Emerson is 1-year old!

Well, there are certainly many things that I could share about Emerson's first year that I have not already shared. There are things that have changed in my life over the past year that I didn't anticipate, and some that I could have never imagine life without at this point. I have a few posts in the works to share his birthday party and his first-year photo shoot, but this post is dedicated to the changes.

It only seemed appropriate this fall season. "To everything turn, turn, turn, there is a season..."

Emerson at 1 year with his newborn picture taken by Sarah Goodman Photography

One year ago, sleepless nights were purely by choice.
Today, sleepless nights are sometimes unwanted, but at the same time they have become so common that they are no longer distressing.

One year ago, making a meal was more work than I liked to do, and that was just for two, but we found time for homemade meals on a regular basis.
Today, making a meal for three is a nightmare when it comes to time commitment, but Emerson gets homemade meals daily, and his parents, well, lets just say we are grateful for "options".

One year ago, getting up to get ready for work was annoying (for a night owl), but I could manage getting up and out in under 30 minutes.
Today, getting up to get ready for work would NOT be possible without Kyle helping to get Emerson ready. And 30 minutes, in my dreams...

One year ago, showering was a luxury where I'd spend time relaxing, waking up, and soothing aches.
Today, showering is "how fast can I get in and out and still technically be 'clean'"?
One year ago, enjoying a moment alone meant watching TV, reading a book, blogging, surfing the net.
Today, enjoying a moment alone, wait, what?! What is that? Oh wait, I need a nap.

One year ago, traveling was stressful, but we could make last-minute decisions on our agendas, could race through the airport, barely making our flights, and could adventure at will.
Today, travel, well, don't forget to start packing a week in advance. Make 3 lists so you don't forget any vital elements, and make sure to leave for the airport 3 hours in advance. And schedule everything. Even naps.

One year ago, any free moment was spent on Pinterest imagining the perfect space for our little Blueberry.
Today, any free moment is spent watching that little Blueberry grow more and more, learn each day, and amaze us in ways we never imagined.

One year ago, we were Kyle and Erica. The Davises. The ones still trying to get everyone else to go out and be social. (Everyone else already had kids).
Today, we are dad and mom. The Davis Family. The ones still trying to get everyone else to be social, but at the same time wanting to stay in and spend time with each other more and more often.

We love you, little Emerson. It was a magical first year.  Keep on giving kisses and smiles!

The first 12 months!!! Start at the upper left corner and follow around clockwise.

Feeding Frenzy!

No matter what research I have done, and what resources I have read, nothing has really been able to accurately prepare me for the challenge that is converting Emerson to "people food".

This. Kid. Loves. Food.

Squash goodness...

Chik-Fil-A is the most kid-friendly place to get fast food!

I am so happy to sit in big-boy chairs!

I am eternally grateful that he hasn't had any obvious food aversions, allergies, or digestion issues. However, nothing is more nerve-wracking than trying to figure out "what to try next".

At first, we had some fun making baby food with our Beaba baby food maker. Vegetables were almost always perfectly pureed, but fruit was sometimes too watery. The trick was the thicken it up with some baby cereal.

Although I truly felt like the healthiest route was to be making food without preservatives and without additives, for full disclosure, if you are considering going this route, keep these things I learned in mind:
1. Preparation in a baby food maker is easy. Preparation to PUT food in a baby food maker, is not.
2. Gerber will not kill your child.
3. Baby foods will dye their containers, so I suggest using glass for longevity, even if they are a bigger up-front expense.
4. The 4-day rule is probably a good rule to follow (try 1 food for 4 days before introducing a new one).
5. Get ready for smelly poos.

I want to share this experience because it was one of the moments when I felt like this was much more than I was anticipating as far as work load is concerned. When making Emerson some peach puree, I learned just why we don't normally peel peaches. Peeling the peach, pitting it, and then cutting it, times 3, took about 45 minutes. That is a 45 minute prep time, 15 minutes to cook, and then, what did I have, 4 servings (about). 1 hour for barely 1 day's worth of baby food. And that was just the FRUIT. Once Emerson got started, we were doing 1 fruit and 1 vegetable per meal. Then, with 2 of those meals a day, adding up the time spent preparing anything beyond green beans (no cutting or pealing required), it became a sort of second job just making food. We managed this by tag-teaming the preparation and making food in large quantities on Sundays or one evening a week.

