My Drunk Friend is now My Toddler

Lately, Olivia's toddler behavior has me in a constant state of deja vu. I keep thinking "This feels so familiar..." And after a night out with some friends recently, I realized why her insane happy-one-minute-crying-the-next attitudes make me feel a bit of nostalgia for days gone by.

Did you ever have that Drunk Friend in college? You know, the one who was almost always a good time but a night out with her could end in hysterical laughter or sobbing and you didn't really know which until you were right smack dab in the middle of it kicking yourself for getting sucked into her crazy antics once again.

Well, that's my daughter. Minus the alcohol, of course. I'm serious. She is that drunk friend who is laughing and cutting up and is the life of the party until some switch flips and suddenly she's Crazy Pants McGee and yelling at you for that time you let her eat an entire chocolate cake by herself after her loser boyfriend dumped her. And at the end of the night, you are just left shaking your head, thankful that she finally just passed out and you can go have a moment of peace and sanity.

Oh, but The Boss Lady is a little different than my drunk friend because I don't have to deal with it on Friday or Saturday night. Even better. I get to deal with this constant emotional upheaval every blessed day of my life.

And you know the biggest problem with that drunk friend is that no matter how many times the night ends in tears and regret, you do it all over again every weekend because when that friend is in her happy place, things are AWESOME. So, you put on your favorite skinny jeans (or when I was in college, tight black pants), grab your wallet and off you go for a night out in Coo-coo Cachoo Ville.

But now you probably think I'm the crazy one comparing my daughter to a drink-happy college chick. Allow me to show you the parallels.

Imagine this scenario from your own college days with your own Drunk Buddy:

One Friday night, you're sitting in your apartment/dorm/sorority house/wherever, contemplating a girlie movie and pizza or a pint of ice cream...oh, who are you kidding, you were gonna eat the pizza AND the ice cream. Then your phone rings and it's Captain Crazy herself. And she's all,

"Hey, want to go out and grab a few drinks tonight? Maybe we'll even do a little dancing!"

And she seems like she's in a really good mood and it all seems innocent enough so you tell her you'll meet her in about an hour then you go make yourself all pretty for all of those potential husbands who might be hanging out at the bar.

The night starts off really great! The two of you are out dancing and everybody's happy. You're out on the dance floor shaking your money maker, feeling like this night is going to turn out in your favor.

Even your friend has brought out her best moves for tonight!

But then it happens. The damn deejay plays THAT song. The song that your friend and her old high school love used to call "their song." Then before you know it, she's throwing back shots of Hot Damn and yelling at everybody in the bar,

"HE NEVER LOVED ME!!!!"

She's getting all destructive and more crazy by the minute and you realize that cute guy you've been eyeing all night is NEVER going to speak to you if he thinks you hang out with this every night,

And then you're trying to do damage control by distracting her by reminding her that he was balding or by pointing out all of the other cute guys at the bar. Or just by pointing out anything shiny in the place, just trying to make her smile.

Suddenly, Vanilla Ice starts blaring through the speakers and she jumps up shouting,

"That's my JAM!!"

while showing everyone in the place her belly button or new bra. So even though like 30 seconds ago, you were trying to keep her from polishing off an entire bottle of Rumple Mints and trying to convince her why it might be a good idea to head home while you were still ahead, suddenly you're back out on the dance floor for what she promises is "this one last song."

But you know it's not over. It's far from over. So you just chase around Lady Loco hoping she'll eventually run out of steam and let you call a cab.

You finally convince her to leave but, of course, you can't just go straight home. No, you have to stop at the gas station and get some munchies because, as she says,

"I just CRAVE sugar every time I drink."

You grab a year's supply of Skittles and Snickers and then you get her home and FINALLY convince her to get into bed. But she doesn't go down so easy. It's a battle to the finish. One second she's laying her head down and dozing off then popping up insisting that she's ready to hit the next club,

Then thankfully, she passes out.

Then you crawl into bed thinking "How in the hell did I let myself get sucked into this??"

"And what in the hell did she do with her pants??"

But you know you'll do all over again the next weekend. And whether the night ends in hysterical laughter or hysterical tears, you know you just can't get enough of that little drunk monkey. 

