church (and a couple of moms from other churches). We call ourselves the Baby Mamas. It's so nice to be able to meet with moms of kids similarly aged to Avonlea, and share joys and struggles, and pray together. I love that our kids will grow up in the company of other kids, and they will see that their moms praying together.

* This might sound snobbish, but I don't mean it to. I am so thankful that I am smart. My parents (mom especially) put a high value on reading, and getting an education. Sometimes, I wish I had used my time  in school a little wiser, but isn't hindsight 20/20?  I love that I rock at Wheel of Fortune, and can hold my own in Jeopardy! I think it's fun to be knowledgeable. I enjoy the History Channel and the Discovery Channel (and not just because Mike Rowe is cute--but that doesn't hurt anything).

* I live in an incredibly amazing place. Yes, it's crowded and big and weird. But, it also has great beaches and hiking and activities and the weather is perfect and people invest in community and there's movies filmed here, too. And it's weird!

* We are part of an amazing church. We have felt like it was our church from the minute we walked in the doors. We have made incredible friends there, and I am challenged frequently by our amazing head pastor. I'm so thankful.

* We have amazing neighbors/landlords who like us and take care of us and our house. They also love taking care of Avonlea, which is an incredible blessing. And, in an emergency, they are a nurse and a retired firefighter. We feel incredibly safe here.

* It is amazing to see Avonlea growing and changing and learning new things all the time. I feel like she looks a little bit different every day, or learns something new every day. Today, she learned how to blow raspberries. Hilarious!

* Avonlea does a great job in the Baby Bjorn, facing out. Unless it's nap time, I can take her out and walk around the mall for a couple hours without any problems.

* Breastfeeding is going so great. I have no problems feeding her at home, or on the road. This was NOT possible a month ago, which is still fresh in my mind. She continues to be the messiest eater on the planet, though. :)  I'm so glad I'm able to give her mama milk.

* I love how I know exactly how to make her laugh. Squeeze her thighs, blow raspberries on her tummy, say "hi" like a karate move, smile and say "hi mama!"--whatever it is, her face lights up like a Christmas tree. It makes me so happy.

The Worst Thing To Tell A New Mom

You know what my #1, all-time, most hated phrase is?

"Just wait."

Not "Just wait--I understand, I've been there, and I know it will get better".  When used in that way, "just wait" is a comforting and kind phrase. It brings peace and hope.

The "just wait" phrase I am referring to is used most often. It's the one that says, "You think you have it bad now? Just wait. It is going to get much worse."

"Just wait until they start walking."
"Just wait until she starts to talk."
"Just wait until they're teenagers."

I started hearing this phrase a lot when I would mention something about my dogs--waaay before we had Avonlea. The dogs would do something ridiculous, like start whining at 5am to go outside, and I would mention it to someone, and they would say, "Just wait until you have kids."

Or, it could've been a situation where I was late getting to something on time, and I had way too many things to do, and not enough time in the day, and I would mention it, and someone would say, "Just wait until you have kids."

When I was pregnant and having trouble sleeping towards the end of my pregnancy, I started to hear it a lot: "Just wait until you have the baby--you won't get any sleep at all!"

A note to everyone out there who has used this phrase: It is completely unhelpful.  I mean, when has that type of statement EVER helped someone?

Your baby is crying through the night and you haven't had sleep for days? Just wait until (insert later phrase here).
I compare it to these phrases:
Your 6-year old just broke his arm? Just wait for the summer when he can't swim.
You just lost your job and don't have money to pay your bills? Just wait until tax day.
You found out your friend has cancer and has to have surgery? Just wait until chemo and your hair starts falling out.

Essentially, you are telling the person to brace themselves, it's going to get a lot worse.  You're telling them that no matter how bad/difficult you think the situation is right now, it's not going to get any better, because there's something down the road that is just as hard, or harder.

And you know what? As true as it might be, that's not what a new mom wants to hear.

