thatmomforem

[thatmomforem]

#myversionofparenthood

Is constantly second guessing myself. Wondering how I can do better. If I should have researched more. Asked another question at her appointment. Spent a few more minutes reading that book before she took it and banged it on the floor while laughing.  That is until someone steps in and tries to correct me... EXCUSE ME?! I don’t think so. I know EXACTLY what I’m doing with MY child.

Feeling guilty about everything. All the time. Period.

Not being up to date on any of the latest songs, movies or shows because we’ve got Little Baby Bum on repeat at our house. Maroon 5 released what awesome song?! Cardi B did what on SNL?! Ok, but let me tell you ALL of the things the sailor went to see, see, see!!

Being mesmerized by how much she grows every single day.

Choosing to have her eat topless so I don’t have to replace the third set of stained onesies I got not 4 weeks ago.

Walking around looking like I can’t control my newly adopted litter of 9 kittens who love to play. Except I have no kittens. Those are cuts from my daughter’s tiny nails as she’s discovered it’s ‘funny’ to scratch my entire face in an attempt to get me to say to “ouch” or “stop” -the world’s funniest words that have no other purpose except to make her laugh.

Trying my damnedest to put bows in her hair but knowing good and well, as she rips them immediately out of her hair, that this is karma. #shouldabeennicertomymom

Playing rock, paper, scissors to see who changes her dirty diaper… and then conveniently going to best 2 out of 3 when I lose the first round.

Adding statements like ‘Em, we don’t bite people’s toes!’ to my daily talk track.

Knowing I’ll yearn for the days when she wanted to be constantly held by her mommy but going a little crazy living those days today and being desperate for the tiniest bit of space… and then of course feeling guilty about.

Putting the high chair tray on the floor for Thor to finish so I don’t feel as bad about the amount of food wasted on rough dinner nights.

Being completely desperate for her to fall asleep at night so I can have a minute to myself only to use that same precious minute staring at her while she sleeps and talking to my husband about how perfect she is.

Yelling across the sunporch, ‘We don’t wrap extension cords around our neck!!’ as I hightail it over to her rescue.

Fighting the battle between using her coveted nap time to be productive or to finally relax - and then almost always regretting the choice I made as soon as when she wakes up... I knew I should have done *insert whichever one I ended up not doing here...*

Trying to stop all of the hurt but knowing I can’t.

Trying to say the right things.

Trying to make the right decisions when I know some will be wrong.

Trying to teach her and help her explore.

Trying to show all of the love.

Trying.

Succeeding sometimes.

Failing often.

And continuing to try anyways.

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

#shecomesbyithonest

My daughter is spicy. Like full-on, no holding back, three peppers with an asterisk and a note at the bottom of the menu, spicy. There’s just no getting around it.

Full transparency, I used to judge those parents who would gush over their infant’s personality. There’s no way this tiny human that’s been a part of this world for less than a year is showing specific personality traits. I get them being fussy and I get being generally happy. I understand babies who sleep well and those who suffer from colic. But a super specific, unique personality in a nine-month-old? I don’t know that I buy it.

Let it go on the record that I’m once again eating my pre-motherhood words. I stand corrected. There are 147 words I could use to describe my daughter, all of which are mere pieces of the incredible, multi-faceted personality she shares with us every day.

By far the most prominent piece as of today is her inherent spiciness. For those of you who don’t know anyone who is ‘spicy’ or have never heard anyone referred to as such, I’ve put together a list of the indicators we see in Em.

As soon as she’s done with her bottle, she hurls it across the room. We legitimately have a three second window to grab the bottle from her before she decides to go full quarterback on us and chuck that sucker as far as she can. She then will not stop staring at us and pointing at the bottle until we get it for her. Will. Not. Stop. 

We’re trying to introduce the word ‘no’ to her as she’s becoming more mobile and getting into things like cords and outlets. It’s a fun time in our house! We’ve tried different tones. We’ve tried pulling her hand away from set dangerous item(s) then saying ‘no.’ We’ve tried very lightly popping her hand. It doesn’t matter. She thinks it hilarious and laughs in our face. Cackles. Then does it again just to elicit the ‘no’ from us so she can laugh in our face again. #spicy

Sometimes she gets into a mood where she only wants to be held by mommy or daddy. She will go from zero to sixty on the wailing, reach for whoever she’s wanting and not stop until she gets the one of us she wants. The SECOND we take her she stops crying, stares back at the person who had to give her up and laughs. In their face. See the trend?!

She’s recently decided that she hates getting in her car seat. When she sees us lowering her in, she arches her back, throws her head back, somehow bends her entire body into a ‘U’ shape and then starts rolling like an alligator with prey!! I try to rationalize with my 1-year-old, but she starts to scream LOUDER as I start to talk. Legit waits until I start talking to screech, then will go back to regular crying when I stop talking… think about that. #SOspicy

I threw a shopping party at my house for a consultant friend of mine. Since Em was born, we made it a point to be pretty loud while she’s sleeping in hopes of her not being a light sleeper. In the middle of this party, an over-tired Em finally gave in to sleep while laying on my husband… on the couch in the middle of the living room. I specifically told my friends they didn’t need to whisper because she’s fine to sleep through us talking. At one point, we must have laughed louder than Em could tune out because from a dead sleep she lifted her head, screeched to get our attention and then GLARED at each and every one of us. She basically bitch slapped all of us with her eyes. She then proceeded to lay her head down and go right back to sleep.

Lately, when she wants our attention, she screeches at the top her lungs. Full on pterodactyl style. As soon as we acknowledge her, she smiles and laughs. This wasn’t too out of the ordinary until she started waiting UNTIL we we’re talking to screech. She basically tells us to shut up with her screeches when we’re getting on her nerves.

We can be sitting on the floor playing with her, specifically playing with a different toy so she can play with her toy of choice. She consistently takes the toy out of our hands just to hurl it at the floor and go back to playing with whatever she was initially playing with.

My daughter is definitely spicy. And she definitely gets it from me.. but I will be damned if I do anything to stifle that. I intend on raising a strong-willed little lady who chases her dreams with determination, courage, passion and a spice stronger than Texas Pete.

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

#humanBEINGs

Survival of the fittest my ass. This past year has been about survival of the willing. Survival by trial. Survival through error and survival through effort. But, none the less - survival.

Em’s turning one in 25 days. Twenty. Five. Days. As I sit at work with my forty-seven-item to do list staring me down, I’m reflecting back on this year and trying to wrap my head around how I arrived at shopping for her birthday party.

Of course I’m wondering how time has flown by so fast – see my #timeflies post :) - but more of my thoughts are around how we’ve spent this past year. My pre-motherhood grand visions have been… shattered seems harsh… so I’ll go with ‘fractured.’ I still don’t have those month by month pictures of Em. On our flight to Virginia a few weeks ago, her dinner consisted of some of the chicken from a chick fila sandwich, a few waffle fries and a few bites of yogurt – all at 9p. And lately when I’m cooking dinner, I have to give her a handful of goldfish or animal crackers to keep her occupied. Those inevitably make their way out of the small container they were originally so neatly placed in and make their way off her blanket and onto the kitchen tile. At that point, they apparently take on their most delicious form. Em can’t resist them and I have yet to stop her. I’m far beyond okay with all of this.

