Mom: Why We Love Her.

My mother is pretty cool. She raised three kids completely on her own, is obsessed with health and fitness, teaches Zumba, runs half marathons and 5ks, and places in the top three at the 5ks, has a huge knowledge for crap no one cares about (this must be where I got that talent from), is a gifted writer, is always open to offer up advice about anything, and is the grandmother who sends cards/candy/loud toys to her grandchildren at every holiday because she's out to spoil the kids and drive the parents nuts.

That's a big list of cool stuff to love her for, but that's not even the tip of the iceberg.

This past Thursday was my mom's 58th birthday. It was a good day, but at the same time it was particularly rough. My newest niece was born (that's a good part, obviously), but my grandfather was in the hospital, preparing for a surgery that could have very well ended his life, and then we ate at a Mexican joint that didn't serve margaritas. Terrible, how can you eat fajitas and not wash them down with tequila?! Anyway.

My mom, being herself, had to be everywhere at once. So off to see my brother and his family, we went. She never once let on how stressed she really was, or how she, along with everyone else, was a ball of nerves about Pa's surgery. No, instead she smiled, laughed, took a gazillion pictures, and carried on. She did the same thing, minus the pictures, when we visited Pa. 

On her feet, my Ma is admittedly, not always graceful, just watch her two step after three margaritas and a beer, but that day, she handled EVERYTHING with a grace and strength that can't be taught. Way to go Mom.

The next day was the old man's surgery. And again, everyone else had fear written all over them, but Mom on the other hand, just did her usual; handled all this business, asked questions, went with Pa to pre-op, and did it all without even a ripple in her sea of poise. I don't know how she does it. I sat there next to her just waiting, fidgeting, talking way too much and too fast, and she was calm. 

We love Ma for this. She's the glue that holds our family together. My Grandma passed that position down to my Mom many years ago, and it's a position that fits her well.

Of course there are many other things Madre is special for. For instance, her Adam Sandler version of Good King Winseslas that stops my kid from crying every time, or the rocking chair she let me borrow, that she rocked my brothers and myself in, her homemade chicken and dumplings when I catch a cold (yes 23 years old and Mommy still makes me something to eat when I'm sick), or how she remembers EVERY.LITTLE.THING. the grand kids tell her, and she buys them gifts based on what they told her. She still goes to every ball game and event she can make it to that the grand kids have. She takes amazing care of my Grandpa, her dad, which is hard because he doesn't complain unless he's starving. And the list STILL goes on.

My point for this post is, all moms are special to their families, they/we all bend over backwards at times to take care of everything, but no one has a mom like mine. Mine does it all for everyone. Always has. I know one day she'll tire of being the old bottle of Elmer's and it will be my turn, I just hope I can do half as well as she has. 

It's Only Bed Time!! These Tears Aren't Needed!! Part 2. The Mom Cryer.

Tonight's bed time was exceptionally cry-y (I couldn't think of any real adjectives to fit the situation, so made one.) Typically after I take the baby out of the bath, she cries for a little bit, (This kid LOVES bath time.), and as usual she cried some. But shortly after she calmed down, the dam broke, and dear old mom here just lost it.

It's been an emotionally charged month. Especially the last two weeks. Lots have happened, and then today we had a great event, it was my mama's birthday, and my newest niece was born late this afternoon. (By the way Baby J, the new little, is cuuuttteeee! I'm so excited!)

Seeing this new little teeny tiny made me realize how big my little teeny tiny is, and how small she was. Since she was born I have reminded myself daily to take it all in, to cherish these little times because it will go fast. Thankfully I can enjoy it to the fullest because I'm one of the few lucky moms who get to be home with their babies. But it just seems like I closed my eyes, two months passed, and now there's this big little girl with a head full of hair and the brightest smile, and I just don't know where the time went.

It all just hit me at once. I had rocked her, laid her in her crib, because I thought she was sleepy, then her pretty eyes sprang open, and the smiles and cooing started. I'm not sure what she was telling me about, but she was pretty excited. This is when I started crying.

I think she knew I wasn't really sad, just a little nostalgic, grateful, and a little stressed. So, as if to say something along the lines of "It's okay Mommy, I love you. I'll always be your baby." she gave me a big smile, a few more coos and then snuggled in to sleep.