As a new mom, I am in the here-and-now, and the here-and-now is HARD. Sometimes it feels like there's no way out of the struggle. And you, well-meaning person, though you are out of that place, and you bring perspective with you, by saying "just wait", you are telling me that my struggles are unjustified. That my struggles aren't worth mentioning because I haven't experienced the really hard stuff yet.

There is nothing more discouraging than having someone dismiss your feelings. It invalidates you.

When a new mom calls you (or posts on Facebook, or mentions it to you at church--wherever, really), and tells you what a hard time she's having because her baby won't eat and won't sleep and cries all the time and she's worn down to the bone, swallow the "just wait" that threatens to escape your lips.  Instead, tell her that you understand how she's feeling. Tell her that you have been there before, and that it does get better. Tell her that you are coming over with dinner, or that you're coming over to do laundry (don't just say you would like to--tell her when you're coming over so that she can't refuse). Tell her she's a great mom. She's the perfect mom for her baby. Give her HOPE.

The situation that you want to compare hers to can wait. Spread peace and hope instead.

(If you want to know another phrase you should eliminate from your vocabulary, check out "Don't Carpe Diem". OR, this version written by a Dad.)

"I've Got This?"

In my classroom, we did journaling almost every day. The beginning of the year was setting up the structure and the expectations, and was always a struggle to get them to write to the level I was expecting. But somewhere around the halfway point of the year, I didn't have to do reminders anymore. They knew the expectations, they knew the rules, and they started to take off and do some amazing writing during that time.  I would always get to the point of the year where I would think, "This one area of teaching? This one? I've got this."

Sometimes I wonder, in parenting, will I ever get to the point where I think, "I've got this"?

I find myself constantly second-guessing myself when it comes to parenting Avonlea.  The questions about how to do (fill-in-blank-here) flit through my brain rapid-fire style.  Here are just a few from the long day we shared together yesterday:

- Why is she only sleeping 2 to 3 hours at a time overnight?
- She just got up from her nap. Can I go to the store without her throwing a fit?
- It hasn't been 2 hours since she ate, but she always eats when she gets up from a nap. Should I feed her now?
- Why is she throwing a fit in the store?
- Is she sitting in the carrier wrong?
- How is she sleepy again? She only got up an hour ago. Is she sick? *Google "babies sleep a lot when sick?"*
- Should I put her down for a nap again?
- Why does she get so hot when I'm feeding her? *consult Google*
- I'm not sure if I should give her a nap..should I try anyway?
- How long will she sleep?
- Do I have time to take a shower?
- Will my shower wake her up?
- Will she sit in this seat while I make lunch?
- Are these toys overstimulating her? *Google "signs of overstimulation in babies"*
- Why is she so fussy today?
- Is she tired again? She only got up an hour and a half ago--how can she be tired again?
- If I try to go on a walk, will she fuss because she's sleepy?
- Why does she keep pulling at her ear?
- How can I get her to do more tummy time if she cries after 5 seconds?
- How long should tummy time be, and how long should I let her fuss and scream in tummy time? *Google "tummy time 3 months"
- Will she ever roll over again?
- Will she ever want to roll to her front, because she hates it so much?
- Can a 3 month old get too much sleep? *Google "babies too much sleep*
- Is she getting enough to eat?
- Why doesn't she open her mouth more when feeding? Is that causing her to not get enough?
- What colors of poo are normal?  *Google "normal baby poop"*
- Why did I just Google that?!?

My whole 3 months and 2 weeks of parenting has been nothing but one question after another. And I sit sometimes, and wonder if I'll ever be confident that what I am doing is the right thing. That what I am doing is the best thing.  That I'll be able to look at Avonlea the way I looked at my classroom of students and breathe a sigh of relief that I'm finally getting the hang of things.

