Keepin' it Real Monday

It's time for another installment of "Keepin' it Real whatever-day-of-the-week-I-decide-to-keep-it-real-on". These are my confessions, people.

First to bat...

1. Christmas is AFTER Thanksgiving. The end.

Now, if you know me, you know I L-O-V-E Christmas and all it's wonderful, magical glory. You can ask my husband and my family, I honestly lament the end of Christmas every. Single. Year. It's like I go into some sort of post-partum seasonal depression. Now, that being said, WHY ON EARTH ARE PEOPLE ALREADY DECORATING FOR CHRISTMAS??? Did Thanksgiving already come and I missed it or something? That's right, I'm calling many of my friends out, and I don't even care. This is what keepin it real is about, y'all. In my Christmas loving mind, it has always been this unspoken rule that the holiday season doesn't begin until Black Friday, and then, you can do whatever you want! Put on the Pandora holiday station, set up that tree, pull out the tacky sweaters, put Elf on repeat, deck the halls in whatever you want, BECOME Clark Griswald, but not before Thanksgiving! I swear, I feel like it gets earlier and earlier every year. Before we know it, Halloween will be known as Pre-Christmas and Thanksgiving will be legally changed to Almost Christmas. I am no Scrooge. Just a stickler for dates and order of events. #RuleFollower #ItsNotChristmasYet

Which brings me to my next topic...

2. I love a #hashtag.

Whether used in various forms of social media, a blogpost, or a simple text with a friend, I love a hashtag. I know I'm like two years late on this trend (I live in Alabama...that's usually the way it goes), but I don't care. They make me laugh and I love it. The more ironic and inappropriately used, the better the hashtag. However, there are rules in my book one what makes a good hashtag a good hashtag. I hate a serious hashtag. Like one that's deep and passive aggressive. Ain't nobody got time for that! Hashtags are all about the laughs, folks! And the #overuse #of #hastags #is #so #incredibly #stupid. Is there a need to compartmentalize every word that you've ever typed in the history of the internet? Seriously, what's the point? In conclusions, hashtags are for laughing and not making people want to #punch you in your #face.

Now, this next one is one I have only ever confessed to my husband, and I gotta say, I'm a little nervous confessing it here, buuuut...

3. I don't actually like U2.

Like, at all. In fact, I kinda think Bono is d-bag. Oh my gaaaaaash, I can't believe I said that. I can literally feel some of you screaming at me through your screen. I know, I'm the worst! But really, I think they're the worst. I know as a Christian (and someone with good musical taste) I'm supposed to like them because Bono loves Jesus and all, but they just don't do it for me. All their songs sound the same to me and they're just boring. I feel like I'm committing mortal musical sin by thinking this. I have TRIED and really wanted to like them, BUT I just don't. My apologies to all U2 and Bono lovers everywhere. I'm going to quit before you guys come and burn my house down. 

And BONUS! I can't stop watching this Vine video. All my teachers will love this one.

Seasons of LOOOOOVE

It is Fall. I have developed a fond appreciation for this season. The nip in the air, scarves, the changing leaves (my personal favorite), boots, the pumpkin flavored EVERYTHING, babies in adorable costumes, college football (though, let's be honest, I don't know any of the rules, I am mildly apathetic towards it, but I love the ambiance of it all. Truth bomb). It's really just a great time of year. Growing up along Alabama's coastal shores, we didn't have much of a Fall. Or seasons, really, for that matter. In Mobile, it's mostly just summer, end of summer, Christmas, and almost summer. Yep. It's funny 'cause it's true.

Which brings me to my point. Seasons. Whether we are talking about the literal four seasons or the seasons of life, seasons always bring about change. Warm summer nights end and falling leaves take their place. Late nights of chatting and drinking wine with your besties are replaced with late night feedings and chats with, well, yourself (because ain't nobody keeping you company at 2 am, friend). Whatever changes have taken place in your life, most of us can say that where we are right now and is not where we were five years ago. You are in a different "season of life."

That phrase once drove me crazy. Like, it truly got on my nerves. I thought to myself, "Seasons of life, how laaaaame." I'm not sure why I felt this way, until I realized just how applicable it is to, well, life. We are in seasons. Some seasons are so much more fun and exciting than others (hello, summer and all your sweet summertime glory) while others are bitter and cold and bring about new change and growth ("Always winter, never Christmas"). Like being a newlywed, for instance. For me, it was kind of a combination of summer and winter all rolled into one. I was so excited to FINALLY be able to live with my husband and do all the other wifely new and exciting things that come along with that (keep ya heads out of the gutter, people). And then you quickly realize that hey, boys are messy no matter how clean they say they are and sometimes they get on your nerves and do they ALWAYS snore and why are there socks everywhere and close the shower curtain back and on and on and on. My. Sinful. Heart. Was. Ex. POSED. I quickly realized how selfish I was. So I worked on that. This was a very sanctifying season in life. And I thought to myself, "Well, I must be done growing and surely I am the most selfless version of myself I can be. Look how great I am. The Lord has done wonders." And then I had a baby.

Two of my most precious, dearest, and oldest friends have recently been thrown head first into the dark, deep-end of motherhood. Their sweet baby boys are both around a month old, and, it has to be said, God made newborns adorable because sometimes, you don't really like them all that much. A friend in my bible study described those first six weeks as "such a dark season" and while she was joking and we all laughed, IT IS SO TRUE. It is. I'm watching my sweet friends struggle and battle with some of the very same things I dealt with and I just want to rescue them and help them, but that's not my job. It's no ones job. This is their story. This is their dark season. I encourage them often that it will get better (and it does, it really does), but that you can't wish to be in a season you're not. You can't skip winter and go straight to spring. You have to trudge through the snow to get to the green grass (or some winter-to-spring analogy). THE POINT IS, the Lord has designed our lives in such a way that we can look back to see the growth. 

As I watch my friends become wonderful, caring, nurturing mothers, I am reminded of where The Lord has brought me in only a years time. I am in a different season. And a year from now I'm sure I'll be somewhere completely different, as will they. And we will look back on these times and laugh (God willing), but until then, we must learn to embrace the season that we are in and remember, there's always summer. ;)

Ain't No Shame

I'd like to start a "Frankly Friday" segment. Or "Shameless Saturday". Or "Keepin' it Real <fill in the day of the week>" as I've heard on other blogs out there. This would be a time where I share things that I should consider embarrassing, but I just can't help but confess. Let the judgement begin.

1. Sometimes I want to put Oliver on a back pack leash.

No, I do not know that kid. And yes, I did google images for kids in back pack leashes. This is one of those things, that, until you're a parent, you just don't understand why they are invented. "Children are not dogs," they say. Oh yeah? Why do they run away like one then? How about you chase your 14 month old around downtown Birmingham on a Friday night because he refuses to stay in his stroller and doesn't want you to hold him and you might be singing a different tune. That's the moment you realize "Hey, a plush teddy bear harness leash would sure be awesome right now." Fear of the judgment from the childless gets the best of you and so you tuck that desire away...until your next outting. Say what you will, but those things were made for a reason. And hey, at least they're cute??

