Where have these last 2 months gone?

I have some explaining to do.

I wish I could say that the last 2 months of not writing or publishing were filled with life-changing travels, or that I have been taking a break to write and publish my soon-to-be best-selling novel. Well, I won't say that these 2 months have been dull or boring. They have been the opposite--filled with adventures of a different kind.

Emerson is now 15-months-old, heading quickly to 16 months. He is walking, nearly running at times, climbing, making "conversation", drumming, feeding himself (with his new molars helping with the eating process), and all sorts of other new talents each day. In these past months, he has endured some major changes in his short life. Most of these changes came from just growing up. No more mom feedings, no more baby room at daycare, and then his mom and dad throw in the biggest change- a big move to a new house!

The main reason why I've been M.I.A. in the blogging world is because we moved. November 13th, we closed on our new house. My last post was published Nov. 7. I believe there is a correlation there. After we closed, we had 1 week to pack up and get ready for the big move. November 21, we moved. Because we are not selling our old house, but renting it out, we were really not under any deadlines, so the move wasn't exactly swift. Over the following weeks, we moved our stuff a little by little. We still had to maintain our "normal" lives, like me finishing a semester, Emerson's activities, and Kyle working full time and a bit further away after the move. So, the hope of being fully moved in by the holidays came and went. We were fortunate enough to put up a tree, but did little other decorating inside. The outside of the house had to keep with the Jones', as our neighborhood is in competition with the Griswalds when it comes to holiday decor. Luckily, we were scheduled to be in the Colorado mountains for the holidays themselves, so it was ok.

Then, I SWORE I would write during my break. But it was instead spent furniture shopping, organizing boxes, trying to figure out what we still needed, interviewing contractors for some updating of the new house, starting a new workout regime, and just enjoying my time off with Emerson. I never wrote.

Then, we started second semester. I found myself coming up with ideas for new posts. I found myself scheduling writing time into my busy weeks. But each time I picked up my computer, I found something else more pressing to do.

So, this week, I felt it. I felt the void that not writing had left in my heart. From nowhere, the emotions came pouring out. I mourned the loss of my art. I use writing as a form of release for all the stresses that being a full-time teacher and mom bring into my life. While trying to plan for some new adventures in our future- remodeling and getting a National Board Certification- I realized that I was thinking of the future in sacrifice of the present. The present is the moments that I capture when I blog about being Emerson's mom. This blog IS his baby book. It is what I can pass down to him in the future when he asks me about what it was like when he was a baby. He can read what I wrote about our times and see how much we have always loved him.

All that being said, I am back. And this time, I am not going to let the other distractions in life keep me from taking this time for me, to do what I love to do, and to reflect on the present before these memories start to fade with the new memories yet to be created. I may not write as often as I would like, but all those back-logged blog ideas will come to fruition, and I can continue to share my experiences with the other moms, friends, and family out there who have been reading this all along.

Thank you for understanding and for your continued support.

I leave you with some adorable recent pictures of the little rascal.

Arizona fall happens in January! This is the new backyard!!!

The new place! See, there ARE Christmas lights on the outside!

Taking a walk

Happy and drooling! This is what happens when you get molars!

To Be or Not To Be...

Is there a mom rehab? If so, I really need to enroll in it.

I may seem to jest, but there is a level of urgency in my quest to figure out this whole balance thing.

Let me elaborate a bit.

As it does every year, the school year closed out last week with a bit of a bang. And then a whimper. I hit a maximum peak (on a relative scale of the entire Rocky Mountain range) of stress (per the metaphor, this happens regularly, not just at this time of year), with AP testing, finishing grades, chasing down student work that has been missing since January, and planning for next year simultaneously. It can be compared to any major push in any field, whether a new marketing campaign, or a product going live, or a system overhaul of protocol. We all feel stress at some points in our careers, and some of us just worry more about doing a good job and being at the top of our fields despite the level of intensity it may require. Anyway, in teaching, it is nearly impossible for me to do just the minimum and I push myself consistently. It is no wonder that given the newest stage of our lives-parenthood- that I wanted to quit more regularly than ever.

Quit being a mother that is.

I know that this statement may be opening myself up to loads of criticism, but as I mentioned in the past, there is a level of truth that I believe needs to be shared and discussed, and without this conversation happening, women everywhere are going to continue to think that they are alone, and that they are weird.

So yes, it is not my job that I contemplated eliminating from my daily grind. I'd take all that stress, that elevated level of responsibility coupled with cuts in pay, that thankless crowd that walks in and out of the doors daily, that group of misinformed parents or politicians or other coworkers who don't see the full picture, over the trials of figuring out how to parent ANY day.

This is the first time in my life when I have failed. How did I exactly fail, you ask? Well, I was DEAD WRONG about how well I was mentally and physically prepared, for one. Let me illustrate: I knew when I was 12 that I wanted to be a teacher. I wrote an essay about it in a book of essays I published in English that year. I wrote about changing lives through literature and that I wanted to help support students who were struggling or who just needed motivation. I never really strayed from that goal, and I spent the next decade of my life following the steps to get to that goal. I have a Master's in Education, a Bachelor's in English, and 10 years of experience in the classroom, and I can honestly say that there was never a time when I felt like "Gee, I was way off on this plan, this isn't right for me".

