Tuesday, December 23, 2014

One Crazy Day

My dear friend Kara at the Daily Whisk just wrote a great "day in the life" post, which inspired me to do the same. But, hold on to your hats because this is going to be a wild ride.

5:25am- Daddo-O comes into Jaxy's room to wake me up. Wanna work out? No, but I'll be right down...

5:30am- I use my ninja skills to silently roll off the bed and change into my workout clothes. I stumble down the stairs and push play. We discuss how much we hate Autumn Calabrese. I critique Dadd-O's plank and almost pee my yoga pants trying to do (modified) burpees.

5:47am- We hear Jaxy screaming upstairs. Dadd-O brings him down and tucks him in on the couch to "watch us workout."

5:52am- Jaxy is nursing upside-down while I attempt to do crunches for 60 seconds straight, twice. Why did I give up my gym membership again?

6:00am- We finish the cool down, Dadd-O goes upstairs to take a shower and I snuggle Jaxy on the couch and watch cartoons/sneak in a catnap.


Over the next hour and a half, two people shower, at least two people poop, four sets of teeth are brushed, the dog goes out 17 times, lunches are put together, breakfasts are made, snuggles and meltdowns are had, and if we're lucky, we get out the door on time and without forgetting anything or yelling too much.

Three days a week the boys go to daycare together (where thankfully, meals are taken care of). The other two days we usually divide and conquer. Dadd-O drops off Jaxy and I bring Harrison to preschool, feeding him pre-made, preservative-laden mini muffins and a pre-made, preservative-laden yogurt smoothie in the car. He asks me, Is Dadd-O getting surgery on his balls? I play dumb. We sing All About That Bass and fight over whether it's a girl or a boy singing. Seriously?!

8am- Blah blah... work stuff... blah blah... State employee... blah blah... phone calls, emails, webinars, meetings... blah blah blah

4:45pm- It's already dark as I leave work for the day. We divide and conquer once again, but this time I get the little one- and this happens...

Jax: I want music loud!

So I turn up the music...

Jax: blah blah blah
Me: (turn down the music) What babe?
Jax: Mama, you a girl?
Me: Yes, I'm a girl.
Jax: Loud.
Me: (turn up the music)

One minute later...

Jax: blah blah blah
Me: (turn down the music) What babe?
Jax: Mama, it's dark outside?
Me: Yes, it dark outside.
Jax: Loud!
Me: (turn up the music)

Two minutes later...

Jax: blah, blah, blah
Me: (turn down the music) What babe?
Jax: Mama, Bella our dog?
Me: Yes, Bella is our dog.
Jax: LOUD!
Me: (turn up the music)

Aaand REPEAT.

5:15pm: We pull into the garage and I release Jax from his car seat. I watch Mickey Mouse and drink a boobie?! He asks/demands. As you wish my son ::eyeroll::

5:30pm: The Dadd-O and Harrison get home and I retreat to the kitchen to get started on dinner. If I'm lucky the boys stay downstairs and play/watch TV, but generally they want to be as close to me as humanly possible without actually crawling back inside my uterus. I try to keep my cool as I chop, saute and stir allthewhile tripping over ninjas, kissing boo-boos, breaking up fights and trying to protect two little cannon-ballers from needing stitches. (Seriously, they gather all the pillows in the house, pile them up near the couch, then scream Cannon Ball! as they jump... generally, they land on the pillows.)

6:15pm: We finally sit down to dinner. Jax refuses to eat anything on his plate, but begs for bites from both Dadd-O and I (it's the same damn thing!). We attempt normal family conversation.

Me: Harrison, how was your day?
H: Good.
Dadd-O: What was your favorite part?
H: Tooting!
Me: death stare
Jax: I tooted!

And then we basically give up... It's a good day if no one is "asked" to leave the table, or storms of crying mid-meal.

6:30pm: Daddo-O gets the boys in the bath, while I clean up the kitchen. For some reason, I hate bath time more than I hate dishes. I overhear things like, Don't splash your brother! and Get your finger out of his butt crack! Oh yeah, that's why I prefer dishes...

Now comes my favorite part of the evening. The boys are all clean-smelling and dressed in their jammies. We wrestle in the living room for awhile (until someone gets hurt-- usually me-- which forces us to stop.) We read books Pete the Cat is a big hit in our house. And sometimes we even do Cosmic Yoga (yes, as a family). Our goal is to wind the boys down- though I think Dadd-O sometimes forgets this.


8:00pm: Teeth are brushed, and a cup of milk is poured. We give hugs and kisses to Dadd-O and Harrison. I lay with Jaxy and nurse him before he rolls his little body over and snuggles in to me. His breaths become deeper, and slower and within 30 minutes he's out. This is my "me" time- I stalk Facebook, play Candy Crush, read on my phone... and usually fall asleep by 9pm.

This is when Daddo-O and Harrison have thier self-proclaimed "man time." They watch shows on the iPad and snack on goldfish. I'm not even entirely sure what they do, but I'm sure it includes a lot of farting and talking about balls.




Aaaaaannnddd REPEAT!




Friday, November 14, 2014

A Real Life Shit Show

**WARNING** This post is both disgusting and humiliating, but in order to make the rest of you feel like better parents, I feel socially obligated to share. You're welcome.

Poop Story #1

We're just barely starting to introduce potty training to Jax. We're not pushing it, just following his lead... and really, I'm not in any hurry because who wants to run to a public bathroom 8,000 times during one trip to the grocery store? Anyway- Jax was hanging out in his underwear (size 2T underwear are possibly the cutest thing ever!) when Harrison declared that he needed to poop. I watched Jax playing quietly and noticed a little bit of a squat coming on.

Are you pooping?, I asked. But I could tell from his face, that yes, indeed he was. Let's go on the potty! I exclaimed... but Harrison was already on the toilet, and there was no chance of running up the stairs carrying the little pooper.

Harrison are you done? I kind of yelled.

Yeah, why? he asked.

Get up!! NOW!

And he did, thankfully. As I pulled off the cute little 2T Mickey Mouse unders, a log of poop fell to the floor. I put Jax on the toilet, with Harrison standing by and went to pick up the poop log... to find that we were out of toilet paper.

DADD-O! Can you bring down a roll of toilet paper?

In a few minutes, I'm pooping! This phrase gets shouted way too frequently in our house, but I digress.

Don't move! I told both boys and ran upstairs to get a roll of toilet paper. As much as I love my husband, I avoid entering the bathroom at all costs during and directly after his pooping sessions, but I had to take one for the team here. I pulled my shirt up over my nose, averted my eyes and went directly to the storage closet, grabbed a roll and ran. I return to the downstairs bathroom to find Jax still on the toilet (phew) and Harrison standing by, but the poop... the poop was gone.

