A dream is a wish your heart makes...

Today I am 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant. I've been putting on a brave face, but in truth every muscle and joint and ligament and ounce of of my freaking being is uncomfortable. The thing is, I realize that less than a year ago I would have given ANYTHING to be in this position. And I realize that this is the last time I'll ever be doing this. And so, I'm trying to relish every ache and every pain and every trip to the bathroom every 10 freaking minutes - because I wished for this. I hoped for this. I prayed for this. And here I am. In reflection, I wanted to tell this story for the life we're about to welcome into the world. Because I'm uncomfortable - but dang it, I'm so happy.

-----

"It started out as a feeling which then grew into a hope
Which then grew into a quiet thought which then turned into a quiet word
And then that word grew louder and louder until it was a battle cry..."
- The Call; Regina Spektor


At the beginning of 2015, I made a secret Pinterest board that was dedicated solely to ideas for announcing a pregnancy at Disney World. It's a notion that makes me cringe even today, but it's true. My husband and I had long ago decided that we wanted our last vacation as a family of 3 to be taken at Disney World.

I have a habit of getting WAY ahead of myself when it comes to planning and given that we were planning to start trying for another baby at the beginning of the year, the timing seemed perfect.

Six years ago, when we found out we were pregnant for the first time, I learned nothing about my reproductive health in the process. For all intents and purposes, we got pregnant accidentally on purpose after one month of trying. It's a blessing, one that I do not take for granted (especially now), but it was unfair. It's unrealistic. It set me up for what would end up being 6 months of sadness and disappointment and above all - confusion.

But, first - Disney World.

Upon packing for the trip we had planned for for months, I realized that I would be able to take a test around the fourth day of our trip there and was sure it would be the most magical positive pregnancy test anyone had ever peed on. I thought of fun ways for us to secretly announce our pregnancy through photographs while at Disney World to share with our families when we returned. I was excited for the trip, yes, but I think I was more excited about what the trip would mean for us.

I remember taking the resort transit to Hollywood Studios on our second day of the trip and suddenly being overcome with nausea. The kind that only exists in the first trimester. I can't even describe the elation I felt at this sudden and inexplicable urge to vomit. I had never been more sure that I was pregnant.

We arrived early at our brunch reservations the next day and while waiting for our table, I excused myself to go to the bathroom. And that's when I saw I had my period.

In my bag, I had packed six different pregnancy tests.
And four tampons.

I walked out of the bathroom with tears threatening to spill down my face. I don't even think I had to say the words to my husband. I think he knew. And he tried to hide it, but I saw the disappointment I was feeling mirrored in his expression. We both decided not to discuss it and to try to just enjoy the trip.

We spent the rest of that day at Epcot. I drank a beer in every country that day. Partially because I could. But, mostly because I was numbing the pain. There was so much self blame. I wanted to space out my pregnancies. It had always been the right decision for our family and now I was filled with so much doubt. Truly, this was one thing I felt like I (personally) was born to do - and I was failing at it. Quite frankly, I felt broken.

The next day, while waiting in a very long line at the Magic Kingdom, I did the thing you should never do when you're panicking about a possible medical problem - I Google'd.

However, the great thing about relying on Dr. Google when it comes to fears about your fertility, is that sometimes you stumble upon a community forum that tells you you are absolutely insane. It was there that I learned facts that sustained me for the failed cycles that would follow. It was there that I learned I was not even close to infertile - just uninformed and impatient.

I learned that it can take up to a year for a healthy couple to conceive.
I learned that a couple only has a 20% chance of conceiving every month.
I learned that I had expected to get pregnant in a fraction of the time that many couples out there have been trying (and some with varied levels of medical intervention).
I learned that accidental pregnancies are pretty much mathematically improbable.
I learned that most pregnancies (including my own previous pregnancy) are pretty much mathematically improbable.

I felt like an idiot. Little Miss "I got pregnant after one month of trying, what's wrong with me now?" really got a dose of her own medicine. I read post after post after post after post of women struggling with fertility, women starting IVF, women who knew so much more about this stuff than I ever bothered to learn. It was like I had fallen asleep in health class in middle school and suddenly woke up at 31 and decided to pay attention.

So, I read. And I learned. I found solace in a community full of women who understood what I was going through.

Who would listen when a very pregnant person complained to me about her pregnancy while I was hoping so desperately to be in her shoes.
Who would sympathize when I was asked over and over again when we were finally going to have another kid.
Who would understand when every pregnancy announcement was like a punch in my (empty) gut.

Even though I was now armed with the knowledge that our timeline was completely normal, I felt less normal as every non-pregnant day went on. I discovered through various tracking methods that sometimes I ovulated and sometimes I didn't. My body just doesn't see it to be a necessary process every month. The birth control pills which had regulated my cycles for years were finally out of my system and in response, my system had no idea what to do with itself.

I put in a call with my OB/GYN for an appointment to discuss my concerns. The nurse I spoke to was very reassuring and sweet and told me that I should give it one more irregular cycle before I made an appointment.