2. I still watch Glee. And I cried at last night's episode.

Some of you will say, "Katie, why are you embarrassed of this? That's not so bad." But then you must remember I'm a 28, almost 29 year old adult woman who is still watching a teen dramedy. And I don't even actually like it anymore. That's the embarrassing part. But for some reason I can't stop watching it.  I pretty much dislike most of the storylines now, they've gotten far too agenda-y for my taste, the new characters are kinda lame, the songs aren't as good (bring back the show tunes!), and HEY IT'S FOR 14 YEAR OLDS. It's like I'm afraid I'm going to miss something if I stop watching it. A TV show. That I don't even like. Insanity. And then I go and watch last night's episode, The Quarterback. An episode in which everyone bid farewell to the late Cory Monteith (aka Finn Hudson) and I wept like a small child. And need I repeat, I DON'T EVEN LIKE THE SHOW ANYMORE. Didn't stop me from watching it and crying like the pathetic little tween girl I am. Lame-o. Though I do have to admit, if you didn't cry at some point during that episode, your heart must be made of stone. Talk about a tear jerker. #andthatsnotthefirsttimeicriedwatchingglee #movingon

3. If I could, I would eat Cinnamon Toast Crunch everyday of my life.

Or any other delicious, sugary cereal. I love cereal. I practically lived off of it for a good portion of my childhood. However, I never buy it now as a responsible wife/mother/adult and do you know why? BECAUSE ALL I WANT IS THE TERRIBLE STUFF. Lucky Charms? Count Chocula? Cap'n Crunch? Yes please. Kashi-Go-Lean-I-Taste-Like-Cardboard-Crunch? PAAAAAAAAAASS. I do, however, like Raisin Bran, but I'm sure it has to be terrible for you in some way because rarely do I like something that isn't. So instead I just stick with my half a bagel (which isn't that great...I just love carbs...more on that later) and a banana for breakfast. Bor-ing, but at least the dia-beetus isn't calling my name...yet.

That's all for this week. Tune in next week when I'll probably forget to post more embarrassing shameless things. Forgive me in advance. 

Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants

Im an infrequent blogger. Sue me. I just tend to write when I feel compelled to do so. I have a couple of ideas floating about in my cranium for some posts, so bare (or is it bear...I digress) with me as you might get a blog overload here soon. 

Becoming a mom changes you. It changes you mentally (mom brain is real, people), emotionally (I can cry much easier now...boo), spiritually (Oh, let me count the ways), and last, but not least physically. This last one has probably been the hardest for me to grasp. 

You'll recall in an earlier post I lamented about my new body and the shame and embarrassment I felt over it. Feeling embarrassed to go to events with my husband because I was ashamed of the new body God had given me. Lies, lies, lies. I am here today to tell you that the old saying, "It gets better" is actually true.  

Just the other day I was feeling bummed because I LITERALLY had no jeans in our home that I could wear. None. That weren't maternity (and we are not there yet, folks). I had no clothes that fit last fall/winter (which is basically the same season in Alabama), especially jeans. I was far too depressed to purchase any in the size the stores SAID I wore (liars) so I protested and refused to buy any. Mature, I know. But I decided to suck it up and go look for some dang pants.  Worse case, I would leave depressed and I could go get some yogurt after (because it helps. Trust me.). None of that was needed, friends. I found not one, but TWO pairs of jeans that fit great AND were in a size I could deal with. Were they the same size I used to wear? Um, doubtful. But they fit, and fit well.

**On a complete side note, the more I shop for jeans, the more I realize I literally cannot wear cheap denim. Call me a denim snob, but I end up wasting my money at Old Navy or Target only to have a diaper butt or muffin top after about 5 minutes. However, my love and desire for expensive denim is hindered by my wicked tight budget. BUT FEAR NOT! For that is what Nordstrom Rack is for. Designer jeans at half the price? Yes, please. I could write an entire post about jeans...don't get me started.**

Let me back up and state that I have been taking care of myself in order to find these magic traveling pants of wonder. I work out 4-5 days a week (and in mom world, that's a lot, people) and I've set up a routine so that I HAVE to go. And the truth is, I enjoy it. O gets a break from me and gets a chance to develop some social skills and I get to burn some calories. It's a win/win. It's a nice, and welcomed, break in the day. I don't say all this to make myself look awesome. Im not at all. I'm simply saying that me being comfortable and confident with me has taken work. I still have the pallet of a five year old when it comes to the foods I love, but I'm working on it. And truth is I have to eat better because I'm forcing my child to eat well. Talk about accountability. 

I know everyone who has seen me for the past year has thought, "Hey she has a cute kid and husband, but she looks borderline homeless most of the time." I'm working my way out of homeless status, friends. I have come to grips with the fact that no matter how hard I work, my body may never be the same as it was BC (before children ;) ). My hips are wider, things aren't quite as perky as they once were, but that's ok. I know my worth does not rest in physical appearance, but The Lord does call us to take care of ourselves. That's a fact, Jack. Will I ever get rid of my pre-Ollie jeans? Probably not. I like to hold on to the ghost because, hey, ya never know...

Meanwhile...how cute is he?

End of an Era

It's no secret to anyone who knows me (or has read this blog) that I am a bit of a lactivist. For the past year, I have subscribed to the notion "breast is best" even when it was not what I wanted to do. When I had Oliver, I set a goal for myself that I was going to nurse him for a whole year. I HAD to do it because 1.-it was what was best and healthiest for my child (even if I do eat cookies with my lunch...there are vitamins in chocolate chips, right?) and 2.-we literally couldn't afford for me not to do it. Those are the cold hard facts. Well, I am here to say that 14 months later, I did it. I met my goal. ::cue wild applause here::

It seems slightly unreal. I. Did. It. Me. The person who sometimes stops mid-workout because "I'm tired," and "It's really hard." Without a doubt, nursing is the hardest thing I have ever done. In fact, during those workouts where I want to quit, I remind myself, "Well, you didn't quit nursing even when you hated life and everyone else, so finish you big sissy." But seriously, it was so hard. My motto to anyone is, if you can make it past the first 6 weeks then you can do it. Those 6 weeks seem like an eternity. I can remember hearing other moms say that to me and at the time thinking, well yeah but their baby can't be as lazy/sleepy/terrible an eater/"underweight"/tiny/fill in the blank of horribleness as MY baby. But now I know. They're all terrible in the beginning. Now, there are those rare exceptions who come out of the womb, eating like a boss and sleeping like a champ. Mine did the second thing REALLY well. Too well. All he wanted to do was sleep. And sleep. And sleep. Don't know if you know this, but you can't really eat well if you're asleep. Brand new information, I know. And not to mention I had not the FAINTEST idea what I was doing. I dove head first into a world full of words like nipple shield, engorgement, lansinoh, let-down, clogged ducts, flax seed, fenugreek, and on and on and on. I thought it would be simple. You have the baby, you put them to your boob, they eat, they poop, you change them, they sleep, you're done. Eventually, yes, this happens. But in between several of those steps insert crying hysterically, from mom or baby and hey, sometimes BOTH. Because that is reality. 

I don't write this to make mothers who didn't nurse, or couldn't nurse, for whatever reason, feel bad. There are so many odds stacked against us. Supply issues, latch issues, pumping, returning to work, medication, adoption, the list goes on and on. You did what was best for your baby, mama, and don't let anyone take that away from you. It's not for everyone and thankfully we live in age where you don't have to find a wet nurse from the village down the lane to feed your baby. There is formula. Thank the Lord. I write this, however, to encourage new mamas or mamas to be that you can make it. You can do it. I didn't have super debilitating issues, but I still had issues. It's so hard to see the light at the end of the tunnel, the rainbow in the midst of the storm, but it's there, waiting for you! Ready to shine its glorious light upon you! Remember this: It. Will. Get. Better.

I did it. I made it through those 6 weeks. And then I made it to 3 months. Then 6 months. Then 9. And now all of a sudden I have a one year old who drinks almond milk (he's a snob, what can I say) and doesn't need me the same way anymore. It's bittersweet. Weaning Oliver has been a lot more of an emotional experience than I thought it would be. Let's be real, its been like two days since I last nursed him, so the emotions are a little fresh. I mean, for over a year now, my body has not been my own. I have had my life and schedule revolve around when this little boy needs to eat and I was the only one who could meet that need and comfort him in that way. I was needed. I know I still am, but it's not the same. Those sweet tender moments are some of my favorite. I'll never get them back, but I'll treasure them always. 