More of what I’m thinking about is ensuring we keep a focus on making memories as a family. So, as I’m thinking back, I’m going through a mental checklist – Peeing on the newborn photographer: check. Waiting to offer the world’s worst poop until you’re in a swim diaper at Nana’s pool that mom wasn’t smart enough to get with snaps: check. Losing your shit after sticking your feet in the ocean for the first time and spending the rest of the week playing in the sand: check. Showing off your beyond unimpressed face when posing as the Joey part of a Kangaroo duo at the zoo: check. Falling asleep so mommy and daddy have to do the hard work while apple picking: check. Conning daddy into carrying you down the aisle as you gave your best Flower Girl version of Derek Zoolander: check. Riding old trash barrels turned cow train through the pumpkin patch: check. Rocking the best damn rainbow onesie to show our support at the Pride Parade: check. Ensuring trick or treaters only take the candy we don’t want to eat as Flamingo Em: check. Looking back, the list is pretty impressive!

I have to spend time walking through this mental checklist for a few reasons. Caveat – I’m not embarrassed to say I already can’t remember everything we’ve done and have to look back through pictures to jog my memory; Facebook for the win! But back to the why - Even with my friends who are happy to share their realities as parents… Even with my mom and family reassuring me every step of the way… Even as I become more confident in myself as Sarah, as Em’s mom, as N’s wife… I still have this nagging in the back of my head that I can be doing better. I’m not looking for pity here or for anyone to jump to the stand to sing my praises – it’s just reality. And it’s a good thing. I’m always striving to be better because I genuinely want to be.

My cousin shared a video the other day that I’ve now watched more times than I care to admit. Which coincidentally, goes hand and hand with a song that’s stalking me on the radio.

From the song: Time rolls by the clock don’t stop I wish I had a few more drops Of the good stuff, the good times Oh but they just keep on flying Right on by like it ain’t nothing Wish I had me a pause button Moments like those Lord knows I’d hit it And give myself five more minutes

From the video: (From an older generation of women to today’s woman) If I had my time again, I wouldn’t create a ‘to do’ list, I’d create a ‘to don’t do’ list. I’d give myself the time to indulge in the things that I now understand are the most important. What I wouldn’t give to extend those goodnight kisses instead of moaning about having to get up early in the morning. What I wouldn’t give for an extra second of cuddling my babies before they became too big to hold. What I wouldn’t give for five more minutes on the dancefloor while my legs were still strong enough to carry me. ….. This is simply about you, as a human being. There’s the most important word – being. Being lost in the moment. Being at peace with the world. Being kinder to myself. Being kinder to others. Being able to let go and being proud to do so. Believe me, if I were a young woman now, I’d spend more time being. Not doing.

Both of these messages hit at a time where I feel like I’m finally comfortable in our day to day routine. At a time where schedules are busy. Where my to do list is ever-growing. Where I’m wrapped up in surviving. So I’m more than grateful that these two pieces of wisdom we’re dropped into my lap at this specific moment in my life. It helps me to remember that my focus can’t solely be on surviving - that will inherently happen. I want my focus to be indulging in these memories we’re making. On taking a moment to let go. I know when I look back on life, I’ll always want five more minutes – I can’t help that. What I can do, is acknowledge there’s not enough time in the day and I don’t have the ability to create more so I’m working to make the time we have - count. I’m working on being.

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

#decisions101

No matter how many different opinions are thrown at us, at the end of the day we as parents have the final say – that’s the beauty… and sometimes the horror – of being a parent. As we approach these decisions, there’s always someone that’s going to share what worked for them, what definitely didn’t work, what they wish they had done and my personal favorite the - ‘I know I don’t have kids, but if it were me…’ RIGHT. Thanks for that. Writing your every word down as we speak… insert eye roll here.

One of the decisions we were faced with early on was whether or not to establish a routine. And if we were going to, when? Which time frames do we want to start with? Em was born mid-December which meant Christmas was right around the corner. I don’t know about you, but I’m not the mom who stayed inside for weeks on end. At 10 days old, we packed our 2 bags and what felt like Em’s 29 bags, got in the car and headed towards my parents’ house about 4 hours away. To this day, I am so, so grateful they were more than happy to host our new family of three for two whole weeks – not only did it give us tons of extra hands to help, but I was able to pick my mom’s brain the entire time.

As I was trying to get the hang of nursing, getting as much sleep as possible, caring for a brand new tiny human and just generally adjusting to motherhood, the conversation turned to a routine and what we wanted to do. If you don’t know me or haven’t already figured it out, I’m only slightly Type A… and by slightly, I definitely mean extremely.  Like any good Type A mom, I gathered all of the moms around the living room chair Em and I were posted up in and talked through options and ideas.

Pros: You know exactly when baby needs to eat. Makes planning way easier. Makes going out and getting things done much easier. Easier transition to daycare or for a babysitter. Babies like a routine(?!) … not sure if I buy this one, but some resources claim it to be true, so I’ll tack it on for good measure.

Cons: The actual process of establishing the routine. The routine will have to constantly evolve as baby grows. Getting off routine is easy and can send moms into a tailspin if they’re super attached to it. Being a slave to the well-established routine and having to plan around it.

In the beginning, I was all on board for a routine. I even tried to start to semi-establish one at my parent’s house. While I’m sure most new moms feel this way, hearing Em cry and knowing she was hungry but trying to push her in small increments to get closer to a 3-hour schedule was heartbreaking. Disclaimer – I know she wasn’t going to starve. I know crying is good for her lungs. I know I can’t always prevent her from crying. But to me, this felt avoidable - and that’s what made it so much worse.

Over the next week or so, we continued to try and slowly move her towards this schedule, hoping I would be able to gain a little sanity and get back to feeling even the slightest bit more like myself. As the days dragged on, I got tired of staring at the clock. Tired of counting in 15 minute increments to work this precious, hungry babe onto a schedule. So, I quit. One day I just said, ‘no more; not worth it; not for us.’

I decided I would gain my sanity in other ways. But let’s be real, becoming a mom changes you significantly, so ‘getting back to myself’ was a concept I had to quickly let go of. Instead, I started working towards feeling comfortable and confident with the new me – with Em’s mom.

I’m still always open to hearing what worked for other people. As a mom who is only 10 months deep into this lifelong journey, I can now appreciate even more that once you find something that works, you can’t help but to preach it like the gospel. Keep preaching moms!!! There’s always someone out there who needs to hear your story and I’m sure it’s going to work for a good amount of them!!

For us, this was one of the first big parenting decisions we came across. We talked through it extensively like good little first-time parents and came up with a plan. Then we very quickly watched that plan evolve, evolve again... evolve six more times and then ultimately blow up. Not only was it a good learning experience when it comes to our adaptability, it more importantly gave me the confidence to know that we can make a decision, try it out and then run far away from that decision when it’s not working.

Some may say I quit. That I didn’t try hard enough. That I did what was easiest for me and not best for her. I could care less.

She’s my Em. I’m her mom. And we do what we want. 

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

When you’re sick, you get to sleep with toys in the big bed!!

[thatmomforem]

#momfessions

#partone 

I spend way too much time making sure Em has either matching or complimentary bows and socks for each outfit. 

I wake up in the middle of the night only to immediately roll over and stare at Em’s monitor to make sure she’s breathing. Every. Single. Night. How do people use monitors without video?!?

Sometimes Em finds her way to Thor’s water bowl in the kitchen and proceeds to splash around in the water. I normally don’t stop her…. I just laugh with her while I finish cooking dinner.