Guys, what happened to the poop?

Bella ate it... Yes, the fucking dog ate my kid's poop. But hey, at least I didn't have to clean it up.


Poop Story #2

I was home alone with the boys building forts, playing "babies" or something amazing like that when I needed to :: ahem :: "do my business." I left the boys to play, assuring them that I'd be back in a few minutes. A few seconds later Harrison barges into the bathroom exclaiming that he has to poop. Go downstairs, let me know when you're done and I'll come wipe you. I said. Apparently Jax went down with him... as did the iPad. So a few minutes later I hear the dreaded, I'm done!! and head downstairs. I can tell immediately that some thing's not right. Harrison has leaned the iPad up against the dryer and was totally sucked into NINJAGO some educational nature programming. Next to him stands Jax... holding a toy screwdriver which is covered in POOP! As are both of his hands and the side of the toilet!

Harrison! What happened? I kind of yelled (again).

What? I didn't know he was going to stick it in my butt...

Seriously!?!? Turn off the iPad right now! Jax don't move!

I then proceeded to use Clorox wipes on every surface imaginable, even my child's hands, and took away the iPad for the rest of the day. Because, pay a-fucking-tention when someone sticks a toy screwdriver (or anything else for that matter) in your butt!!



This is real life people- I can't make this shit up. See what I did there?

Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Keeping Your Inner Bitch at Bay


Do you ever feel like Patricia Heaton's character Deborah from the show Everybody Loves Raymond? Because I do- ALL.THE.TIME.

In the days Pre Kids (P.K.) I used to think to myself- "God, she's such a bitch!" "Why's she so mean to her husband?!" "WTF is her problem?"

Well... Now I know! I really, truly, get it. She's overwelmed, she's tired, her mind won't shut off, and she's overwelmed (that needs to be said twice.)

Being a mom is hard, being a wife is hard, hell, being a person is hard! Put those three together and you've got a tornado of thoughts running through your mind at any given moment.

Ugh, the sink is full of dishes. I should do them. No, I did them last time, so Dadd-O should do them... but he's playing with the boys, that's more important. I should be playing with them too. But if I don't do the dishes now, they'll still be there tomorrow and Dadd-O isn't home tomorrow, so I'll never get them done and the world will end!!

This is just a tiny sample of what goes on in my head at any given moment. (You're welcome.)

So, how do I curb my inner Deborah? Well, I'm not always able to keep that bitch on lock-down, but I do have a few tricks that work for me:

Deep Breaths- I know this sounds cheesy, but it really does work. When I can feel myself getting close to losing my shit, I take a few slow, deep breaths... then turn on my Stepford wife face and go back to parenting.

Time Away- Sometimes I choose to do the dishes, or bring the laundry downstairs just so that I can have a tiny bit of time to myself. And sometimes I pretend I'm pooping so that I can check facebook in private.

Be Honest- Sometimes I just have to tell my boys (Dadd-O included), that I'm having a rough day. That it's hard for me to be patient/kind/calm, and that I need them to be understanding/helpful/patient. Basically, consider this a warning shot.


How do you keep it together as a partner, parent, person??

Thursday, September 25, 2014

Life is a Whirlwind

WOW! The past month has been crazy. I feel like I've lost track of the time and can't even remember what's been keeping us so busy, but here's a little recap:

Harrison returned to preschool- This is exciting, because our little guy is growing up, but it's also a little stressful. "Preschool days" adds extra time to the commute twice a week and pile on one more logistic to work out with Dadd-O. (Can you do drop off, and I'll do pick up? Wait, I don't have a car seat...)

We went camping one last time- We've discovered a campground that we really like. It's family-owned and operated, with lots of activities for the kids. We went earlier this summer and took advantage of the water slides, playground and two pools. This month, we loved the Halloween themed weekend. Many of the campsites were covered with spooky decorations and the boys trick-or-treated from site to site. It was a blast, but it was also the first COLD weekend which gave us the chilling (see what I did there?) reminder that fall is coming.

Dadd-O has been training- In addition to his full time "real job," Dadd-O is a volunteer firefighter. This month he's been taking a class at the fire station every Tuesday and Thursday evening, and two full Saturdays. In between classes he's preoccupied with reading and studying. This means that two nights a week, we've seen each other for about 10 minutes between work and class while we pass off the boys and share a quick kiss hello/goodbye. The boys miss him, I miss him, he misses us... and we all miss our normal routine. Thankfully, the month is almost over and we can go back to eating dinner as a family.

I joined a book club- Reading more (at all?) has been on my to-do list for a while now. I was psyched when a few of my lady friends at work recently invited me to join a book club. We had our first meeting last week and the food wine conversation was great. I actually finished the book (I wasn't sure I'd have enough free time) and enjoyed an evening with hilarious, intelligent, and amazing women! Win-win.

Board Meetings- Harrison's pre-school is a co-operative, which means parents have a say in how the school is run and must participate on the board or a committee. I'm the board secretary, so once a month I spend an evening at the preschool with other parents discussing school operations and planning. I'm also volunteering with our Community Justice Center (more to come on this), where I spend two evenings a month.

Soccer- Late in the summer, Harrison attended a week-long soccer "camp." I would totally use airquotes if I could, because it was only for an hour a day, seriously... regardless they still get the $100 bucks out of us. (Which included a ball, jersey and t-shirt. Quite as steal.) Anyway, he seemed to enjoy soccer and met a new friend that he couldn't stop talking about. Luckily, the new friend's mom told me about another upcoming soccer program that was starting and new friend would also be participating. This one is only once a week, for six weeks- every Friday afternoon. So far it's gone well, except for trying to keep Jaxy off the field. "I play soccer camp too?"


Things seem to be winding down a bit, thankfully, but now I must start planning a fifth birthday party!





Monday, September 22, 2014

Versatile Blogger Award


My dear friend Kara nominated me for my first ever blog award, the Versatile Blogger Award. Thanks!

I’m going to share seven (questionably) interesting things about me and then nominate seven other bloggers to do the same. (Ok, I only came up with five.)

And this will keep going for all eternity...

1. Whenever possible, my socks must match my shirt. If that's not possible, they can match my pants. If that's not possible, they must coordinate with my overall outfit.

2. I hate romantic comedies- like HATE them. When it comes to movies, if you want to keep me interested, I need it to be dark, scary, inappropriately funny, or just plain bizarre.