So hang in there, new mama. Rest is just around the corner. And if not, that's why God invented the breast pump...and the daddy. ;)

Busy

College.

Those were some good times.

I can remember being in college, living in the sorority house, telling everyone just how "busy" I was. I had "such little time to do anything but school and work."

I want to slap college me in the face.

College Katie didn't really know the meaning of the word "busy."

If you have time for 2 1/2 hour naps in your cold and cozy dorm room, College Katie, you are not "busy."

If you can skip biology class for the 100th time and go grab lunch at Foosackly's for hours on end and still pull out an A in the class, you, College Katie, are not "busy."

If you can hang out with your friends on the pier discussing deep issues of life and theology, you, my sweet precious College Katie, are NOT "busy."

But to me I was.

I'm not going to lie, I loved college. I didn't have the college experience that most had; it wasn't filled with wild weekends and crazy parties, but it was awesome. I learned about God. I learned how to love Him, how to study His word, how to struggle, how to come of out that struggle, and how to love myself because He first loved me. Some of my sweetest and most treasured friendships come from my college years. We were immature, yet we had it all together. We spent summers together. There were Beach Projects and trips to Mexico and everything in between. We suffered. We yearned for Eden. We longed for something better. And then we really grew up.

Some got married. Some continue to wait on a spouse. Some had babies. Some lost babies. Some wait on babies still to come. Many lose touch. We make new friends. We all long to be known. And then we feel "busy" all over again. 

If you ask me now, I will tell you I'm the busiest I've ever been. If you asked me five years ago, I would tell you the same thing. Talk to me in 2018 and I'll probably be singing the same song and dance and be wanting to slap "New Mom Katie" in face along with "College Katie." But the difference is, now, I rejoice in the busy. For God heard my prayers; He granted me the desires of my heart and He didn't have to do that. Not at this point in my life. What a joy. What a treasure. What a Savior.

So join with me in rejoicing in the busy. It just means you have more to be thankful for today and the days to come.

One Whole Year of Wonderful

I love my son.  I do.  To me, he is the cutest thing that I have ever seen.  He makes me laugh and smile (and sometimes cry and frown) all the time.  He's awesome. I wanted to take a minute to share with you all some of my favorite things about him and what he is up to at 12 months of age.

Oliver has truly never met a stranger.  I know some people say that about their babies, but seriously, the kid loves everyone.  At Bed, Bath, and Beyond last week we were walking around and he saw this sweet older lady and he just toddled right over to her and threw his arms in the air as if to say, "There you are! I've been looking for you everywhere!"  She told me she would take him home right then and there.  She can't have him, though.  He's too sweet to give away.

He is a happy baby.  Sure, he has his moments of whining and fussiness (though I'm sure his grandmothers and grandfather would NEVER believe that), but he's just good.  Again, I know a lot of people say that about their babies, but this is really true.  He smiles and waves at everyone.  He doesn't get sad when I leave him at babysitting at the gym (YET...).  He's just super easy-going.  He must get that from his dad.  I'm honestly not sure what we did, but Ben and I pray for all our babies to be as sweet as Oliver. However, we're sure the Lord will throw us some curve balls.  Gotta keep things interesting!

He loves his dog.  He seriously thinks Talulah is his best friend.  He chases her around, grabs her beard, touches her ears, and giggles at the noises she makes ALL. THE. TIME.  I love it.  There is nothing sweeter than watching a little boy love on his dog and I am so excited to see how the relationship between the two of them unfolds.  Talulah has been mighty sweet and patient with her new playmate.  I'm sure she wouldn't have picked him on her own, but I know she's glad to have him around.  It's better than being stuck in a crate all day, am I right?!

He's very inquisitive.  He wants to know about everything.  If he is awake, he is moving.  Whether that is taking all the toys off all the shelves or dumping the puzzles out for the 900th time that day, he is a busy, busy boy.  He loves to climb on everything. He loves being outside (and trying to eat rocks--so far, he has been unsuccessful) and going for rides in his new wagon.  He just sings to himself and is searching the whole time he is riding.  I know...I'll stop with the cuteness.

He's a good eater.  His favorite foods would include bananas, cheese, green beans, cheese, yogurt,  cheese, mangos, cheese, sweet potatoes, and did I mention cheese?  The boy loves cheese.  He really loves any fruit and most veggies.  I have found if there is something he doesn't like, it's generally to do with texture (he is his mother's son, after all).  Like all kids, some days he is an awesome eater and will eat whatever I put in front of him.  Then he decides the next day that it's disgusting and Talulah would really like to eat it instead.  See...loves his dog.

He's a passionate little fella. He loves hard. And he will get his feelings hurt if you take that thing he loves away. He has recently started to cry everytime his Aunt Kellee leaves our house. It's enough to break your heart, I tell you! He also really loves random inanimate objects. Particularly long animate objects: spoons, drumsticks, wands, whatever. He loves to carry them around all day and will have a full on meltdown when you try to take them away. Sorry, baby. Mamas gotta cook.

He loves standing on his head. I don't really feel like that needs explaining and I don't know the why of it, but he does. Sweet little weirdo. 

Most of all, he loves his papa.  I have loved watching Oliver get older because it's so fun to watch him notice things.  When he was 6 months old, he never really noticed when Ben came home.  Now when Ben walks in the door, he stops whatever he is doing, gets up, and runs as fast as his tiny little legs will carry him to greet him at the door.  STOP.  I know, it will melt your heart.  It has been a joy watching Ben love on his son and I can't to see what all his papa will teach him in the years to come.  He is a blessed little boy and we are even more blessed parents to have him in our lives.  Thanks for being you, little boy. 

Back to School, Back to School...

School is back in session.  I know I only have a one year old (what?! more on that later), but this time of year will always hold a special place in my heart. Before I was a mama, I was a 2nd grade teacher.  There's a saying that families breed teachers, and in my family, that is definitely the case.  My mother, sister, several aunts, uncles, and cousins are all educators.  Some elementary, some middle, some high school, but they are there.  Every day.  Giving their time, money, and sanity to a thankless profession with endless demands. 

I miss it sometimes (feel free to have me committed at any time).

Don't get me wrong, I love being a stay at home mom, but around this time of year, I get a little homesick for teaching.  The new folders, pencils, crayons, glue, backpacks, and lunchboxes do something to my heart that I can't explain.  I get this little tug that says, "Are you SURE you did the right thing?"  Of course I know the answer to that, but it doesn't mean I don't miss it.  I miss the stories.  I miss the things that came out of those little mouths, be them kind or not.  I miss their little laughs and their scared faces on the first day.  I miss their hugs and constant words of encouragement (I was ALWAYS beautiful in the eyes of a 2nd grader ;) ).  I miss my colleagues and grown up conversation.  I was blessed to work with some very fun, wonderful, and encouraging women (and few good men ;)) for four sweet years.  They will always hold a special place in my heart and I will always treasure those friendships.  I miss a lot of things, but then I remember...

I remember all the stress and anxiety that comes with teaching.  The money you spend from your own pocket to buy extra supplies and snacks.  All the changes you have to make year after year.  You learn a curriculum, only to have it changed the next year.  I've only been gone a year now and already so much has changed.  Thankfully I have a principal mom and a teacher sister to keep in the loop, but it's crazy, I tell you.  You are constantly at the mercy of someone who hasn't been in a classroom since they were in school but wants to dictate what you must do in order to have a successful year.  I remember calling my mom often my first year, in tears, telling her, "This is NOT what I went to school to do!  I didn't learn how to do ANY of this in college!"  I had a flair for the dramatics, what can I say? ;)  And then I remember my sweet baby boy.  I remember all the things I would be missing and all the time I would not be giving to him and I remember why I made the choice that I did.