That cycle never came.

And one afternoon, motivated by some sweet women on a board which had become my safe haven for sharing my obsessive charting who saw my chart and told me I would be crazy to not pee on a stick that afternoon, I stopped by a store and bought a pregnancy test.

I was on the way home from our second annual musical and still feeling elated from watching our students and their triumphant performance. I didn't want to ruin that feeling with another disappointment, but I just had to know.

I remember closing the door to the bathroom and standing outside of it. I had seen so many negative tests already. I just didn't want to see another one turn right in front of my eyes.

I cautiously approached the test the way one would approach a live wire. Convinced it would be another disappointment.

But it was positive. I was finally pregnant.
And no, it wasn't Disney World - but it was still magical.


I'm sharing this story here because I am certain there are people out there who, like me, don't understand the reality of fertility. Who think pregnancy is a right rather than a privilege. Who perhaps have never felt the pain of this struggle. Who have felt the pain of this struggle and are glad to hear someone break the silence that surrounds infertility. I was never one to approach people about their plans for procreation - I find that to be a highly personal decision and I never wanted to accidentally harm someone who was unsuccessfully trying to get pregnant.

However, I also never applied those same principles to myself. I approached myself over and over saying "Why aren't you pregnant yet, Amanda?" and it was a very painful and scary time. It didn't have to be. It just took a little bit of self help and education.

And now here I am - 3 days before I'm due with this little man. All I can feel is grateful that I didn't allow the fear and judgment and disappointment keep me from the magic I've wanted for so long.

"Now we're back to the beginning
It's just a feeling that no one knows yet
But just because they can't feel it too, doesn't mean that you have to forget
Let your memories grow stronger and stronger
Until they're before your eyes..."

Oh, Lido...

Lido missed the boat that day
He left the shack
But that was all he missed
And he ain't comin' back

Dear Lido,

A little over five years ago, there was a great buzz going around the hospital where I worked that the feral cat who lived in the courtyard had given birth to the cutest kittens.  Slowly, many of the kittens disappeared and even the mama cat was nowhere to be found - but, you remained.  My friend and co-worker at the time would sneak out and find your tiny little self hiding in the bushes or laying out in the sun and would send me pictures.

"You need to adopt this cat."

I was convinced that I was not a cat person and in truth, that I wasn't a pet person in general.  Shortly before we were married, we adopted a puppy.  The dog was needy and didn't sleep and was not a good fit for a home with two working owners.  We were able to find her a new home with family members, but I still look at our decision to adopt the dog as one of my biggest failures in life.  The entire situation made me terrified that I would never be able to be a good mother if I couldn't even care for a silly animal.

So, with that history I told my friend I would never adopt you because I didn't want another shot to fail at pet ownership.

And yet a few days later (and against all good judgment), I somehow had you sitting in my front seat in an old copy paper box with holes cut out so you could breathe, waiting to come home with us.  You hissed and spit and refused to eat for the first few days we had you.  We thought you were just nervous, but we soon learned that this fiery personality was pretty much uniquely you. 

We named you by putting my playlist on shuffle until we heard a name we liked.
And that song was "Lido Shuffle."

There were times that people didn't even know we owned a cat because we had to put you away when guests came over. Unlike normal cats, instead of running and hiding under beds when you were nervous, you would stalk our guests and slap them with your paws.  You'd hiss and growl and even bit a few people.  You were kind of a jerk, Lido.  But, you were our jerk.

When we brought The Incredible Hulk home, you didn't go near me for 8 months.  You seemed to hold me personally responsible for this new family member cramping your style.

But, you eventually figured out that he was here to stay and for the most part, you accepted that.
You also accepted that we liked him a little bit more than you.

You got a lot of second chances with us, Lido.  This must be why people say cats have nine lives.
I hope you know that we tried to keep you.

You hissed at my pregnant belly when I used cocoa butter because you didn't like the smell. You meowed anytime anyone closed a bathroom door to you, only to have us open it up so you could walk away. Affection was mostly on your terms, but when you did cuddle, you were actually kind of great at it.  (Even though you insisted on licking us constantly because you clearly you thought we didn't bathe enough.)  You loved pepperoni, a fact we discovered when we had to put you on Prozac to improve your mood and hiding it in the pepperoni was the only way to get you to take it.  (You totally knew we were drugging you, thanks for only spitting on the meds sometimes.)  You loved to sit in front of open windows and meow incessantly.  I told you to be quiet a lot, but I want you to know that I really loved that sound because it told me how happy you were.  You made us into the cat people we never really thought we'd be.

I hope you know we wish it could be any other way.

I hope you know we wanted to ignore the two doctors who told us this week that we shouldn't keep you as a pet anymore.

I hope you know this was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

I hope you know that I'll never know for sure if I did the right thing or not.

I hope you know that every day since, I've walked into the house expecting to hear your obnoxious meowing and feeling desperately sad when I all I hear is silence.

I texted the friend who helped me take you home to tell her you were gone, to tell her about the terrible decision we had to make, to tell her "Thank you" for convincing me to adopt you five years ago.  Because, Lido...it was a really great five years.  

