It’s A Small World

30 Apr By

In the course of daily life I tend to lack reflection on the big picture. My world is a constant exercise in toddler emmersion. I spend my days fixing snacks, going to activities age appropriate for a two-year old, wiping my son’s bottom, doing laundry, doing dishes, straightening the house, paying bills, and occasionally loosing myself in a book. That’s it. That’s my world. Those are my conversation pieces.

My world has become small.

This past week I visited with my family and was re-awakened to the fact that there’s so much more to the world than just the small fragment I am constantly exposed to.

There were conversations about finances, technology, master’s degrees, running, church, relationships, work. There were conversations about who we know and updates on friends doing different things like living abroad, getting married, or welcoming children of their own. There was a remembrance of life before a toddler.

I love my world of immersion. I enjoy our pace and our schedule and even my constant state of exhaustion because in the midst of it all I have a sweet little boy to love on every day.

But visits with friends and family remind me that there is so much more to this world. There are so many areas I have yet to explore. It is possible to go an entire day without talking about “the potty.” Who knew?

I am so proud to know the people in my family and the friends that carry my heart. I am so grateful for the way they choose to spend their time and that I am able to weave my story in with theirs, however so briefly, so that it becomes a part of my awareness. There was life before a toddler when my world seemed big and full of possibilities. There is life now, filled with daily tasks that sometimes make me feel that the walls of my life have closed in, and I am contained in a small existence. There will be life after a toddler when my world may once again open up to new possibilities and experiences.

So, for now, I will stay in my world of immersion and containment. And one day, when we are both ready, my son and I will each open our worlds to new possibilities and experiences. Until then, I’m enjoying this view from the sidelines.

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Filed Under: Intimate Thoughts, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , ,

Button Up My Buttons Babe

25 Apr By

Due to a recent conversation with the toddler, I have a new theory. Hip hop song lyrics are derived from toddlers.

For a recent special treat, we decided to have milkshakes after dinner. Which is when I had my revelation.

First, the toddler pronounced, “My milkshake; this is yours.” Which I somehow pieced together as “My milkshake brings all the boys to the yard, and they’re like it’s better than yours…”

Then, after inevitably spilling some of the milkshake on his shirt, the toddler said,  ”I’m gonna take off all my clothes.” Which led this song to arrive in my mind, “It’s getting hot in here, so take off all your clothes.”

After helping him put another shirt on,  the toddler said, “Now button up my buttons.” Which of course, made this song pop into my head, “Loosen up my buttons babe”

Then, just to top off the night of inappropriate song lyrics inspired by a toddler, my son walked over to my husband sitting with his legs crossed on the floor, and said, “Daddy, open your legs.” Which may not be a song lyric, but seems to fit in the with the above list of inappropriate-ness.

So either hip hop artists really derived their song lyrics by hanging out with toddlers, or my head is still full of club songs from college. It’s a toss-up, really.

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Filed Under: Two Year Olds, Uncategorized Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

Style Evolution

23 Apr By

I just stumbled across this blog tutorial on how to do hair and make up and my first thought was, “This girl does not have kids.” It’s an adorable blog, with a lot of great tips, and I was memorized for hours a while, but who puts this kind of effort into their looks? Oh, women who are not mommies. And who have time. And who care about their appearance. Kind of like me, when I was 18.

I wish I could blame my lack of style and hair and makeup knowledge on being a busy mom and never having enough time, but that just wouldn’t be the truth.

The truth is, I lost my style long ago.

In high school, I was stylish. I was in the popular crowd, I knew what clothes were acceptable and what weren’t, and I even prided myself on never wearing the same outfit twice. I also spent hours doing my hair and make up, which involved a long routine of shower, blowdry, flat-iron, and curl. And of course, occasionally style up in some way, but only after completing the above process. My make up routine was equally involved with foundation, concealer (for what I don’t know…my 18 year old self would be appalled at my now nearly 30 skin) powder, blush, 3 different layers of eyeshadow, two different eyeliners, mascara, lip liner, lip gloss, and shimmery highlighting powder. Whoo, just writing that made me exhausted.