Um, I thought this was called The Terrible TWO's???

Well, if you don’t already know this, let me be the first to enlighten you: The so-called Terrible Two’s starts well before the actual age of 2. This is something that has become oh so clear to Mike and I in recent weeks and this new phase has me feeling even more bi-polar than ever!

Not too long ago, Olivia threw her first big public fit. We were at the zoo and it was nearing the end of the day. I had just changed Olivia’s diaper and she thought it would be cool to pull all of the wipes out of the case and litter the zoo with them. I disagreed. I took the wipes away. She made some unintelligible noise in my direction, threw herself on the ground, and started screeching. Mike and I looked at each other, looked at her, and the busted out laughing! Seriously, we laughed. Yes, we are those parents who can’t control their kid and then laugh about it. But, hey, what else can you do?

The thing is, it was really pretty funny. At one point, she looked up, realized that some lady was staring at her, turned around so she could see us again then started back up. That little trick reminded me of something our pediatrician told me when Oli was just a few months old: “Babies come out knowing how to do 5 things—eat, sleep, poop, cry, and manipulate.”

And since that fit, we’ve had several others. We usually experience one of these throw-myself-on-the-floor-and-kick-and-scream-until-mom-picks-me-up-then-I-kick-and-scream-all-the-way-to-the-car kinds of fits about once a week at this point. The fits are usually in response to something ridiculous too like when you take her dirty diaper away from her and don’t let her chew on it.

Every trip to the grocery store is an adventure when Olivia decides she no longer wants to sit in the cart (which happens about 5 minutes into the trip) and she starts kicking and screaming in the seat. Meals are pretty much the same way. When the kid is ready to get up, she’ll not only throw her food, milk, utensils on the floor, she’ll start pulling at the high chair tray until she’s allowed to go free.

There’s also this Pushing The Limits thing going on with her right now. She’ll do things that she knows she’s not supposed to be doing just to see our reaction. For instance, we have this stool in her bathroom for her to brush her teeth and when I’m on the pot and unable to get to her, she’ll get up on the stool and start trying to climb up on the bathroom counter. As I’m scolding her to stop, she’ll look right at me and laugh. Or she’ll slowly raise her leg and give me a little smirk as she does it.

On Thanksgiving Day, she was using the tv as a drum and when I told her no, she looked at me, went over and did it again. When I threatened time out, she just stood there sort of daring me with her eyes. When I turned around, my sister, sis-in-law, and mother-in-law got to witness my little angel’s devilish side when she lightly tapped the tv so that I couldn’t hear her do it. Stinker.

Then there’s the hitting. She really only does it to me. I’ll pick her up and she’ll just lightly tap me in the face. When I grab her hands and say “No,” she just laughs and freakin’ does it AGAIN! So, then our nice evening/day/whatever is ruined because she has to go in time out. All day long I count down the hours to see that kid but then have to put her in time out. That makes me sad.

And let’s talk about Time Out. Or as I like to call it: A Completely Ineffective Method of Punishment. We first started time out by making her sit against the wall. That didn’t work because my little terd child thought we were playing a new game called Sit Against The Wall Then Get Up And Down While Mom Sternly Says “Sit on your bottom!” 8 Million Times. Yeah, good fun.

Then we tried putting her in her bed for time out and she HATED that. She would scream at the top of her lungs for the full minute she was in there. And I am not kidding you that there were times that right after I got her out, she just hit me in the face again! Good grief. So we just kept putting her in time out, effectively punishing ourselves by having to listen to the insane screeching.

I’ve just felt like I am at a loss with methods of punishment for this kid. I mean, I tried popping her on the hand but that just seemed stupid to tell her not to hit me by hitting her. And even when I did that, she just kind of looked at me like “Ooh, the Hand Slap game!” I seriously do not know what to do to get through to her right now.

I mean, I’m starting to really understand those parents who just let their kids run around like maniacs. It’s takes a lot of energy to continue disciplining and teaching your child. Sometimes I just feel like throwing my hands up and just saying, “Fine, go unravel every roll of toilet paper in the house and bang on the tv until the screen is permanently damaged. Oh, and here’s a bucket of chocolate while we’re at it.”