You were a crazy cat. But, you were our crazy cat.

She told me "Don't forget, Amanda.  You saved him."

She's halfway right.  Yes, we saved you from the courtyard where no one was around to feed you and you were likely going to meet the fate of your mom and all of your brothers/sisters.

But, Lido?  You saved me too.  Saved me from the feeling that I was a failure and could never take care of another living being.  Saved me from the crippling self-doubt I'd experienced.  Saved me from the selfish person I once was.

Lido, you made me a mama and I love you for it.

You weren't perfect.  But, you were ours.

I hope that when you get to where you're going that there's a pepperoni buffet and open windows for you to sit by for all eternity.  When we meet again, I know you'll probably purr and sit right on top of me, but bite me if I try to pet you.

And that's okay, because that's how I'll know it's you.

Lido will be runnin'
Havin' great big fun
Until he got the note
Saying tow the line or blow it
And that was all he wrote

I love you, Kitten Man.

One more for the road...

I know this much is true...

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

As a first-time (and hopefully to someday be, second-time) mom, I'm frequently weighed down by the overwhelming amount of lessons I am responsible to teach to my son.  So, I recently started writing down the ones that were really important to me.  I imagine this list will continue to grow.  And perhaps, the things that I find to be super important right now, won't be the things I emphasize when TIH is much older...but for now...these are the things I really want my child to know.

Wear sunscreen.  Wear a helmet.  Wear your seatbelt.  Look both ways before crossing the street.  Don't run on the pool deck.

Among the rudest things you can tell a person is that they look "tired."

Don't yuck anyone else's yum.  This is a lesson that starts in our house with food and goes all the way up to someone's religion.

That being said, it really is okay to disagree with someone. And if someone makes you feel bad about your disagreement, it's probably more about them than you.

I truly think you can say almost anything you need to say if you can be kind with your words.

You should always, always, always try to be kind with your words.

In practically every situation, you should respect the word "no" and the people who use it.  Expect the same from the people you surround yourself with.

Validation does not mean agreement.  You don't have to agree with anyone, but you should validate their reality at every step.

You will learn more if you are friends with people who are different from you.

Be yourself.  It is better to be hated for something you are than loved for something you're not.

Food nourishes the body, mind, and soul.  Eat well.

You are no better than any other person on this planet.

If it's "elite," you probably don't want to be a part of it.

The uncomfortable conversation you avoid having by not expressing anger directly is far less painful than letting that anger eat you alive.

Class is about making people feel comfortable around you. Class is an attribute that should never be assigned to material things.

Be nice to your server.  To the clerk at the grocery store.  To the barista at Starbucks.  To everyone you meet.  Treat others not just how you want to be treated - treat them even better than that.

Some of the most important words to have in your vocabulary:  Please.  Thank you.  Excuse me.  You're right, I'm wrong. I'm sorry.

Do something that scares you every once in awhile.  Don't enjoy life from the sidelines.  But, if something feels wrong or scary or like a bad idea in your gut - listen to that little voice.

We hope to be lucky enough to get you gifts for every Christmas, for birthdays, and sometimes gifts "just because."  We really hope you enjoy them, but I truly hope you remember and cherish more about those special days than the gifts.  Those occasions are not about the presents.

Believe in something.  I sure hope it's God, but even if it isn't, I hope you believe in whatever it is with all of your heart.

Don't litter.  Recycle.  Carpool.  Prevent forest fires.  Leave the planet better than you found it.

Be generous with what you are given and with what you earn.

Never underestimate the power of a sincerely written "thank you" note.  Gratitude is an incredibly important (and often underrated) virtue.

Love is love.

That's all I have for now.  Love, Mom

Slow down everyone, you're moving too fast...

Dear TIH,
I don't even try to hide the fact that I was not really a baby person before I became a mother.  Whenever I would hold a friend's baby before becoming a mother myself, it was as though the baby could sense I was uncomfortable and he or she would promptly scream their heads off.  Even in the first weeks of your life, every time I held your tiny little body close to mine, I was so scared that I was "doing it wrong," that I would "break" you somehow, that you also could sense I was really not any good at this.

On one such occasion, feeling the anxiety which was all too familiar in those days, I had finally gotten you to go to sleep in the middle of the day.  I looked down at the smallness of you and was dumbfounded how such a tiny little thing could be so overwhelming for me.  I felt a tear roll down my cheek and before I knew it, I was silently crying as I held you.  I felt like SUCH a failure.  And I whispered to you, "I'm sorry about all this.  I can't wait until you get bigger."

And, you did get bigger.
You grew and grew and grew.

You learned.  You walked and talked and did all of the things I was longing for when you were that tiny baby in my arms.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

It all happened SO fast.
And today - you are four.

I love that you're growing.  Watching you grow is one of the great privileges of my life.  And, I love that we've gotten to grow together.  I got to grow from a sort of selfish woman who didn't really have any idea what it was like to take care of anyone else into someone else entirely.