I don’t want to waste the Pedialyte we opened when she was sick, so for the 30-day time frame that it’s still good, I give her that with dinner instead of water.

I have to constantly remind myself not to say anything when we cross paths with expecting parents. I didn’t want random people giving me advice so I’m surely not going to offer any uninvited advice to them. What IS IT about being a mom that makes you want to share all the time?!

N and I were both home from work the other day to take Em to her 9-month doctor’s appointment. We still took her to daycare after so we could have a few hours to ourselves. #thatmom

We have a Roomba that we try to run every day since Em is crawling all over the place. She still gets covered with dog hair and crumbs. We pick her up, wipe her off a bit, and put her right back down to keep crawling. She’ll get dirty one way or another.

Em LOVES Thor. Thor tolerates Em. Unless she’s covered in food… Then he’ll lick all over her hands and neck. We don’t stop him anymore because it’s the only time he lets her pet him and she ABSOLUTELY LOVES it.

I cry at commercials. ALL. THE. TIME. And tv shows. And movies. And when Em is being snuggly and sleeping on her daddy. Basically… I’m a crier now.

I think a lot about how much I would love to lose a few pounds and feel more comfortable with my mid-section…. As I’m sitting in my car… in the Dunkin Donuts drive through… ordering a ‘road donut’ and iced coffee to go with the half dozen I’m getting for the house.  #crushinggoals #butreally #crushingdonuts

I claim Moana is Em’s favorite movie so I can put it on whenever we’re hanging out in the living room playing. Get real – sure she likes the music and colors, but girlfriend could care less which movie provides the entertainment. We’ve watched it no less than 46 times. #iLOVEit

Sometimes she sleeps in the same clothes she wore to daycare that day.

She’s gotten more than a few wash cloth baths when we’re all too tired to think straight and just need to crawl in bed.

I pass some hardcore judgment to the universe of parents when we’re at the pediatrician and one of the questions they ask is - ‘does she always travel in a car seat?’ YES. YES SHE DOES. Are there seriously people out there who use other methods of travel?! Like what?!

I haven’t given in to using off-brand diapers. I tried the Up&Up diapers once. They SUCKED. #huggiesforlife

Thor was running low on food the other night and Em was having a meltdown. Instead of attempting to run out with a baby mid-meltdown, Thor ate leftover chickfila fries and rice.

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

#alltheraspberries

[thatmomforem]

#timeflies

Time flies when you’re having fun. Time flies once you grow up. Time flies as soon as kids enter the picture. We’re no strangers to the concept. Time. Flies.

I’ve always associated this statement with anyone who is ‘older’ than me. Older as in literally more years on this earth, or more experienced or just someone who generally has their life more together than I do. It seems as though this group of ‘older’ people can’t help but to repeatedly share that ‘time flies.’

I’ve always generally ignored the concept, most of the time because I didn’t feel the same way. I met my now husband in high school and felt like that time dragged as I yearned to be an adult – laughable, right? I wanted to make my own decisions. Not have a curfew. Not have to explain where we were going and for how long to my mom. I wanted freedom and time dragged as I anxiously awaited that day.  Then, my husband graduated from high school my Senior year. I was stuck in this place without him, trying to enjoy the remaining time I had before graduation. But between the distance, heavy course load of high stress classes and a set of final exams that encompassed the past 3 years of learning, time passed miserably slow.

Once I got to college, the excitement of the quazi-freedom quickly turned into a realization that consequences are a real thing that can bite you in the ass. Looking back, it seems impossible that I started college 11 years ago, but while I was there, experiencing the growing pains of becoming a partially responsible adult and living through a long-distance relationship, I remember longing for the weekends when I could go home to see him… And found myself once again wishing for the days when we’d be back in the same city, able to see each other whenever we wanted to and not relying on phone calls to share how our day went.

In case you’re wondering, I feel it necessary to share that I did have an amazing college experience. I met the girls that have become like sisters to me, got trashed at amazingly awful parties, skipped class to watch a favorite TV show because I couldn’t fathom walking through 4 feet of snow to talk about a book I didn’t read. Helped one of those sisters take a 50-question final exam in 12 minutes because at 8:48p she remembered the test closed at 9p and dominated at survivor flip cup with my 608 Green Street team during many a football tailgate. There was by no means a shortage of fun – but for the point of this thought, as a whole, time definitely crawled.

Fast forward four years to my graduation; I was beyond ecstatic to be back in the same zip code as my then fiancé, planning my wedding and looking forward to our next big step – moving! We planned our wedding for that same December. The weeks and months leading up were excruciatingly slow as we finalized the details for our cruise ship destination nuptials. This meant we were not only counting down until the (at the time) best day of our lives, we were also counting down to an incredible two-week vacation - the first week of which included thirty of our closest friends and family. And as if that wasn’t enough to get excited about, those two weeks culminated in landing back at the Richmond airport only to get in a packed car, followed by my dad in the moving van and move three states south the very same day,

Once we moved, I LOATHED my job. For so many different reasons and in so many different ways, going to work was downright painful which made those days move at a snail’s pace. I could go on about how life has always seemed to be dragging, but I think you get the point.  

Fast forward to now, I have a 9-month-old daughter. HOW DID THAT HAPPEN?! Though there were days in my pregnancy that definitely felt like my due date would never actually arrive, for the most part, it flew by… 2016 as a whole was a whirlwind for us. We found out we were pregnant, my husband graduated from Architecture school, we bought our first house and then had the most incredible baby girl. Looking back, I don’t know how we managed all of that… I’m sure I was a gem. :)

As someone that has always been on the side of ‘Jesus could time move any slower!?’ – It’s interesting to now find myself lumped in with that crew I deem as ‘older.’ The crew that is very quick to interject ‘time flies’ into almost every conversation.

“How’s work going?” Well, I’ve been back for 3 months now but it honestly feels like just yesterday I was headed out to start maternity leave and do final preparations for Em. It’s crazy how quickly time flies! 

“How’s that baby of yours doing?” She’s AMAZING! She’s 9 months old, taking food off our plates, giving us a stank face when we take away the dog bone she’s trying to eat, has discovered banging two toys together makes for some pretty amazing music and is desperate to start walking! I don’t know how any of this happened! Time has flown by! 

“How are you enjoying the house? You’ve been there for how long now?” Uhhhhh…. (counts on fingers and tries to recall any details from 2016) ...over a year now?!!? GOOD LORD TIME FLIES!  

In coming to this realization, I try to take a step back and do everything I can to savor these moments that are flying by. It’s not easy in this new whirlwind of a life we live, but we try our best. 

My husband and I get on the floor and race to stack as many blocks as high as we can before Em-zilla races over to knock them down. We sit at the dinner table for an extra few minutes to make silly faces at Em while she’s covered in raspberry seeds and the leftovers of a biscoff cookie she just gummed the hell out of. We make circles around Kroger so she can smile and practice saying ‘hi’ and waving to the employees we know all too well. We join in on the evening concerts of banging toys together and come up with, what we believe to be some pretty stellar lyrics for her. And we definitely hit snooze a few extra times just to lay in bed and watch her sleep when she woke up at 4:30am and had to join us in the big bed for the rest of the night.