I really didn't want to leave her side. I wanted her to keep telling me all about it. And I did stand there for a few more minutes and listened to her, but I knew it was bed time and she was clearly fighting sleep. So I turned the light off and stood in her doorway, and she talked for a few more minutes, then sighed really big and was asleep. This made me cry even more. I just love her to pieces.

This kid, she melts my heart. I never really wanted to be a mom, but then baby happened, and man, my life is 1000% fuller and happier with her here. 

I know children aren't for everyone, so I won't say that life really starts when you have kids. But, if you do have babies or will eventually, just remember to hold them tight, give them lots of love and kisses, but don't spoil them, and above all else remember that time goes so fast. So fast, that sometimes you just need to be the mom who stands in their bedroom doorway and cries about how much they love their sweet little miracle.

Becoming A Mom.

Most moms will say that their kids are the best things to happen to them. While some truly mean it, some really don't. For me, it's true my daughter coming into this world was the best thing that could happen.

Having a baby meant becoming a mom. That's not a title everyone deserves. There are women out there who are just worthless, and should not be having kids. I thought I was one of those people. 

Not because I don't care, or am lazy, or some nut job, but because I was selfish, obsessed with structure and control, and while I enjoy a good thrill, the anxiety that went with something new kept me from doing many things I wanted to do. Above all I didn't believe I had the capacity to love myself, much less a child.

Then along came Robbie Jo.

This little girl has changed me. While I'm still very selfish, I willing put her and her needs before me, like a mother should. There are many times I find myself googling all the ways to help her grow and life hacks for motherhood. I still have a need for structure, but control is now a distant, dark memory. It is no longer planning every second of every day and trying but failing to handle my life and emotions. Instead it has become order; aligning myself, my finances, my career goals. I am finding order goes with structure, much better than control ever did. I don't fear the world around me anymore. I am not scared of stepping out of my comfort zone, or the initial stress that comes with all the dreams I've always wanted to chase. But the biggest, most important change is love. 

I had never viewed myself in a positive light. She did away with that. The image I had in my head of my life, and my physical self was negative. But stretch marks, and tiny hands and feet made me realize that it's okay that I didn't go to college right out of high school, any mistakes I made in my past were just that, my past, and being a size 2 isn't going to make me happy.

Opening up my heart to myself made room for my baby and gave me the ability to grow as a person, and a mom. I know I am not done changing, that I will continue to shift and move as she and I both get older, I am ready for it, when the time comes. And one day, when she's old enough to understand, I'll tell her how she changed me and my life for the better. 

Safety In Numbers, At Walmart.

I, like everyone else, hate Walmart. Yes it saves me lots of money, but it's crowded, hot, loud, and full of tweakers. It's not very baby friendly either. Anyway I had to go buy groceries today, and I had to take the baby, by myself.

Yesterday the little lady had to get shots, so she's slept all day today, so I was thinking she would sleep the whole time we were in there, and I wouldn't need a diaper bag. I didn't take I'm the diaper bag. 

BIG MISTAKE.

She was awake the whole time, and thankfully didn't cry. But about halfway through, she pooped. Me being an idiot, I thought from the sound, and smell, that it was just a little gas, and maybe a tiny bit of poo, and it could wait until we got done. I should mention that because of the fussiness and shots she hadn't pooped yet today.

So I finish shopping, go through check out, and rush home, which is less than 5 minutes from Walmart. 

I get home, pull her out of the car seat, and am holding her, gathering up wipes and stuff, and I notice her onesie is a little wet. Okay probably pee, maybe sweat, no big deal. Mind you, I'm wearing A WHITE SHIRT. 

Again, idiot me, I have a kid. You don't wear white with kids.

I lay her down to change her, and realize why exactly that onesie was wet. That little bit of gas was a massive super poo that was long over due for the day. It filled the diaper, leaked out the sides, and was ALL OVER the car seat. How I missed that when I pulled her out, I don't know. Thankfully it didn't get on my white shirt, but now I'll never wear white again.

Boy she was proud of herself. And now I'm completely one thousand percent sure that you NEVER go into Walmart without the diaper bag, and you NEVER EVER go into Walmart without an extra person to go change that super poo or finish your shopping.

And don't wear white shirts.

Music To My Ears...sort of.

So today I had to take a long trek across the great wide state highway with the baby. She did well in the car, but I had a thought as I jammed out to Sia's "Chandelier" and Gemini Syndrome's "Stardust" back to back for the gabillionth time, because that's apparently all Sirius felt like playing on Hits and Octane today.