The good news, however, was that the pureed baby food stage was short lived- we moved onto roasted veggies and steamed fruits soon after, because Emerson quickly realized that he wanted independence during feeding, and stopped cooperating when being spoon fed.

Now, feeding time is still a chore. We cut the foods up in tiny pieces, because he doesn't chew much, and we prepare more food than I believe any 1-year-old could consume in a single setting. He has never turned down food, however, sometimes in recent feedings he is actually slowing down enough that we can recognize that he is full. A good sign is him trying to crawl out of his chair or spitting his food back onto his tray. He also starts to play with the food in his fingers and letting it fall onto his lap. With all the extra work each meal time requires, it is still entertaining to watch as Emerson gets super excited for his next bite, and how he likes to talk to himself when eating because he is just so happy. He squeals in glee!

I will say that our best friends are Happy Baby puffs and Happy Yogi bites. While we prepare his meals, we can keep him occupied with these and he is really good at picking them up himself and staying content, even if not patient.

Also, we have learned recently that even if we feed him a full meal, if we eat after him and he is still with us, he wants more food, too. So we have already learned the purpose of and value of family meal time.

Things have progressed well in the feeding world, and now we feel comfortable taking Emerson to restaurants and ordering him food. Most places have at least some chicken or turkey for kids. We have ordered salads with extra chicken to give to him, noodles without sauce, and plenty of different types of seasonings to expose him to multiple flavors.

And, oh yea, one more note on feedings, today Emerson ate his first inedible object, part of his mobile. He is tall enough to reach it when standing in bed. We should have known something was up when we put him in bed and he was pleasantly quiet for awhile. When he cried a bit later and I checked on him, part of the mobile was on the floor with a bead bitten off...

We'll see how that one turns out tomorrow, I hope... :)

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!

My New Talent

I have recently, these past couple of weeks, developed the talent of sleep feeding. I have not merely fallen asleep a little as I fed Emerson in the middle of the night, but have dozed off into a deep slumber. One time I didn't even remember getting up to feed him, as I awoke with the excitement that he had slept through the night, only to be crushed as I was reminded that Kyle had to wake me to feed him.

Well, my exhaustion due to balancing the end of the year at work with parenting came to its apex the other night when I was sound asleep after nursing Emerson in his chair. That chair is really comfortable, except that in order to have head support, you have to kind of sit in it sideways and lean up against the back (it is really too smushy to support your head by just leaning back when sitting in it the normal way). I was out for at least a half hour when Kyle crept upstairs to go to bed. Not seeing me in bed, he got confused, and crept into the nursery. The next thing you know, I am having a panic attack and hyper ventilating as I awake from a deep sleep with my husband inches from me reaching out for Emerson.

He does a really good impression.

I just remember not wanting to scream and not being able to fling out my arms because I didn't want to throw Emerson or wake him. It took a matter of time before I could accept the reality of the situation and settle down, although my heart was racing by that point.

Successfully, we did not wake up Emerson, but instead Kyle put him to bed and I put myself to bed.

You should have been there.


Anyway, despite the sleep scare, there have been numerous occasions where I have fallen asleep during the midnight feedings. This is either a sign that I've gotten comfortable with the routine of mothering, or is a true sign of the absolute exhaustion with which I am living my life in a zombie-like state. It is a sad thing that a month ago, Emerson was sleeping from 9-6 without waking, giving me a much needed restful night every night. Then, we returned from Peru, and he has not made it through a night yet.

I want to be the stickler and go back to the sleep-training books I read, letting him cry it out one night and hoping that within a matter of days he learns to make it through the evenings without me. This seems logical as he often falls asleep within minutes of eating anyway, and then seldom notices if I pull the switcheroo and give him the pacifier when I lay him in bed. Then part of me feels like he needs this food to make it through the night, so I don't have the heart (or maybe Kyle doesn't) to sleep through his cries.