When I went to college, I discovered this horrible thing called the 8 am class. That meant I had to be up and ready to go by 7:15? Usually after staying up until wee hours the night before? That hair and make up routine got dropped pretty quickly. My college uniform quickly turned into jeans, a college t-shirt, a ponytail, mascara, and chapstick. I still knew how to get pretty for evening activities, but I never made any friends in classes. I was into sleep more than impressing co-eds.

After college graduation, I took my first job as a nanny. No need to dress up for a newborn, a 3-year-old , and a 5-year-old, right?

When I got my first teaching job, it was in a pre-school/day care environment where you could not wear jeans (oh no!) but you could wear scrubs or “professional sweat suits.” I don’t know what that means either. I took it to mean gray sweatpants, t-shirts and soaking wet hair ponytails, and got away with it. I am actually still terribly embarrassed that I went to work like that.

For many reasons, that job wasn’t a good fit, and I interviewed and got hired by a “real” school, a local public elementary school. There was a professional dress code here! You had to wear stuff like khakis and real shirts! (I also had things like a salary and benefits. I was a grown up!)  But I was still teaching Kindergarten. So my wardrobe became fitted with all things Old Navy and Target. Khakis and v-neck t-shirts people. Outfits of the stars. (Seriously. I think my class was the shining stars…or something like that.) I also upped my hair and make up routine by wearing my hair in a deep part, low side bun every day and actually wearing make up! But this time, the routine consisted of Bare Minerals foundation, mineral veil, eyeliner, mascara, and lip gloss. So quick, so easy, and I looked so presentable every day! Amazing.

A year and a half  later, the stay at home mom gig started. I would go for DAYS without putting on a trace of make up. Or getting dressed. Or showering. Or touching my hair. Yes, my husband is a lucky, lucky man.  Fortunately, the baby didn’t care.

As I started to feel better and get back into the world, I realized that I honestly forgot how to do this. This body was different. This hair did not style the way it used to. This skin does not conceal! Seriously, having this baby changed EVERYTHING!

Slowly, I found my way back to the deep part low side bun ponytail. Bare Minerals saved my life. And I only had to invest a million dollars use a few resources to get back to a wardrobe I’m comfortable with. Which now involves jeans, v-neck t-shirts, and the occasional print blouse. I know, my style is so enviable.

I have also discovered that I need to keep my hair at a manageable length. Although I love my hair long and styled, long with a baby just meant daily ponytails. But too short also means daily styling, which just doesn’t work. So a medium length gives me the freedom for ponytails often, but also the capability for a down do every once in a while. I also learned to keep make up in the car. Parking lot mascara anyone? The toddler even knows to wait just a minute after we arrive at a destination so “Mommy put on make up and not look scary.” He’s a charmer.

So I am not the most put together mom, and even though the morning ritual of lets-fight-about-putting-on-socks-and-shoes definitely interferes with my make up time, having a toddler isn’t the only reason I’m not so put together. My style has just been a constant evolution. My adult life has been devoted to the caring of children; often in non-structured environments. And it’s just so hard to put forth the effort to get all done up when you just don’t have to. (And when you have little people yelling at you. Like right now. The toddler needs juice.)

I suppose it is something that will continue to evolve and change as my life does. But it kind of also looks like I just might not be as girly as I used to think I was. A style evolution and a personal revelation; who saw that coming?

So, my friends, do you have any style advice for me? As long as I can still do the pre-school drop off by sitting in my car with no bra and sweat pants, I would love to take you up on suggestions. :)

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Filed Under: Body Talk, Mommyhood is Messy Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Nicholas Sparks Is A Liar

19 Apr By

“You deserve to be kissed every day, every hour, every minute,” comes the line booming from the TV complete with the sexy undertones of Zac Efron’s voice and a romantically themed musical score.

I was having a down day, and because I was in the middle of crying while watching my DVR recorded season finale of Up All Night, (which involved a tear jerking proposal that I had to watch because oh-my-goodness-I-LOVE-that-show), I was already a sappy mess. And then here comes this commercial for The Lucky One. I was completely wrapped up in it. I was mesmerized by the intensity and the passion and the love story. My mind wandered and became wistful. No sooner had Zac Efron delivered his line then my husband let out a loud disgusting burp simultaneous with the sound of my toddler yelling from the bathroom, “Mommy?! I pooted! Wipe my bottom!”