I thought that I had done the same in preparation for becoming a mother. Watching my mom "be a mother" my entire life, I felt like there was nothing more that I was meant for in this world than to be a mother myself. I played with dolls, Barbies, my own siblings, and was a babysitter, nanny, and day care employee for at least the same length of time that I was preparing to become a teacher, if not longer.  I mean, I chose a career that allowed me to be on the same schedule as my kids so that I could be a mother AND a teacher. I dreamed of the day when I'd actually see all my years of practice become a reality. Through my whole pregnancy, I felt excited, relaxed, and totally open to whatever was about to happen.

And then we were blessed with this incredible son. He is just perfect. He slept through the night early on (albeit not anymore), he smiles ALL THE TIME, he likes everyone, he sleeps in crowded restaurants and concerts or in the quiet of home, he never turns down a bottle or anything you feed him for that matter, and he is rarely sick. I mean, the ideal situation. And my husband just falls right into fatherhood, like I always knew he would, playing fun games, getting Emerson to smile on camera, volunteering to wake up in the wee hours to dress him and washing breast pump parts at night. He is amazing.

SO WHAT THE HELL?! Why do I feel like I am drowning and that I will never be the mother that I always thought I'd be? Why can't I just enjoy this perfect, wonderful little man and my outstanding family and the outstanding life we created? Like a parasite eating away at me, I only feel worse and worse. I know that I am falling behind on work. I know that my house is a toxic mental environment filled with too much clutter to focus on any given task. I know that I am letting Emerson down. I have let myself down. I have failed.

Imagine that the one thing that you waited for 30 years for was all an illusion. Reality has caused me many tears, many sleepless nights, and many panic attacks full of anxiety. Not only am I struggling daily with keeping Emerson happy, I am also struggling to balance work, which I still have a passion for and love, with my home life, which I'd rather avoid than face some days.

And that is why I need mom rehab.

Not to mention that I am completely surrounded by women that make it look so easy! Confident, capable, balanced women.  Women who are creative. Women who have sacrificed time, energy, talent, and sometimes careers because they knew that being a mother was their priority. I have friends who didn't just use Pinterest, but CREATED Pinterest pins. Seriously, I have friends whose party ideas or room designs are now the subject of complete strangers' "vision boards". I have friends with not just 1 kid, but 2, 3, or 4! I know women who can spend 8-10 hours a day with just their children and not feel like a lunatic at the end of it. I know women who volunteer for charitable organizations that support moms like me who need rehab.

So maybe that is just my perception, but it is one that is creating an obsession with figuring out a solution before poor Emerson becomes a statistic.  "Boys whose mothers never enrolled them in sports." "Boys whose mothers neglected to throw them a theme party for their first birthday". "Boys living with their single dads."

As Hamlet contemplated in one of the most famous scenes of Shakespeare, I, too, have wondered whether "tis nobler to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune" or "by opposing, end them." It would be downright selfish of me to quit being a mother, so I know I never will. But that doesn't mean that I haven't wanted to. That doesn't mean that on my worst days I didn't wish that I could just go to work, rock it in the classroom, and come home to a good martini and a husband whose time was not shared with a 3rd human. The darkest moment was when I thought about granting him full custody and moving to another state to start over. Again, I sadly, but fortunately, knew that the social repercussions of doing such an action would have caused such emotional distress that there was no way I'd actually do that. But again, feeling inadequate as a mom and not feeling like I had the power or skills to keep Emerson happy (apart from keeping him fed) isn't something I've been immune to. It is the dark side of motherhood and I am not going to sit here and deny it.

On the positive side, I know that there is a solution. Many, many people, who I have started to reach out to and share this story with, have told me that a mother's first job is to take care of herself so that she CAN take care of her children and husband. So there, the first step of mom rehab is admitting you have a problem. My problem is that I can count on 1 hand how many things I have done for myself in the past 7.5 months. Not for the advancement of my career. Not for the well-being of my husband. Not for the social gratification. FOR ME ALONE. So, I guess I'll start accepting ideas. Step 2 of mom rehab- having faith that this small start will eventually lead to me finding complete happiness again. And to stop feeling like a horrible mom.

Emerson playing at daycare on dressy day!

Is breast feeding the best feeding??

This post began in week 5. Since then, my issues have been partially resolved, however my attitude continues to fluctuate. I finally got out skiing this past week during Spring Break in Colorado. It amazed me how much I had to alter my old routine to fit in the breastfeeding. I never realized just how much was involved with skiing until I had to think about pumping, feeding, child care, and how to transport everyone and everything. I wound up feeding Emerson on the sidewalk outside a coffee shop because I had no where else to feed him. This experience reminded me of this old post that I had yet to complete, and I decided to complete it.

Emerson owns this Old Navy onesie...

Here is the original post:
I admit to being a bit self-righteous when I declared that I'd be breast feeding Emerson. I did not anticipate the true challenge that was ahead of me at that time. I feel that I need to write this post to help other to-be moms who are making the decision on whether or not to breast feed, as well as be a support for those moms going through the same situation, and struggle, as me.

I really believe that there is something natural to breastfeeding. I know that I am providing the nutrients Emerson needs. But, being that he is only in the 15% range for weight right now, I found myself afraid that I wasn't providing what he needs, although he is still showing weight gain and growth, the only requirements for a doctor to determine whether or not breastfeeding is working out exclusively. So this is one of the moments when I feared that I may need to rethink my original decision for him.

Then, there is the discomfort. I don't know at this moment how I am going to ever work out and bounce again?! It is not the chapped pain, but more like I am bruised, and each suck causes excruciating pain. I may be one of the blessed few who never get past the pain of beginning breastfeeding. This is honestly quite devastating to me. I really want to continue to feed him, but I also cannot sacrifice myself.