Is this really the crap I want my kid to grow up on? Songs by a creepy looking possibly albino guy who's live show, was not that impressive, (he really is creepy looking, YouTube, Gemini Syndrome, look it up.) and some about swinging from chandeliers and the lyrics sound as though some one doesn't know what number comes after three?

But it gets better. All of this was followed by, dun dun dun, freaking Jason Derulo. *insert eye roll/face palm here* If you know me, you know I'm no fan of Jason and his songs about trumpets and ham sammiches. I don't like ham sammiches. Maybe if his songs were about tuna salad sammiches, or a philly steak sammy, I'd be a fan.

Anyway, I started wondering, what happened to the days of good music? By good I mean mostly clean, and not saying things like "Disregard females, acquire currency.", except with the f-bomb, and the B word, *Thank you Paige, for that one*, and no auto tune or reverb. Ya know, when you actually had to sing.

Then my thought got deeper.

What if she doesn't like all the classic rock/country/pop/heavy metal/show tunes/Elvis that I listen to? What if one day she tells me "Mom, Led Zeppelin sucks, and Conway Twitty is lame. I will only listen to the Billboard hits, and HipHop Nation on Sirius. By the way Five Finger Death Punch is a stupid band name." What do I do then?! Just let her listen junk about twerking on table tops and driving cars with names that I can't even spell? Or worse. What if she likes Steel Panther? =|. (YouTube Steel Panther, your ears will bleed, and you'll be offended, but you'll get my point.)

This is a real concern. I love music, and I want her to love music too, just not the crap that is, well, crap. I'm trying to educate her young, but she already hates show tunes, so I think this ship was doomed to sink from the beginning. Who doesn't live show tunes? Is this kid even human?

Now I know how my mom felt when I made her listen to all my "noise". And my kid isn't old enough to listen to "noise" yet...Lord help me, my ears hurt already.

If I Could Write A Letter To Me.

I've seen a few of these "A letter to me before my children were born" posts floating around the interwebs. Some of them are good reads, some I just don't care for. But it made me think of what I would go back and tell myself if I had the chance. And honestly, I don't think I want to go back and give myself a heads up of what motherhood or pregnancy is like.

I have no regrets or wishes to have done things differently. I like the surprise, the experience. Don't get me wrong, there were, are, and will be some miserable moments, but that is a-okay with me.

There's something about being a mom, who can roll with the punches that is satisfying, no it's rewarding.

Now, I have been known to be a bit of a thrill seeker, and I like the challenge of doing lots of things the hard way, so maybe the complicated unknown is what is appealing to me. 

But really, what would I say to myself anyway, "Hey, formula and diapers are expensive. Quit your job before maternity leave because you won't be able to afford or find daycare."? These were all things I already knew. So, blazing a trail and reporting back would do no good.

Maybe my mind will change later on down the road, and I'll wish I could go back and know back then what I would know in the future. Or maybe I'll listen to the sage advice my mother is very willing to give if I just ask. But then again, what's a life without experiences and stories, and advice of your own to give?

It's Only Bed Time! These Tears Aren't Needed!!!

Bedtime routines are extremely important for babies. It gives them idea of what to expect is going to happen at the end of everyday. This helps them settle down in the evening, develop a sleep pattern, and eventually they will sleep through the night. Unless they are my kid.

As always I am very lucky my kid is actually VERY content, but the things that make her unhappy, she gets super unhappy about.

Our bed time routine is pretty simple but is spread out over three hours. At the start she wakes up and eats, we jack around and watch tv for an hour, she then lays on the floor and we play then she does a little tummy time, by then another hour has passed so I get her ready for a bath, then jammies, we read a book, I rock her for maybe 5 minutes, then she's out shortly after I put her in her crib.

Simple. Same time every night. Same thing every night. After almost two months of the same thing she should be cool with this. Nope. The first half is fine. But after the bath it's all down hill until she's asleep.

She likes bath time. No problem. She knows exactly what I'm going to do next. She even lifts her head so I can has under all her chins, but once the water is turned off and you're taking her out of the tub, the crying starts. 