3. If I could have any job in the world, I would be a guidance counselor. Helping young people realize their goals seems like it would be pretty fulfilling. I'd love the school schedule, without the pressure of being a teacher and I can happily administer personality tests and visit college campuses all day long.

4. I take friendship very seriously. I don't do well with acquaintances- because either we're friends, and I'll give you all I've got, or we're not... (wow, that makes me sound like a total bitch)

5. I am not spontaneous. I wish I was, really I do... but whenever I try to do something on a whim, anxiety sets in and it's rarely enjoyable (for anyone involved). This relates to big things- I won't (generally) lose my shit over a change in dinner plans.

6. I'd love to go back to school to get my master's degree, but I'm not exactly sure what I'd want to study: social work or counseling.

7. I seriously LOVE nachos!! Like, I'm an addict who can't stop herself if I get anywhere near chips with melted cheese.

Now it's your turn

Alma at A Tiny Growing House
Kate at Sometimes I Make Art
Sarah at Mama Gets Real
Gretchin at Your Mom Is Strange
Jessica at The Leaky Boob

Tuesday, August 26, 2014

Eight Years




Today we celebrate eight years of marriage, eight years of ups and downs, happiness and sadness. Seriously, you can accomplish a lot in eight years!

5,840 Kisses
32,120 Shared Meals
3 Lost Parents
2 Houses Purchased
1 Crazy Dog
14,600 I Love You's
16 Vacations
2 Beautiful Boys
416 Disagreements
9,125 Diapers Changed
100 Pounds Lost
100 Pounds Gained

Cheers to many more!
Love you babe


Monday, August 18, 2014

When Things Don't Quite Work Out as Planned



I'm excited to share another breastfeeding story from my friend Lindsey- she pumped around the clock for her daughter for NINE whole months. Truly inspiring.

A Pumping Story (Lindsey Walker)

Healthy, smart, four year old Riley

I was a breastfeeding mom. I knew this from a young age. My mom had told me that she breastfed me for six months, so that was my objective as well. At the time, my rationale was to breastfeed for the bonding experience and the health benefits. I would soon find out not only the health benefits, but the mechanics of it as well. When I was in my last trimester, I bought a nursing bra and attended a two-hour course in breastfeeding and an 8-hour pre-natal class. I’m a planner and it helped me feel prepared.

After 26 hours of Pitocin-induced labor, I was elated to hold my sweet daughter in my arms. She spent two seconds on my chest before she was whisked away by the men and women in yellow, who helped her find her first breaths after what felt like an eternity of waiting—especially from my immobile, placenta-delivering position. Then, remarkably, I held her again. Well, barely, because I was exhausted and had sprained my neck during labor while pushing on my side. We spent a lot of skin-on-skin time together, as the doctors encouraged it for bonding and feeding association.

I soon learned that Riley wasn’t interested in my breasts, other than as a pillow. The nurses said it was probably due to the long and rough delivery. Since Riley wouldn’t nurse in the first 24 hours, the nurses set me up on an every two-hour pumping schedule to encourage my breasts to produce milk. My breasts needed a baby’s suckling to encourage milk production, and my body was on some hangover schedule from the Pitocin that made my milk come in more slowly than normal.

Small amounts of colostrum was recovered from my breasts and then quickly put into her mouth with my finger. Since she still had no interest in latching on to my nipples, my colostrum mixed with infant formula was poured into a syringe. A tube connected to the syringe was placed next to my nipple and Riley tried to latch on and receive some of the mixture. We didn’t introduce a bottle because we didn’t want her to have nipple confusion and prefer a bottle over the natural delivery of my breasts. I was reluctant to give her formula but felt it was the best approach until I could produce more milk and she could latch on properly.

Once I arrived home from the hospital, I stayed on my pumping schedule while still trying to syringe and breastfeed Riley. Even when Riley slept more than two hours, my husband would set the alarm so I could pump using the portable Medela pump that my health care provided. I was on a rugged schedule of pumping, Tylenol, and a narcotic for my sprained neck. (The doctors swore it was safe and not transferable to my breast milk.)

When Riley was four days old, I scheduled a home visit with a lactation consultant. She found me upstairs in the fetal position. I told her that she would have to teach me how to breastfeed from that position because I couldn’t support my own neck, sit up, or walk well. She introduced me to a modified football hold and encouraged me to stay on my every two-hour pumping schedule. She said she would return in two days.

Later that afternoon, we visited the pediatrician who weighed Riley and checked her over. He was very gentle and reassuring. I explained to him my breastfeeding issues and he encouraged me to keep trying. Riley had lost 5oz since birth, but he was not alarmed as some weight loss is normal after birth. The next two days moved slowly as I continued on my schedule of feeding and pumping. I was exhausted, but determined.

On the evening of Riley’s fifth day, my milk finally arrived. I felt elated as if I had just received an unexpected million-dollar gift in the mail. It wasn’t the mail man, it was the milk man with a just-in-time delivery of white gold, holy boob juice! My enthusiasm returned and I continued to put Riley to my breast, sometimes with the syringe and sometimes without depending on how much I felt Riley was actually eating, often she would lie there with my breast in her mouth. I would awkwardly give her my milk through the syringe with her mouth almost latched, she would feed, and then I would remove the tube and syringe. I hoped that once the flow of milk came through the syringe, she would start suckling. After every hour of feeding (and burping), she would cry.

My next appointment on Riley’s fifth day was to the chiropractor for my neck. Riley, Dave, and I went but I was very concerned about returning home for my next pumping. My breasts were now engorged, but my sprained neck was significantly improved. I was relieved to focus on feeding my baby.

As promised, the lactation consultant returned on Riley’s sixth day. This time, she came equipped with a hospital grade pump and was surprised to find me sitting in a living room chair with a much-improved neck. She demonstrated different breastfeeding positions, and she encouraged me to continue pumping when Riley didn’t feed well at my breast. Later that day, we returned to the pediatrician. He was pleased to report that Riley had gained an ounce in two days. We would return in four days for another weight check.

Over the next four days, I breastfed Riley every hour or two, and then she’d cry immediately afterward, so I would syringe feed her milk until she was satisfied. This meant my pumping schedule had to continue. I pumped and fed her constantly around the clock. I was exhausted, anxious, and everything felt surreal. If I went anywhere, I returned within two hours so I didn’t miss a scheduled pumping.