So, it is at this point that I am just desperately seeking some good sleep, and have fallen into the stereotypical parenting cliche, going for weeks now without an adequate night's rest, causing carelessness (one broken plate so far), irritability, tears (every day, for any reason), and overall just being unproductive with work and chores.

Napping at day care since he likes to be up at night!

Napping on mom's lap after dinner.

Sleeping in the morning after daddy got me ready for school!

Like father, like son...

And what I probably look like one the majority of nights...

My Mother's Day Thoughts for my Inaugural Celebration!

So I have officially been a mother for nearly 7 months now. But I would say that I've been in the mindset of a mother for over a year.  I remember being so excited last year on Mother's Day because I knew that THIS year, I'd be celebrating with my little boy (well, I didn't know he was going to be a boy yet, but I knew I'd have a baby!)

Here are some of my reflections on the past 6 months of both the ups and downs of motherhood.

Stage 1: The Pregnancy
I can now admit to the bliss and innocent naivety that encompasses pregnancy, for at least the first child. I was uncomfortable and hot, yes, but I was also full of wonder, oddly relaxed, and so excited for all the adventures to come (hence the name of the blog). I am sure glad that I captured so many moments and emotions in writing to read when I have a low moment.

Thank you Sarah Goodman Photography for capturing my last week of pregnancy!

Stage 2: The Newborn
What can only be considered the most difficult transitional period of my life, my maternity leave was full of sleepless nights, pain, and hours of staring at the little miracle we had brought home and somehow been trusted with taking care of. I am not ready to jump back into this stage again quite yet, but looking back it sure was nice to have time off to just focus on the adjustment. Now I can't wait for my "mental leave" (a.k.a. summer) to start.  We learned how to fall asleep in under a minute (sleep when you can!), how to eat, do dishes, do laundry, get dressed, shower... all with one hand/arm. :) We learned how to let the messes go because the milestones are more fun, and you don't want to miss a smile, a burp, or even a dirty diaper.  We learned how to be parents. Well, we are still learning. I am not sure I'll ever stop.

Emerson was 1-week-old in this photo shoot, also from Sarah Goodman!

Stage 3: Going Back to Work
I was so ready to get out of the house and back to the adult world after being holed up at home for my maternity leave (I know, I know, I kind of contradict myself there, but there were good days and bad days). I only went back for 2 weeks to transition, and then had a break. That was a smart move. But the balance between work life and home life has been difficult for me to achieve. I have always prided myself on my teaching. I love the classroom and my students and I really struggle with the feeling of being an inadequate teacher because I just don't have the time to devote to it anymore. Yet, I have still found time to attend my students' shows and concerts, advise National Honor Society, grade 300 essays over the past 3 weeks... yea I pretty much ignored my family but I'll have some time to make up for it now. I feel every day that I am letting down both my students and coworkers, and my family. I don't know how working women who don't have their kids at the daycare at their workplaces can do it. I don't know if I'd be able to without the setup that we have for our daycare! One thing is for sure, I cannot be as productive during my time at work when there is a little one that I go to visit and feed 2 times a day! It certainly puts a strain on your free time when you work has to carry over to your evenings almost every day, so I hope that I can figure out a better system for next school year.

Me and Emerson on Flannel Spirit Day at school.

Our selfie at Brian's wedding in Peru.

During all these stages, I have had to deal with a range of emotions. Stress is at its peak, and the countless sleepless nights don't help much. But every single day Emerson is more fun, learning so much, and he sure smiles a lot! I guess that smile is all I really need to know that things are ok.

There will be many more "stages" in the upcoming years, and I am sure I'll continue to document them for you and for myself and Emerson. I will say that I've come to truly appreciate all the other mother's who helped raise me or who I've watched raise other children. You never know until you go!

Happy Mother's 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.

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

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!

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.

A Pain in the... Back?