*sigh*

I think if it weren’t for the fact that I knew crying over the culmination of that moment would just make me look like an unstable mess, I totally would’ve broken down right there. But instead I just sighed and asked my burping husband if he might go handle the toddler’s bottom wiping needs.

So you see, The Lucky One-based-on-a-novel-by-Nicholas-Sparks, suggesting that the leading lady needs to be kissed every day, every hour, and every minute, is crap. I don’t have time for kissing every minute. I have stuff to do. You can’t just let toddlers sit around with poo on their bottoms. And who really wants to engage in a kiss with a person who just freshly burped? Gross.

On top of that, if I’m getting kissed every minute, when would I have time to do other stuff like dishes or laundry or drive my kid to preschool or, I don’t know, watch totally ridiculous romantic movies?

You see, it is these kind of movies that get our hopes up. That make us think that somewhere out there is this guy who will love us so intently that he just can’t wait to kiss us every minute. Who will love you with an unwavering passion and create a love story worthy of a movie. That one day we will grow up and meet Prince Charming and live happily ever after. I am not falling for it.

Maybe there’s some of that intensity in the beginning of a relationship, but then it becomes a marriage with real life things to deal with and babies to take care of and it’s hard to find one minute alone with your partner, let alone multiple minutes in which to kiss them.

Why can’t we be more realistic about this? Why can’t we make a movie where the leading man strides up to the leading lady and says, “Hey baby, I know you’ve had a long day, why don’t I clean the livingroom while you sit on the couch. And I promise I won’t try to kiss you because I know you are not in the mood after dealing with the toddler all day.”

Or something else wonderfully romantic, like these amazing Ryan Gosling memes from digitalmomblog.com.  Swoon!

15 0 15 Sweet Words for Moms from Ryan Goslingoriginal image source: bangersandnash.com

01 0 15 Sweet Words for Moms from Ryan Gosling
Or my favorite,
06 You Look Great in Your Sweatpants: 10 Things Any SAHM Would Love to Hear
source: Babble.com

And can we please be realistic with our story endings? Nobody lives happily ever after. They LIVE. Which means ups and downs and successes and failures and happiness and sadness and monotony and excitement and elation and exhaustion. (Did you catch that? Shameless blog plug.)

Why don’t we say “and they lived mostly happily except on the days when they never got any sleep because of the baby and money was tight and the house needed maintenance and the husband never remembered to pick up his dirty socks.” Or something else more clever and less cryptic than “happily ever after.”

I’m not a total romantic movie hater. Nicholas Sparks was my favorite author for years and I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve read The Notebook. And that movie? Swoon! (Or maybe I just have a thing for Ryan Gosling.)

Either way, I was into all that a long time ago. Before I got married. Before I really understood that this love and marriage thing? Is hard. 

Aren’t we doing ourselves a disservice by romanticizing the realities of long-term relationships? Are we setting ourselves up for disappointment when our real lives can’t measure up to the love stories we see portrayed on TV? Or are these movies meant to re-inspire that part of ourselves that gets lost in the daily business of real life? Do we still yearn for this type of romance even though we know it’s not realistic?

I may not have all of the answers, but I maintain my original stance. The “you need to be kissed every minute” line? Is bad. I just don’t have time for that, people. I have poo to wipe.

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A Whole New World

17 Apr By

The music floated up and drifted over onto our side of the fence. Cars began to line the street and people starting flocking to our neighbor’s house. It was time for the party.

Our neighbor had been planning a surprise birthday party for her husband for months. We had spent the day grooming our yard so we wouldn’t be those neighbors with the embarrassing yard in anticipation of the event. Our excitement was comparable to our neighbor’s. A surprise party! For a grown up! A night out of the house mingling with other adults! It was a novelty.

Of course, we had to bring the toddler. The party was right next door and we figured we wouldn’t be there terribly long. Plus our toddler loves our neighbors.

We walked across the yard and made our appearance. The awkwardness set in as it often does in new social scenarios with new people. We quickly conquered our fears with some adult beverages and by engaging the toddler in a round of let’s-eat-a-hot-dog-with-ketchup. Ketchup is the best thing in the world (if you’re two.) We met up with our neighbors, got some introductions, and found our social groove. We had fun. We interacted in adult conversations and drank adult beverages. We enjoyed a social scene we rarely get to be a part of.