Teacher-Mamas, my hat TRULY goes off to you.  I really don't know how you do it.  From loving 20 babies that aren't your own for 8 hours a day, 5 days a week, to go home to love on the one baby/babies that belong to you is a task I'm not sure I could do.  I'm sure I would adapt and figure it out, but I applaud you. You are a better woman that me. It is not easy and no one but you knows what you're sacrificing to do the two hardest jobs in the world at the same time.  You are a super star...don't forget it. 

Whenever someone asks me what I do, I always tell them, "Well, I was a teacher, but I'm a stay at home mom now." And my sweet husband always corrects me.  He reminds me often that I am still a teacher. Sure it's not in the traditional sense, but I am teaching my child every day.  I don't get a fun classroom to decorate, but I am responsible for his academic well being until that sweet nugget toddles off to kindergarten (STOP--I am already emotional just thinking about it).  That is a whole new pressure.  It's one thing to be held accountable for the academic success of another person's child, but when it's your own that is a whole new ballgame. 

I am thankful for every moment in the past year I have had with my boy, but that doesn't mean each year when August rolls around, I won't get that same little tug on my heart.  I just have to remind myself, "Once a teacher, always a teacher."

Things I Took for Granted

As I write this post, I am less than 48 hours away from having a one year old.  INSANITY.  I can remember this time so well last year...I was just a few hours away from the beginning stages of labor and my world being forever changed.  I love the change.  Normally, I am not a fan of change.  In fact, I think I may have a legit phobia of it...I swear it has to be a medical condition, BUT I have loved the little change Oliver has brought to my life.  However, if I am being real, there are some things from my pre-parent life that, looking back, I would have definitely appreciated a lot more.  A lot.  Now side note, please don't take this list to mean I don't love or appreciate the precious gift the Lord has given me, because I very much do.  Now, in no particular order, they are...

1. Naps
Ok, I have said it before, and I'll say it again, a year into this parenting thing and I still subscribe to the notion "sleep when the baby sleeps" but here's the thing about those sleeps; they're not good.  When I finally get O down for a nap and settle down or finish whatever wifely task I was doing and I go to close my eyes just for a little bit, he wakes up.  I swear, it's like he can HEAR my eyes closing.  It boggles the mind really.  Occasionally we will both take a glorious nap at the same time (I'm talking HOURS here, people) but those are rare (for me, not for him). I can remember when I was little and my mother telling me "I just want to rest my eyes for a minute, Katie," and I never really understood that concept BUT NOW I GET IT.  Mama just wants to rest her eyes, little Ollie.  I mean, in college, I could nap with the best of them.  I should have minored in Napology, but now I'm the worst.  So enjoy those long, luscious naps while you still can because your mind will be filled with checklists and clutter before you know it.

2. Freedom to come and go
I don't know if you know this, but you can't just leave whenever you want when you have a baby.  There is no "Hey, I'm going out with my ladies tonight, husband, I'll see you later!" because HEY YOU HAVE A BABY.  I mean, you CAN do these things, but it takes like two weeks worth of prior planning.  And then you worry.  Did I leave enough milk?  Did I lay out his PJs?  Will he get to sleep without me there?  Did they remember to give him his lovey?  Drama, drama, drama.

3. Trips to the Grocery Store
I can remember pre-Oliver Ben and I used to go and do the grocery shopping in the evenings together.  It was cute, really.  He was my little list reader and checker and I would go and get all the stuff we needed.  It was awesome.  Now that I am staying at home, I decided that grocery shopping would be my responsibility.  Not so hard, right? Wrong.  When Oliver was little, shopping was easy.  I would strap him into the Ergo and we were good to go.  Now, he has decided, "Hey I want to grab everything and also I want to stand up in the cart while it's moving and then also wave to everyone.  I'm a baby, deal with it."  In order to prevent this, I find myself talking to him the whole time.  Not about anything in particular, just the color of the fruit, what is on the aisle, you know, boring stuff.  Now all this talking makes me forget what I'm looking for which makes my trips seem to take twice as long, but hey, at least they're entertaining.

4. Basically Trips Anywhere
Tying into my number 3 would be trips anywhere.  Bringing a child with you somewhere requires a small closet of supplies:  diapers, wipes, bottles (if you need them), snacks, food, toys, sippy cups, books, a change of clothes (if needed), bibs, loveys, blankets, your sanity...you get the picture.  I remember people giving us the advice to go out to eat when the baby is teeny tiny and all they do is sleep because it's so much easier then and THEY WERE RIGHT.  Now, I don't mind going out to eat with Oliver now because he can participate in the meal, but that awkward in between time when he could kinda sit up but wasn't eating solids or table food was pretty much the pits.  He would cry.  He would whine.  So we quickly learned that going out to eat was a luxury we just didn't really feel like dealing with...and I have a pretty easy baby.  And going out of town??  Our little accord is packed so full that poor Talulah has to sit on top of bags or on the floorboard in the backseat just to have a place to sit...bless her.  She should be on a whole new list of "Things I don't take care of as good as I used to now that I have a baby."  Sorry, T. :(

5. Eating a Warm Meal
This is pretty self explanatory and something I feel is just going to get worse and worse the more babies we have.  One tradition I always loved growing up was that my family always ate dinner together.  We were never a eat in front of the TV or sit in the living room family.  In fact, that TV wasn't really allowed on during dinner time.  So, something we have started to implement now that O is eating solids is family meal time.  It's one of my favorite times of day (awww, I know, I'm sweet), but meal time is a lot of work for mamas.  I mean, by the time I fix everyone's plates, get silverware/drinks out, cut up O's food in to tiny non-choking pieces, place them on his tray, go back and get the napkins I forgot for the 12th time, put a bib on him, go back and fill up the sippy cup I forgot to fill when I was getting our drinks, my meal is no longer that "just from the oven hotness" that we all love.  It's "hey I've been sitting here a minute but I'm still good" warm.  I suppose I should enjoy that warmth now, while I can shouldn't I?

6. Relaxation
I love to read, especially to relax.  Since I've had Oliver, I can't remember the last time I read a book.  I mean, a whole book.  Just for fun.  I've started books, but haven't been so good at finishing them.  Now, I will say that occasionally during nap time, I will snag an episode of whatever rotten TV show I'm into (right now it's Call the Midwife and Nashville...don't judge me), but I'm always thinking about the things I could be doing instead, so I'm not fully relaxed, but then again, who really is?  Also, I used to LOVE (and if you know me, you know this is true) laying out by the pool (especially the Club MTV pool at my old apartment...RIP) and getting a lovely tan.  Now fear of skin cancer (bring on the 50spf) and a child have prevented such leisurely activities.  I do still get to go to the pool and I have a decent tan on my arms and shoulders, but legs are just as pasty white as when summer began.  This would be because they're always in the pool and not lounging around like I used to...ahhh, memories.

7. Doing things with BOTH hands
Mamas are the queens of multi-tasking.  No one ever said that was a good thing, but we get the job done, that's for sure.  Cooking dinner while holding a baby is not an easy task and neither is chopping the ingredients for said dinner but sometimes a mamas gotta do what a mamas gotta do.  You would think brushing your teeth one handed would be pretty simple too, but you use that other hand way more than you think you do.  Now, if Oliver is having a particularly needy day/week, I'll just put him in the Ergo.  Whoever invented baby carriers/wraps is a genius and I want to kiss them on the lips.  Some days I really don't know what I would do without it. If you are a mama or are going to be a mama and you aren't sure about this concept of "wearing" a baby, DO IT.  And do it often.  The end.