Scars

I have a scar on my right hand, right at the base of my thumb. I remember exactly what happened. I was in high school, and we were bringing our dog Chloe back home from the kennel after a vacation. We had the leash on her, because she had the tendency to bolt out of our yard if we weren't paying attention.  I put the leash around my wrist and opened the door when we got home, and she bolted out of the car and yanked me with her! My hand wrapped around the side of the car door, and cut a 1" cut along my hand.

I see the cut now, and I smile. I don't remember the pain, but I remember Chloe, and the joy she brought into our lives for so many years.  The pain of the moment and the frustration with my dog has faded into nothing over the years, and all I'm left with are happy memories.

I have a new scar. This one is much fresher, and much more vivid. It's a 7 inch long scar across my abdomen.  When I see this scar, I am also reminded of an event.  But the scar that remains also carries with it some intense feelings.

I just finished meeting with my mom group. We all have babies between 6 months pregnant and 14 months old.  One mom today was talking about how she feels insecure in her parenting, and worrying that her baby doesn't realize that she loves him--like their bonding together had been stunted somehow. She said she felt like it stemmed from having a C-section, and then not being with him every moment during the first week he was born (her son also had to go to the NICU for 6 days).  The guilt from that experience was still haunting her--and her son is now 8 months old!

I find myself often thinking about whether or not certain things that are happening with Avonlea wouldn't be happening if I had been able to have a "normal" birth.  Thinking about how for the first week of her life, she didn't see me as the only caregiver. She had 18 different nurses and doctors taking care of her, and I wasn't able to be there 24 hours a day, like I would have if she had been born naturally.  Would she be having a hard time with the things she is having a hard time with if she had been with me constantly from her first minute outside the womb?

I thought about it a lot when we were having trouble breastfeeding for so long.  Like, her being in the NICU (and bottle-fed and on formula) completely handicapped our ability to bond with each other the way that "we are supposed to".  I read this article that I identified with really well: http://www.babycenter.com/0_how-love-blossoms-between-you-and-your-child_1417762.bc?page=3

I also think about how there are many experiences in life that I will be able to have (and have already had).  I have traveled the world. I have gone skydiving. I have performed in front of thousands of people. I have driven across the country.  But I will never be able to say that I birthed a baby--at least, not in the "traditional" way.  I had planned on it that way--I didn't want anything to help me during childbirth. I wanted to do it as naturally as possible. But that's not the way it turned out, and that has caused so much stress and anxiety as I have tried to process through the disappointment.

I am learning that all of these feelings are normal.  But, they also are not from God.  Part of my struggle is to throw off these feelings that Satan puts into my path and into my heart, and realize that my birth story is exactly how God had planned for me.  God knew that Avonlea would come into this world via a C-Section.  He knew that she would be in the NICU, and that I would struggle with the maternal insecurities that stem from that experience.

It's actually part of the reason why I love my scar so much.  I love what it represents.  It is a visual reminder to me that I am not in control of my life. I do not know what is best for myself, and as much as I like to think that my plans will be the best things for my life, they really aren't.  My struggle is to focus on Christ and who He is, and how much He loves me, and loves Avonlea.  I like to think that Jesus looks at his scars from the crucifixion the same way that I look at my C-Section scar.  The experience was painful and heartbreaking. But it brought the greatest joy into my life, and serves as a reminder that I would do the same thing again because it brought my sweet girl to me.  It is beautiful.

During our childbirth class, our instructor said that she had some clients (she was a midwife) that were still struggling to process and accept their birth stories 2 and 3 years after their kids' births.  And when I was in the class, I internally scoffed at that idea.  I was looking at it with the mindset of my own plan, and thinking, "well, that will never happen to me, because I am going to do things *this* way."

But now, looking at this side of the birth experience, I completely understand how that could happen to those ladies. I can see how, without friends and without Christ to lean on and cry out to, you could struggle with the disappointment and the guilt for years after a C-Section.  My prayer is that I will continue to talk to Him about my struggles and fears and doubts, because He doesn't want me to live in that space.