When Riley was ten days old, I called the pediatrician again. I was so sleep deprived that I had to find another solution. Since Riley still wasn’t latching, I couldn’t maintain this schedule for much longer and keep up with her demand through a syringe. Riley weighed in at 6lbs 15oz, a weight gain of five ounces in four days. The pediatrician was pleased with her weight gain but recognized syringe feeding wouldn’t work permanently. I met with his lactation consultant who verified that my holds were well positioned and that I was coaxing Riley appropriately. She also noticed that Riley would barely latch and then fall asleep despite that I would undress her for each feeding and rub her feet to keep her awake. She and the doctor conferred and recommended that I try “tough love”: Stop syringe feeding and give Riley a chance to feed only from my breast. In theory, if she were hungry enough she might learn to latch on. I thought they were crazy and worried I’d starve my child. I returned home and cried in the shower.

Over the next three days, I nursed until I hallucinated. When Riley didn’t feed well, I followed breastfeeding with pumping to ensure my milk supply didn’t wane. Two days later, Riley’s diapers were no longer wet and she became lethargic. She didn’t cry much, but she didn’t move much either. Even worse, she was very difficult to wake. We returned to the pediatrician early the next day. This time, he was alarmed. Riley had lost five ounces in three days.

He told me to make a choice. I could formula feed or try pumping all my breast milk. His son had been born with a cleft palette and his wife had successfully pumped her breast milk while caring for their other children. I decided to continue pumping as long as I could. I was disappointed that I wasn’t going to be a successful breastfeeding mom, but I was so comforted to know that I could go home and try to feed Riley a bottle of my breast milk. Riley loved her first bottle and gobbled down every drop.

I called the lactation consultant who had visited my home to inform her of my new plan. She didn’t support the idea as she said most exclusively pumping mothers failed. I told her I wanted to continue renting the hospital breast pump, and she recommended that I pump every three hours even if Riley slept for longer periods. I refused to give up.

When my husband was home, he would feed Riley while I pumped. Eventually, I learned to put Riley in a boppy pillow on a bed in our spare bedroom while I pumped and fed her simultaneously. Hands-free pumping bras were a terrific invention that allowed me to pump and stroke Riley’s hair. I couldn’t hold her, but at least she felt my touch while she fed.

I soon found a rhythm. If I was home, I used the hospital pump. When I was running errands or visiting other people, I brought my portable, battery-powered Medela pump and my hands-free pumping bra. Riley loved her bottle-fed milk. I pumped every three hours for 20 minutes each time, which was enough to feed her as often as she needed. Occasionally, I would try to breastfeed too but she always left my breast hungry.

For the next seven weeks, I pumped every three hours. I pumped everywhere I went. I pumped in the car while my husband drove us to the Jazz Festival. I pumped in the Home Depot, Hannaford, and University Mall parking lots. After shopping for new nursing bras, I pumped in a side street while downtown. Once while visiting family in Montreal, I pumped at a café along the Lachine Canal.

Eventually, my pumping schedule went to every four hours and my milk supply maintained. Riley loved it and steadily gained weight. Soon, I found myself freezing the milk Riley didn’t eat. As the weeks passed, our freezer grew full. We used our parents’ freezers for storage when our freezer had no room left. Three months later, when their freezers were full, we bought a five foot cubic freezer to store the breastmilk.



I was so proud of myself for making it to three months that I kept pumping. Life was easier too because I was pumping every five hours and only woke at night to pump if Riley was up to feed. At six months, I felt like I had earned a trophy! I had my own dairy operation and my little one was a very happy and well-nourished baby.

I pumped for nine months and fed Riley frozen breast milk for another four months. Other than two days while my milk was coming in, Riley never ate formula. Turns out, I wasn’t a breastfeeding mom. I was a pumping mom.

Pumping while my aunt feeds Riley

Saturday, August 9, 2014

Crystal's Story

As promised, I bring to you, my long-time mama friend Crystal from Discovering Me In Them to share her own breastfeeding story. Enjoy!


My Breastfeeding Journey

Nursing 7 day old Wes


Just as knowing that I wanted children, I knew that once I had children I wanted to breastfeed. It was a decision I found easy to make. This was something important to me. It felt natural to me. After the birth of my first born I immediately tried nursing him. I was fortunate, the little man took to nursing right away. Problem was that I had an emergency c-section which was inhibiting my milk to come in. When you have a c section it takes longer for your milk to come through. For me that meant 8 days. I was hospitalized for 5 days after my c section and my son was losing weight. I had not intended to use formula at all. Yet my baby needed to eat and I wasn’t making his food.

It was decided that instead of just giving him a bottle we would catheter feed him to not cause “nipple confusion” (you don’t want the baby getting use to a bottle or pacifier too early when trying to breastfeed exclusively). This meant I pumped like a rockstar for every drip and dribble of milk then mixed it with formula. I then had it in a syringe attached to a butterfly catheter and put it next to my nipple. When I would offer baby my breast he would suck and I would then feed him the contents in the syringe. This allowing him to nurse, get food, and help my supply to come in. It was a pain in the ass! I did this for 8 days. Then finally, voila! My boobies were full of milk. I was able to stop the catheter feedings and I nursed my boy for 18 months!

I was passionate about nursing. The beginning was hard, emotionally more than anything. I believe that having the emergency c section made me even more driven to make breast feeding my baby a must. I was not going to give up. I needed to do this for him! For me! For us!

I love, love, love nursing. I love the closeness, intimacy, bond, and extra snuggle time that I have been able to share with my children.

I also know I am fortunate. I know that not every woman’s journey with nursing is easy and that some are simply not able to. For this I am beyond thankful for two boys who are awesome at nursing. It definitely takes the child and the mother to make it work.

I am now nursing my 10 month old. He, like his brother, is a pro. I know I will never regret being able to do this. One thing is for certain, I know I will miss the day I get to hold my child, nurse them and look into their eyes. There is something magical that happens in these moments.



Friday, August 1, 2014

Celebrating Boobs

August is National Breastfeeding Month, and this first week is World Breastfeeding Week. For those of you who know me, either personally or just in Blogland, it's pretty apparent that I'm a devoted breast feeder. Before I became a mother, I never would have imagined how passionate I would feel about breastfeeding and about supporting other women to breastfeed (if that's what they choose to do, or course).

Throughout the month of August I'll be posting stories from close mama friends of mine. My goal is to share an array of breastfeeding experiences, from amazing to challenging (and everywhere in between). Enjoy!

Photo Credit
Disclaimer: Nursing is one of those things that you can't truly understand or appreciate unless you've actually done it. Probably akin to running a marathon... it requires hard work, dedication, commitment and support. All women deserve to be supported- by family, friends, society, policy- if they make the choice to breastfeed. Please don't interpret my supporting and educating women to breastfeed as shunning women who don't- just as supporting gay marriage is not a condemnation of hetero marriage.

Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Talking to Kids About Race: Don't Complicate It


Photo Credit
 
 
The other day we were riding home from daycare and out of nowhere, Harrison says, China people have eyes like this. And he pulled the corners of his eye out toward his ears.

Now, I'm a social worker, I'm "culturally competent"...so you can possibly imagine that inside, I was MOR-TI-FIED!!!

Yes, people from China do have eyes that look different than ours... but it's not ok to make fun.

I wasn't making fun, it's just how they look. And he proceeded to do the eye thing again. ::shudder::

Yes, people look lots of different ways- some are tall and some are short, some have light skin, and some have dark skin... but doing that with your eyes could hurt someones feelings- it might feel like you're making fun.

You mean like Dora? (oh yes, the poor girl whom you recently threatened to kick in the "bagina")

Yes, Dora is from Mexico (I think???) and her skin is a little darker than yours.

And the Ninja Turtles! They have green skin because they're from You Nork. (Translation: New York)

Yes, babe... just like the Ninja Turtles.

I know this won't be our last conversation about race- I made it clear that it's ok to notice people's differences, but not ok to make fun. Someday I want him to have a deeper understanding, to know what oppression means and that diversity is something to be fostered and not feared, but for now, I believe this was enough.


How have you handled similar conversations with young children?

Tuesday, June 10, 2014

The City Mouse and the Country Mouse

We recently took the boys to a fishing derby in the small town where Dadd-O and I grew up. It was so nice to slow down our normally fast-paced life and spend a few hours by a pond. Harrison liked the idea of fishing at first. He happily casted a couple of times, but he quickly lost interest. Most of his time was spent walking around, supervising and eating goldfish (crackers) from a Tupperware.

Staying hydrated (he stole that water)

I immediately began to blame myself for his lack of interest in the great outdoors- don't get me wrong we spend time outside, but we're usually in our backyard or at the park. Clearly, we have not gotten this boy out into the woods enough- I wanted him to catch frogs and climb trees, get dirty and skin his knees (not an intentional rhyme, but I think it works here). He's a social butterfly, with a kind, sensitive soul, but woodsy he is not.

Our littlest one, on the other hand, was handing me worms (unlike his father), looking for rocks, and digging in the dirt. It's clear that he loved being outside and was not afraid to get his hands (and feet and face) dirty.

Contemplating throwing something into the pond

I've always been amazed at just how very different siblings can be from one another. They were raised in the same home, by the same parents, in a similar fashion, so maybe it's nothing that I did or didn't do enough... maybe they're just different.



Monday, June 2, 2014

Real Life

I've been solo parenting for close to a week now as Dadd-O is away for work. Evenings have been pretty uneventful- pick up from daycare/preschool, play outside, eat dinner, playtime, Harrison watches TV while I put Jaxy to bed, I fight with him to brush his teeth and go to sleep... And repeat.

Yesterday, I thought I'd mix it up a little, and decided last minute to stop at the local playground. I wasn't really dressed in playground attire, but I figured, What the heck? Live a little! (yes, this is my life now). As we pulled in to the school parking lot, I realized how busy it was- and I also realized that I had to pee BAD. If you've given birth to a child (or more than one) you know how that can take a toll on your bladder. So when I say I had to pee, I had to pee NOW.

I'll be right back, I said.
I wanna come, screamed Harrison.
No, I'll be right back. I just have to pee.
So do I!


Of course... of course you do. I can't leave screaming children in my car in a school parking lot with 100 witnesses people nearby. I didn't see a porta-potty and I'm not familiar enough with the school to know if it was locked, or even where the bathroom was, and things were getting pretty urgent. I took the boys out of their car seats, held their little hands as we crossed the busy parking lot, and walked carefully into the "woods". (By woods, I mean five feet of trees between the parking lot and some one's backyard.)

Sssshhhh, I said. I'm just going to pee really quick. Luckily I was wearing a skirt, so I squatted down and went to work.

Are you pooping? Harrison yelled.
No! Ssshhh!

And that's when Jaxy squatted down to check out what I was doing right up close.

Bubbles! He exclaimed.
Yes, there are bubbles... from my pee.

Harrison then proceeded with a less than accurate anatomy lesson on how girls pee differently than boys and "baginas" are grosser than penises.

I finished up, drip dried and stood to head out of the "woods". That's when I realized that the back of my skirt was wet. Not just a little wet either, the back of my skirt was soaked in urine.

Shit!
Shit's a bad word,
Harrison reminded me.
Yes, it is, sorry.
Can we go play now?
Yes, just a second. I need to get something out of my car.

Thankfully, I'd been driving my gym bag around, unused, for the past two weeks. I reached in and found a pair of yoga pants, slipped them on under my skirt and voila. But wait... I can't wear my dressy work shirt with yoga pants.

Boys, stay right there on the edge of the grass.
Why are you getting in the car?


I stealthily slipped one shirt off and the other one on, while the boys threw rocks onto the grass (apologies to whomever mows). I'm telling myself that no one saw a thing.

Why did you change your shirt? Did you pee on your shirt?
Who wants me to push them on the swing?!?


I can't make this shit up, people.




Wednesday, May 28, 2014

Like Mother Like Son


It’s amazing how another person can be so much like you. So often I stop and smile because Harrison is such a mini version of me. Not only do we look quite a bit alike, but, for better or worse, he acts like me too!

He has a ridiculously good memory. He still tells me stories about (real) things that happened when he was only two. He can easily recall people he’s met and places that he visited quite a long time ago. I’m kind of the same way; I have some freakishly detailed memories of random childhood moments. And, yes, I just used a semicolon.

He wants things to be fair, ALWAYS. Right now it’s usually about his brother getting more pushes on the swing (because he’s big enough to pump), or making sure no one gets more cookies than him. I remember in sixth grade my parents had to meet with my teacher because I was having a hard time “understanding other children’s differences.” I just wanted everyone to be treated the same, no special treatment for anyone. I’ve become more tolerant, and surely less selfish, with age and I’ve realized that fair does not always mean equal. I hope that H continues to fight for fairness and justice... and not just a bigger piece of pizza.