It's more like a scream than a cry. Almost like you broke her leg, but all you're doing is wrapping this wiggly, screaming child in a towel. It's HORRIBLE. I'm sure the neighbors hear her and think I'm the worst mom ever. "Hey guys! Don't mind me. Just took the baby out of the bath, I swear. She's totally fine!" Insert a face similar to this one =|.

The screaming continues until she realizes that "hey, Mom put lotion, a diaper, and jammies on me while I wiggled so much you thought I was dancing to a Jason Derulo song." and then cue the "I'M NOT GOING TO BED YOU CAN'T MAKE ME!" Cry/whimper flailing mosh pit.

This girl can throw some bows man.

I'll get her all propped up in my lap with her boppy pillow, start reading whatever book it is I picked out and she goes ham sammich. (I'm not entirely sure what going ham sammich is. I just thought it sounded cool, and I like the word sammich.)

Flailing, kicking, the whimper/cry, if she could talk she'd probably tell how she's never sleeping again, and I'm so mean. This goes on for a solid 15 minutes. I just keep rocking and reading to her, and try to address any needs she might have, and then BAM! She gets all limp and I think "GOOD LORD SHE'S DEAD! BED TIME REALLY DID KILL HER!!!" And she sighs and then it sets in that oh she's just sleepy.

All of that to just go to bed. You would think I was pulling teeth because it can be so difficult. And I'm surprised I don't have any black eyes or a missing jugular vein from all the baby violence. I'm sure one day she won't be so against bed time, but that will probably be when she's a teenager, and all she does is sleep....I think I have my work cut out for me. =|.

The Nose, Knows.

I am a pretty routine person. Because of years of pretty much having the same daily routine, my internal clock goes off exactly when it should everyday. I knew having a baby would change my schedule, and I would struggle to get around, and wake up. 

Yea, no, that has not been the case.

My daughter tends to take after me. She sleeps almost exactly 4 hours at a time. She goes to bed around 10pm, wakes up about 2am, sleeps till 6am, then is up for the day and stays awake for a couple hours at a time, and is back to bed at 10pm. This is great and awesome, and I  certainly happy that she is down with structured schedules like me, but I'm now so used to her schedule that I'm starting to get good, deep sleep again.

I'm no sleepy brain doctor, but I'm going to assume that 4 hours is not long enough for a complete sleep cycle. So you can assume that 4 hour intervals poses a problem for waking up sometimes. Now, I've never just not woken up when the baby cries. For the most part my body just knows to get up when it is supposed to, but sometimes it just takes a little longer. Unless she poops.

Her room is across the hall from mine, so I can hear her pretty well, but I shouldn't be able to smell her. Well, I can. Come 6 am every morning, she wakes me up, via smell.

I snap up right, grab my glasses, and tear off into her room, for fear that in the 5 seconds it took me to wake up and get in her there, her diaper has leaked all over her crib, and is now smeared on the white wall beside her bed.  While this hasn't happened yet, one day, when she's more than a month old, I'm sure I will walk in there to find poo flung everywhere. 

Lord help me. 

There are three things I can't stomach well: snot, IV's, and uncontained poop. I rue the day.

They always say, once you become a parent you can stomach just about anything, but they don't tell you about the super human sense of smell you'll develop to protect your walls from being painted brown.

In long (I would say in short, but this post is rather long I feel.), I'm glad she's a good sleeper, and that can now call myself a super human of sorts. I just wish my power wasn't that of smell.

5 Not So Golden Thinks.

I'm sure there's a huge list of good, heartfelt things new mothers and fathers think when they're sweet baby is born. But here are the five not so golden xthings that I'm betting everyone thinks, but isn't willing to admit.

1.) I don't know if I'll love this baby/I didn't fall in love with this baby at first sight.

The first half of this applies before the baby is born, and I'm pretty sure is a common fear. You change as soon as the baby is born, and knowing that can psych you out a little. The second half happens all the time. I know for me it was not love at first sight. They laid her on my belly and all I could think was "That's a cute baby. I just gave birth to that. I'm starving. GET ME SOME FREAKING FOOD." But as soon as I held her, I was smitten. And now I'm total mush.

2.) My life is over.

Wrongo. I'm sure for some, the drastic change is terrifying, and for some they aren't going to change much. Then there are the ones who start fresh. Life really just begins when you have a child. It's a whole new life, not just a new chapter. For me it was like hitting the long needed reset button. I am proud to say a got a second chance to be the best version of me possible, because my kid deserves it.