He wants me to continue to see my experience as beautiful and perfect--the way He had planned out for me.

I'm hoping that one day, the feelings that I have when I see the scar on my belly are the same as the feelings I have when I see the scar on my hand.

Thoughts on Ohio and Family

Our trip to Ohio (and Kentucky) was great. Avonlea did a wonderful job on the flights. She only fussed a small amount at the very end of our flights to Ohio, and fussed a little more on our flight home--but Nick said it wasn't bad and I did a good job with her.

We were able to see all of my family (except one of my cousins and her family), and we were able to see Nick's mom and husband, who drove in from the Chicago area.

Avonlea had a really hard time with the time change for the first few days. She was REALLY cranky. The first few days we only saw family, though, so they didn't mind the crying so much. They were just happy to see her!

We drove around a lot, but not so much that I felt super-rushed or like I didn't get to chat with people enough.  I also didn't go out of my way to meet with people. I just didn't want to have a jam-packed schedule like I've had before. I knew it wouldn't be good for Avonlea.

I was able to get a taste of what raising Avonlea in Ohio would be like. I don't think I would have had so many struggles the first few months, because I would have had family support like I didn't have here. Don't get me wrong: it's not like I would've called them all the time. But it would've been nice to know that they were a phone call away, instead of a phone call and a plane ride away.

Yes, there are disadvantages sometimes to being around so much family. But, when you aren't around them at all, you wish they were nearby.  It makes me sad to think that Avonlea won't immediately recognize her aunts and uncles. They won't be at all of her birthday parties and holidays like I had when I was growing up.  I was surrounded by such love and support my whole life, and I worry that Avonlea won't know that she's part of such an amazing family.

When we left my grandma, she broke down in tears. She commented that she doesn't know if she'll ever see Avonlea again. She also said that Avonlea would never remember her great-grandma.

While the first sentence might be true (we think we will go back for Christmas, but you never know what will happen), I will make sure the 2nd sentence isn't true. Just like I will make sure that she knows who her Nana (my mom) was.

But it is true that for now, Avonlea will grow up away from family. We are among a community of orphans out here, and it forms some great friendships. Those friendships will become like our families, since we are all craving those connections.  It will certainly not replace our true family, but it will put a balm on the hurt we experience when we miss them.

Growing Up and Moving On

Four weeks ago, I couldn't breastfeed away from the house without it being a major production.

Avonlea was stuck using the nipple shield. I couldn't feed without using my Brest Friend, or a pillow. The thought of getting on a plane was terrifying. TERRIFYING, I tell you!

Thank God for His help. I mean, seriously.

We went to Ohio, and I was determined not to use the shield while we were there. Do you know how immensely frustrating that dumb thing is??  

First, it took a specific technique to get it on. Then, Avonlea has her hands in front of her face all the time, so she would hit it off. If I was lucky, it would land on my lap, but most of the time it went on the floor, so I would have to wash it (or, just blow on it to get the dog hair off--let's be real here, if the baby is screaming to eat, I'm just going to do whatever gets the job done the fastest).  She took forever to eat with it, because the milk doesn't come out fast enough. It was MESSY. The thing would leak down underneath and soak my bra (which would then soak the shirt I was wearing), and I'm thinking, "my precious liquid gold is soaking my cheap shirt!"  After she was done eating, I would have to clean her up and myself, and then wash the dumb shield.  More recently, I would also have to wash it again before using it, because it would cloud up and have some weird filmy substance on it. GRR. ARGH.