I’ve accepted my new status as a part of this ‘older’ crowd. And for now, I know it’s silly to preach this popular sentiment to others… so humor me as I say it once here. Either you already know times flies and you probably don’t want the daily reminder, or you’re living this life at a very different point than I am and you think I’m insanely crazy. If you’re a part of the first group, I feel you. I can commiserate. And I too, am looking for a way to slow down time. If you’re a part of the second group, I promise I was you... Just enjoy every minute you can – I swear, one day you’ll blink and time really will start to fly.

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

Real life... as soon as we got on to the actual orchard. 

[thatmomforem]

#thatsnothowirememberit

Activities, vacations, day trips… they all ebb and flow as we wander through this life. Whether you find yourself a highly involved person who can’t seem to find a free weekend or someone who’s able to slow down and enjoy time sitting on the back patio or your couch, we’re always technically doing something. As a child, these ‘somethings’ always seemed to just simply happen. Today, I find the adult version of myself in a much different position.

In my mind, the ebb and flow goes something like this…. As children, you’re at the mercy of your parents’ calendar and participate in what is planned for you – sports, vacations, birthday parties, etc. In college, you either party your ass off, study your ass off or do some combination of both, all at your own will. Then, we supposedly become adults and enter the working world where parties are replaced with late dinners and evenings at a bar with friends. Next up, parent life comes around and it’s now my turn to manage the calendar and drag my kid along… and if you’re anything like me, you spend a good amount of time googling ‘kid-friendly’ activities around town so you can get your family out of the house for a few hours and hopefully make some memories like those you have from 20 years ago.

As a child and teenager, I have fond memories of these activities my parents planned for us. We spent summers in Maine and Michigan visiting family – we checked out theme parks and canoed down rivers, we had picnics at rest areas along the long drive and took pictures of every bathroom along the way… no judgement – I was the child who had to stop to pee every hour so my mom had fun with it. We vacationed to Disney World and spent Saturdays at fairs – we did it all. My brother and I would look forward to these trips for the months leading up, marking each day off on the calendar. Then, once the big day finally arrived, I remember non-stop fun!

As the new mom of a 9-month old, I want to give her the same experiences my parents gave me. So, this past weekend, as Em is getting more mobile, eating food off our plates and is generally more alert and awake than the those first few months, I set out to make a memory. Though it’s still warm in Georgia and the leaves haven’t quite started to turn, I was committed to a ‘Fall activity.’ Every google search landed on apple picking – YES! We found one that had a huge bakery and candy shop, wine and hard cider tastings, outdoor lunch spot and of course, tractor rides out to the orchard to pick your own apples. I chose a weekend and we were off!

YOU. GUYS. Those memories we have as kids of the non-stop fun… running around to all the rides, eating all the funnel cakes, swimming for hours on end – whatever details your vacation included… those memories are a FAÇADE. Well maybe not that harsh, but they are certainly not the whole picture! Never have I truly understood all of the painstakingly hard work that went into the planning and execution of those good times until now. I mean I’ve planned vacations and herded large groups of people, but never for or with my child.

For our apple picking adventure, we made the hour and a half drive north before arriving at the Orchard entrance to find parking amongst the masses that also thought one of the first Fall Sundays was a good day to pick apples. We hopped out, did a diaper change, got a bottle ready, decided against the stroller, grabbed the Ergo Baby, made sure everything was in the diaper bag… and we’re finally ready! There’s a pseudo-sidewalk ramp / bridge that leads you from the parking lot to the main retail store that so seriously STOPS at the half way point. Our thoughts… imagine playing frogger with an infant strapped to your back. #nothanks

By the time we make it to the main building, everyone is starving so we decide to eat lunch first. The people at the deli inside don’t understand the meaning of ‘to go’ and there are all of 8 tables inside. So we trek towards the outdoor deck where it takes a hot minute to get seated - are finally sat at a filthy table covered with yellow jackets and proceeded to wait at least 20 minutes for someone to take our drink order. EFF THIS. I grabbed my friend and went inside to order wine flights for everyone while my husband fed Em cold pasta to keep her from loudly expressing her disappointment with her current situation – hangry. We continued to kill yellow jackets while eating our $10 chicken salad sandwiches before calling it quits after about an hour. Us – 5; Yellow Jackets – 0.

Next up – another game of frogger as we made our way back to the car for a diaper change and clothes swap since Em was already sweating and the bathroom was a mad house. One more game of frogger and we were back at the main building to purchase our bag to pick apples and, unbeknownst to us, to also purchase tickets to ride the tractor to the orchard so we could fill the bag we just bought. #wellalrightthen

We swung back to the bar for wine slushies and headed toward the tractor. Time for a game plan. One large bag for four adults and a tiny human with no teeth. Bag says it holds 30-40 apples. But we really like apple everything. Challenge Accepted.

We get to the orchard and are greeted with more yellow jackets, then proceeded to put Em in the Ergo Baby on my back so she could actually look around and get in on the apple picking action. I shit you not, I didn’t take more than 10 steps off the tractor before she was asleep. ASLEEP. Us big kids walked around scoping out the different apples, biting into each one to figure out which we wanted to take home and doing some sketchy tree climbing to get the best of the best, all the while sipping on our wine slushies and (I’m sure) attracting even more yellow jackets to be a part of our apple picking journey. #bastards

Once we were happy with the fullness of our bag, we got back in line to hitch a tractor back to the main building and OF COURSE Em woke up. As if she knew the hard work was over and legit said, ‘ok, tap me back in!’ Mind you we’ve been at the orchard for a total of 4 hours at this point, doing a whole lot of nothing except for the last hour – the hour she decided was most perfect for a nap.

We made it back to the main building, decided on what we wanted to grab from the store then divided and conquered – I went into the store and N took Em back to the car. I definitely drew the short straw there. The store was a nut house. It had to be at double capacity, filled to the brim with people who could give a shit less about actually making a decision and executing on that decision. 

The orchard is known for their fried pies, so of course I wanted to get a few. Being so popular, the bakery had its’ own line inside the store where one woman raced her massive cart – filled with ONE small plastic container of 6 donuts – to get in front of me in line, then turned her dial to slow-mo and I swear she took about one step every 3 minutes.

I finally got to the front of that line and there were only two out of the six available bakers able to take orders. Every other baker was preoccupied with someone staring at the case like either they’ve never seen a pie before or like they couldn’t read, taking 45 minutes to decide on 6 freaking pies! #RAWR

I made my way over to the wine section and had to push a lady out of the way with my cart because she had set up camp in the one corner that had a selection of all the wine the orchard let us sample in our wine flight. I know I didn’t wipe the scowl off my face; I was OVER IT. Not today lady – get to moving!! By the time I got to the register to pay, I realized N had my ID so I had to call our friend to come back up to the main building, show an ID, pay and get me the hell out of there.

After everything was said and done, we headed home with our 54 apples in tow and my wide-awake child.

When I originally planned this amazing apple picking day, I dreamed of patio lunches with wine, Em trying to grab an apple off the tree and us crushing fried pies on the drive home. Instead, we got an over-priced lunch swarming with yellow jackets, an hour-long nap for Em during the most fun part as we both sweated to death walking up and down an orchard and a hellish 45-minute train wreck experience of trying to get some damn pies.

I know that Em will only ‘remember’ this trip through the pictures we took. And it’s not the last time I’ll have grand visions of what our adventures will be, only to have them turn out completely different, whether that be for better or worse. I’m completely okay with that.

Will I drag our family apple picking again? Absolutely! Is it possible the day can go exactly the same way this one did?! YEP. But I genuinely don’t mind. For me - as the mom – I know our trips definitely won’t go the way I remember them from 20 years go. But for Em to have those memories - it's worth it every time. 