8. Adult Decor
So, when you walk into my house, there is no doubt that a baby lives here.  From the brightly colored activity jumper to the toys all around, you know a child is lurking somewhere.  When Oliver was really little, it seriously looked like a baby had thrown up in our house.  Swings, bouncy seats, pack n plays, activity jumpers, and johnny jump ups filled our house.  Here's the thing...why can't they make baby stuff in nice calming colors?  Ok, I'm an educator, I know why, but still.  I'm not the world's best homemaker, but it would be a whole lot cooler if all their little contraptions and gadgets fit with the generally color scheme of my house.  First world problems?  You bet.

9. Uninterrupted Conversations
I know this one will only get worse.  "Don't touch...now what were you saying?" is already a phrase I am using far more often than I ever thought I would.  I know in order to be a good mom, and to do my job well, I have to pay attention to my child.  To pay attention to my child means I cannot pay as much attention to adult conversations as I once did.  This does not mean you can't have them (and you should...often...and about things not pertaining to children, if you can), but those conversations, like those grocery trips, just might take twice as long.  Such is life though, right?  

10. The Freedom to Put any Object Anywhere I Want
Those scissors you were using or that remote you never thought about or that glass of water on the edge of the table are all the perfect toy to a one year old.  I mean, everything in our home now is basically sitting 3 feet or higher because O is a very curious and inquisitive little soul.  He's a genius, he can't help it.  He wants to know about EVERYTHING.  I even tried giving him an old remote that we don't use so that he could play with it and leave ours alone, but he's too smart to know that mom and dad never use that one and he only wants to the one that we use.  This is what the stuff of academic legends are made of, people.  He is literally OBSESSED with the dogs food and water bowl so much so that we can only put them down when he is sleeping...and sometimes we even forget to do that.  Again, Talulah, your parents are the worst.  Please forgive us. 

I'm sure there are so many more things that I didn't enjoy to their fullest in my pre-baby life, but honestly, it's okay.  Even the things I listed, I wouldn't trade for anything.  It's all about perspective, I suppose. Ben and I have been blessed from above with one of the happiest, sweetest, silliest, most inquisitive little baby boys around.  He truly gets more fun every single day.  We are not lucky; we are blessed. Being a mom is one of the funnest things I've been given the honor of doing.  I get to help raise a person.  Sometimes I can't believe the Lord would trust me with such a task! I get to watch him learn new things and take his first steps and say his first words and that is something that I wouldn't trade for anything.  This past year has been tough, but it has been my favorite time in my life.  It is the most responsible and adult-like I've ever had to be, but I'm completely fine with that.  Everyone has to grow up at some point, and I guess I'm on my way. ;)

When the Going Gets Tough...

Sometimes I am a sinful, sinful woman.  Ok, that's not true.  All the time I am a sinful, sinful woman.  The Lord showers me with grace daily in this regard, though, and I thank Him for that.

My loves.  How precious are they?

I have a wonderful husband.  Words cannot express how fantastic he is.  He is Christ-like.  He is patient.  He is loving.  He is so very smart (far, far smarter than me).  He is a hard worker, maybe one of the hardest working people I know.  He is rational (especially when I am not).  He is good at EVERY-THING.  Seriously.  He is beyond talented.  Most of all, he is not perfect, and I love that most about him.  He is also a small business owner.  I don't know if many of you know anything about small business owners, but they are very, very, very, very busy.  Very.  Ben works hours that, I'll be honest, are slightly unheard of unless you are in the medical field.  He works Monday-Saturday (and, let's be honest, sometimes Sunday).  His days are never shorter than 12 hours, most of the time 14, but he is always home by 6pm for dinner, walks, giggles, baths, and bed.  Honestly, I'm not sure how he does it. 

I feel like I expect a lot out of my husband.  The beauty of being a stay at home mom is that you get to be with your child everyday.  The downside of being a stay at home mom is that you get to be with your child every. single. day.  PLEASE, do not get me wrong, it is wonderful.  I wouldn't trade it for anything in the world, but sometimes, mama gets tired.  Real tired.  I realized the other day that the moment my husband walks in the door, he clocks out from being Ben the contractor/architect (more aptly known in our house as a contractortect...it's real, look it up), to being Ben the daddy-who-needs-to-give-mama-a-break-so-she-can-finish-dinner-and-not-weep-in-the-asparagus.  The only moment of solace he gets is the 10-15 minute ride home from the office to our house.  He never complains.  Saint.

I write this post today because this past week was a tough one for me.  I know that there are thousands and thousand and THOUSANDS of women out there who have it way worse than me.  They are raising babies by themselves while their husbands are in far off lands defending our freedom.  My heart goes out to them.  I don't know how you do it except to take it one day at a time.  However, this is where I am and this is what I have been dealing with.  You can silently hate me and judge me if you want, but I'm just keeping it real.

My husband's work is great.  Despite a lackluster economy, somehow Appleseed Workshop has managed to stay afloat, and even thrive.  We know this is only because of the Lord.  There have been some dark times, but He has brought them through every storm and trial and we give Him all the glory for that.  They have stayed busy and always have a project going on; most of the time it's multiple projects.  With those multiple projects come multiple demands, which means lots of time and energy and resources are spread out to those jobs.  Again, blessings and gifts from above, but when these things collide, I don't see my husband.  Sure, he may make it home for dinner, but emotionally and mentally, he has checked out.  He is here, but he is not here.  That's hard for me. I don't know if you've figured this out about me, but being the youngest of four children I am slightly needy.  I know.  Gasp.  I can get my feelings hurt very easily.  And all this was fine when I was just wallowing in self-pity by myself, but now that there's an infant verging on toddler in the mix to wallow with me, it's even worse. During stressful, strenuous work times, Satan wants me to believe that my husband values and loves his company more than me.  Most of the time I beat that lie down and put it back in the pit where it belongs, but every now and again it creeps back up so secretively I don't even have time to set up a good defense.  This week was one of those times.  I felt alone.  I felt overwhelmed.  I felt unimportant and unappreciated in my role as a wife and a mother.  I snapped at my husband (more than once...whoops).  However, Ben was patient with me and reminded me again that he does all this for me and Oliver.  He often asks me the question, "Do you think I'd rather be doing <fill in the blank> than hanging out here with you guys?"  I have to remind myself of that little fact when times get tough.

I mean this is what I've been dealing with this week.  Hello.

My sweet friends and fellow Appleseed wives reminded me this morning how we are called to help our husbands and encourage them in these stressful work times and how we need to shower them in prayer during this time.  How precious is that? How selfish am I that I never even think first about how Ben is feeling with all the work he has and I only think about how it effects ME.  How tired I am of dealing with a teething baby.  How tired I am of picking up dirty socks and underwear.  How tired I am of making dinner and putting away dishes.  I know, I know.  Wife. Of. The. Year.  Again, thank you Lord for your grace and mercy.

Life is all about perspective.  I am thankful for a hard working husband who has work to do!  There are so many wives out there who are struggling with the exact opposite problem.  I am thankful for a husband who views what I do day in and day out as a job (and a hard one at that).  I am thankful for a husband who loves me well and thinks about me even when I am not my most lovable.  I pray you all can know that same feeling.  Love your men today, ladies, even when it's hard.  Even when you don't want to.  You are their biggest fan and their greatest support.  Remember that.

A Mother's Day Tribute

Mother's Day is coming up this Sunday.  Every person on the planet, in some way or another, is affected by Mother's Day.  Either you have a mama or you are a mama (and sometimes both).  I wanted to take some time to address all the ways motherhood has affected our lives.