He’s a bit of a know-it-all. This past winter when we were on vacation to Disney World, Harrison told some boys he had just met on the bus, I’m kind of a ninja expert. And in his mind, he is. Luckily, they were sweet and didn’t laugh right in his face. There are some subjects that he feels so strongly about that he wants to learn every detail, and then he shares them with you, repeatedly. It’s kind of savant-like. “Did you know that the blue ninja used his full potential… blah, blah, blah… and Lord Garmidon is Lloyd’s father and Sensei Wu’s brother… blah, blah, blah.” I can only half listen because it makes my head hurt- but he’s so very passionate about Ninjas and some other cool stuff too. I have no idea where he gets this trait...

Lastly, he's fucking hillarious! He loves to shake his booty, make up silly songs and just have a good time. He brings out the good kind of crazy in me and I love that! There's honestly nothing better than just letting loose and being goofy with your kid as they laugh wildly. I hope those are the memories that he'll cherish forever.


Love you lots my little love bug!

Wednesday, May 7, 2014

Mother’s Day

My mama and Me, Circa 1984

I prepare myself for people who don’t know me well to ask, well intentioned, if I’m doing anything special with my mom on Sunday. Then there’s the awkward moment where I explain that she’s gone. I hear coworkers talk about their plans to get a pedicure or have a fun day of shopping with their moms, and I feel envious and just a little lost.

Thankfully, I only had to endure one Mother’s Day after losing my own mom before I became a mother myself- and even then, I was a few months pregnant and already a mother at heart. I am grateful to have children of my own now to shift my focus from feeling sad and lost, to hopeful and happy. Not a day goes by that I don’t find myself doing something that reminds me of her…


Snuggling my boys to sleep, and waking them in the morning with gentle smooches

Dancing like a freak to make my boys laugh… or sometimes just to bug them

Calling Harrison Love Bug

Blasting age-inappropriate music, dancing and singing my heart out in the car

Sitting patiently with my Harrison, on his bed, as he works through difficult feelings of anger, stress, and anxiety

Saying I love you about a million times each day

Treating my children like people, truly valuing their feelings


I realize that I was raised by an amazingly, patient, kind, hardworking, selfless mother who taught me what it means to love unconditionally. There are so many times on this crazy road called parenthood, where I wish I could call her for advice... or just a good cry. But by trying to mirror her mothering style, I can almost feel her presence.




The way I remember her


I showed Harrison this picture the other day and he said, You look like your mudder.
Thanks buddy, I sure hope so.

Monday, April 28, 2014

Recommitted



Sometimes I do this thing where I feel bad for myself- I get frustrated that I (poor, me) have to worry about my weight and the food I eat. Other people seem to have it so easy- they don't have to plan every meal ahead of time... but not me, I have to think about every little thing that I put into my mouth, every day for the rest of eternity (or so it feels). I go to this irrational place in my head, where everything is black and white. If I make one "bad" food choice, then I might as well throw in the towel and order a cheeseburger, with bacon... and fries. If a meeting runs late and I miss an exercise class, I might as well skip the gym altogether. And that, my friends, is what I call a case of the fuck-its.

I've had it bad for the the last two weeks. It's been two weeks of...

Overeating
Anxiety
Excuses
Lethargy
Guilt


And to a certain extent, Freedom.

Today I am recommitting to health... to happiness... and to ME!



Monday, April 21, 2014

The Mysterious Case of Poop in the Tub

Disclaimer: Some of the things you're about to read may make you want to judge me as a parent, and maybe even as a human being. Resist that urge.

It all started after a long-ass day of solo parenting. The boys were getting restless, hungry and tired, and Dadd-O was due home any minute. I opened a can and microwaved made their dinner and tried to get them to focus, but they were still all over the place- take a bite, jump on the couch, take a bite play with trucks- which was making a mess and driving me batty! Chef Boyardee stains, you guys!

"Bath time!" I cheered, trying to drum up interest. "But we're still eating," said the big one. "You can eat IN the bath!" That should at least keep the mess contained, right? They both happily stripped down naked, they're boys after all, and climbed into the tub. I took turns feeding them each a bite. By request, I pretended they were my baby birds (minus the pre-chewing and spitting into their baby bird mouths, sorry Alicia Silverstone). And then, something amazing happened- Daddo came home! "You're feeding them in the tub?" he asked. "Just go with it," I said and quickly passed off bath duty, I seriously hate bath duty, and retreated to the kitchen to make the adult dinner.

Washing, chopping, sauteing, roasting... all with the sounds of bath time in the background. I hear, "If you guys are good and let me wash your hair, we can go get a creemee." Daddo popped in to the kitchen to sneak a kiss and quickly discuss how our days went. And that's when it happened...

"JAXY POOPED IN THE TUB!"

"Shit!" We both said, in unison.

We've been through this before, so we have a systematic approach. Daddo promptly gets the boys out of the tub, cleaned in the sink (if necessary), dried off and dressed, while I tackle the hazmat situation in the tub. Daddo has a so-called "weak stomach." Whatev. I don a single blue rubber glove that I found on the floor and take all the toys out of the tub and move them to the sink for decontamination (i.e. soaking in hot water and bleach). I run the shower to wash the poop down the drain... but this poop won't budge. I bend down slowly, to examine said poop, which still won't move. With my gloved hand I reach down and pick up the poop only to realize it's a FUCKING MEATBALL!!

"HARRISON!!!!!"

This next part is a bit of a blur. I tried to stifle my hysterical laughter, while teaching an important parenting lesson. Harrison spent some time in his room thinking, while I threw all the toys back in to the tub... and it turns out, he didn't want to wash his hair. He figured if there was "poop" in the tub, they'd have to get out and he'd be off the hook. I got myself together and had a talk about lying, how it's not OK, blah, blah, blah. And to drive that lesson home, we didn't go get a creemee... THAT was the hardest part of this whole debacle.





Friday, April 11, 2014

Honesty's the best policy, right?

Let's face it, kids ask A LOT of questions... I mean A LOT! Some are pretty easy to answer, What's for dinner? Others, a little tougher, Why does the moon only come out at night?

"Brudders"

Just the other morning, Harrison and I had this conversation:

H: My balls have these little ball things inside- what are those?
Me: Those are your testicles.
H: What are they for?
Me: When you get older, they'll help you make a baby.
H: I'm not having a baby!
Me: Well, your wife... or girlfriend... if you have one...
Then I got the side eye and we ate breakfast in silence.

Or there was this gem:

H: Let's pretend I'm still in your belly and the doctor comes to cut me out.
Me: The doctor didn't cut you out of my belly.
H: Well, how did I get out?
Me: You came out of my vagina.
H: (Looking terrified), let's just pretend the doctor cut me out.

