Saying Yes.

When the kids heard that it was snowing a mere 2 hours north (and not the kind of snow that melts before it hits the ground, this was actual snow), we were met with cries of, "Can we please please pleaseeee go see the snow?"

Sure it would have been easy to tell them no, that daddy was working, and it was a weeknight, but something in me thought, "why not?"  I called Jon at work, he rescheduled the rest of his appointments for the day (it was a slow day anyway), and we hit the road.

We originally intended to drive to Savannah, but our gas light came on around 2 hours from home, and when we pulled off for gas, there was actual snow on the ground!  Another family was already there, all bundled up, watching as their children built a snowman, so we pulled on the kids mucking boots (we're from Florida - that's all you need down here), and let them run wild in the field next to the gas station.

Sometimes, you just have to say yes.

Yes to adventure.
Yes to exploration.
Yes to experiences.
Yes to the unknown.
Yes to making memories.

Your whole family will be better for it.
Trust me.

We will always remember that time we hopped in the van, drove across the state line, and played in the snow by a roadside fruit stand.

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Surprises

This boy.

Our cautious child.

He's always been slower to try new things than the others, and the older he grew, the more cautious he became.  Refusing to try new foods (even foods that he once ate daily) until he was living on a diet of flavorless cardboard type foods (like cheerios and dry toast).

He stopped wanting to jump in the pool, though he used to do it all the time.  Even refusing to ride the small roller coaster at Disney.

Until recently. 

One day, he began to emerge from his cave of cautiousness, taking one tiny step at a time - "Mom, can I have butter on my toast?"

"I'll try some of that Chinese food."

"I'll come with you to ride the roller coaster."

"I really want to do the Flow Rider on our Thanksgiving cruise."

And you know what?  He was awesome.  Even the lifeguard stood up and clapped for him.

So mamas, if you're stuck in plain cheerio-land, don't worry.  We were there for a couple of years.

You will get out. 

Maybe not on your call, but you will get out.

Your kiddo will come around in time. 

It's up to you to always offer the new foods/opportunities/experiences, but be ok with it if your child turns them down. 

One day, they just might surprise you.

And it will make your mama heart soar.

0

They Need It Too

Some days are nothing short of exhausting.  When the kids have woken throughout the night, resulting in less than cheerful attitudes throughout the day.

Some days I feel as if I must be wearing a black dress with a white apron, because everyone seems to thinks I'm only there to serve them.

Some days I'm all mommed out.  And though my love for them is unfailing, what I think I want is a little break.

A break from them.

Jon offers to take them to the beach, so they can run around like little beasts, and for that I'm so grateful, but something in me usually seems to want to go too.

This is my break time - my chance at a moment of silence, but still, I go.

And I realize, it's not them that I need a break from.

It's life.

It's routine.

It's home.

And it's not just me.  They need it too.

They need this time to run like little beasts when the sun's harsh heat has begun to fade, and the gentle breeze of the ocean allows them to use up the energy that's been trying to press through the wrong outlets all day.

They need to see their parents, walking hand in hand in the evening light, watching them as they race up and down the sand and splash in the water.

Some days I don't go.  Some days do I choose to stay home and let them have their beastly boy time.

But on those days when I end up joining their adventure, I never seem to regret it.

0

I see you.

I see you.  Mom in Target who was buying her kids ICEES at 11 am.  I saw how that sauce exploded when your kid dropped the breadsticks on the floor.

I noticed the sticky blue trail you left from the diapers all the way to the shoe section because one of your cups was leaking.

I saw you run into that display when you were trying to push that giant two-seater cart - hey, isn't that for mom's with like 3 kids?  Okay, I know it's the only kind your kid can't escape from because of the shoulder harness seatbelts, but wait -

your kid is escaping.  Ahhh, yep.  He's completely out of the harness and standing on the seat while you're busy putting your groceries on the conveyor belt.  Things aren't looking good for you. I can see it.

I see you try to apologize to the cashier for your distractedness while she's making small talk.  I understand that you have to keep an eye on that toddler - who's making his way to the cooler with the character juices (didn't he already have an ICEE??).

I hear you apologize again - this time because he already opened the toy gun (??!!??) you're buying him before she'd even been able to scan it.

I see you try pay for your groceries, be attentive to the needs of the sauce exploder, keep the escaped toddler from darting right out of the store, collect your receipt, and make sure you still have your card and your keys, and it looks like you're fighting back tears. 

I see you.

I see you because I am you.

This was my morning.  All this before noon - and this doesn't cover the adventures we had before we left the house.