Your mom.

Photo credit: Rosser Photography

So, thanks buddy.  Thanks for letting me watch you grow.  Thanks for teaching me in your little way to be the woman that I am today.

I know you're excited by how big you're getting and how much you're learning.  You tell us every day about the new "big boy" things you can do.  And truthfully, it breaks my heart a little bit.

Buddy, I have to tell you, it's not so scary for me that you're little anymore.  It's actually much scarier how fast the time is going.  So...if it isn't too much to ask - slow it down just a bit.

Because as it turns out, I can wait for you to be bigger.

Love,
Mommy

From this year's photo shoot with Rosser Photography.
Stephanie, I am forever indebted to you for these priceless and beautiful memories.

I don't quite know how to say how I feel...

Last month I got to see my little sister marry the love of her life.  The minute she asked me to be her matron of honor, I knew exactly what I wanted to say to her in her toast.  I thought I'd share it with you all today.  Enjoy.

I'm an ugly crier.

For those who don’t know, I am Andrea’s sister Amanda.  You know, I’ve been in a lot of weddings (though this is my first time being the matron of honor) and I have to tell you, mostly matrons of honor tell the story the first time they met the groom.  So, I guess that means I’m supposed to tell you that story and tell you that I immediately knew that Ricky was perfect for Andrea and all of that.  Truth be told, I had no idea if he was perfect for Andrea that night or not.  I do know that when my son stuck his entire hand in Ricky’s pumpkin beer, Ricky didn’t even flinch and went immediately and bought himself another one.  No questions asked.  No hard feelings whatsoever.  So whether or not Andrea liked him, as far as my husband and I were concerned, we were going to keep Ricky around for awhile.

Actually, the story I really want to tell tonight is one that happened several years before Andrea and Ricky even knew one another.  Back in January 2006, our family took a trip to Scottsdale, Arizona.  We stayed at a resort on a golf course which had about every available amenity you can think of including, in the center of the resort, a beautiful pool that was gorgeously landscaped, huge, had tons of lounge chairs, fluffy white towels, and a huge water slide that made it look like it had been carved out of a mountain.  As St. Louisans are wont to do at the opportunity to swim in the middle of January, we decided to spend an afternoon poolside and all made our way down there as a group.  Well, everyone except for Andrea, who told us she needed to “get ready” before she met us down there.

I settled myself in on a lounger and opened my book, reading only for a little while before I noticed my sister making her way across the pool deck.  Let me tell you - she was decked. out.  Every inch of her was styled to perfection - from her bathing suit coverup to her flip flops to her sunglasses to her beach bag - everything matched, everything looked great on her, and everything looked perfectly together.  She took the chair next to me, settled in, pulled out a magazine, and leisurely began to flip the pages.  

About three minutes passed when she tossed aside the magazine and announced loudly, “I’m bored.”  She stood up.  Threw off the sunglasses.  Kicked off the flip flops.  And made a beeline straight for the water slide.  Where, she entertained herself by going down the water slide, SQUEALING with delight the entire time.  This went on for about an hour until she got bored with that and dragged me across the pool deck and made me go down about twenty or thirty times.

I tell this story here today, not only because I cannot pass an opportunity to tell a funny Andrea story, but also because I think it perfectly encapsulates Andrea.  It’s pretty normal for a little sister to look up to her big sister, but I am here to say that, though she may be my crazy little sister - I have always looked up to Andrea.

She is 100% able to pull herself together.  She’s graceful and poised and truly makes it all look effortless.  However, she also knows when to throw that all off and just have a really good time. 

And here’s the good news - though I haven’t known him quite as long as I’ve known her - I can say with some certainty that Ricky possesses these same qualities.  (Which is mostly convenient because Andrea needs someone to go down the water slide with her.)

Marriage - I’ve found in my long 5 and a half years - is a little bit like that.  You need to be able to be serious.  To pull yourselves together and remain poised when the occasion calls for it.  But, also, you have to know when to shake it all off, have a great time, and go down the water slide together.

If today is any indication of the joy you will share in the life you spend together, I think you guys are going to be just fine.  And so, I lift my glass to you and to your joy on this day and in all the days that follow.  I love you both.  Congratulations.

Oink, oink, diggity dear...

Please add this post to the every growing list of New Mom on the Blog posts that are nothing about being a "new mom."  Also add it to the also lengthy list of blog posts tagged under "shameless self-promotion."

Jazz hands for days.

As I teased in my previous post (and blamed for my two-month blog hiatus), I had the pleasure of seeing a school year's worth of work come to fruition at my place of employment.  For the entire school year, we've been working on putting together our very first musical at the school I work for, and on June 6 what was once a silly dream became a magical reality.  To describe it in words doesn't seem fair - it was truly one of the coolest things I've every done.

In a rare NMOTB moment, I am sharing an interview I did with my co-worker, colleague, and friend Tyler on his podcast (The Urban Therapist) which I actually listen to weekly and LOVE.  (Does anyone else listen to podcasts?  Tyler got me hooked and I can't imagine my commute without them now.)  So, not only will you get to find out what I've been doing instead of blogging for the past few months, you'll get to hear me speak about what I do as a music therapist.  (Well, one of the things I do as a music therapist, there's a little more to it than this if you can believe it.)