So, I began to pump, and it isn't necessarily unsuccessful, but it feels like I never get enough out to save for a whole feeding, I always have to combine one or two pumps for a whole bottle. I don't know how in the next 2 and a half weeks I will build up a store for going back to work. And then there is work. That is seriously stressing me out. How will I schedule pumpings, feedings, and sleep?! I cannot think about it too long or I just lose my mind!

Unless, of course, I start supplementing with formula. Which I did. I gave in and it makes me feel like I have failed. I feel like now that I've used a bottle, my milk will slowly start to diminish, my son's tastes will turn to formula over breastmilk, and this whole goal will go out the window. I wanted to make it at least a month without formula, and I did, but now that I've seen the bit of peace and joy I can have from giving a bottle instead of breastfeeding- freedom! Tempting, really tempting.

And here are my added thoughts after 5 months of exclusively breast-feeding:
It is truly tempting to give up breastfeeding and instead give Emerson bottles. I can now completely understand and respect women who either cannot breastfeed due to complications, discomfort, or lifestyle. I sometimes think of how nice it would be to have Kyle take one night so I could sleep completely uninterrupted. Not to mention having the ability to enjoy a glass of wine without thinking "how long until I need to feed Emerson again?" I have a personal goal to make it through our upcoming travels to Peru exclusively breastfeeding. After that, I may need to face the reality that I just can't get as much done as needs to get done with a baby attached to me between 5 and 7 times a day.  Considering that I have to go in to the nursery at work to feed him twice a day, I also am not nearly as productive at work during my prep time. This continuous pattern of feeding led to a near mental breakdown. Hence why it may not be worth it for much longer if I want to regain some of my freedom and sanity.

On the other hand, I also now completely respect the women who, like me, chose to take the breastfeeding route. It takes serious commitment, a high tolerance for pain, patience, and lots of cell phone data usage. I do not miss the hour-and-a-half feeding sessions of the first two months of Emerson's life, but I do miss the extra time that I used to spend with him. I love the smile on Emerson's face when he sees me and his "tent" (my drape), and his little grins when he is full and looking up at me with a sense of gratitude. I love of satisfaction of getting a good burp out of him, and the hilarity of his "rooting" behaviors (shoulders, arms, belly... all are fair game when he is hungry). Since it is no longer painful, and Emerson eats in about 20 minutes or less, this breastfeeding thing was worth sticking to and I think that, for me, it was the right decision.

But, it has been one long-strange trip. I was nowhere NEAR prepared for the actual discomfort, for the frustration, for the stress of pumping and saving to return to work, but I can assure other struggling moms out there that it DOES get easier. Also, don't believe that 2-3 weeks is all it may take, like I did, but know that it could be much longer before it begins to be painless and become a routine and not a struggle.

I will recommend a breastfeeding app to help you keep track of which side you last fed on, rotating sides to help balance out the supply (so one boob isn't leaking and the other empty), and turning to other moms for support when you need it. Also, as my good friend told me, don't fear the occasional bottle of formula to help you "get ahead" in the storage game. I am lucky in that Emery didn't seem to know the difference, except for smelly poo afterwards, and I wish I wouldn't have been so afraid of the bottle.

So, there you have it, my thoughts on the ever-embattled topic of breast vs. bottle feeding. To sum it up, do what you want, what works for you and your family, and don't be ashamed to give up or to give in, but also don't give in too soon.

Well, I may not be mother of the year...

I am going to have to confess that I went into this motherhood thing all high-and-mighty, thinking that "I won't stoop" to the level of allowing my kid to do ___________________ (fill in the blank).

One of those "I will not" thoughts was about watching TV. Truthfully, my husband and I are pretty much addicted, both being raised on popular kids' television shows like Sesame Street and Thundercats (Hey! They are equally educational, really) so really it was dumb of me to think this was a realistic expectation.

I have secretly (guess not so secretly anymore) judged some others, friends and strangers, who seemed to use the electronic device as a distraction in just about any situation (sorry guys, I still love you, though). The only reason for this being that my husband is an absolute addict, seldom seen without his tablet, IPad, and phone in hand. In public, at home, on the pot, in the car--he earns an allowance from me if he can successfully make it through a movie or dinner without looking at the screen. So really, my judgement was not based on my friends' actions at all, but based on the fear that my own children would turn out like their father.

Alas, reality is here and present. There are just times when I know that I won't get anything done, like going pee, or showering, or sleeping, unless I utilize this most powerful of all forms of distraction and entertainment. Sure, the good ol' outdoors and a stroller ride does the trick, but the last time I checked it was impossible to do dishes without a source of water, and even more so illegal to urinate in public. So, I tried it out. Emerson's chair is in our TV room. When I know I need a good solid 15 minutes to do something, I can pretty much count on his full attention being given to the TV if it is on and he is sitting in his chair. Sure, recently he has been pretty good about playing on his play mats, so this is rapidly becoming a solid alternative. But, there are just times when the flashing lights and wicked soundtracks are all I need for some mommy time.

Emerson's favorites include football or basketball, as there is a lot of movement and a ton of faces, and commercials with jingles. He also does pretty well with shows that contain musical numbers, like The Sing Off. However, nothing has proven as effective as animated features, from Bubble Guppies to Finding Nemo. At one point, during one of these animated shows, he actually started to coo and talk to the TV characters as if they were speaking his language.

Just like his papa, Emerson's eyes get so wide when he is watching the TV. He zones out, and no matter what I do, from snapping my fingers and calling his name, to picking him up, he maintains eye contact and concentration. This has proven helpful at restaurants, too.