I do feel like a bit of a whiner. I mean, I haven't gotten that big yet, and still every day I have to mention to Kyle how uncomfortable I am. I am sure by this point I have officially overtaken him on the "annoying" scale. I have to thank him today for his patience, his understanding, and his constant indulgence of my wants and needs.

Officially, we have been married for 10 months. For 6 of those months (nearly) I've been pregnant. Overall, I've been happy and healthy. Overall, Kyle has been awesome. So, I guess this  is just my little shout out to him to show my appreciation.

Getting back to business, I have officially (even according to my pregnancy app) hit the "you no longer have your natural center of gravity" stage. Being back at work for these past 3 weeks, I realized that if I used to get back pains from sitting too long in a huddled position grading papers before, this activity could really become hazardous to my health now.  I have some fallout already. Each morning (and in the middle of the night at least once), I need to move one of the supporting pillows that lay alongside me, swing my legs around to hang off the bed, and then roll myself from my side to a seated position, where I will sit and whimper for a second until all my muscles and organs have resettled in their upright position, and then I waddle to the bathroom (to pee) to get ready. I look like I just got off a 10-hour mule ride up and down the canyon walls of Yosemite. I then grip my belly and try to hold it up in the hopes that I have a little relief.

It may be time to buy one of those belly-support belts!

Anyway, with this routine, I can no longer deny my pregnancy (besides the fact that it is visually obvious), and live in my protective little bubble where I can deny that there will be an ending to it all. It is truly paradoxical that I can't wait for it to be over, but at the same time I don't want to face the ending yet. It is too damn scary!

Thus, I have become a bit of a whiner, and now you, not just Kyle, have to listen to me. I told you I wasn't going to hold anything back. Except maybe my back.

I sure could use another prenatal massage at this point! This time, no calzones.

Add a few inches to this picture, taken a month ago at 22 weeks!

Learning to Appreciate the Little Things

In pregnancy, sometimes it is the little things that matter. A tiny flutter in your tummy indicating movement that provides proof of life. A healthy heartbeat at the OB. A night of sleep without needing to get up to pee.

Perhaps it isn't just the little things that make me happy, but also the little things that I miss, which make me a little sad.

I have a new-found appreciation for escalators.
I have never loved fruit more.
I miss being able to eat fruit without heartburn.
I miss being able to use the restroom when it is convenient.

This entire post was inspired by a prenatal massage that I had last night. Considered a luxury to most, a massage becomes a sort of necessity for pregnancy. (This is my third). Let me recount the hour:

Massages--meant to be relaxing and soothing. I was tired as hell after my first 8-hour work day after 6 weeks off. The Arizona heat is taking it all out of me. I get set to enjoy a nice, indulgent hour in peace and quiet with all attention on me (and not just coworkers wanting to see how large I've gotten over summer!) I lay down, and even with the pillow between my knees and my head propped, I feel like I am going to tumble forward as my therapist pushes on my back. So instead of completely letting go, I had to use my muscle to hold myself up. (Note: I seriously miss laying on my back at this moment).

Next, this is where the real fun comes. The motions of the the massage churn up all the gas from my dinner. First comes the heartburn. I continue to swallow, but man! it burns. I swallow so many times I am sure my therapist thinks I am about to blow chunks. Then I burp. Seriously, just burp. How gross am I?

Oh no, that wasn't the worst. Then I feel the need to pass gas. (In case you are unaware, this is a common and frequent need in pregnancy). This would just be beyond inappropriate. So I have to hold that in, and then start to feel even less relaxed as I am holding myself on the table and holding my gasses in.

Moral of the story, I have learned to appreciate the little things. But even more I miss the little things I took for granted.

If it is worth anything, I still appreciated the massage. And I could have avoided eating that calzone for dinner right before a massage, so maybe I need to make better decisions about meals.

Which brings it all back to learning to appreciate things like being in control of my body instead of being held prisoner by it.

Isn't pregnancy a beautiful thing?

The first ultrasound at 8 weeks! See what I mean, appreciating the "little" things! :)