The first half of the podcast is my interview followed by comments by the hosts (Tyler & Andrea).  They continue after the Three Piggy Opera part of the podcast with even more intriguing things (such as homemade kefir and public transit.)  I highly recommend you subscribe and listen to them - I generally learn something new and interesting (sometimes unrelated to music therapy) and am always quite entertained.  (And I'm not just saying that because they spend a large portion of this episode saying nice things about me...this podcast is one of my favorites.)

So - listen, enjoy, learn something new.
Follow this link and there are options for streaming the podcast or for downloading it for free on iTunes.

Make this place your home...

It's hard for me to believe, but a year ago at this time, we were throwing the final items into boxes.  (Boxes that I would soon discover were so unorganized that it took us almost this full year to unpack and reorganize.)  It wasn't the most romantic wedding anniversary, but the whole process was symbolic  of the vows and promises I had made on that day four years before.

Moving day was an emotionally confusing day.  Calling it bittersweet just doesn't do it justice.  There was so much sadness.  But, there were also moments of excitement about the long journey that was spread out in front of us.  I remember someone saying to me when they heard we were moving, "It's going to be sad, but there is a certain excitement to going somewhere entirely new and just starting over."

Whoever that was - thank you.  You were right.

I miss my home.  Yes.  There is a hole in my heart where St. Louis used to be and I catch myself aching for some of our traditions we celebrated yearly while still living there.

Cardinals in Postseason has kind of become a yearly thing. Just sayin'.

But, for every second that I miss St. Louis - there is a moment of pure, unencumbered joy and gratitude for the life we are living here and the people that we share it with.  There are things that have taken some getting used to (everything literally shuts down during football games, it's like a ghost town.)  Some things (traffic patterns, for example) I may never enjoy.  But, I truly just LOVE it here.  (So much so that sometimes I feel like I'm cheating on my city a bit.)

I remember on the day we left that I watched The Arch become a tiny little dot in my rearview mirror my eyes blurred with tears and sad songs blaring on my CD player. And yet, every time I started to get scary sad and ugly cry, I would have a message of encouragement from someone back at home.  Messages that promised me it would be okay.  Messages that told me that they missed me already. Messages that allowed me to hope that not only was it going to be good - that it might just be even better.

To all of you who contacted me on one of the most defining days of my entire life - thank you.  And?  You were right.  It is okay.

The past two years that we have been in the process of relocating ourselves here has taught me so much about our strength as a couple; as parents; as people, in general.  And now that we get to live here in the beautiful now - I'm just so grateful and blessed about where this journey has taken us thus far.

So, happy first anniversary, Chicago - I think I'll keep you.
And, happy fifth anniversary to my husband - you can stay too.

My road of good intentions...

Over the weekend, my husband and I took The Incredible Hulk with us to our local outlet mall to get him some clothes (because in true TIH fashion, nothing fits him from last year and it is steadily getting colder out here.)  As my husband predicted, we were able to walk into a store and stand in it for about 5 milliseconds before he began to wreak havoc and needed to be taken out to play on those coin-operated riding toys.  After purchasing a few things for TIH (and shopping around for mommy, of course), I went to find TIH happily entertained by sitting in a boat with a dragon.  (Those things are so trippy.)  A woman was there with her two adorable boys, shaking her head at the change machine.

"Don't put your money in that.  It ate my dollar," she said pointing at the offending machine.

I frowned sympathetically saying, "I hate when that happens."

She said, "It'd be fine usually, except that I already gave one boy his ride and now the other one is wondering when he gets to do his."

I have to be honest.  I didn't even think about it.  I just pulled out my wallet.  Fished out two quarters (When did they go up from 25 cents?) and handed them to her.

"Take these.  It'll make your afternoon go so much more smoothly."  She protested and would not take the money, but I insisted saying, "Seriously. Take it.  It makes me feel good to help."

Soon after, we left with TIH by bribing him with getting a vanilla milk at Starbucks.

We went to Starbucks and made our orders which included TIH's vanilla milk, coffees for us, an ice water, and a chocolate chip cookie.  When the barista rung us up, he said our total was $3.58.

My husband and I both gave him a puzzled look and said, "That can't be right.  Did you get all of the other things we ordered?"  The barista waved his hand dismissively and said, "Don't worry about it.  That's on me."

Bewildered, we collected our drinks (all of which had a nice little ego boost printed on them by another barista, also named "Amanda") and walked towards the crowded parking lot.  We were almost to our car when I stopped dead in my tracks and realized, I had been paid back for my good deed.