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

Em’s favorite new game... Bite Daddy’s Nose! Best part!? It can be played anywhere...even on a plane.

[thatmomforem]

#everythingreallydoeschange

You hear it all the time before you have kids. Then, you hear it EVERY DAY while you’re pregnant. “Be prepared!! Everything changes!!” Definitely before I had Em and also while I was pregnant, I knew there was truth to this statement. HELLO! I am going to be responsible for a tiny human. Like SUPER responsible. We’re making all the decisions… When will she eat? Do we want to try and get on some sort of schedule? Should she wear socks to bed with her pajamas? How loud do we set the volume on the sound machine? What brand of bottles do we use? The literal never ending list. She will rely solely on me (and my husband) and I get that.

What I more so want to point out is (1) telling someone to ‘be prepared’ is more of a nice gesture than a reality. There was absolutely no way I could have prepared for this! And (2) the number of things I’ve seen change has far exceeded what I ever imagined. Sometimes in the most amazing way, and other times… debatable.  

Getting Myself Together

I used to take about an hour to get ready in the morning. Enjoy a shower, blow dry my hair, light makeup, try on a few outfits, make myself a coffee, consider packing a lunch, grab my purse and sunglasses – mosey out the door. Now… HA! I can legitimately get ready to roll in seven minutes. SEVEN MINUTES. I’ve timed it. Shower the night before – DUH. In the morning- hair in a bun, wash face, brush teeth, tinted moisturizer, throw on a dress & deodorant – done!

I’m sure you’re judging my seven-minute routine and probably thinking, way to find seven consecutive minutes to yourself!! HA. Please know the seven minutes is when my husband (N), is entertaining Em. Otherwise, it goes more like this…

Roll over to the sound of Em talking to herself in her crib. N gets her and changes her diaper while I go make a bottle. Bring her into our bed and snuggle up while she has her bottle since she’s now figured out how to crawl right off the bed – and subsequently laughs hysterically as she’s hanging off it – so she can’t be left to sit by herself. After she’s done with her bottle, N burps her while I go grab toys. Race to wash my face and put my hair up while N plays with her. Rotate – brush my teeth in bed so she can touch the electronic toothbrush while I’m brushing, because she CANNOT handle hearing it vibrate without ‘helping’ me. Keep one hand on her while grabbing any dress within reach. Rotate – N taps in while I throw on some tinted moisturizer and deodorant. Rotate back in – scoop Em for a diaper change and put on her clothes.

Then, Em goes ham in her jumper while we both make her bottles for the day, her breakfast and our lunches. Grab the 29 items we now need to exit the house and race out the door. TIME! In case you’re wondering, though there’s only seven minutes of me getting myself ready scattered in that routine, it takes us no less than 45 minutes to get out the door.

Mom Brain & Mom Thoughts

You guys. I’ve gotten dumber. I genuinely believe this to be true and can only pray that my smarts find their way back to my mom brain by the time Em is asking for help with homework. There are days I can’t formulate a sentence. I have literally opened my mouth to start talking to my husband, then stood there staring at him as the words escape me. There are intellectual thoughts rolling around my brain – they just can’t make their way out! What’s happening to me!?

I have to believe this ‘mom brain’ people speak of is partially due to the overwhelming amount of what I’ll dub ‘mom thoughts’ that immediately entered my brain the moment I found out I was pregnant. It went something like this - Oh my god I’m pregnant!!! OH. MY. GOD. I’M PREGNANT!!?!? What have I eaten over the past month?! What if there’s something wrong with the baby?! When do I call the doctor?! What am I not allowed to do now?! Did I already have coffee this morning!? GOOD LORD. It’s completely and utterly overwhelming and from my experience, does not get any better.

As if this wasn’t enough, the mom thoughts only continue to evolve as Em grows. Like today for instance…. I had a nightmare last night that I left Em in a hot car for 2 hours. NIGHTMARE. I have never even come close to forgetting my daughter in the car, but in my nightmare, it was the realest scenario! So now, as I sit here trying to focus on work, the crazy mom thoughts won’t stop racing through my head – DO NOT leave your daughter in the car. What was that article about where they helped people to remember they have a kid in the back seat?! I remember thinking it was absolutely insane… OH YEAH - Do I need to put one of my shoes in the back so I definitely don’t forget?! No – you haven’t forgotten her before. You’re a good mom. But… am I?! Don’t they say nightmares and dreams mean something?! Or correlate to something?! Why would it be so vivid?! Incoming work email saves me from my thoughts… thank god.

Talking to Myself

The thought never even crossed my mind before Em arrived. When I was at home by myself, I would have short conversations with our dog Thor, but mostly just turned the TV to a music channel and jammed out while I cleaned or made dinner. Since I got pregnant, everything I’ve been told by doctors and read online has encouraged talking to your baby. Most importantly for brain development, but if you think about it –how super weird would it be to silently sit around your house having a staring contest with your brand-new baby?! #nothanks I’ll just keep talking to her.

If you haven’t been in this situation before, it starts out super weird and awkward. I’m constantly talking to Em which is basically having a conversation with myself. I pose questions to her, wait a few seconds - like she might actually respond - then proceed to answer the question myself. We talk about her day at daycare, my day at work, what we should eat for dinner, how excited she is to see daddy – we talk about it all. Then there comes the time where I feel like I’ve exhausted all topics of conversation, and I legitimately become my own episode of Sesame Street where I’m either describing everything she’s playing with or playing the most one-sided game of Eye Spy EVER.

My only saving grace is completely accepting that my friends without kids think I’m beyond crazy and knowing I’m helping her to be smarter than her mom currently is.

All of that said, at the end of the day, I’m totally fine that it takes forever to get out of the house. And that the majority of our efforts to get out of the house revolve around 18 pounds of preciousness. I would take hearing her giggle uncontrollably as she and my husband high five a hundred times over blow drying my hair any day. Who cares if it sometimes takes me an extra minute to collect my thoughts – I’m just helping to teach everyone a little bit of patience, right? I’ve also convinced myself these mom thoughts I have help me to run through every possible scenario before deciding which action to take, so my preparedness as a mom is at Boy Scout levels! And the fact that I basically talk to myself for hours on end… I mean someone’s got to keep it interesting in our house!!

I don’t know how this compares to your experiences, but for me, everything really did change… and I genuinely wouldn’t have it any other way. 

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

Just hanging out while Grandpa finishes his ‘meeting!’

[thatmomforem]

#greatmomspectations

There are certain things expected of moms. Or should I say a TON of things expected of moms… Keep an eye on your children. Keep them ‘in line.’ Make sure they’re quiet in public. Make sure they’re getting a good amount of sleep. Lose the baby weight. Stay on top of doctor’s appointments. Introduce a healthy diet. Help them become active in events or sports, or both. Comfort. Nurture. Love. The list goes on and on… and on. While I could certainly comment on each and every one of those, I’m going to hone in on one of these expectations that continuously escapes me - sending greeting cards.

When you’re little, you could give a shit about checking the mail. It’s quite literally the last thing on your mind. Something we don’t even really pay attention to until a few special days roll around - holidays and more importantly, our birthday. On these days, the excitement of checking the mail far outweighs almost everything (with the exception of whatever celebration is being planned). Why? Because birthday cards!!! And more importantly… the money or gift cards inside! But for the point of this mom expectation, I’m talking about the physical, paper card sitting in the mailbox at the end of the driveway.