I know I am a little biased, but I think I have the best mama in the world.  Words cannot even express how much I love her.  Obviously I love both of my parents more than words can say, but this post is about mamas, so there you go.  My mother has sacrificed more than I will ever know or could ever understand.  She didn't finish college in order to get married and have babies.  She stayed home to raise us and only went back to work when we were old enough to be a little more independent.  She even went back to college taking night courses when I was 6 years old, while working as a PE aide at our school,  and to this day I don't know how she did it.  I remember being a lazy 22 year old college of ed student stressed out with the amount of work put on me during college, but that is nothing compared to taking care of a family on top of that.  She never wavered in her responsibilities and we never did without.  She went on to become one of the most fabulous 1st grade teachers I have ever known (and I know most of you will agree with me).  She thought outside the box (and still does) and she has ALWAYS done what is right for kids, no matter what.  She stayed late and worked on weekends, but we never felt any less important to her.  She has worked from being just an aide to now being the principal of one of the best schools in Mobile County.  I could not be more proud of her.  She had a goal and had faith the Lord would bring her to it, and He did.  Maybe not as quickly as she would've liked, but she made it.  She is hilarious and wonderful and tells the best stories.  She loves all four of us so well and is maybe an even better grandmother to her four grandchildren than she is a mama (though I don't know HOW that is possible ;) ).  I am beyond grateful for you and your life, Honey.  You are my role model and inspiration to show me that anything is possible.  I love you.

There have been so many motherly figures in my life, I honestly can't even begin to count them.  The one that sticks out most in my mind is my Mamaw.  I miss that woman every. single. day.  Even now as I type this my eyes fill with tears because I wish she was here.  She was the only grandmother I ever knew.  I so wish I could call her sometimes when I am cooking something to ask her how she did it or how to get out a stain or what to do when Oliver is _______.  She was so wise and wonderful and full of personality.  She worked hard.  Her and my mother run of a close race for being the hardest working women I have ever known.  I guess we know where Honey gets it from. ;)  My heart hurts that my babies will never know my Mamaw.  She would've loved them so well and sang to them and rocked them on her patio and told them all kinds of stories.  I was blessed beyond measure to grow up on the same street as her.  Memories of pop ices, pickles, shelling peas, tiny glasses of Coke, and cornbread fill my thoughts constantly.  I miss that woman and will love her always.

I have also been blessed with a wonderful mother-in-law and grandmother-in-law (is that a thing?) who have loved me so well!  They welcomed me into their family like I was one of their own and I am forever grateful for that.  I can't wait to make memories with them and watch my babies love them the way I loved my grandmother and great-grandmother.  Thank you, sweet ladies, for being wonderful. 

This holiday never goes by that I don't think about that mamas who are without.  The mamas who are missing babies that are no longer with us, the mamas who are missing babies they never got a chance to hold, the mamas who long for a baby of their own, and the mamas who miss their own mamas.  I can't even imagine.  I truly don't know what any of you are going through, but there is someone in my life who fits every single one of those descriptions.  How does one move on from the death of a child?  Or a miscarriage?  The only answer is Christ.  We have to trust we serve a loving, just, and merciful God who has taken those sweet babies in His arms and is loving on them every single day in a better way that we ever could.  I know it doesn't make their absence any easier, but it helps me to grieve for you believing that truth.  How does a woman celebrate a day she so longs to be a part of more than anything in this world?  A woman who longs for a baby, but her womb stays empty.  A woman who waits on an adoption she feels like will never be finalized.  Again, I can only point to Christ.  He has something so magnificent planned for you.  He will give you what you need.  He will meet you where you are, if you will only go with Him.  Never give up, mama.  Something good is coming.  How does a woman celebrate this holiday wishing her own mama was here?  I always think about my mother on this day.  How her heart must ache with no mother on earth here to love.  How much she must want to pick up the phone or send her card or buy her a gift, but can't.  And again I say, you celebrate it knowing they are celebrating this day with their King.  I know my Mamaw loved the Lord with all her heart, mind, and strength and knew Jesus in a way I only hope I'll know him, so there is no doubt in my mind where she is today.  I hope you can rest in knowing that truth is real in your life.  That the mothers who aren't here with us this Sunday are rejoicing with their Father.

I love being a mother.  It is hard and wonderful at the same time.  It is the job I feel I was destined to do.  It is thankless and full of sacrifice, but the thing is, you never think twice about it.  No meal or drink is your own anymore, and I wouldn't have it any other way.  I am beyond blessed.  Thank you, Lord, for all the mamas in my life.  For the women who have guided me and shaped me into the mother I am today.

What cutie.   I swear he loves me...

My Top 5 Mama Myths

Most soon-to-be first time moms live in a fantasy world.  I don't say that be harsh, I say that because I lived there, too.  And then my child was born and I realized a lot of things I read/heard/saw were lies.  LIES.  Now, granted, I don't really feel like a full-fledged mom just yet.  My child is only 9 months old and I feel like I've still got a lot to learn and miles to go, but I wanted to share some common "myths" or misconceptions of being a mama.

1. "You'll lose all that baby weight just by breast-feeding!"
This has to be the biggest lie I have heard ever.  In the history of lies.  I have been breast-feeding for 9 months now and I don't feel like a single, tiny milli-pound (it's a thing...) has come off my body due to nursing.  In fact, I have never eaten more in my whole life.  I can remember in the first weeks of nursing, I literally ate as much as my husband.  My grown husband.  Who often spends his day doing manual labor and does crossfit and who is literally impossible to keep full.  That is the teenage boy monster I had turned into.  I ate. And drank gallons of water. And I ate some more.  Dieting was out of the question.  And I am well aware that you burn up to 500 calories a day--trust me, I felt it, but you also eat those 500 calories because YOU. ARE. SO. HUNGRY.  Have I mentioned the hunger factor?  I get so annoyed when I see celebrities talk about how they lost their baby weight and they say, "Well, I lost the first 20 pounds breastfeeding," and then later to find out they nursed for like a day.  Also, they are liars.  The one thing I have heard from lots of mamas is that the rest of their weight came off AFTER they stopped nursing.   Just letting you know, mamas to be, don't be like me.

2.  "You're going to be a stay at home mom?  Won't you be bored?"
This wasn't so much a lie that I believed, but that most people around me believed.  I am here to say that being a stay at home mama is the opposite of boring.  Every single moment of my day is planned and full of babytime adventure...and I just have ONE child.  My sweet lamb is on a schedule.  As a former elementary school teacher and a self proclaimed control freak, Mama loooooves a schedule and routine.  Therefore our days are carefully planned.  Oliver takes 2 naps a day and I treasure those 2 naps because when that boy is awake, it is all. systems. GO!  Especially now that we are mobile.  Even in the early days before mobility, it was never boring.  My advice to any soon to be stay at mama to fight the boredom blues (though I doubt they will be there) is find a routine and consistency.  I don't care what anyone says, children love structure, even babies.  He is happier because of it. More of this subject later...

3. "Any baby can sleep through the night if you're doing everything right."
Ok, this is something I had to learn for myself, but not through my own child.  I will admit, for the most part, Oliver is a great sleeper.  He takes after his daddy in that respect.  When that boy is ready for bed, he is ready for bed.  I fully anticipate him being the 2 year old who puts himself down for naps/bedtime/etc. because that's how Ben was (and still is).  We have our moments of sleepless nights due to sickness or teething or general cranky-pants syndrome, but for the most part, the kid is a breeze.  However, there are mamas who aren't so lucky.  I have seen women who do everything right by their child.  They swaddle, they shush, they start solids, they cry it out, they rock to sleep, they don't rock to sleep, everything, and still, their child is not a great sleeper.  My arrogance in that area went right out the window.  Every kid is different, and sometimes, it doesn't matter what you do, they're just going to do what they want to do, and eventually, you guys will work it out together.  Leave your preconceived sleep notions at the door, mamas, and follow your babies lead.  The rest will fall into place.