I was brought up with an appreciation of doing good things for others.  I know that there is a theory that no good deed is completely unselfish (and this one wasn't any different, it truly did make ME feel good to give this woman those quarters), but I honestly don't do nice things for other people just because I want to get something out of it.  I say this because I was also taught that the good that we put out into the world will come back to us tenfold.  (And, if you've ever bought two Venti drinks at Starbucks, you know that in this case it actually came back to me a lot more than tenfold.)  But, in spite of that, I relish in these opportunities that present themselves like, Here.  Make that person's day.

Sometimes with all the sadness and hatred and pain that I see in the world (the recent events in Kenya comes to mind, for example), I know it has to be nice for someone to have a little sunshine brought back into their life.

I guess it's because I can't help but wonder that if we put just a little bit more sunshine out into the world, maybe eventually there will be nothing left to hate.

When I was young I knew everything...

Dear Non-Parent,

I have a confession to make.  I'm jealous of you.  I just read your Facebook update about how you just woke up from an uninterrupted night of sleep to go to Starbucks and the grocery store (alone) to prepare for the dinner you're having for all of your (also childless) friends tonight at your immaculately decorated and clean home.  Congratulations.  Are you enjoying your life right now?  I sure am as I live vicariously through it.

I love my life.  Love it.  Love it so much that sometimes I worry people will catch my (slightly insane) grin as I marvel silently over the happiness that is my day-to-day existence.

And?

I'm exhausted.  I am the sole entertainer and provider (okay, I have a great partner, but sometimes he goes on trips and leaves me alone and seeing as this is my blog, I am inclined to focus on the negative, obviously) for a very picky and opinionated and loud and spirited and ENERGETIC three year old monster.  I love him so much it frigging hurts and so I am willing to withstand a great deal of discomfort in order to make sure his little face never stops smiling.  (It often does, but not for lack of trying.)

So, pardon me while I sit here jealously, purposely not "Like"ing or even liking your status because I am pouting because I want to have an adult conversation over slowly prepared food (not made in a microwave) and relish in the beauty of nothingness that unfolds itself in front of me.  No one is going to ask you to change their wet sheets in the middle of the night.  No one is going to require your assistance in bathing them.  No one is going to demand you make them a frozen waffle at 5:30 am only to leave it abandoned on a plate in a mess of sticky syrup that you and you alone will be responsible for cleaning up (or, God help me, my house is going to smell like maple syrup for the next 6 months.)  Tomorrow you are likely going to meander over a long boozy brunch after you have completed another full night of sleep and at no point in your journey will you be required to drive a minivan that smells like a foot.

It makes me a bit resentful.  It makes me want to hide your posts so that I won't long for those days which seemed to pass me by so quickly before I really got a chance to enjoy them.  It makes me want to read only mommy blogs so that I can feast my eyes and say, "Yes.  YES.  Now HERE is a woman who gets it" and scroll past your newsfeed without the sense of regret I am currently feeling.

All this to say?

It's okay that you get a little bored with the 365 pictures I posted chronologically of my son last year. It's okay that from time to time you unsubscribe from my posts, complain about me to your friends, and roll your eyes when you see that I've written (YET ANOTHER) post about breast feeding.  Just so you know, I swore I wouldn't be like this before I had kids.  And look who's talking now.

So, judge me for the claims I make ("No one has ever been this tired before"), the stances I take ("I refuse to mess with my kid's vaccination schedule"), the opinions I hold dear ("I have the cutest child in the history of the world and if you mess with me I will throw his tricycle at you.")  I don't blame you.  I would have judged me too when I was sitting in your seat.

I'm exactly who I thought I would never be.  I'm kind of okay with it, too.
And I bet sometimes you think about clicking the "de-friend" button on Facebook because you just don't feel like reading another status about the amazing new thing my kid is doing.  That's okay.  Sometimes I want to de-friend you too when I hear about the amazing new vacation you're planning.  So we're even, okay?  No hard feelings.

I discipline in a different way than I ever thought I would.  I post more pictures of my child on the Internet than photos that existed in the 25+ years of life I lived before him.  I clean up puke and deal with tears and allow things I thought I would never stand for (dammit.)

I don't make my kid share if it isn't worth the fight.  I let him watch TV for more than the 1 recommend hour per week.  He wears t-shirts with licensed characters and leaves toys in places other than the toy box.

If I knew me now, I wouldn't recognize me.

So, dear non-parent friend, I don't know if you plan to have children now or ever or anytime soon, but before you do - pour yourself another glass of wine, immerse yourself in that adult conversation, turn up the volume on your favorite Pandora station for a bit (who is there to disturb?) and just really freaking enjoy it.

Because someday you're going to have baby poop in your hair and you're going to be reading Facebook because you're too tired to get up and clean it out, and you're going to see one of my posts about my frigging awesome kid (with the caveat that I'm exhausted from a day of playing with said awesome kid) and you're going to say, "Yes.  YES.  Now here is a woman who GETS IT."

And you're going to click "Like" on that status.  And so the cycle will repeat.


And I promise, I won't ever say "I told you so."



Love,
New Mom on the Blog

I don't wanna become someone who can't live up to what I already done...