As a child, cards in the mail are just a normal occurrence. Something we don’t think twice about – your birthday arrives and letters start to appear! Even as we become older, think high school or college, sending cards was always something your mom took care of. She may or may not have you sign it, but that was likely the most involvement you had.

Fast forward seven years – now I’m the mom and this sending of greeting cards is my responsibility. And let me tell you – it’s A LOT to handle. I save everyone’s birthday in the calendar on my phone and set a reminder for a week out so I have time to go get a card, get it signed, buy whatever gift (if applicable) to go with it and get the card sent out. I also save a list of everyone we (attempt to) send holiday cards to… which to be honest, is pretty excessive. Once each of these days arrive, I consistently find myself snoozing the week-out reminders, running to Target super late or adding ‘cards’ to my Kroger list. From there, I have to remember stamps – because who in 2017 keeps stamps lying around?! Make sure I have the correct address, get everything written and then into the mailbox. As simple as it sounds, I find this task to be so freaking difficult! And as if the process of getting them into the mail isn’t bad enough, insert the fact that I’m super picky about the cards that go out and it makes for a whole situation.

Example: Mother’s Day 2017. This was my first Mother’s Day with Em earth side, which means a spiral affect occurred. Em entering our lives made my mom a Nana, N’s mom a Mema for the sixth time and multiple people who we consider to be additional sets of parents became ‘second’ grandparents – one set in particular who have been a huge part of our lives for more than 10 years and now live right next door to my parents on three combined lots we refer to as their ‘compound.’ What does this mean for me – six, yes SIX Mother’s Day cards we’re going to be sending out. I had my mom from N and I, then to my mom (Nana) from Em. N’s mom from him and I, then from Em to Mema. Em to her ‘second’ grandma and then N and I to his sister and my cousin who has been an amazing help and resource ever since I found out I was pregnant. If you found that hard to follow, just imagine how I feel being the one that keeps up with them! HOLY CRAP LOAD OF CARDS!!!

Add to this the fact that I rarely just pick random cards and send them out – the message, look and idea behind the card has always been super important to me. I blame my mother for that – she’s always managed to find the most perfect cards to send and as such, standards have definitely been set high. So, as I approached this first Mother’s Day, I found myself standing in the Hallmark card aisle of Target, staring at the massive amounts of cards in front of me, taking a deep breath and simply starting from the top of the list of names I made. I probably stood there and read 142 cards before I decided on the correct one for each recipient. From there, I went home, laid them all out on my kitchen table and started the task of writing personal notes in each one. It’s always nice to send a card, but I feel like even a quick note makes it that much better! So there I was, writing until my hand was about to fall off, trying to shape sentences to express the overwhelming amount of love and gratitude I feel towards each of these women.

To not ruin all of my hard work up until this point, I made a run to the post office for stamps, collected all of the addresses and got my love letters in the mail about five days before that Sunday. NAILED IT. The amount of pride I felt in myself for accomplishing such a seemingly simple task was tremendous. I had actually gotten my life together! Pats her own back.

Fast forward not even a month later and I was back at square one, going through the same routine for Father’s Day. You think I’m joking about exactly how seriously ridiculous I am with the cards I pick… To my dad from N and I was one of the names on my long list of people to send a Father’s Day card to. My dad is a huge fan of margaritas and cruises, a Pharmacist by trade and a new member to the AppleWatch community.

During one of the many weekends I spent in Savannah, my parents helped to watch Em so I could have celebratory drinks with a few friends. Being a new mom and not having heard from my parents in a while, I sent a quick text asking how she was doing… To which my dad replied ‘Yes.’ Literally, he just said YES. I sent back a set of no less than 37 question marks, to which he replied ‘In a Meeting. Call you later.’ WHAT?! Dad!! You’re clearly using the quick responses on the AppleWatch… and simultaneously worrying the hell out of me!! Is something going so wrong you can barely text?! I tried responding again – everything ok over there?! His response… ‘In a Meeting. Call you later.’ DAD. Jesus! Get it together!! Last try on my end – Dad? Should I be worried?! His response… you guessed it – ‘In a Meeting. Call you later.’ At this point my friends and I are laughing hysterically… at least he tried, right?! And I’m pretty sure he would have called if something was truly wrong…  pretty sure. :)

Jump back to the Hallmark aisle picking out Father’s Day cards. After reading no less than 18 cards that were all wrong for my dad, I landed on one with the picture of a cell phone with texts on the outside.  I don’t remember the exact specifics of the card, but it definitely gave the gist of a dad struggling to text correctly. WINNER. At home, I wrote on the inside ‘I’d love to call and wish you a Happy Father’s Day, but I’m In a Meeting, Call you later.’ I sealed that sucker, wrote his address on it and very proudly popped it into the mail. NAILED IT AGAIN!

While that was obviously a major win, it’s birthdays that get me every year. I have yet to get the hang of staying on top of sending birthday cards, but it’s definitely something I strive for. I acknowledge there are so many more important things in life, but to me – getting excited while you run to the mailbox to check for cards is a big deal and I want to be a part of that.

I will figure this out one day! I will stop snoozing the reminders! I will make it to Target on time and I will have stamps at the ready! Today though…. Today I have to go Target to get my niece a birthday card… For her birthday that was July 23rd. Quick check your calendar, it’s August 29th … and I’m the worst.  

Huge props to the moms out there who are on top of their greeting card game! #notthismom

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

#thenotsocommoncold

It finally happened. After eight months, one week and however many days, Em got sick. Not like shut the house down, quarantine everyone and put the ‘disturb at risk of death’ sign on the door, but definitely sick.

It started out with some congestion… which sounds like it could be relatively easy to deal with until you’re wrangling a tiny human as they lay all kinds of contorted in the middle of your king bed, lashing their head back and forth so you can’t use the damn sucky-bulb thing the hospital (thankfully) gave you. Spoiler alert. HARDEST. THING. EVER.

As a mom, it’s my job to make her as comfortable as I can, which I acknowledge is not always easy and honestly, not always possible. But relieving some of her congestion felt like it shouldn’t be that difficult. YOU GUYS. We tried the bulb. She hated it. Obviously. We tried that crazy saline spray injector. It worked… sort of, but of course… she HATED it. We tried warm baths and warm wash cloths. That herbal, infant friendly, not really Vicks VapoRub, but basically the same thing, cream. Kept boogie wipes within arm’s reach. Gave all the snuggles. Sang all the songs. We did it all.

Finally, after what felt like three months, the congestion started to clear up. YESSSSS! We survived!! But as most of you know, with congestion comes drainage, so almost exactly a day or two later, she started to run a fever. OF COURSE. Insert all the crying face emojis here. Friday night we noticed her acting different. She was very snuggly – which if you have an 8, almost 9-month-old, you know is not the norm anymore - acted tired even though she wasn’t ready for bed and was very calm… like too calm. So as soon as we got her home from dinner, we checked her temperature.

Anyone have one of those forehead and ear digital thermometers?! As I was registering for gifts, I read every review and recommendation for ‘health’ items. This thermometer came highly recommended and got tons of rave reviews, so I added that sucker to the list! When no one purchased it, I made sure to buy it myself so we’d have it before she arrived. A thermometer we can use with very little effort = A MUST. I say all of that to say… even after all of the research and reviews, every time I need to take Em’s temperature, it’s a multi-step process. We first use the digital forehead reader. We take all kinds of temps for her – forehead, right temple, left temple, right ear, left ear… our own forehead to get a base temp, then back to her forehead to make sure it’s reading the same thing. And after all of those readings, which of course normally range by as much as 2 degrees (a big freaking deal in baby body temp numbers!!), I still end up reaching for old faithful – the under the armpit thermometer.  