So, I determined not to use it. And the entire time I was in Ohio, we didn't use it once. I had them packed with me, just in case, and once I actually had it in my hand once during a feeding, but I never had to put it on, and I haven't used it since.  *cue Hallelujah Chorus*

It's amazing the things that Avonlea is learning and growing out of.  She only "feral cat cries" when she's crazy tired or crazy hungry now.  I don't need the Brest Friend to feed her (in fact, since coming back from Ohio, I have only used it twice).  I packed up all her newborn and 0-3month clothes. Today we moved from size 1 diapers to size 2.  And she is growing out of the swaddle, too. The first couple of days back from Ohio, she fought her way out of it repeatedly (but didn't sleep well).

Then today, she kept fussing during her nap, and I went in and undid the swaddle. I had a crazy need to go to the bathroom right then, so I left her in the pack-n-play, and she fell asleep with her arms out.

To be completely honest, I am so glad. Yes, I know I should be sad that she will never be super little again, and I should be sad I won't have my little newborn anymore.  And there's a small part of me that is sad (a very small part).  But that phase of her life was SO. HARD.  I didn't really enjoy much of it, and I'm glad we're moving on from it.  I love that she's reactive to me. I love that I understand all of her cues (or, at least most of them). I love that she's needing less and less "stuff" when she's sleeping. I love that I feel more on top of things, at least for the moment.  I'm not constantly worrying and questioning and fearing. I am feeling more confident, and that I am able to give Avonlea the best of me instead of what is left over.

The Good Mom

This blessed me:

Go here to read the full article.

Letter to Baby

Dear Avonlea,

You are two months old. Really? I can't believe how quickly two months has gone by. It's funny--there are times when I feel like it is the fastest two months ever recorded, and there are times when I feel like they are the slowest two months.

You are getting so big. We go to the doctor on Friday for your 2 month appointment to find out your official measurements, but I measured you with my measuring tape the other day, and you were between 23 and 24 inches long. Wow! I don't know how much you weigh yet, but I know you're chunking up a little--your cheeks are plumper and your thighs are getting chunky. I am ecstatic, because I LOVE chunky thighs!

You are 90% off of the nipple shield. I don't use it at all during the day. It still hurts when you latch on, because you tend to not open your mouth enough, but I try to grit my teeth through it, and it hurts less as the feeding continues. We use the shield during the overnight feedings because I am usually so full that it's hard for you to eat.

I am full because you are a great sleeper! You've been sleeping about 6 1/2 hours during the first stretch, then waking up to eat, and then sleeping another 3-4 hours. Your naps during the day have gotten shorter, but you're still sleeping every 3 hours or so.

You love looking around at your toys. There's a Baby Einstein toy that you are fascinated with--the blinking lights make your eyes open really wide. We read your first book together, too. You sat on my lap as we read "Go, Dog, Go" together. You stared at the pictures as I read the story.  Every day we read "The Jesus Storybook Bible" together, too, but you don't look at the pictures--you usually fall asleep! That's my girl...falling asleep in church already. :)

Speaking of church, we have gone every week the past month. You do a great job. You like listening to the music. We usually don't sit in for the whole service because you get hungry. Last week, you went into the nursery for the first time. Miss Hannah said you did a great job, and only fussed right at the end. Everyone loved the pretty outfit that Bonnie got for you.

We have started physical therapy for your neck. You really don't like the exercises we have to do! I can already tell that your neck is turning better, though, so we will keep working on them!

You still love to be outside. If you are crying, you will instantly stop once we get outside. I have been running in the mornings, and you like to be with me in the stroller. You usually fall asleep by the end of my run.

I love spending my day with you. I love seeing how you are learning and growing right before my eyes. There are things that I see you figuring out, and it is amazing to see you change and mature so quickly. I thank God every day for the gift that is you.

I love you,
Mommy

Glimpses of Wonder

"Woven into all of the difficult moments (or hours... or days) of parenting are these glimpses of wonder that I find in each of them." - Michelle Cooper

Today was another hard day. First day of physical therapy for Avonlea's neck.  She has torticollis, so we go to the doctor once a week, and have exercises to do every day.  They aren't comfortable for her, and she spent most of the appointment between fussing and screaming.