Although a little uncomfortable at times, I'm completely, 100% confident in my decision to answer Harrison's questions about bodies and sex (when the time comes) with honest, and age appropriate, answers. Since Dadd-O and I have both lost parents, I even feel pretty comfortable talking about death- when someone dies we never get to see them again and it can make us sad. We can still think about them, talk about them and look at pictures to make us feel happier.

With training and experience as a social worker, you'd think any conversation would flow from my mouth with ease... I mean, I've confronted drug addicts, called DCF (child protection) with the family in question with me, provided mediation between angry neighbors, told many people who were without housing, that in fact, I could not help them.

But when questions start being thrown at me about Santa, the Easter Bunny and the motherfucking Tooth Fairy, I freeze... I have no friggin' clue what to say! Do I lie? Do I tell the truth? I don't want to ruin the magic of childhood (or whatever). I'm a terrible liar! So far I've managed to give some short, simple answers it's magic, he has helpers, and sometimes ::gasp:: I don't know. My kid is smart and a bit of a know-it-all (I have no idea where he gets it) and I know eventually he's not going to buy this crap anymore.

Wiser, more experienced parents- how do you handle this???

Monday, March 24, 2014

I Almost Forgot...

It wasn't intentional, really, but I forgot to share... I saw a nutritionist. I saw her three times, actually. I thought I was eating "right" and I was exercising regularly, but the weight just wasn't coming off. I figured it was time to call on a professional for help. Bonus: My insurance pays for three visits! As a know-it-all perfectionist who has struggled with my weight for, like, ever... this was really scary for me. What if she tells me I'm doing this all wrong? What if I cry? What if she makes me get on a fucking scale??? But, thankfully, it wasn't like this at all.

Visit #1
I brought in a three day food (and poop) journal so that she could get a sense of my current eating (and pooping) habits. I also had to write down my "food story," which ended up being a page full of bullet points listing all my crazy food/weight issues... so that was fun. There was some cheesy getting-to-know you conversation, we talked about my reason for coming in, and my goals. I told her that I wanted to lose weight...that I was an emotional eater... that I wanted to be healthy and feel good about my body. And best of all, I didn't cry. This is big for me- when I'm mad, I cry, sad, I cry, overwhelmed, hungry, tired... you get it, I cry. I told her that my goal weight was 150... and then I waited for her to say that was a little high for my height... but she didn't. She said that sounded realistic and healthy and then we moved on. She looked over my food journal and gave me some homework for the coming week: (1) incorporate a non-green vegetable into your diet, (2) add a walk/run interval workout to your weekly routine, and (3) eat more carbs.

Visit #2
A week later, I had made baked eggplant Parmesan for dinner (check), I had actually used the Couch to 5K app that had been sitting on my iPhone for months (check), and I upped my daily intake of carbs to closer to 40% of my caloric intake(check). I was feeling confident and proud of myself- even though there was no movement on the scale. The first visit was where I spilled my guts, and this visit was more about me taking information in. Based on what I had told her, she had put together an eating plan for me- complete with new recipes to try!

1. Eat every 3-4 hours to avoid getting "hangry." This is huge for me. When I get hungry, I get cranky and I often don't make good choices about food. By staying ahead of hunger, and keeping my blood sugar stable, I can stick with the plan I've made for myself... and be nicer to those around me. It's a win-win really.

2. Include protein and carbs in every snack/meal. And aim for no more than 30 grams of protein at a time because your body can't use any more than that.

3. Limit (not avoid) processed/frozen meals. I knew they weren't great for me (sodium, or something?), but Lean Cuisines had become a go-to lunch for me. I learned that even though they are low in calories, they also lack in good protein and that's why they really don't keep you full for long.
I left feeling excited to try some new recipes and follow a real plan! I'll post the apple oatmeal recipe soon- AMAZING!

Visit #3
I really fell into a groove- I was sticking with my new plan, exercising three times a week AND I had lost three pounds!!! We talked about ways to avoid emotional eating and how to manage healthy eating when life gets unpredictable (a challenge for the control-freak in me). Acknowledging that my insurance won't cover anymore visits, we said our goodbyes and she offered advice or support anytime.

I really found that the biggest change was that I am being more kind to myself. It sounds simple and a little silly, but really it's not. If I make an unhealthy food choice, I forgive myself and move on- instead of making an excuse to eat everything in sight for the rest of the day (or week). And if I make a conscious decision to eat something deliciously unhealthy, that I know isn't in my "plan" for the day, I own it, enjoy it... and try to get in some extra exercise that day.

Reluctantly, I know that managing my eating and weight will be a part of the rest of my life. Rather than be pissed about it, which I still am pretty often, I'm trying to think of the process as a learning experience, rather than a chore... I'm figuring out what works for me and what's just not gonna happen. I know that I can plan most of my meals ahead, I know that I can eat every three hours, I know that I can make it to the gym three times a week... and I also know that my sons love to bake cookies on the weekends, I love going out to eat, wine with friends is fun, and playing outside with my kids can be my exercise for the day. It's really about finding a balance and maybe acknowledging that I'll never get back to my wedding weight, and my size 12's feel just right.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Team Work

So proud to share my very first blog threesome at The Daily Whisk!

Crystal, Kara and I had a great time sharing the very different ways that we all find time to exercise.

Enjoy!

Wednesday, February 26, 2014

Florida Vacation Recap

Living in frigid Vermont, the winters just seem to drag on forever, so we're grateful for the chance to get away from the cold if even for just a few days. This year we stayed at Kidani Village at Disney's Animal Kingdom Resort. (Google it, it's pretty amazing!) I highly recommend the resort for many reasons, but here are a few:

The Savannah
From our balcony we were able to see wild African animals (whose names I cannot remember nor pronounce). They would stroll by, stop to eat or rest. It was truly amazing to be so close to nature, and to watch Jaxy "moo-ing" at everything that passed by. From the resort lobby and patio, we could see more familiar giraffes, zebra and ostrich. Harrison especially liked the opportunity to view the animals with night vision goggles.

A Full Kitchen
In additional to the jar of peanut butter we packed in our luggage, we bought a few essential groceries at the in-hotel store (eggs, milk, bread, booze, Doritos...). Prices were a little high, as expected, but not ridiculous for the basics. Our kiddos have pretty poor restaurant-eating skills: someone is always climbing under or over the table, bugging the people behind us (like, literally touching them), sitting on our laps or watching a show on our phones... only to take two bites of the chocolate chip pancake and declare it to be "too sour." We didn't want to put ourselves through this anymore than necessary, so each morning we cooked and ate breakfast in the room before heading out for the day. It saved us a ton of money too (no $8 "sour" pancakes going to waste).