The toddler found wonder in the croquet set, the hammock, and the multi-colored lights strung from the trees. He delighted in the grilled hot dogs and was elated by the birthday cake production. He enjoyed sitting by the fire pit and watching it’s blaze while Mommy and Daddy talked and laughed with other grown ups.

As the night began to wane, I found myself drawing away from the adultness. I enjoyed the weight and the closeness of my toddler in my lap while watching the flames dance in a fire pit as much as I enjoyed the conversations. I enjoyed his amazement at the sparking fireworks even more than the adult beverages. And I loved watching him dance to the music and spinning him around in circles even more than I enjoyed being out of the house.

At one point, I overheard someone say, “Is the child still here?” Her tone implied that his presence was ruining her evening, even though he had been well-behaved all night. I knew then that it was time to leave.

For you see, as much as I enjoyed the novelty of a grown up party, that’s really no longer my world. This group was a mix of people who were single and people who were students, couples who were engaged or married, people who worked in professional careers or had their own businesses, but we were the only people there with a child.

I remember those stages of life. The school work and the professors. The talk of a dating scene and nights at bars. The wedding planning and future dreaming. The married before children bits. The pressures of a job. But no one else in this group knows about my whole new world.

They don’t yet know about sleep deprived nights and birth stories and whether or not to breastfeed. They don’t yet know about the land of sippy cups and legos and sleepy cuddles and slobbery kisses. They don’t yet know about the world that I am immersed in.

The hubs was enjoying himself. He didn’t want to leave the party and go home to parenthood.

So as the night continued to ease into late, the hubs stayed at a grown up party and drank grown up drinks and talked about grown up things. But I took my little boy home, changed him into pajamas, and snuggled him on the couch as we settled in to watch an episode of Caillou before we went to bed. And I realized as I snuggled my sweet little boy, that there was nowhere else I would rather be.

As much fun as it was to dip my toes back into the grown up waters for a few hours, I feel much more at ease in comfy clothes chasing butterflies or cuddling on the couch with my little one. Despite my previous roles of student and single, teacher and professional, engaged and married, I have finally found the role I was always meant to play. I am most myself here, in this exhilarating world of motherhood.

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Filed Under: Pondering Parenting, True Love, Two Year Olds, Yeah Write Tagged With: , , , , , , ,

Building Blocks

16 Apr By

The age of two is so complex. This time of in between. Caught between the world of a baby and a big boy, between a world of needing help and doing it “all by myself.”  Growing, reaching, climbing, achieving. You can do this. You are doing this. Reaching higher and accomplishing more with every breath. I stand in awe of your growth, and watch as you climb into this role of a person you are. I love you, I cherish you, and I capture these brief moments in time when you are still in between.

I am so proud of you, my sweet in between boy.

Linking up today with the lovely Alison of Mama Wants This and Galit of These Little Waves for Memories Captured. What memories have you captured lately?

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Inspired

13 Apr By

I tentatively placed my hands on the keyboard and willed myself to let go of the story that had been hiding in the recluse of my mind for months.

I watched as the letters under my fingers transformed into words on my screen, pouring out thoughts and telling a story I had never before shared.

I dared, much like I am now, to let the story unfold on its own, and present itself in its own way. Even I was not fully aware what direction it was taking.

I edited slightly, because when my mind speaks is doesn’t always remember to spell.

I published. I linked. I waited.

I held expectations no higher than a hope that this would be a prequel to my whole story and that it might allow me to connect with more readers in this wonderful blogging world.

And then it came. The brave. The transparent. The inspiring. The different perspectives. The outpouring of responses on a story I thought was my own.

I was amazed and humbled to discover that this story is not just my story. Parts of this reality had been experienced and felt and endured and coped with by many. People shared pieces of their own times of loss, their own times of difficulty, their own perspectives. People came here, to this small little corner of the internet, and shared their hearts.

To say I am honored is an understatement. I never knew that a simple post with a picture of a pumpkin would open the amazing dialogue created on that page. I cherish these bits of your lives you so generously intertwined with mine and savor them as though they are a decadent dessert. (Of chocolate, of course.)