She doesn't have a lot of peaceful time during the day, and now I am filling it with exercises that make her scream. Yay.

"Woven into all of the difficult moments (or hours... or days) of parenting are these glimpses of wonder that I find in each of them." - Michelle Cooper

She's also been spitting up. A lot. I mean, every single meal, during feedings, after feedings, spitting up. Tonight Nick said it was at least an ounce and a half that she spit up. She's screaming at an hour and a half to eat...no eating between 2 and 3 hours for her.

I've cut out dairy, broccoli, garlic. I was off caffeine a while, too, but I'm going back off of it again, which means no Mt. Dew. It really makes me so sad. But I can't think of anything else to do.  She's SO fussy, and I'm terrified of being on the plane with her in 10 days. After all, if a baby is crying on the plane, no one looks at the baby. They all look at the mom.

"Woven into all of the difficult moments (or hours... or days) of parenting are these glimpses of wonder that I find in each of them." - Michelle Cooper

Yes, I know I wrote the same quotation (by my former principal's wife) 3 times. But for me, I need the constant reminder that no matter how hard the day is, there are still amazing moments with Avonlea that I get to share. She gets this huge, goofy grin on her face when I blow on her toes. She looks with wonder at the mobile above her changing table. She gets instantly quiet when I shush in her ear. These little moments are full of wonder for me, and I need to remember them when things get tough.

New Post!

It seems like there's so much to write about, I can't think of anything to write.

Bullet points seem to serve me well, even though they're not much fun to read.

The other day, I went into our room while Avonlea was sleeping (she sleeps in the pack-n-play in our room), and I just stared at her and cried.  Because with all of the craziness that we have endured, we have come out the other side in a better place. Though I know we'll have hard days (the previous entry is proof of that), I am crazy in love with my daughter.  I kiss her sweet head and snuggle her close on my shoulder (since she doesn't like snuggling on my chest), and inhale her sweet scent.  She makes me laugh with her funny faces, and I look at her in wonder when she is discovering the world for the first time.

She's still fussy a lot. It's not during a consistent time of the day, so I'm thinking it's diet-related. She is still 100% breastmilk--yay! She eats with the nipple shield, which I think is adding more air into her system, so I'm working on weaning her off it. It's hard, though, with her eating off of the shield for 2/3 of her life! Today she has eaten half of her meals off of the shield, so I think we'll get there. Also, in the last few weeks I added dairy back into my diet, but I think it's messing with her stomach. I bought some of the "Little Tummys" drops, and they seem to help, but I'm also going to go back to no dairy to see if it improves her mood.

She continues to be a great sleeper. She'll sleep 4-5 hours during the day (either 2 "shorter" naps, or 1 long nap). She'll go to bed between 9 and 10pm, get up around 3am to eat, and then get up between 7 and 8am.  She has gone as long as 7.5 hours once (and my boobs were READY for her to eat that time!), but usually she'll have a longer stretch (like, from 9:30 to 3:30), then a shorter stretch (from 4:15 to 7). But again, NO COMPLAINTS from me, as I know a lot of babies don't sleep at all.  But I remember praying that she would sleep well because I don't do well on little sleep.

Here's her evening sleep setup:

Swaddled, spit-up rag under her, covered with a quilt from Aunt Sharon (we sleep with the windows open, and it can get chilly), iPad playing white noise.

Nick's friends from high school were here last weekend. I took Avonlea with us to Rodeo Drive and the Santa Monica Pier. Here are Avonlea and I at the corner of Rodeo Drive and Dayton Way. Appropriate, right?  :)

Avonlea has become a fan of the Moby wrap. The only problem with it is that it is so THICK and HOT! I swear my body temperature has been permanently screwed up. I get so hot all the time. I think I'm going to make my own Moby wrap out of linen--I found a tutorial on Pinterest. I'd love to do a ring sling, but they are more complicated to make--and I can't afford to buy one!