4.  "You're having kids, so there goes your social life."
Ok, sure, in a way this is true, but it's still annoying.  However, it all depends on what you mean by social life.  I don't feel like Ben and I get out any less.  Our outings have definitely changed, though.   Exciting times for us now is a trip to the grocery store, a walk around the neighborhood, a trip to the park, going to hang out at a friends house, or going to get yogurt or a Steel City Pop (yuuums).  I wouldn't trade it for anything.  Yes you need to make time for you and your spouse, but having kids doesn't mean you don't have a life; the definition of life has just changed, that's all.  Learn to enjoy life's simple pleasures and everything will be fine.

5.  "We're going to wait until we're financially ready to have kids."
Sister, give it up.  If that's what you're waiting for, you will never have kids.  Should you be financially responsible to have kids? Umm, duh.  But what does "financially ready" even mean?  It's a very relative term that can mean lots of different things.  Do you want to eliminate debt?  Have a certain amount in the bank?  Pay off your house?  Your car?  Student loans?  Don't be afraid to take a step out.  No matter what you do, you will never be "ready" for kids.  You just need to accept that.  Mine is 9 months old and some days I still don't feel ready (don't call social services just yet...we're figuring it out). What you really need to ask yourself is are you ready to take on the whirlwind of emotions and responsibilities that come with being a parent.  Being financially ready doesn't make being a parent any easier, nothing does.  As long as you are ready to love and squeeze on that little nugget, you'll figure the rest out.

What about you?  What are some myths/misconceptions/lies you believed?  Or were you perfect? ;)

Meanwhile, how cute is my kid?

Playing...what he does best.

Grass...it feels weird.

All little boys play in their dogs crate...right?

"Role" With It

Confession:  I have been watching Jon & Kate Plus Eight recently.  Ok...a LOT of Jon & Kate Plus Eight.  Blame it on the Netflix or lack of cable, but I can't help it.  I'm actually watching it right now.  DON'T WORRY, my child is sleeping...I'm not that neglectful.  I watched the show when it came on originally, but, like many, discontinued viewing after the family went to splitsville.  I'm not sure why, but the whole "we are horrible to each other but love each other" lost it's luster after they both went a little cray-cray.

Watching this show has allowed me to think a lot about the roles men and women play in marriages, particularly, what roles Ben and I play.  Call me crazy or not a "modern woman", but I am a big fan of traditional gender roles.  ::gasp:: I know, I am the problem with the women's rights movement (not really).  No, but in all seriousness, I really enjoy the roles Ben and I play in our marriage.  I cook, clean, and take care of the kids and he works and brings home the bacon.  It's pretty simple.  Now, that's not to say Ben does not have chores around the house.  He does and he happily serves me in those areas.  He takes out the trash, does the dishes every night, bathes Oliver, plays with him from the minute he gets home, reads him stories, takes care of the yard work, and so much more.  I really can't complain, but then again, neither can he. ;) I feel like we are a great team and together we encourage one another to be better and love one another well.

So, what does this have to do with Jon & Kate?  In the earlier episodes, and even right until they split, I really noticed how they genuinely are a team (a well oiled machine even) and each of them had their different jobs to do, but the one thing I noticed was missing in all of this was JOY.  They were cold to one another, and constantly criticized each move or decision that the other made.  How can you be willing to serve and help your spouse when they are constantly making you feel like you didn't get it right again and you probably never will?  I know that Kate could definitely be a B, but old Jon was not much better.  Sure, they had their moments of love, but those were definitely few and far between.  You all can hate me if you want, I'm just calling it like it is.  I know I am not always going to have a giant smile on my face and radiate joy when I'm folding the 8th load of laundry that day, but to grumble and complain about my husband or to my husband doesn't make it any better and sure doesn't fold those clothes any faster.

As a wife, I want to help my husband.  I feel that is my number one job.  It is my duty and my privilege to come along side him and live life together.  I will be submissive to him.  That does not mean he is the boss and what he says goes, but that we make decisions together, compromise, and I need to believe he has mine and O's best interest at heart when he makes a decision for our family.  You can say I am setting women back 50 years with that kind of thinking, but I wouldn't have it any other way.  I want to encourage my husband, not put him down every chance I get.  I want to be his helpmeet.  I want him to feel confident to take care of our son when I'm not there, or even when I am there, and not make him feel like I am going to nag him for everything he does that isn't the exact way I would do it.  Above all, I want him to love the Lord more than me, as I know he wants the same for me.

As women, we have a natural bent to control.  You can thank Eve for that.  Our desire is for our husband, but not in the way that sounds; we want to do their job.  We think no one can do it like we can and so we might as well just do it ourselves.  The world tells us that mindset is OK, but people, IT IS NOT!  Instead we should teach others how to do things and TRUST they can do it and if it's not exactly the way you would do it, WHO CARES?!  The sun will rise again and it will all be OK. 

I know that with life and more children comes more stress on a marriage.  I've seen it happen and I've seen it ruin many, many marriages, but I believe it comes from a wrong mindset.  Children are a blessing, even on their worst days, and life is going to be hard, but find the joy in it.  I know these two concepts are easier said than done, but at the end of the day, it's what matters.  I pray that through good times and bad, I continue to love my husband well, but I know this can only happen by God's grace.  We have to remember how the Gospel has changed us each and every day and remember why we are here: the glorify God and enjoy Him forever.

Biting the "Bullet"

First off, I want to say thank you for all your support in my blog endeavor.  All of your sweet words and encouragement have meant so much.  It has also put some pressure on me to have fantastical blog entries.  I need to say that each blog will not be moving and gut wrenching, but it will be practical, and hopefully, entertaining.  So I apologize in advance when I disappoint with an entry. ;)

My sweet little O is almost 9 months old.  That means he has been eating solid foods for nearly 3 months now.  I can't even believe it.  I remember the first bit of food I gave him, I could've cried.  For 6 months of his life, I was the only person/thing he needed for food and sustenance.  Look at that baby face; how could you not want to eat that up?

I have said before that I was going to make O's food once he got started, and I have.  For 3 months now I have been boiling, baking, steaming, slicing, dicing, and pureeing and I love it.  I am surprised at how much I have enjoyed it.  I knew that deciding to take on this task could be a little daunting, but I wanted to make this sacrifice for O.  There were two main reasons I wanted to make his food for him: 1-It is far cheaper to make it myself, and, like I've said before, with me not working, we are looking for any way possible to cut corners. 2-Have you SEEN what is in baby food? And have you tasted it?!  It's horrible.  We went out of town about a month ago so I had to buy some jars of food (I even bought organic) and he HATED it.  With the food I make, I have only found one thing he can't stand (peas...texture, my friends) and, to be honest, I would actually eat any of the things I make him (yes, I tasted them).  He. Loves. To. EAT.  Mangos, blueberries, avocados, green beans, squash, sweet potatoes, peaches, cauliflower, and so much more.  And I know the rule:  food for fun until they're one and we are most definitely subscribing to that mindset, but we've had so much fun experimenting and exploring with food.

I write this post to say, making your child's food is actually really easy AND...you don't need anything fancy to do it.  I am here to say, as much as I love it, you do NOT need a Baby Bullet or any of the stuff that comes with it.  I am making this bold statement as someone who owns ALL of it.  That's right.  I, Katie Strout, love a gimmick.  Advertisers basically have me in mind when they make anything cliche.  For whatever reason, I am just drawn to it.  So, of course, when we were registering for baby things, I clicked ALL THINGS Bullet related: processor, steamer, trays, storage, you name it, I clicked it.  We got a lot of it.  We got the processor (which comes with a ton of accessories) and I went a little later and purchased the steamer, because I NEEDED it...right...