So when you see a haggard looking mom, with crying kids, please realize that she's probably doing the best she can, and she's probably more irritated by the chaos that envelops her than you are.

And if you see a perfect looking mom, with impeccably behaved children, they were probably picking their noses when you weren't looking.

Kimono:  @firebrand_lifestyle

Crystal Neckalce: @seaweedsouls

Bracelet: @black_sheep_jewelry

Tee and Moccs: @thewildfolkco

0

School Pictures. Thanks, but no thanks.

Today is picture day for our Little Guy.  The second school picture day of the year (third if you count the class picture), and we're not buying any.

Gasp.

We bought one sheet - the smallest amount you could buy, which was like, $15 for the first school picture this year, and to tell the truth I didn't even really want to buy that. Then we bought the class photo ($12, I think), and now we're completely skipping over today's pics.

But!  They get to wear their own clothes!

So!

You'll look like you don't care about your kid.

So!

In my opinion, we were foolish to buy the first picture because we've preordered our yearbook ($20) and his photo is going to be in that.

Let me make my case:

It's 2014.

BOOM!  There it is.

Why on earth would I buy cheesy, school photos, that will most likely contain the head and shoulders of my adorable boy who's face will probably be grimacing (because that's what they do at this age instead of smiling), when I could take a ton of shots with my own camera - heck, even my phone for that matter!

You can buy the school photos and snail mail them to your family members so that they can stick them in a drawer or box to pull out one day 40 years from now when they're feeling nostalgic. OR you could just take a great photo yourself, upload it to facebook, and let everyone who wants a hard copy (does anyone really want a hard copy?) right click and save it.

Yes, there is an option to buy the digital image of the photo (the cheesy, not pre-approved photo) but it's an add on to a picture package for like $40!!  Umm... thanks, but no thanks.

For now, I think I'll just take my own pictures of this kid and his hilarious personality.

2

Becoming "The Crazy Mom"

I keep asking myself, "What the heck is wrong with me?"  How did I become that mom.  The one who's every move is dictated by her baby - whether he's napped or not, when the last time he fed was, and how often (or what color) he poops.  Who won't leave the house for fear of throwing off his schedule.

I feel like a prisoner.  A prisoner of my own home and of my own making.  

When I had my first son, by the end of the first month I had gotten into the swing of things and was back to living life as usual (almost) but with a baby in tow.  

We took a trip to Sea World when baby was only 7 weeks old! By 10 weeks, we were already beachin' it, and by 6 months, my baby boy had been out of state twice, and even had his first water park experience.

I'd rather have a root canal than take my new little lipshen to Sea World right now (and he's already 15 weeks)!  I just (as in last week) took baby boy to the grocery store alone for the first time.  And I kid you not, as I was holding my sweet little bundle the other day, this thought crossed my mind:  "Oh, my gosh. I was eating peanuts.  What if his little hand holding my finger gets peanut residue on it and he puts it in his mouth and he dies?!"

Seriously?!

That can't be normal. So again, I ask myself, "what the heck is wrong with me when it comes to this new baby?!"  What happened between 6 years ago and now that has made me such a freakazoid?

At first, I wondered if it was because I had him naturally, and unmedicated, and that the experience had given me some sort of super-connection with my sweet baby boy, but with my first born, I remember actually waking up at night 30-45 seconds before he'd start crying, like we had a strange psychic bond and that doesn't happen with this new little one.

Then, I wondered if it could be because we were exclusively breastfeeding, and that was giving us a crazy bond so that I was focused on nothing but him.

Or, maybe he's just a different person than my first born, so his needs (and my needs to fulfill them) are different.  Or maybe it's because I'm older.  Or maybe it's because I know more now than I did with my first born and as they say, ignorance is bliss.

Maybe it's all of the above and none of it at the same time.  Maybe I'm just over thinking everything and came into this pregnancy having set expectations and goals based on what "they" say makes me a good mother:  

 - I will exclusively breastfeed.

 - I will have an unmedicated, natural childbirth

 - I will cloth diaper

 - I will baby-wear

 - I will blah, blah, blah

There is so much pressure out there now for new moms.  So many opportunities to question yourself about whether or not you're doing the latest recommended things for your baby, or using the latest recommended gear....

Toys from China?  eek! - bad Mom

The tv's on during the daytime? - bad Mom

Supplementing with formula?! - bad Mom

Letting him cry for more than 5 minutes while you drive home from the grocery store (you took him out of the house?! - germs!) - bad Mom

Vaccinate/don't vaccinate.

Circumcision or intact?

You're washing him with regular baby soap?!  Those chemicals bring out female hormones in boys!!