This blogging world is still new to me. I am not even aware of all the things I do not know, as I have just started to climb this ladder and do not have the vision to see more than the next step in front of me. I am in awe of this community.

I have been lucky enough to find bloggers whose words float over the screen like a melody, whose descriptions entrance me, whose honesty both surprises and compels me. I have been lucky enough to read stories of people who break down the barriers of convention and instead allow the private of their lives to dance freely into the public. I have been lucky enough to find bloggers whose kindness surpasses many of those I know in “real life.”

Everyone has a story. It is what makes life so tragically beautiful. There is such artistry here in the intertwining of these hearts and voices. I see slivers and pieces of diverse stories slowly thread over each other as they weave their way into a part of the tapestry of shared experiences.

One of the reasons I started a blog was to finally share the birth story that I have never told, in full, to anyone in the past two and a half years since it happened. I have carried it, mostly alone, as I have walked this path of new motherhood. I started a blog to find you. To hear these stories. To know that I am not alone.

And to tell you that you are not alone either.

Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to share a brief overview and summary of my story. Thank you for not making me feel like I am crazy to have these musings. Thank you for giving me the courage to begin to share my birth story. I will tell you all of it one day.

Thank you for making me feel inspired.

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Filed Under: Blogging, Intimate Thoughts, Yeah Write Tagged With: , , , , , ,

Get Over It

10 Apr By

A few months ago, while visiting my mom, she brought up something she found on Facebook.

“Oh, Julia, did you see that funny picture on Facebook? Of the pumpkin in the labor and delivery unit for Halloween? Wasn’t that hilarious?” 

“I saw the picture. I didn’t think it was that funny, but I thought about you and thought you might like it.” (My mom used to be a labor and delivery nurse.)

“You didn’t think it was funny? I thought it was hilarious. I thought you would like it!”

Why is she pushing me on this?

“I guess I’m still just a little sensitive about my birth experience. That pumpkin is obviously having a vaginal birth, and not everybody gets to do that, so I guess I just didn’t think it was that funny.”

“Julia, you just need to get over it. And the sooner you do, the better,” my mother said in a tone that rang in with a combination of a sigh and finality.

I sat in stunned silence from the sting of those words. Get over it. Get over my birth experience.

Having a baby is supposed to be the most wonderful experience of your life. You are supposed to feel awe and wonder at the amazement of your child. You are supposed to fall into a complete immersion of love as soon as you give birth and lay eyes on this new little person. You are supposed to say that having a baby changed your life, was one of the best days of your life, and you can’t imagine your life being any different.

You are not supposed to say that you had a terrible birth experience. You are not supposed to say that after 7 hours of natural labor and 5 hours of labor with an epidural, that the emergency c-section you had to have made you feel like a failure. You are not supposed to say that you have no memory of meeting your son because you were so over-medicated. You are not supposed to say that you had pain in your incision for 6 months following your son’s birth, because you should be healed by then and that seems like complaining. You are not supposed to say that even though you always thought you would want more kids, that experience makes you never want to be pregnant again. You are not supposed to say that even though you love your son, the day of his birth was one of the worst days of your life. You are supposed to “get over it.”

I grieved that comment for a long time. I grieved comments made by my mom and others in my family who have been insensitive to me about my birth experience. I am aware that the end goal of a pregnancy is a healthy mom and a healthy baby, and I am extremely grateful for the amazing gift of my son. But doesn’t the experience of giving birth matter?

Having a baby is a life changing event. If you have a positive birth experience, it can be awe-inspiring, spiritual, and life affirming (I’ve heard.) If you have a negative experience, it can haunt you, dishearten you, and devastate a piece of your heart.

My mind ran through a list of comebacks, but I choose to say nothing. I chose to sit there in silence and look out the window. I choose to dismiss the comment.

There was nothing I could say to make her understand, in that moment, the impact of those words. There may be nothing I can ever do to make any one else understand the way my birth experience has affected me.

My grief over my birth experience does not detract from the joy I have for being a mother. I feel truly blessed and honored to have my little boy. But I can choose to grieve and process my experience in my own time. It’s ok for me to have these feelings. It’s ok for me to gather the pieces and process the puzzle in my own way. I think that when a profound event happens in our lives, we never really “get over it,” but rather find that it holds less intensity with the passing of time. As a dear friend once told me, “There is no time limit on grief.” I couldn’t agree more.