So there you have it, I have learned the true reason why others' have utilized the electronic device, and I am now a proud member of that group. Trust me, I know how important it is to brush your teeth everyday, and I have the TV to thank for that.

Teakwoods- like father like son!

Watching with daddy (and notice his tablet is nearby)

They actually both looked away from the TV for a minute here...

Distracted but content

At least they are bonding...

The Life Nocturnal

So, being a mom has brought a whole new meaning to the term "night owl". I have NEVER liked to be the first one asleep. Nor have I been one to enjoy the morning. Thus, the transition from staying up until midnight and sleeping in until nine to going to bed at nine and not sleeping in at all has been a tough one.

I long for nap time on Saturday and Sunday mornings, which begins around 8:00 a.m. (a time at which I would normally still be asleep pre-baby), and lasts until 10:30 or so.

However, we are fortunate in that our little man falls under the "good sleeper" category.

I truly don't mind getting up for my middle-of-the-night feedings. During this time, I have gotten to experience a whole new world. Kind of like when I was on maternity leave and discovered the wonders of daytime T.V., the life nocturnal has allowed me to explore yet another alternative universe.

For instance, at 2:30 in the morning, one can hear their neighbors yelling at their 14-year-old son to come out of his locked room because they are worried about the nature of the note he has written to them on his door.

At 4:00 in the morning, one can hear her other neighbor return home in a taxi after a night at the strip club.

At 6:00 in the morning, one can see a multitude of neighbors walking their dogs past your house, up to the mountain trail, up the mountain trail, and back again.

I have also discovered what so many other moms have talked about in middle-of-the-night feedings. ME time.

That is the time when I can sit in the most comfortable chair in the house, pull up the good ol' Facebook on my phone, catch up on the posts of the day, and relax a bit. I can read hundreds of re-shared links that I would have never given myself the time to read on my old busy schedule. It is because of this "me time" that I learned "Which Disney Princess Are You" and "Which City Should You Live In" (the answers are Belle and Capetown respectively).  I cried over some of the most heart-warming videos and stories I'd ever seen (DAMN YOU Google commercials), and laughed at the most ridiculous of posts that should not have been that funny had it not been 3:15 a.m. and I had only slept 10 hours in the last 38. (Thanksgiving as a Kid vs. Thanksgiving as an Adult on The Oatmeal, for one).

Not only do I do a lot of social networking, reading a bunch of posts, but I am also addicted to a couple of games. 7 Little Words and their Daily Puzzles are my nighttime staple. Then there is Words With Friends. It is amazing that my tired brain can score any points on words, but I think I revert to my English teacher side to play in a half-daze. Last there is Random Mahjong. That little game used to make an hour-long feeding feel like no time whatsoever.

It hasn't all been fun and games, however. My old nightlife was filled with bar time and stupid T.V. My new nightlife has allowed me to research issues I care about. Reading Outside's posts often teach me the power of the position of first responders, or the true danger of living a life of adventure. I have read articles about parenting, making me feel less lost in the process of learning how to be a mom. I feel all around that I have more knowledge about my world and my desire to explore the unknown.

Sadly, these midnight feedings are much shorter these days. It is hard to fit in Pinterest after completing my other steps. I find myself sometimes staying up after Emerson has already fallen back asleep to finish a game, to finish reading a story, or to just enjoy those last few minutes of "me time" in the quiet of the evening. (Even with snores from Kyle emanating from the room next door).

New moms and old moms alike, welcome to the life nocturnal. Now, I hope that I can sleep in just a bit tomorrow so I can fully enjoy my next evening of me time.

The moon over our neighborhood...

And the moon rise over the Superstitions...

Tuesday's Truth

I hate to tell you about this website that I found, for fear that you will stop reading what I have to say and instead turn to the truth and hilarity that Scary Mommy contains, but there, I did it. Please don't leave!

I am not the most liberal of all minds, nor am I close to prude or politically correct, but man do I enjoy a good satirical commentary. It must be the English teacher in me. I find it hard to focus on the serious, to be serious in the face of stress, or to write without using hyperbole. For that matter, I truly found my kindred spirits on Scary Mommy, and whether or not you are in agreement with my parenting style, feelings about parenting, or sense of humor in general, I am only whole when I can acknowledge my faults and limitations as a mom, as a woman, or as a person. So, that is my disclaimer, I guess, that anything I say that you may find revolting, worrisome, perhaps even insulting, is more for ME than for YOU. I need this blog, I need this release, and because I write it, I am good.

If I were to never say anything that I write, then you should be worried. I'd be cowering in a corner, singing nursery rhymes repetitively to the wrong tunes in the wrong keys, and praying for the grandmas and husband to save me from the insanity that is surely lurking in the near future.

Alright, now that I've got that out of my system, read this article to better understand where I am coming from: Baby 101

After my last post about the "truth" that I've experienced, I realized that yes, I, too, was an idealist who didn't want to hear it before I had Emerson. I thought that I could conquer any random problem that came with parenting with a little charm and creativity, just like I have solved countless other social and scholastic problems with much success. Turns out, I have learned the hardest lesson. The lesson is this:

I need more than myself, (my charm and creativity,) to survive.