By this time, we’ve taken all 47 of her temperatures and decided it’s definitely high – as in 102/103 high. We tried to cool her off with washcloths and a bath which she definitely enjoyed playing in, but was still super warm after. We tried clear liquids. YEAH. RIGHT. We’ve been working on her drinking water out of a transition sippy cup for a while now, and we’ve made it as far as her enjoying banging it against the food on her high chair tray, giving us a huge grin, then dangling the cup over the edge – I swear she counts to three – and finally dropping it off the side, only to stare down at it until we pick it up. Best. Game. EVER! I’m told this is a huge part of learning for babies. For me… I’m learning patience. And that glaring at your child is (1) probably not the best idea and (2) gets you nowhere because she so seriously just laughs hysterically… right at my face. Forget clear liquids – we opted for formula. Some liquid is better than none, right?!

After all of these efforts, we ended up with a clean baby, drinking her bottle of milk but still running a high temperature and not able to fall asleep - so we decided to make the call to the after-hours doctor’s line. If you’ve ever had to call this line, you know the first person who answers is there solely to collect your information and then page the nurse. Me, having never had to call, politely responded to her hello and then after hearing silence on the other line for a few seconds, began to explain what was going on. She let me explain damn near the whole situation before telling me all she needs is her name, birthdate, doctor’s name and the most concerning symptom. Well alright then! Start with that next time!

Once the nurse called back, my husband ran interference on the call as I relayed information back to him and tried to simultaneously calm my now over-tired and feverish infant. The nurse asked a ton of questions and gave us some things to try and watch out for. We ended up with a prognosis of – keep an eye on her and if the fever stays over 102.2 for more than 24 hours, take her in. While I’m thankful she didn’t send us straight to the ER, part of me was thinking.. ALL OF THIS to ‘keep an eye on her?!’ What do you think I do with her the rest of the time!? Just doing their job – I get it. I made a 230am run to Kroger for Pedialyte, which was also an epic fail, and we finally got her to bed around 430a that morning.

By noon the next day, we were doing our hourly temp check and that damn forehead digital thermometer read 105.3. EFF THIS. I threw on yoga pants and a t-shirt, packed her diaper bag and got the hell out of the house and up to urgent care. Poor girl had a middle ear infection in her left ear and was running a high temp because of it. The nurse got us ibuprofen with a quickness to lower her temp, we got our prescription for amoxicillin and were on our way out the door. Literally the most efficient doctor’s appointment I���ve ever experienced. So at least there’s that.

Fast forward to that evening when we’re supposed to give her the antibiotics. I shit you not, she channeled her inner gymnast and was ALL OVER THE PLACE. She whipped her head around. Snapped her mouth shut. Pushed away with both hands. You name it, she tried it. Then, once we finally got her mouth open, she figured out how to push her tongue to her lips so the medicine came flowing back out. YOU GUYS. SHE FIGURED OUT HOW TO MAKE A BARRICADE WITH HER TONGUE. What?! As frustrating as that was, I have to admit I was super impressed! That took some quick thinking and problem solving on her part – because obviously my child is a genius! After some trial and error, we identified the scary syringe coming straight at her face was the root cause of the sheer terror and hysterics around taking her medicine. We now measure out the antibiotics, put it in one of the ramekins we normally use to feed her dinner and spoon fed it to her one bite at a time. She loves it. LOVES it. Gets mad and bangs her hands on the table when we don’t feed it to her fast enough and it’s gone. #whateverworks

Fast forward again to today. Fever is gone. Ear infection is mostly gone with just a little residual fluid that’s moved to her other ear. Last dose of the delicious amoxicillin is this evening. But the freaking congestion is back. To top it all off, we’re getting on a plane tomorrow night. #prayforme

Whoever came up with the description ‘common cold’ clearly doesn’t have an infant.

Em’s mom

[thatmomforem]

#thewhy

I think it’s important to share ‘the why’ behind these posts for me. It’s certainly cathartic to sit down and map out all of my thoughts - partially to confirm I’m not crazy and mostly to laugh at that crazy I claim not to be. At the same time, writing has always come natural to me, so trying my hand at a blog has long been on my bucket list. 

Those things aside, the real why behind actually pulling up this website, spending far too long deciding on the most simple format and ultimately turning to a word doc so I could first and foremost formulate what became my first entry, is simply to share. Share with new moms who might be feeling the same. Share with experienced moms who can think back to these days, laugh at or laugh with me and maybe recall one of your favorite memories. Share with the soon-to-be moms who are out there reading far more than you’ll ever remember, but need a break from all of the so called rules of parenting. Share with those who aren’t a mom themselves, but might need a glimpse into the mind of a mom to understand why your mom is the way she is. 

Right after Em was born, I felt like I needed ALL of the information. I would sift through and pick what was most recommended, or seemed to be most successful or the top rated or the safest at a later time... but first, I needed to get my hands on all of it. I had my mom on speed dial with my dad, the Pharmacist, right behind her. I have NICU and PICU nurses in my corner that allowed me to throw up a bat signal no matter what insane hour it was. And our best friends to bug with daily questions who had a baby not six months earlier. Mom panic loves company, right?! 

Even with all of these people aimed and ready to shoot back any piece of advice I needed, I found myself wanting more. Enter the mommy-centered Facebook groups, names need not be mentioned. Over the next weeks and months, I would scour those pages, reading every article. Every question posed. Every lengthy answer and counter-question. Second guessing many of the choices I was making. I genuinely didn’t know any better. What if their way really was better?! 

As the weeks passed, I found myself constantly glued to these groups and the updates - because let’s get real, there is definitely no shortage of articles and advice to be read. 

Around the time I started to feel Em and I’s breastfeeding days were numbered, it magically seemed many of those posts were centered around how to make it to the one year mark nursing. How to bring back your supply. How to up your supply. Posts asking for advice and commiseration because the thought of such a special journey ending was too tough to bear. 

I started to find myself feeling the same way. I wasn’t ready to give up this time that was so special to us. This thing that calms my baby in almost any situation. This thing that gets her to sleep when she’s having a rough day or rough night. This thing that only I can provide her. That’s solely ours. 

I know I talked my mom’s ear off about what I should do and how I felt about it, and I’m sure my husband thought I was a nut case. How is this woman that was on the verge of quitting on a hourly basis for so many weeks in the beginning, now so distraught at the idea of stopping?! 

I needed to step back, take a look at myself and ask, how do I really feel about this journey coming to a close? Seriously though...how great is it going to be for her daddy to tap into more feedings? To wear a regular bra?! To not worry about nursing friendly clothes? To throw on a dress! YES! Put me down for all of this!

It quickly became glaringly obvious... I needed to remove myself from all of these groups, literally and figuratively. Too many thoughts that weren’t my own, constantly ramming into one another in my head. Too many unwanted opinions. Too much unsolicited advice. Too much mom-shaming. I was done. 