3.) I'm a horrible parent. I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm a failure.

For some parenthood is just second nature, and for some not so much. But there are always days that you feel this way. No, you aren't a horrible parent, and no, you don't know what you're doing. You've never been a parent before, but the baby hasn't had parents before either so they don't know the difference. You're not a failure, just put on a brave face, forge ahead, and fake it until you make it. And you will make it.

4.) I can't stand all this crying.

Believe me, the crying gets to you. My daughter, luckily, is usually pretty content and happy. She doesn't cry much, but when she does, a lot of the time it's in excess, and I feel like I'm losing my mind. And I probably am. But the crying does stop, and what little sanity I had to begin with comes back.

5.) What about me? What about my wants and needs? What about my unaccomplished dreams?

What about you? Your last selfish thought. I thought this about this a lot while I was pregnant, and in the first few days afterwards, but I came to realize, I can still do all of the things I wanted to do. It may take a little long for me to finish school, or be harder to work out when I want, but I can and should still go after what I want, and take care of me, as long as it doesn't harm my family in any shape or form.

I can admit that I've thought all of these, but at the end of the day, or crying, which ever comes first, I remember no matter what life throws at me, I have to do what's best for my family, I have a huge, and I mean huge, support network, I have insane inner strength, and that this is my child, I now know what true love is.

Do You Believe In Life After Pregnancy?

Life before pregnancy was pretty awesome. And now that I am no longer pregnant it's even more awesome. But while I was pregnant, life was terrible. And being miserable the entire time you're pregnant is THE BEST birth control. No more kids for this girl!

Anyway. Before pregnancy I was a very active, routine person. Always on the move, and home life was pretty structured. My life was planned to the freaking minute. An exact science. Not intentionally, I just did the same thing so often, that that's just what happened. 

I did go out quite often though. I like the bar, and I like to dance. I can two step and swing pretty well if I do say so myself. And there's no competition on the floor for my wobble. That is a dance, not my gait as I felt the bar. I also enjoyed fishing, riding fourwheelers, and drinking many redbulls every day. In the big cans. Ya know, the 20 oz cans. Yep. I'm surprised I didn't die of a heart attack too.

Then I got pregnant. I could no longer drink energy drinks, or tequila. I had no energy to dance. And it was too cold to go fishing or ride fourwheelers (I hate cold weather and it was fall/winter.). So I just slept. All the time. And read lots of books. And caught like 15 freaking colds. Which sucked because I couldn't take anything for them.

Then spring came. My blood pressure decided it needed to go through the roof which kept me from doing much, and I smashed my right big toe with a board. That was fun. I for real fell over crying and screaming. It hurt so bad that I also threw up. Normally I handle pain well, but this probably broke my toe. No, it probably shattered it. I developed what I now call "thunder toe". The smashing made my toe stay swollen and misshapen, hence "thunder toe".

Shortly after that I swelled to an unrecognizable form of Alex. I mean I gained like 20-30 pounds in water weight in maybe 3 weeks. I didn't even look human. My chin had chins had chins. But those chins made for fabulous snapchat pictures to my coworkers while I should have been working, but sat in the back on my phone. According to the receptionist at my doctor's office, I looked completely different. She didn't recognize me at my 6 week postpartum appointment. 

Also, my weren't feet at this point. They were like stumps where my feet had been. Sweet grandmother's spatula they were swollen. Did you know your feet could get stretch marks? Yea, me neither.

I'm pretty sure the month of May had about 5,000 days in it. And then the first 18 days of June were like doubled in length. Finally, June 19th came, I went in to be induce and scared myself into labor before the could start my pitocin drip (I'm not a fan of IV's so I had a freak out. Ironic for someone who has tattoos and piercings to not handle a large needle going into a tiny vein in your hand.) My labor was awful, however delivery went perfectly, but that's a story for another blog.

Now my sweet little is here, the swelling went down after a couple of weeks, and my blood pressure started coming down last week. I've also lost a few pounds of the actual weight I gained, because I Zumba my saggy stretch marked butt off everyday. 

I haven't returned to redbull consumption, but I have endulged in a few mixed drinks and a full day on a super fast bike on dirt road with no helmet, because I'm super smart like that. All that miserable was worth it though. And some of it is pretty funny to look back on. I guess there really is life after pregnancy.