I need the love of my family members who take care of Emerson when I just can't hold him for another second without losing all feeling in my left hand.
I need the friends who have gone before me and learned the lessons "the hard way" (AKA, "first"), and have been my lifeline from the start. Thank you for tolerating my endless desperate questions.
I need my coworkers who stepped in when I had my first real absence from work, unexpectedly 2 weeks early. And who continue to cover my butt when mommy brain prevents me from being as competent as I once was. And who allow for me to go visit Emerson, pump in the middle of the day, and sometimes take a little too long a lunch by covering for my classes.
I need the humor of the online community who find that parenting really looks much different in reality than in the idealized parenting classes, books, and movies. Read The Cantrell Clan, written by my sorority sister, for another good example.

I need people. And I am really bad at that. I don't even like asking my own husband for help, for fear that it is admitting my weakness and defeat. I hope that I can continue to work on this in 2014, consider it a New Year's resolution.

So thank you, people, for being my outlet, for being my support, and for continuing to read without being bribed by adorable pictures of the cutest little man in the world! I need you, too.

Many cards from many of my biggest supporters and role models

The truth is out there

I recently read an article in Fit Pregnancy about how we need to be more honest with expectant mothers, or other women in general, when it comes to pregnancy, childbirth, and motherhood. The tendency is to claim to have "forgotten" all the bad (which is true with time) and to only provide positive reinforcement with statements like "It is SOOOOO wonderful", or "You just don't know love until you have your own child". Let's be real. These statements are only used as propaganda so we can have other women to complain about motherhood with, or to compare ourselves so we can "be better" than another mother.

I believe that there are some things I need to say (before I, too, forget the bad parts) and I don't think it is fair that these things aren't more commonly discussed.

First, the pain of labor really does take your breath away, but we are stronger than we think. However, trumping all that is the ridiculousness of recovery. When that epidural (should you choose to have one) wears off, the reality sinks in. You have a major injury from which you will need to recover. Be it C-section or vaginal delivery, your body is aching. I felt everything for the first week, each time I shifted positions. My back felt bruised from the epidural. My legs were still puffy and swollen. I am not even going to discuss the process of going to the bathroom (you don't appreciate mere toilet paper and public restrooms until you realize you can't leave the house without your peri bottle and you can't pee without first prepping by filling said bottle). TAKE THE NUMBING SPRAY FROM THE HOSPITAL.

Next, and this is what I am really writing this for, is the loss of self becoming a mother causes. I had spent 32 years forming my identity, developing my career, and becoming the individual I felt was truly "me". I just settled into my identity as a wife and teacher, and then that was suddenly swept out from under me as I had to readjust to motherhood. I kind of resent this.

I loved my life as a teacher. I felt like I had complete control of my own destiny and day. Becoming a mother took away that sense of accomplishment and security that I had worked long and hard to build. I have moments where I just want to be stressed out by grading once more. To have my only worry be about what outfit I am going to wear tomorrow. I want to run errands alone, and in half the time. Upon realizing that nothing would ever be "easy" again, I had a breakdown because I wasn't immediately living up to my own idealistic image of a mother. I was able to juggle so much before. I used to rock multi-tasking and let my perfectionistic personality take over on a sort of auto-pilot whenever I needed to get stuff done fast and efficiently (usually because it was last minute).

It. Is. Hard.

To say that life has changed is a vast understatement. It is so  much more than the physical schedule and routine changes. It is the mental adjustment of the roles we must fill. It is very nearly like losing a good friend or a loved one. I believe there must be a time to allow for some mourning. I am not even close to achieving the balance of my time between my new roles. And forget about "me" time. That no longer exists. The only quiet and peaceful moments I get are still filled with little coos and gasps (which are cute, but still not "me" time). 3:00 a.m. feedings are an escape in which I can just be with my thoughts, but my thoughts now revolve around feeding times, packing bags, and planning for a number of possible mini disasters that may occur in a day.

So, when other women and mothers, from friends to complete strangers, say to me "Oh, don't you just LOVE it [being a mother]" and I get a nasty scowl on my face, it isn't because I am not appreciative of their enthusiasm and good-will. It is because I know that some of them (if not all) are really lying. No, I don't always LOVE it, ok?! I wish I could say that it always feels like I am tripping on happy gas, but most of the time I am just trying to stay afloat in a sea of "what ifs" and guilt that I am not swooning over poopie diapers and lack of sleep. 

So there, I've said it. I could tell you all until I am blue in the face to be prepared, but it is impossible to know how you'll feel until you are in it full-force. Until then, here's to my former self! I can only hope that this new identity one day will be remembered as fondly as I now recall my past 9 years as "teacher-wife-carefree-young-eager-enthusiastic-idealistic-fun" Erica.

Oh, solitude. Will I ever greet thee again?

Daytime Discoveries

I have 6 weeks off every summer. However, every summer I spend those 6 weeks traveling, tanning by the pool, and the time always flies by too fast. I thought about this today as I enter my 5th week of maternity leave. Although it feels as if it has gone by quickly in hind sight, the time has passed in a dramatically different way than during my summer breaks. I have spent a lot more time on the couch, in front of the TV.

This has lead me to some interesting daytime discoveries. We all know that daytime TV sucks. Commercials for ITT Technical Institute, or Medicare, lead us to discover exactly who the audience of daytime TV is. Jerry Springer or Maury should further support this hypothesis. What about us moms? There are plenty of stay-at-home moms out there. Where is their TV?

Oh, I found it. HGTV. TLC. Bravo. A&E. Who knew that I could literally watch every single episode of "Love It or List It" ever made? Or find fascination in "I Didn't Know I Was Pregnant"? I started watching more wedding shows than I did planning my own wedding. I got stuck in a conundrum. I was no longer attracted to "Property Brothers". I could only endure so much "Say Yes to the Dress". I had to branch out.