Hear me out; I'm not saying the stuff is bad, I'm just saying it isn't necessary.  Ok, if I'm being honest, it's bad.  There, I said it.  The steamer only lasted about 2 months before it has started to act completely insane (I did have a minor episode with a batch of blueberry juice overflowing, BUT that thing should be better than that...come on now) and it never knows when it wants to work so I have given that up.  We have another food processor already in our house (The Ninja--I HIGHLY recommend it...it is ah-mazing...makes the most beautifully smooth smoothies you've ever tasted in your life) so I decided to do a comparison between the Ninja and the Bullet, assuming the Bullet would win, annnnnd I was wrong.  The Ninja was far superior and I was able to make larger batches because it has two different size blenders.  I mean, with a name like Ninja, is it any wonder it won?  Come on, people. 

There are some things I love about the Bullet.  All the little accessories that come with it have been super handy.  The little portable storage containers are great for taking food with us when we have somewhere to be and the little book that came with it gave me great ideas for recipes but HEY, guess where else you can find that sort of stuff...the internet. 

If any of you are venturing into the baby food making world and want some advice, I'd be happy to help.  I won't bore you with a mundane post about making food, but I am here to say, if you have an oven, a stove top, some pots/pans, and cookie sheets, you are good to go.  Deep thoughts...from Katie Strout.

What is Birth? (Baby, Don't Hurt Me)

A few days ago, I made a post on Facebook that I feel the need to dig a little deeper into and explain a little better. 

Birth.  It's a magical, wonderful, spiritual thing, right?  Right?!  OK, in all honesty, it is; but for some women, like myself, it can be source of insecurity.  When I was pregnant, I LOVED birth.  I loved reading about it and loved hearing about it.  I loved to hear how people brought their babies into this world, the journey they took, the struggle and anguish, and the sweet reward that waited for them at the end of it all.  Well...except of course if you had a c-section, because, in my mind, that didn't really "count" as giving birth.  Feel free to slap pregnant me at any time.  I don't know why I felt this way; social stigma, lack of knowledge, pure naive arrogance, I'm not really sure which.  I think I always viewed c-sections as the easy way out.  It was the super fancy, ultra celebrity way to give birth.  You scheduled it, they take your baby, maybe slip in a tummy tuck, bing, bang, boom, you're out.  That is, until I had one of my own.  *Queue dramatic music and pause here*

Honestly, a c-section was never, EVER something I thought would happen to me.  My husband and I had planned an unmedicated delivery, but obviously the Lord had something different in mind.  It needs to be said that I had a pretty difficult labor.  My labor started at 4 o'clock in the morning on July 26th and Oliver wasn't born until 3:24 am on July 27th...so...a long day.  I had pretty terrible back labor and it wasn't long before I threw in the towel and decided to get an epidural.  That, I could deal with.  I told myself that I would be disappointed with myself if I got an epidural, but I could live with it.  Honestly, I didn't know labor was going to be as bad as it was.  And newsflash: labor sucks.  Sorry for all of you out there who had a supernatural, out of body experience and felt no pain or still think it's wonderful, but mine was terrible.  I truly remember wanting to kiss the anesthesiologist on the lips after my epidural (I had been laboring for close to 20 hours).

In my mind, I had really envisioned Ben and I in the perfect birth setting.  A utopia of sorts.  Warm lighting, soft music, me completely zoned in and visualizing all the things we practiced, and Ben being the perfect coach.  Not so much.  Ben was wonderful, but I was stressed, and in agonizing pain, and honestly, I just wanted to rest, so I got the dang drugs.  Sue me.  I regret nothing because when I finally got my epidural they hooked me up to the fetal heart monitor only to discover that with each intense contraction I was having, Oliver was going into distress.   His heart rate was dropping quickly and there was no sign that he was going to come out anytime soon.  To be frank, if I hadn't gotten an epidural, I'm not sure what would've happened to my sweet boy. 

Everything was so chaotic when my OB told me what was about to happen.  She KNEW it wasn't what we wanted, but at 2:30 in the morning and after 22 hours of labor, you do what your OB says.  Everyone was rushing around and I started to feel extremely anxious (I have never had major surgery ever) and think I may have had a borderline anxiety attack, I'm not so sure.  I just wanted to rip off my oxygen mask, get up, and run out of the room, but seeing as I couldn't even wiggle a toe, that wasn't happening.   All I could think about was how would I nurse my baby immediately, how would he know me, how would I take care of him if I was on heavy drugs?  I had never planned out how to handle this scenario.  The Lord really has a sense of humor.  They rushed me off to surgery, did some tugging and pulling, and minutes later, I heard the sweetest sound I have heard in my life; the sound of my baby crying.   In that moment, nothing mattered.  He was here, he was safe, I was happy.  Then, all of a sudden, I realized how incredibly exhausted I was, and the drugs they had me on did not help.  All I wanted to do was look at my baby, but all I could do was close my eyes.  Mom. Fail.  I did manage to slip in a nap while they were sewing me up, but I has pretty dang out of it all day (thanks, morphine drip).  To this day, I still do truly believe we made the right choice for us and our baby, but I have never been more disappointed in myself.  I didn't get a magical moment, a rush of endorphins, to hold and nurse my baby as soon as he came out, my husband didn't get to cut the cord, none of it.  All of those sweet moments that I wanted to make into memories didn't happen. 

I think I'm realizing more and more how much I was making the birth of my son an idol in my life.  I worshiped it.  I was arrogant.  I was prideful.  I just longed to do what I was created to do, but I feel like I was robbed of that opportunity.  I recently watched the documentary "The Business of Being Born" followed by the TV series "More Business of Being Born" and it was very interesting.  For those who don't know, this is a documentary series done by Ms. Ricki Lake where she reports on just that, birth being a business and women being robbed of the opportunity of the birth they want with forced inductions and scheduled c-sections.  I loved hearing all the things they had to say.  I actually enjoyed "More Business of Being Born" a little more than the original film.  In it, there is a whole episode where celebrity mothers share their birth stories.  Most are unmedicated home births with a few hospital births.  I really appreciated all of the brutal honesty.  They talked about how hard it was and how much they wanted to quit, but how they knew their baby was at the end of that struggle.  I even wanted to hug Kimberly Williams Paisley (AKA Annie from "Father of the Bride") when she shared basically an identical birth story to my own.  I was not alone!  And then there was Gisele Bundchen.  She recounted how calm and wonderful her pregnancy was, how amazing she is, how fabulous her birth was, how she felt no pain, and I just wanted to punch her in her beautiful, Brazilian face.  Birth is raw and nasty and she was just so dang perfect.  I hate her and she is a l-i-a-r.  She is the reason I have issues with myself and my own birth experience.  It's all your fault, Gisele (OK, I'm being slightly dramatic, but come on, she sucks).

I say all of this to say, I believe everything happened exactly the way it was supposed to happen.  Am I happy with it?  Yes and no.  Will I try again for a VBAC if I am blessed with another child?  Yep.  Will I hate myself if it doesn't happen?  I surely hope not.  I am learning as a mother, and a woman, to give myself some grace.  I am learning that every mother's story is different.  Some deliver vaginally, some have a c-section, and some mothers don't even get the opportunity to do either.  I am blessed that the Lord allowed me to carry my son for 9 beautiful months.  I know that full well.  And every story of birth is beautiful...even a c-section. ;)