As many of you noticed, the last year has not exactly been a wealth of valuable blogging from NMOTB.  In fact, my blog was so silent, I did have people ask me if I had totally decided to give it up. I would usually say that I was in the midst of working on something (and sometimes I was), but for the most part, I actually was doing nothing for myself as a writer.

I wish I could say my time away from the blog was spent constantly generating new content.

In a way, I suppose it is what that time is spent doing.  I spent my time away from my blog just being a mom and literally developing new stories to tell you, new life lessons to share, and engaging in my general jackassery on social media in the meantime.

I often walk a fine line between being New Mom on the Blog - the writer and New Mom on the Blog - the MOM.  I see and admire so many women who are able to stare at a blank screen and fill it with words and content that actually generates feedback, income, notoriety.

I stare at a blank screen and freeze.

I realize that with every tweet, every post, every picture shared on Instagram, I am developing a persona who people may LOVE, or - who people may judge harshly.  I open myself up to that pain and judgment that is always lurking just below the surface.

I have a pretty incredible fan base just in friends and fellow mommies.  Those people lift me up.  Give me ideas for blogs.  Ask me questions.  Are proud to have their stories featured.  They understand that I am trying to build a brand, a business, and they are my most loyal patrons.  They understand that I absolutely adore being a mother, even if I don't spend my entire day at home with my kid.  Even if sometimes I write about the not-so-shiny moments of parenthood.  They get it. They've been there.  They want to hear more.

Then I have a (mostly) (thankfully) quiet brigade of critics.  Those that don't agree with my wishy washy opinions on how to raise your child.  Those that don't like that I'm a working mother.  Those that don't understand why I'm not still breast feeding my 3 year old.  Those that don't think of me as much of a blogger at all, much less a writer.  Those that don't realize that I obsessively check my social media stats so often that I know the minute, if not the second that they have clicked "Unfollow" and that the dejected feeling of that action will follow me around for the entire day. If you asked those critics about my brand, about my business, they'd sniff their nose at the mere idea of it.  And of course, those are the ones I let in.  The ones that I allow to rid me of every creative idea I have.

This fills me with an anxiety that makes it literally impossible to put a sentence together.  It makes me so frightened to share what I have to share here.  It makes me doubt whether or not I deserve to attend any blogger function, to take sponsorship opportunities, to string together a sentence for the world to see at all.

So, sometimes when I go away - it is to find my voice.  Usually it just takes a few comments on my Better... post that will do it.  Or a great reader question. Or just some topic I just can't be quiet about. So, when I go away, that's when I need the support the most.

What I'm trying to say is - thank you, for doing just that. Sticking around with me even during times of silence.  For being one of the MANY people who "Liked" my Facebook page last week when I (shamelessly) mentioned I was a mere 19 followers away from 200. (I think my page got over 60 likes in just an hour.)  Sometimes that silly recognition is validating enough for me to shove this damn anxiety bug back down in its hole and start again fresh.

So, I guess thanks - thanks for always proving me wrong.

I've been everywhere, man...

Oh, hey.

Let's just avoid all awkwardness and the obvious fact that the last post on this blog wasn't even written by ME (as well as the fact that it was posted in May) and pretend like it never happened.

Great.

I mean, before I could even write this post, I deleted at least 100 spam comments that got through in my absence, so it's not like there wasn't new content being generated.  Plus, I have several interested sponsors to sell things like bidets and psychic readings.  (As well as some sort of flash light, but the website made me feel uncomfortable, so I'm not sure that one will work out.)

In other words, I've hit the big time in the world of blogging.

What have I been doing?  I'm glad you asked.  I'll make a list.  I'm good at lists.

1.  Running!  I finally took my own advice and started running.  And then I became one of those annoying people that posts about it on Facebook all of the time and obsessively looks at her MapMyRun routes.  Please feel free to follow me on Instagram so you can see more screen captures of my running stats than you would ever care to see.  So far, I've run in two organized events (5Ks) with hopes to do more as well as maybe run more than 3 miles at a time some day.  I'm not destined for marathons, but I absolutely love the way I feel before, after, and during a good run.  I finally know what everyone has been talking about.  (Shut up, Amanda.)

2.  I went from reading lots of books in a year to reading one in a 4 month period (and it was one of the Harry Potter books) so I joined a book club with girlfriends from work.  It has been fantastic and those girls can read way faster than me, so keeping up has cut into valuable blogging time.  (Not that I am complaining - every book has been fantastic.)

3.  We have a few free months of Showtime right now and I have chosen to watch as many seasons of Dexter as I can before it gets taken away.  If anyone has a problem with that, I now know how to murder all of you and pretty much get away with it, so I would shut it.

4.  Exploring our new city has been one of the most exciting parts of this summer.  Sure, we're doing a lot of touristy-type things (prior to living here, I'd been to Chicago three times and two of them were before I was even ten years old.)  I'm learning which pizza places are my favorite, which train lines I need to take to get where, and just breathing in every aspect that I can.  I love it here.  LOVE IT.  (St. Louis, you are still home and I love you too.  I can love lots of places.)  When I found out we were moving, I adopted this mantra - joy is where you are - and so all of this has been an exercise in making this new place our home.  Sometimes I feel like I'm cheating on my family and friends back in St. Louis, but mostly, I feel joy.  Who knew I'd love living right smack dab in the middle between a cornfield and a skyscraper.  Talk about balance.  So, joy is where I are.  Or am.  Whatever.