Aha! Discovery.
"Ellen" at 3:00 p.m. I love this lady! She is funny! So I now find myself trying to schedule feedings and couch time around 3:00 so I can indulge. My mother-in-law and sister-in-law had already discovered this phenomenon, so I am slow on the uptake.

Then- get this- I find the Music Choice channel selection (I always have known it was there for the great "Sounds of the Season" selection, but in a moment of desperation I tried to find lullabies and found the 90's channel. O. M. G.  If you EVER wanted to know just how much your life has changed, juxtapose the now with your junior high and high school music library. Let me illustrate what the last hour has brought me:

Coolio - Gangsta's Paradise

En Vogue- Never Gonna Get It

Bobbi Brown- Humpin' Around

Wilson Phillips- Hold On

Wallflowers- One Headlight

Mariah Carey with Boys II Men- One Sweet Day

Dee Light- Groove is in the Heart

Puff Daddy and the Family- Nobody Slow Me Down

Mmmmmm- Crash Test Dummies

What if God was One of Us- Joan Osborne

JayZ- Can I Get A What What

Holy Flashback, Batman! I never thought I'd remember the lyrics to Gangsta's Paradise so accurately. If there were a monitor watching me, I would have been embarrased by what I just did when Puff Daddy and the Family or JayZ came on and I booty shaked like I was back at the Kappa Sigma house in college. Anything to get Emerson to stop crying, right? He loved me singing "Never Gonna Get It"- even though I now know that sleep is what I will "never get"...

On that note, we've entered the joys of what my baby books have deemed "the fussiest stage" when Emerson has realized he'd rather be awake and social than asleep. Which means he either has to be held and rocked (and fighting sleep with all his might) or feeding to stay happy. Or in the car. I'm ready to rack up some major mileage after the evening we had last night and the day I've had today. And how, might you ask, have I found time to write a blog. This is called an emergency for sanity. I can ignore cries for 10 minutes at a time. And then he drifts off and I get 10 minutes of peace. Then I take care of him for 10 minutes. Then the cycle repeats. So, needless to say, I wrote this! It may have taken the last 4 hours, but I did it! And I won't go nuts because of this much needed "adult time".

Unless, of course, Notorious BIG or Tupac come on. Then I'll go nuts, just a different type of nuts.

Then:

Rockin' 1992 at my 12th birthday party

Junior winter formal- 1997- when I learned to booty shake

And now... the mess of the ottoman where I camp out during the day

What I've learned thus far...

Today was supposed to be my due date. I had thought my entire pregnancy that even today was too early to expect little Blueberry to arrive. Boy, did I learn an important lesson in not having everything go as planned...

This brings me to reflect on the lessons I've already learned in the short 2.5 weeks since I've officially become a mom. First, I must have some sort of sixth sense because I somehow felt that I was going to go into labor the night I did, and asked Kyle to come home from his guys' night. Now I can tell that this "instinct" to parent is most definitely real, as all the "ideas" I have in my head, such as how to calm Emerson down when he is grumpy, seem to work in reality when I implement them. Today, for example, Emerson was not happy, and would cry if he wasn't eating. He didn't nap like usual, so I assume he is over tired, and is only turning to hunger because, like an adult, he doesn't know what else to do. So, my idea was to distract him, take him outside on a walk where he couldn't concentrate on being hungry or sleepy, and wouldn't you know, he immediately stopped crying in the fresh air and sunshine and was happy as a clam until the minute we walked back into the house. It was seriously instantaneous crying once we were back home until he got to eat again. But the experience helped to get him back into his feeding routine.

The next thing that I've learned is that the SIMS in NO WAY really helps to simulate parenting. The reason I bring this up is because back in 2000, around the time the SIMS was released, my siblings and I had a little problem with fighting over who got the most computer time to play the game. I remember my summer home from college and staying up all night to play so I wouldn't have to share the computer with my family. In this game, if your characters had a baby, for 3 computer-simulated days you would have to be prepared to wake up at any given moment and feed the baby, rock the baby, sing to the baby, play with the baby... Then, magically, after 3 days, the baby became a kid. Then you never knew what your kid would look like. Sometimes they were annoying kids. In one famous incident, my sister locked her kid out of the house until it died because it was too ugly. (There are many embarrassing stories about my characters, too, but not dealing with the parenting of the game). Well, SIMS, your simulated parenting in NO WAY helped me to prepare for the challenges of actual parenting. Kyle will be the first to tell you that every time it is feeding time in the middle of the night, I ask for "just 5 more minutes" before I can get up the energy to go get Emerson out of his crib and stay up with him for an hour to eat. To minimize the monotony, I play a lot of Mahjong on my phone. (That was a highly alliterative sentence). So, I guess what I've learned is that this really is a challenge that you can, in no way, prepare fully for, or understand the difficulty of, until you have experienced it.

I have also learned that I can pretty much immediately fall asleep on demand now, knowing how precious a commodity true sleep is.

I have learned that eating with one hand while nursing a baby is a valuable skill.

I have learned that having backup clothes readily available at all times is essential, for Emerson can pee all over everything at any given moment. Backup clothes for him and you, the parent, that is.

I have learned that the great outdoors really is helpful for a little man named after the great Transcendentalist, Emerson.

I have learned to ask for help (although I am still really bad at it) and to trust in the help that I receive (like from my coworkers who had to step it up to get my sub transitioned).

I have learned that daytime TV is horrible. Except for HGTV.