Come on!  I can't live like this anymore.  I think it's unhealthy for myself and my baby for me to be a neurotic mother who second guesses everything so that she's making the perfect choice for her baby.  The perfect choice for my baby is unconditional love from a healthy mom.    

Maybe I just need to remember that perfect is different for everyone, and that my first born was a formula drinking, disposable diaper wearing baby who was constantly slathered in Johnson and Johnson's lotion, and man, that kid is awesome.  

I'm going to stop worrying so much about being the mom that everyone says I should be, and be the mom I am.  And if my kid ends up just like his big brother - well, that will be fine by me. 

*Do you feel like there's more pressure than ever before to be a "perfect parent?"  

9

Breastfeeding - What No One Told Me

Um, yeah.  This post is about breastfeeding, so if that makes you squeamish, you might want to click away now.

Before I was a Mom, I thought about breastfeeding as something weird and there was no way I was ever going to breastfeed.  At 21, I remember having conversations with girlfriends who'd say they were definitely going to breastfeed when they had kids, and thinking how crazy they were.  

Fast forward to 2007, when I had Little Guy.  During my pregnancy, I figured I'd give breastfeeding a shot - mostly just to feel like I made the effort, but it wasn't a huge priority.  I was a first time mom.  I had no idea about anything, and wasn't one of those researchy types who read every book out there to prepare.  I was just winging it.

So when I tried unsuccessfully to get a latch in the hospital, and the nurse handed me a bottle of formula, I fed it to my baby.  I continued to try at home, never really getting a good latch (but not really putting a huge effort in).  So I pumped.  But my already hungry for formula baby could eat much more than I could pump and I found myself basically formula feeding and supplementing with breast milk instead of the other way around.

Then I just quit.  I felt like, eh.  It's not worth the effort.  So that was that. 

In the years since, breastfeeding has blown up.  If you're expecting, everywhere you look and everything you read puts a huge emphasis on how breast is best.  You can even attend free classes in your local town teaching you about why you should choose to breastfeed.  So when I became pregnant with our new Baby Boy, I knew I needed to make breastfeeding a priority.

There were two things that were super important to me when having my second child:  natural, unmedicated childbirth, and breastfeeding.  

I suddenly became one of those researchy moms - reading everything I could get my hands on to prepare for my birth and for successful breastfeeding.  I was ready.

Except that I wasn't.  

Sure, I knew all about how breast was best, and what a successful latch looked like, and that my newborn really only needed a teaspoon full and not to worry about supply.  But I also knew that "although I might feel some discomfort, breastfeeding should never hurt."  That's what they tell you - that you should never feel pain.

WRONG.

It hurt something fierce.  

I had just come out of an unmedicated birth, so I knew the difference between pain and discomfort, but every time my sweet boy latched on I cringed, clenched my teeth, and my eyes welled with tears. And we had a great latch! 

It. Just. Hurt. 

I spent the first two days Googling.  Reading about how there should be no pain when there clearly was. 

And then you know what?  By the end of the third day, the pain was gone.  Apparently my nipples had to "toughen up."  No one told me that.

For about a day we were doing great.  Then boom.  Engorgement.  

Yes, it was uncomfortable but nothing compared to the pain of the first couple of days.  I did have to pump a little each time before I could even get my baby to latch on though.

Once engorgement ended, I thought, Ok.  Now we're getting it. 

Until we weren't.  

I was eating oatmeal everyday for breakfast, and drinking a cup of mother's milk tea every evening, but by 7pm I was out of milk - or at least it appeared that way.  Baby was tugging and pulling (and hurting me!) and getting unbelievably fussy and frustrated.  Luckily, I had a bottle of pumped milk in the fridge to get him to sleep with so that my body could use that time to make some more milk.  

But almost daily, baby nursed every 45 minutes (sometimes every hour, sometimes every 20 minutes), and the tugging and pulling in the evenings happened more.  

I realized that I had more than enough milk at night (since he'd go for 1-2 hours between feedings), so I decided I'd start pumping to reduce the nighttime engorgement and have a stash for the tugging and pulling sessions.  

And then.

We bought a pacifier.  

Everything you read says "Don't do this!" but we had to.  Baby was still feeding so often, and I was so sore.  He wouldn't even go down to sleep.  He wanted to sleep with me in his mouth, or at least on me, and I am still a human being.  I still need water, or food, or to use the bathroom and I wasn't able to do anything.   

At 2 weeks I talked to my midwife, and she pumped me up on all the reasons to keep going.  I felt so motivated after talking to her, but the next day, it was right back to the same.  