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Sick and Mad

9 Apr By

Sickness has descended upon our house for the past week. I am an expert at following my own how to get sick advice. A full seven days of runny noses and coughs and tissues and humidifiers has really taken its toll. The toddler seems to be feeling better and just a lingering cough remains. The hubs had to call into work and I have not left the house in the past week except to drive the toddler to and from preschool. It has been a nearly impossible task to keep the toddler entertained and the house in a somewhat decent state while both adults are out of capacity on the couch.

The grumpy factor is at an all time high. Seven days can feel like a long time. With the whole family at the end of our ropes, this conversation happened this morning:

Me: (to the toddler) “Will you bring Mommy a tissue please?”

Toddler: “No, I will not. And Daddy will not either.”

Hubs: “That’s not very nice. Why won’t you bring Mommy a tissue?”

Toddler: “Because I am mad at Mommy. And Mommy is mad at me.”

Me: “I am not mad at you.”

Toddler: “Yes. Mommy is mad at me every day because I made a mess. And I am mad at Mommy.” (walks over to me and in a very mad voice says,) “Mommy, I am mad at you because I made a mess.”

Me: ….

Hubs: “Come on, let’s leave Mommy alone for a minute. We need to go clean up your mess.”

Toddler: “I need to pee!” (goes to bathroom) From the bathroom we hear singing, ” I will never clean the living room never ever. I will leave the living room a mess. I am ma-aaad. Yes sir.”

Me: “Can someone please bring me a tissue?”

Toddler: “I will Mommy.” (brings me a tissue) “It’s ok, Mommy. I am not mad at you. I love you.”

Me: “I love you too. I am not mad at you either. Thank you for my tissue.”

Hubs: “Ok, now we need to clean this mess in the livingroom!”

Toddler: “Uggggghhhhh!!!!!”

Sigh. I realize, that this week has been a week of ignoring the toddler because we just don’t have the ability to play with him. When we are up, we have been fussing at him to clean up all of these messes he’s making while we haven’t been able to supervise. We are exhausted and sick, and frustrated by having to clean up every five minutes from our toddler tornado, when all we really want to do is lay around and sleep in a clean-ish house. The toddler is frustrated by lack of stimulation and that every time he does come up with a creative game, (ie, throw all of his crayons all over the floor, unload all of the kitchen cabinets, cut up bits of paper all over the house, etc.), we want him to clean up the mess.

This cycle is exhausting. The hubs is ready to go to work, I am ready to have energy back to entertain my son and keep my house clean, and the toddler is just ready for some interaction. And probably for some activities outside of our house.

Here’s hoping that whatever this super cold is will leave soon. And that the toddler will stop being mad at me because he made a mess.

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Filed Under: Mommyhood is Messy, Two Year Olds Tagged With: , , , , , , , , , ,

Pending

4 Apr By

Do you ever feel like your life is pending?

Sometimes I find myself at that place. That place of wondering, of stalling, of waiting. Waiting for the unknown.

I have been at these places before. My life was pending at the end of my pregnancy, when I was just waiting for a delivery, but had no control over how it would unfold.

My life was pending during the match process for my husband’s residency, where we could have been placed anywhere in the country, and we just had to wait until Match Day and a piece of paper to find out how we would spend the next four years of our lives.

Sometimes I feel like some of my relationships are pending; not really that bad and not really that good, just pending, waiting to see what will happen in the future.

The hot topic issue of having another child is pending in our house, since the hubs and I disagree on this very sensitive subject.

Most recently, I have been handling pending insurance claims and financial bits of life, and even though that is extremely insignificant in the grand scheme of things, I find the stress of constantly dealing with it seeping into my contentedness.

Sometimes, I even apply that word to myself. I still don’t know what I want to be when I grow up. I was a nanny and a teacher and now I am a stay at home Mommy. But that too, will come to an end when he starts school in a few years, and I’m not sure what direction my life will go in then.

So I find myself here today feeling like I’m on hold, just waiting for the next thing to happen. My life is not bad, or overly exhilarating, it is just there….

Pending.

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