I have mostly learned that I can't control, plan or count on anything going smoothly when I am no longer the one making the calls in the family. I've had to change and cancel plans because of feeding schedules, and I've had to let some things I've wanted to do go, like attending the grand opening of the new J.Crew outlet store.

But most of all, I've learned that I truly love and appreciate my family, all of it, from my parents and in-laws, to those who are considered family but not by blood. And of course, above all else, I love my husband and my little one more that I'd ever imagined. Even if I am just a food cow and an incubator for them...

My eyes are open more and more often these days!

Dad likes to nap with me on the couch.

Is the honeymoon really over?

A year ago, we were returning from our amazing honeymoon to Tahiti, in a state of pure bliss even after having to return to reality and work. As I returned to work today, I did so in a completely different state than I have been in for much of this pregnancy.

I am a mess.

From the beginning, I considered myself lucky in my pregnancy because I seemed to have relatively small amounts of discomfort. I was rarely too sick to function normally. I worked out and felt strong and confident. I even stayed small (still really haven't ballooned out too much) and felt like I was a cute pregnant woman!

And now, I feel like a house that has met its end: the foundation is cracked and now the creaking floorboards (my back) and pressure on the support beams (my hips) along with the leaks in the air systems (heartburn) are making me consider selling the place.

Everyone warned me that I'd hit this part. In fact, to see the positive side, I was told baby won't want to come unless I've gotten to the stage of feeling completely done with this pregnancy. Well, maybe this will help (like "The Secret")- I AM SO READY TO BE ABLE TO SLEEP COMFORTABLY (even if not through the night due to other reasons), and I WISH I COULD MOVE WITHOUT ENCUMBRANCE!

The happy, honeymoon stage of pregnancy is over. I have hit the "get me out of here" stage. At least my emotions are relatively stable.

OR NOT AT ALL!!!

Compounding on top of physical pain, discomfort, and fatigue, I cannot seem to stabilize my emotions, crying at the drop of a pin, feeling grumpy (that is probably a direct result of poor sleep quality), and wanting to strangle Kyle and other people who really don't deserve it.

So, I try to practice peace, relaxation, continue to attend pre-natal yoga, get in the pool when I can to relax, and hope that my return to work is a welcome distraction. Maybe all my nesting will help bring peace to my environment and that will transfer to my inner being.

Perhaps I can use these honeymoon pictures to practice visualization and turn things around, also!

Sunset on Moorea from the Intercontinental

The bay in Moorea

Sunset Beach, Bora Bora

Happiness in the ocean with the stingrays in Bora Bora

So excited for this honeymoon to Moorea!

How could this not make you happy?!

Soon I can Scuba again... soon...

Blueberry, even though I am complaining and cranky, I still love you!!

And now:

At nearly 37 weeks on The Farm at South Mountain- every year we have my birthday lunch here, but given the due date, we decided to go early just in case we don't make it out!

Well, we might as well just say it...

I know that I've been withholding the information that everyone asks to know--our baby's gender--from this blog for a long time now. It is really quite silly, because all our close friends, family, coworkers, and even my students all know the gender. I was hoping for some divine inspiration for a creative way of announcing it, but alas all my creativity has been channeled into creating a cute nursery, keeping the interest of my students, or one of the other various outlets of my brain and time that consume my daily existence.

It's a... BOY!

Phew, now that I've gotten that out of the way, let me address one more thing that is now annoying the crap out of me.

NO, I will NOT tell you the name. 

 Half of the reason for this is that we can't really be sure we know it. Half the reason is that I've already told you everything else about this baby (and if I haven't yet, it will be coming in a blog post at some point), and I want to keep something to myself! Surprises are so rare in life, relish them.

Names have a lot of meaning, in my opinion. I deal daily with a litany of characters, both fictional and real, and many of their names have been ingrained in my mind for both good and bad reasons. That being said, every other teacher out there has the same issue and experience. Therefore, if my name was "ruined" forever by an insubordinate student, I don't want to know about it. All those names that have been ruined for me have already been eliminated. Relatives and close-friends' (who all beat us to the chase) names have been eliminated in round 1. The next challenge is finding a name that suits both the parents, which is a whole new challenge. Kyle will fight to the death to name our son "Jedi" if I let him. He's been throwing "Eduardo" out there for months. If he ever takes this task 100% seriously, I will be suspicious and that he is crying wolf. But somehow, we made an agreement (I think) and I feel like we've accomplished one more thing on our ever-lengthening list of "prepare for the baby to-dos".

So, in case you wanted the proof, here is the original gender revealing ultrasound of our little man, growing larger and more active every day.

This was taken during spirit week for Homecoming on Nerd Day with my coworker Elizabeth.

This was Farmer Day this past week. I did what I had to do with the belly getting in the way!

Feeling a Part of the Elite

I used to feel like I was out of the loop. Everyone I knew was pregnant or had a little one. I didn't know what to ask about because I wasn't sure who was on the edge or who wanted to share their personal stories of all the "behind the scenes" symptoms of pregnancy. However, once I learned of my pregnancy, I got to join this exclusive club of women who know the reality about what it's like to be pregnant. Since then, I have been "privileged" to learn about a number of the fun things that people don't want to explain to women before pregnancy, most likely because NO ONE WOULD EVER GET PREGNANT if people really talked bluntly about it. Or maybe I wouldn't have been so naive.

I didn't want to believe that I had been living in any sort of utopian world of the joys of pregnancy because I have been surrounded by pregnant women for the past four or five years of my life. But I STILL didn't know about all the things that I was in for until I was in the middle of them.All the books say "Well, no one will tell you about this until you read this book", so screw that, I'm going to give it to you for free throughout this blog, not just this post, and I have a very hard time holding it back.