Activities for Kids
Every evening there was a camp fire- complete with marshmallows and roasting sticks! We'd usually stop for a marshmallow (or three) as we left the pool to get changed for dinner. In our childless days, we'd have been heading out after dark for an evening of fancy dinner and drinks, but this vacation was really about the kids, so we made sure to focus on things that were fun for them... and not torture ourselves by keeping them out too late every night. There was also a pool-side Disney movie shown every night on a blow up screen. Sitting outside, in your bathing suit, watching a movie with your family is pretty cool.

Not everything was rainbows and sunshine though. Things that could have been better:

Distance to our Room
Our room was so far from the lobby/entrance. I timed it to be an 8 minute walk! That doesn't sound too bad until you throw in a tired toddler, wet flip-flops, a too-full stroller and a couple of margaritas... and do it four times a day (at least). Next time we'll surely ask for a room closer to the lobby.

The Kiddie Pool
For the entire time we were there, the kids water area was not working. There was not even a sign of anyone trying to fix it. We were bummed, because the pictures online looked pretty fricken awesome! As it turned out, the boys loved the regular pool and we couldn't keep them off the small water slide (even little Jaxy!). We did complain to the front desk, and we reimbursed for 1/2 night's stay.

The Food
Because our kids suck as eating out in restaurants, we were pretty limited to the quick-service dining option. The food was just ok, nothing terrible, but I could easily make something better at home. Salads and chicken pitas got a little old, but according to Harrison the nuggets were really good.

This could be a post in itself, but I give you the abridged version- We did have dinner one night at the African buffet, Boma. There was a wait, so by the time we got a table we were all starving and tired and the whole thing was a bit of a nightmare. The food was pretty amazing! Lots of protein options: grilled salmon, pork shoulder, and beef tenderloin... the best edamame salad I've ever had... and a curry seafood stew that I wish I could eat everyday! That being said, the price-tag was pretty outrageous. Adults were $38 each, and Harrison was $17. Dadd-O and I shoveled food in as fast as we could (we had to get our damn money's worth!) and Harrison ate cantaloupe. Only cantaloupe, for $17! Luckily, Jaxy was free and he got his fill of sweet potatoes, meatballs and macaroni and cheese. I would love the opportunity to go back under different circumstances and really enjoy all that Boma has to offer.

In spite of the few issues (which were mainly OUR issues, not Disney's) I highly recommend Kidani Village. We will surely return to the Animal Kingdom Lodge again, but probably stay at Jambo House where most of the restaurants and the larger pool are located.

Tuesday, February 25, 2014

Resolution Check In

Since we're roughly 1/6 of the way through the new year, I thought I'd check in on my progress toward my goals for 2014.

Get below 170 (again)- I hit 169.4 this week- boom!

Do cardio 3 times/week- I haven't necessarily done only cardio, but I'm consistently making it to the gym three times each week.

Visit my Nana more often- I visited in late January and plan to see her again for her St Patrick's day birthday.

Call my Long Island grandparents monthly- Check.

Menu plan regularly- Checkity check.

Plant a garden- Obviously I haven't planted it yet, but I did attend an Introduction to Vegetable Gardening class

Spend more time with my friends- dinner date with Erika, lunch dates with Connie and Nicole, and gardening class with Shawna... plus a fun night out with Rachel planned for this weekend

Buy a pair of well-fitting designer jeans- scored a pair of Joe's at TJ Maxx (husband, avert your eyes) for $60! Now, to get them hemmed...

How's your progress?

Monday, January 27, 2014

Breastfeeding is Like Weight Loss

As someone who has breastfed two children and at one time lost a significant amount of weight, I've come to realize that there are many similarities in the internal process that goes along with breastfeeding and losing weight, and maybe more importantly in the way that many people react to those of us who breastfeed and/or who have lost weight.

It's hard, like really, really hard! And you want to quit... The first few weeks of breastfeeding suck. There, I said it. You have no idea what you're doing, it's painful (even though everyone tells you it's not supposed to be) and you're starving all the time! The first few weeks of dieting "changing your lifestyle" also suck. You're clueless about which approach to take (counting calories, points, carbs, etc), you're sore from exercising, and once again you're starving all the time.

BUT almost overnight, it gets so much easier. You realize that breastfeeding saves time, energy and money- you can just whip out a boob, without getting off your butt and missing one minute of the Kardashians (or whatever your guilty pleaseure may be.) Eating healthier and exercising also get easier as you develop new habits. Your body gets used to the new purpose(s) you've bestowed upon it, and you begin to feel empowered.

You're proud of yourself (or at least you should be). This is a tough one for me, especially with our dependance on social media, because it's hard to show pride without seeming boastful. I'm guilty of posting pro-breastfeeding propoganda all over my facebook page. I realize that it can make some people, who didn't or couldn't breasfeed, feel insecure... but that's not my intent. I'm simply trying to support those who may be struggling and sharing how proud I am of myself (and fellow breastfeeders) for sticking with one of the hardest things I've ever done.

The same goes for weight loss- again I'm guilty of posting pictures of the healthy meals I've made, or "checking in" at Zumba class. I'm not trying to put anyone down for eating a cheeseburger, or skipping the gym... hey, I do these things regularly. I'm proud of the work I'm trying to do and why shouldn't I be? Losing weight the first time was really hard, and losing weight after having two kids has been ten times harder!

Well meaning people can unknowlingly sabotage you. Just one cookie won't hurt... Are you sure he's getting enough milk? ... You're wasting away... I was formula fed, and I turned out fine. Ever heard any of these things? Yeah, me too! While it's true, a cookie won't kill you, and formula isn't poison... that's not the type of support you need when you're working toward a goal that's important to you.

When I made the committment to breastfeed, I was one of the first in my family. My grandmother formula fed six children, so although she offered moral support, she didn't really know anything about breastfeeding or how she could help. An older family member once said to me, "maybe your milk's bad." Had I not been confident in myself and in my decision to breastfeed, it would have been easy for me to give up.

Change makes people freak the fuck out. So if you've always been heavy, always indulged along with your family/friends, and suddenly you're doing things a little differently... people don't quite know what to do. Pushing food, making you feel ok about skipping a workout, or insisting you're "fine just the way you are" can easilly push you back into bad habits. Just like breastfeeding, we need to stay confident in our decision to get healthy.

And now some fun photos. Can you tell I love Halloween?





Halloween 2003, close to my heaviest weight of 197.


Halloween 2007, close to my thinnest (145)



 

Nursing Harrison at a Christmas party- 2010






Nursing Jackson at the playground- 2013