6.  Oh, yes.  I decided to battle this one just before The Incredible Hulk turned 3.  We have been mostly* successful.  (* - I still clean my fair share of poo out of little boy briefs.  We're working on it.  I am really proud of him.)  I can't wait to share with all of you my methodology as well as my general NMOTB comedy, but I just have to sit down and write it.  It's coming.  I promise.

7.  It isn't as though I am new to Pinterest (and I have over 3000 pins to prove that), but lately I've been very interested in cooking for my family and figuring out a way for us to lead a healthier lifestyle through the food we eat.  And doing all of it on a budget.  Everyone has different ideas of what the word "healthy" means, but for me it means eating mostly produce, whole grains, and a variety of foods that involve the least amount of processing as possible.  (Or, if I'm tired, a bowl of sugary cereal or a hot dog - because I like to keep it real.)  For awhile, I've been posting info about my monthly meal planning on my personal Facebook, and I've since been encouraged to share that here.  In truth, meal planning is something REALLY important to New Moms.  Being willing to throw that plan out the window and order a pizza is really important too.  So, I'll do my best.  I am going to try out a few new recipes a month (and I'll be sharing them on the blog), I recycle ones that work (you can find those on this board mostly), add in a few easy go-tos, as well as some tried and true family recipes (those will never be shared, but you're welcome to try to figure them out...)  Think I'm doing it wrong?  You're probably right.  But, my family never goes to bed hungry, so there's that...



Other than that, I've been singing, sewing, grocery shopping, cleaning...damn, it's a good thing I don't play Bridge, I sound like a housewife from the 50s.

But, mostly, what I've been doing is really and truly enjoying life.  Maybe it's the trips to the city.  Maybe it's the beautiful weather.  Maybe it's just the fact that life (while not totally free from struggle and stress and sadness) has been in a delightful state of stasis after a year which was far from it.  I think back to where I was one year ago and my eyes fill with tears of gratitude over that time of uncertainty being over.  (Not to say that you're ever fully free from uncertainty, but at least that period in particular is over.)  So, enjoying life it is.  Doing the ordinary mom-type things that develop content for this blog and also eat up all of my time to put it on paper (or, rather - screen.)

For that, I am grateful.  Now, if you'll excuse me - I have a list full of posts to write.

In whatever time we have...

A pair of tiny black dress shoes were still perched on our dresser.  Some of the luggage was in a corner of the room waiting to be put away.  Our dry cleaning had just been picked up the day before.  It took me less than an hour to pack it all up again.

It seemed almost like déjà vu as we loaded all of the same things in the car.  Made all the same mental notes.  Crossed all the same things off of our to-do list as we had done only two weeks before.

It felt as though we had only just returned from the funeral of my husband’s paternal grandmother when we received the news - his maternal grandmother had passed away as well.

It doesn’t usually go like this.  Generally, you have time (a lot of time) to regroup between one funeral and another.  We did not.

I was lucky enough to know these two women in the short patch of time our lives were crossed.  A small blip on the radar of two beautifully long lives (85 and 78 years respectively), but a blip nonetheless.  These women had almost 40 grandchildren between them and 10 great-grandchildren.

I remember boasting proudly that my son would be lucky enough to know 7 of his 8 great-grandparents and how awesomely rare that was.  I am so glad he got to meet them briefly and that we made up for distance between us with pictures and cards.  The letter one of the grandmother’s wrote us held a special place in TIH’s baby book long before she passed away and will continue to be one of the most special things we’ve ever found in our mailbox.

As I sat and watched each slide show, I was suddenly overcome with the staggering pace with which life passes us.  My husband said it best while we looked at his grandparent’s wedding pictures: that to them that day (58 years ago) probably seemed like it was just yesterday.

I know TIH won’t even remember the fact that he attended two funerals in the first short year of his life, but we will make sure he remembers the wonderful women who came before us.  Death is a concept that isn’t always very comfortable to talk about, but I know we will have to explain it to him someday.  I know that a large influence of that discussion will involve our faith and belief in Heaven.  I also know that we will explain that life (no matter how short or how long) is a precious, wonderful thing and should be celebrated.

I am sure the members of my husband’s family are experiencing a great deal of grief having both of these funerals so close to one another.  I can also say they did such a beautiful job of celebrating both of these precious and wonderful lives.

As a new mom, I didn’t picture bringing my son to two funerals in a month, but I suppose I did picture carrying him through this life of ours - both the fun and not-so-fun parts.

We miss you and love you both, Grandma C and Grandma G.

I just know you’re up there sharing a whole lot of really great stories right now.

HMC ~ 7/19/1925 - 6/13/2011
JVG ~ 6/24/1933 - 7/6/2011