For one, and I know this is where some of you should probably stop reading, having a child, as we all know, means hours of eating and pooping as part of the daily routine. You count how many times your kid has pood in a day. You begin to post status updates on Twitter and Facebook that revolve around the "health" of your baby based on (gasp!) fecal matter. You brag about potty training, and we ALL know someone who has actually taken a picture of the first time her kid pood in the toilet. I had already vowed not to be that mommy. Well, guess what, I already take back every eye roll because I am about to share something. It isn't that life gets filled with food and poo after the baby. This type of daily record begins IN PREGNANCY!

"What do you mean?" you say. Well, as a pregnant woman, a small victory every day is having a regular bowl movement. A week that is constipation-free is a true reason to celebrate! Jenny McCarthy actually did a great job in her book Belly Laughs treating the subject of constipation with dignity. But I have actually had days where I was grateful for a good, old-fashioned BM, one that didn't involve praying and some geriatric-style Metamusil and prune juice.

With as much fruit as I have been consuming, you'd think this wouldn't be a true issue for me. But as I had a couple of uncomfortable days over the course of this pregnancy (understated for your protection), I know that it must be one of those inevitable side-effects of pregnancy that no one wants to talk about. 
Until I just unloaded that load of s@*# on you, you poor and unassuming reader.

I guess the moral of this story is that we shouldn't assume anything, and we should be nice to those women who post about their babies' diaper contents. After all, they are probably just happy it is no longer just about their bathroom issues. I am sure that I am going to be relieved when it is all over. Pun intended.

As a reward for making it through this, a picture for you.

19 weeks from the deck in Dillon, Colorado with the lake and Breckenridge in the background.

Pregnant Workouts

I have a bit of a confession. I really thought I was hot stuff at the beginning of this pregnancy.
The weekend we found out I was pregnant, I decided, being my Spring Break, that I'd get back into my workout routine. I jogged around the neighborhood daily, went hiking, lifted weights, and did so nearly everyday for 2 weeks. Yes, one day I got totally wiped out after Barbell class, was on the couch the rest of the day, and realized that I'd have to increase my food intake to keep up that kind of schedule, but I knew I was on the path to staying fit this pregnancy.

Then I only gained 1 pound my entire first trimester. I gloated a bit. I kicked bootie at Zumba, and lifted all I was allowed during weights.

And then one doctor visit, at 20 weeks to be exact, the nurse declared "Well, you must have your appetite again."

Jaw on ground.

Did I really gain THAT much? (Ok, it was like 8 pounds total, nothing to freak out about, but did she need to POINT THAT OUT SO BLUNTLY?!)

This wouldn't be as harsh had I not just recently, last summer  to be exact, lost nearly 25 pounds. I look at those wedding and honeymoon pictures and I am like "DAAAMMNNN, GIRL!" To know that I am back to where I started this journey (but, yes, for a good reason) is more than my fragile, hormone-driven ego can handle some days.

So I continue to work out whenever I can muster the energy. But today it kind of hit me that an hour class at the gym is maybe more than my body wants to handle, as I danced away and continued to feel my uterus contract at a disconcerting rate. I stopped early, and switched over to some seated dumbbell curls. I did learn that doing weights and building muscle were more effective than cardio, after all, in looking lean (and actually being lean, I am sure).  I guess I will just have to modify my workout schedule to include more leisurely-paced cardio with my weightlifting.

I feel a bit defeated. I feel like I've failed myself and now I am going to spiral down a path of ultimate laziness and gain an atrocious amount of weight in these last 3(ish) months. It is really hard as a pregnant woman (who only reads Fit Pregnancy) to let go of that control and succumb to the calls of my body. I am just eternally grateful to little Blueberry for only making me crave fruit and salad! That will certainly help combat the extra poundage (even with my occasional indulgence from Dairy Queen).

I think I will give in, push my pride to the side, and start attending Water Aerobics with the little old ladies (no offense, mom.)

My favorite workouts were long walks around the lake path back home in Minnesota. Can't wait for cooler temps!

With Scoobie as a companion!

Here we go again

A new adventure is about to begin.

I know what you are thinking: "Oh no, here she goes again, writing about all the crazy experiences of her life and publishing them for the whole world to see."

Yes, here I go again. You know you like it!

This newest adventure comes just under 2 years from my very first post on "Confessions of an Amateur Bride". On that blog, I documented the adventure to my wedding for my friends and family who were near and far. I do so to find an outlet to share my stories and experiences, and I have always been a writer by nature, so I think that it is both healthy and humorous to write my experiences in the most honest way I can. Then, I can only hope to inspire those that I know who read my posts, and perhaps even those who I don't know, but who are experiencing similar situations and don't have the courage to write about them.

I can already tell this adventure is going to be a much crazier ride than the last.

PARENTHOOD!

What are we thinking?!

So, to answer your final question, why is this blog titled "The Adventures of Blueberry"? The answer is simple, not only are these my and my husband's adventures, but our unborn little one's adventures as well! I have to take baby with me everywhere we go. It didn't feel right calling baby "it", so we nicknamed our fetus "Blueberry" after we had read the description of its size early in the pregnancy as "the size of a blueberry". From that point on, it has been "Blueberry wants..." or "Blueberry, stop making your mom vomit so much", or "Kyle, Blueberry wants you to..." So, now you get to follow Blueberry on all our adventures!

Welcome to the nuthouse.

Enjoy!

One of our pregnancy announcement pictures