I felt like I was losing myself.  I couldn't even live.  I was stuck on the couch all day long.  I stressed about picking up Little Guy from school.  I couldn't go to the grocery store or even for a walk around the block with the baby.  I was becoming a prisoner.  A very sore, tired, lonely prisoner.

Hubby was getting virtually no time with the baby.  The baby only wanted me.  I fulfilled his every need.

Everything I'd read told me how beautiful breastfeeding was.  How much I would love the bonding time with my baby,but you know what?  I couldn't even remember the last time I picked up my precious boy because I wanted to. I was feeding him so often that it was becoming a chore - one that I performed like a robot, and I was devoid of those beautiful emotions they told me I'd have.  No one told me that might happen. 

I was tired.  I was overstimulated.  My personal space was constantly invaded, and I had nothing left to give Hubby or Little Guy.
I found myself wanting to snap at them for no reason.
Resenting them for being able to play outside, or get themselves a drink of water, or use the bathroom.  

I was slowly slipping away.  Sinking.  

I decided to quit.  

I made a bottle of formula and fed it to my baby, crying as he drank it down.

I know that there's nothing wrong with formula feeding, heck, Little Guy drank the Target formula (it was the only one he took well to), and he's awesome.  But there are moms who would give anything to be able to breastfeed.  Who purchase breastmilk for their babies because they don't want them to drink formula.  And here I was, with a perfectly good latch, and a pretty decent supply, quitting because I needed more "me time?"  

I felt so selfish.

That's when I decided to take it week by week.  I set a goal.  

I will make it to the end of the week, and then we'll see.  

Then I'd make it to the next week and do the same thing.  

By 6 weeks, I almost forgot that I was taking it week by week.  Breastfeeding had become much easier, and we were really doing great.

Now we're at 10 weeks and I have no thoughts of quitting anytime soon. 

My supply has leveled out.  I quit eating oatmeal for breakfast (apparently it was making me ravenous all day), and I rarely need to drink any Mother's Milk tea.
Nursing sessions take about 5 minutes or so and happen every hour and a half to 3 hours.
I even get a 3-4 hour stretch of sleep at night now.
The pacifier has not caused us any problems with latch at all, nor has giving a bottle of pumped milk once or twice a week.

When he's hungry in public, that's still a little awkward for me, so I either bring a pumped bottle, or go sit in the car and nurse.  

But I know that in the middle of the night, it would really stink to have to get up to make and warm a bottle when baby wakes.  And if we were going on a day trip, I never have to worry about coming home before we run out of bottles.

Breastfeeding really has become as easy as they told me it would be.  It just took time to get there.  

If you really want to breastfeed, but find yourself struggling, try setting a goal.  The end of the week, maybe even the end of the day.  It really does get easier by the 6 week mark, but prepare yourself for those first 6 weeks.  

And join a support group.  I don't know what I would have done without the girls at my birth center, and my breastfeeding mama friends. There's even a great group on facebook called  Breastfeeding/Mama Talk.  

Or you can email me. marshmallowmudpie@yahoo.com  I may not have all the answers, but just know that I've been in your boat, and it can get easier.



*Did you find yourself struggling at first while breastfeeding your baby?

20

The Importance of "Boy Time"

I'm one of those mom's who likes to participate.  We're going to the beach?  I'm down.  We're going on a hike?  Let me get my shoes.  Bowling?  Oh, I'm going - and I'll try to beat all you boys.

But in a house where I am the lone female, sometimes I just have to sit out, whether I want to or not.

It's important for the boys to spend time with just their dad, and let's face it, Hubby is going to do things much differently with them when I'm not around.

When it's just the boys, they can be disgusting, rowdy, and just downright stupid if they want.

Hubby lets them.
He even encourages it.

All these things are part of being a boy, and if they want to use a tote bin to play "tiny pool" with - fully clothed, then they can just have at it.

It also seems that when Mom is around, there is a lot more tattling and a lot less letting things roll off your shoulders.
It seems a hit to the arm or bump on the head gets laughed off much more easily when I'm nowhere to be found.

Hubby usually has some boy time outside with Little Guy every evening while I clean up from dinner, but since Big Guy has been in town, he's started using one day a weekend to take the boys out to an activity while I stay home.

It's been great for me - peace and quiet to do laundry and clean, and great for them, because these are the times that the boys get to connect with their dad.

They can talk to him about things they may have already told me, or about things they may not feel comfortable talking about with me.

Yesterday, Hubby took the boys to the local pool for a few hours followed by a stop at a park.
Did they come home a little sunburned?
Yes.
Did they have a blast?
You bet.

3