We made it 7.5 months breastfeeding and supplemented with formula every day. We co-slept for the first 5 months of her life, and I loved it. I couldn’t imagine putting her in her crib until I went out of town for my best friend’s bachelorette party and came home to a child that - in a matter of 3 days - was now a crib sleeper. And you know what, I love that too. She started solids at 4 months because my precious babe was desperate to eat off our plates. There are days I give in and let her play with my (sanitized) cell phone. I bought a brand new jumper the same week I bought used clothes from a consignment sale. I gave up iPad sign-ins and daily photo updates from daycare for a better monthly rate at a little church daycare down the street. 

WHO. CARES. She’s the most incredible little lady and we’re doing so much more than fine. 

So my purpose here is to simply share... a little bit of my crazy mom thoughts and some of my crazy antics - in hopes of giving you a tiny break from the opinions, advice and mom-shaming I’ve seen way too much of. 

There’s no advice here. No opinions. No mom-shaming. Just me, Em, daddy and Thor happily dancing through this thing we call parenthood. 

Em’s Mom

[thatmomforem]

#imthatmom

Let me start by saying this isn’t going to be groundbreaking. It’s not new news. It’s just me and my thoughts at 1:17a on a Wednesday - sharing, because I genuinely feel there are some things we can’t hear enough.

You guys. Let’s level set. Very much like what I have to assume is most every woman when she finds out she’s pregnant - and as she navigates the 40 weeks ahead - I had all sorts of ideas about the type of mom I was going to be. Breastfeed exclusively – YES. No questions about it. Make my own baby food – DUH. Isn’t it cheaper and so much better for baby? The nursery will be immaculate. We’re going to take all the bump pictures along the way, followed by monthly pics of baby! Who wouldn’t want those memories of a lifetime?

But guess what? I know you’re shocked to hear it… I’m that mom, or in this case… not that mom. I started off exclusively breastfeeding per my plan. On day 3 of Em being earth side, the doctor basically told me she was starving – at least that’s what my new mom ears heard. Our pediatrician – who I adore – hesitated, stepped back a little and asked me how I felt about supplementing. How I felt. Correct me if I’m wrong… didn’t you just say my baby is getting damn near no food and dropping weight like crazy? Point me in the direction of the closest formula! I continued to try and breastfeed, but that excruciating process almost came to a screeching halt less than two weeks later. Through a ton of support, Em and I finally got the hang of it, but I didn’t hesitate to continue to supplement on a daily basis. We hear so many opinions, *some* of which say ‘fed is best.’ Put me in that bucket – I’m that mom.

I do make my own purees for Em. But take one step in my kitchen and you’ll find Gerber oatmeal, four canisters of blueberry puffs, two pouches of yogurt melties and pre-bottled applesauce, because let’s get real – easy and efficient have their advantages too. YEP. That mom.

I had to have the bookshelf in the shape of a boat to go with her nautical whale theme – because what baby can successfully join this world without a themed nursery?! The boat bookshelf is so, so adorable, but so, so tiny. Now it’s so, SO full. Honestly, it’s been full since before she was born. And there are now two dangerously high stacks of books on the floor, but I’ll deal with those when she starts crawling. #thatmom

My husband recently went to edit pictures he took of a friends wedding and I noticed a few pictures of myself towards the end of my pregnancy. Didn’t even remember they were there. Didn’t post them anywhere online. Didn’t print them. Honestly, he had to fight me to take them. It’s hard feeling like you still resemble yourself when you’re looking in the mirror at 8 months pregnant, but then you look at the 5 photos someone just took and see a completely different person. More power to the women who are beyond comfortable with their very pregnant bodies – I’m not that mom.

And as for monthly baby pictures with the same stuffed animal so you can see how she’s growing – Well. We suck. I would love to have those but at the same time, I’ve so seriously said out loud, ‘we have so many pictures of this child from week to week, we could just go back and look at the dates, find ones around the right time each month and use those for monthly pictures, right!?” Also said out loud to my soon-to-be architect and very artsy husband… ‘how bad would it honestly be to Photoshop in the stuffed animal we used for her one month pictures?!” Even after all of these conversations and me acknowledging we should probably take these pictures… I sit here 8 months later and nothing’s changed. #thatmom

I didn’t start researching daycares until two weeks before I went back to work because I was in straight up denial about leaving my tiny human. I cried about having to go back to work. I had to give myself pep talks. I work to provide the kind of lifestyle I want her to have. I work so we can go on family vacations. So I can buy the obscene toys at Target that are going to drive my OCD crazy laying all around our house solely because she points to them and gives me the look everyone talks about. Or because it’s her half birthday and she doesn’t really have any toys besides stuffed animals. Real life that happened. I went ham on toys for her ‘half birthday’ because she didn’t have enough of them. I’m that mom.

Then, I went back to work. And though the first couple of days were brutal, I came to enjoy it – god forbid, right?. In a perfect world, I’d work part-time and spend just as many hours with her as I do at work, BUT I genuinely enjoy the adult time. Time where someone else gets to take a stab at the three poopy diapers she so lovingly offers within three hours. I wish all the time that I could spend every hour staring at this wondrous daughter of mine, but at the same time, there are days I look forward to going in to the office. Put me down as that wishy-washy, couldn’t make up her mind if her life depended on it, lost her damn mind lady who will give you a four paragraph explanation of every version of her truth when you ask ‘How’s being back at work?’ I’m her. I’m that mom.

Sometimes I research shit until I drive myself insane. Other times, I’m completely fine riding the coattails of the research my best friends have done. One of your best friends has a baby six months before you?! What kind of car seat did you end up buying? CHECK! Adding it to the registry as we speak! Headed to the beach with Em for the first time… RIDICULOUS, INSANE, ultimately UNNECESSARY amounts of research done to spend $14 on the tiniest tube of sunscreen lacquer on the market. End result? My child has her daddy’s skin, so she still got some color. She didn’t burn though… So I threw my hands in the air. That feels like a win! Now... after all of that, did you say Giggle brand sunscreen is on clearance at Kohls? BRB, going to buy them ALL! I’m definitely that mom.

Baby food. Dear Lord, BABY FOOD. When do I transition to solids? How much of the purees do I start with? Which ones? Give me a list of the foods that I should wait to introduce until 8 months. Then 10 months. And don’t forget the ones that will cause allergies, because you definitely want to wait until at least a year for those. I googled the hell out of those questions. I called my mom. A lot. I consulted one of my best friends who’s a NICU nurse. I pinned all the charts. Tonight for dinner my 8 month old ate as many cold peas as she wanted, 3 puffs, 1 sliced strawberry and a watered down, melted Pedialyte popsicle out of her sippy cup because that’s the only way my child was getting electrolytes after running a fever. Find that on a chart. #thatmom

I’m not writing this to leave you with any infinite words of wisdom - I don’t have them. I know some will agree, some will disagree and most will probably be that mom that falls somewhere in the middle. Whether you’re a mom reading this from your Facebook feed while wrangling your brood, a friend getting some laughter out of this crazy world that is my new life or anyone in between – I hope you’ve enjoyed. Maybe related. But most of all, remembered that we’re all living day to day, making the decisions that are best for us.

I skip the monthly pictures and opt for the video of her sitting in daddy’s lap, going tit for tat as we see how many times she’ll roar after he roars. I introduced strawberries at 8 months instead of 12 months. I bought the expensive, organic, this, that and everything free sunscreen. I don’t fit into my pre-pregnancy jeans and I haven’t started to do anything about it…. And you know what – we’re both still doing great!  

Em’s Mom