The really awful thing is that I am a HORRIBLE disciplinarian. Whenever I try to scold Olivia she looks at me with this super serious cute face and I start laughing and I am completely ineffective. It doesn’t help that everyone else thinks it’s cute and they laugh too.

And I’ll admit that I feel really embarrassed about Olivia’s behavior sometimes. I think most parents have this fear of having THAT KID. The kid who is just out of control when you are out in public. The kid who hits other kids and forcefully takes toys away. The kid who doesn’t get invited to other kid’s birthday parties because said kid is a lunatic. I am not immune from that fear.  

It’s not that Oli is a bad kid but she just doesn’t not understand the words “No” or “Stop” and I feel like I’m that mom out in public who is constantly scolding their kid. It’s embarrassing when we are out and she immediately runs over to destroy something.

And that’s another thing! The DESTRUCTION!! What the crap is that about? I nearly lost it 2 weeks ago when she threw, and I mean forcefully threw, my cell phone down on the ground at Costco. My still-new phone is now customized with a crack that runs from one corner to the next. This weekend, as I was blow drying my hair I looked up to see her with my glasses. She smiled at me then gleefully pulled them apart.

The craziest thing is that if ANYONE ELSE spent the day with my kid, she would never act out at all! She really just pushes the limits with me and Mike. And mostly just ME! What is that about???

Then I have these moments where I think “What if this is my fault?” I mean, let’s face it; I’m not the most even-tempered individual. I, myself, have thrown my share of fits (See: Egg Wash) and part of me is freaked out that Olivia’s behavior now is a direct result of my behavior up to now. Okay, this is where all of you mommies out there assure me it’s not my fault!

And, yes, I know that this is just a phase and she is just testing her boundaries right now. And I do understand that this is all part of her growing and turning into a productive member of society but it is exhausting sometimes.

This IS normal, right?? RIGHT?!?!?

I have a child with a very strong personality and I love that about her. The thing is I’m not sure I’d know what to do with a child who didn’t have a feisty side. My kid may be the spitting image of her dad, but she’s got all of my bull headed, independent, strong willed personality.  When you have a kid with such a strong personality, I guess this just comes with the territory. And if that the other side of this coin, then I guess I’m happy to have it.

Because here’s the reason I feel bi-polar lately: I am also LOVING this new phase! Olivia is doing some of the cutest and most fun things I have ever seen another person do. She has so much fun playing and she gives these incredible hugs. She gives kisses on demand and likes to explore everything. She’s saying new words and communicating so well with us. This phase really is just incredible.  In fact, our day at the zoo was really incredible even with the fit thrown in at the end.

She can be so incredibly sweet. Yesterday, we napped on the couch together and when she woke up she was all smiles and hugs. At the end of the day, when I come in the door, the little stinker comes running toward me with her arms open. My heart just melts on the spot. When my Sweet Angel Baby is present I’m not sure what to think when, in just 5 seconds, I am busy trying to tackle The Devil Child as she scatters a Costco size box of q-tips all over the house(note to self: Stop buying Costco size things that create more mess opportunity for The Devil Child).

I’m just confused how I can be so enamored with this little person and so perplexed by her at the same time.  It’s truly not ALL bad right now. We have a lot of good times. But this phase is very challenging as Olivia is learning about her world, developing her own opinions and ideas, and testing EVERY. SINGLE. BOUNDARY we set.

I’ve hesitated for more than a month to post this one because I am worried that people will think I have some crazy maniac child. She’s a good kid. A really good and wonderful, loving and sweet kid. I guess I just need to vent a little. To put this out there in the hopes that others will assure me that this IS just phase.

For now, we’re just enjoying the joy and awe of watching our girl learn and grow into a little person while doing our best to teach her why fit throwing and hitting won’t serve her well when she starts dating. For now, we’ll take the downside of this phase in order to be a part of the incredible side. I think the legend Poison said it best—every rose has its thorn…

Merry Christmas, Happy New Year & Where in the hell have I been?

Good grief! Has it really been nearly 2 months since my last post?? Well, they say “time flies when you’re having fun,” right? Or maybe the expression in this case should be changed to “time flies when you put your house on the market, it sold in just 6 short weeks, you have to be out by January 2, you find and buy a new house the last 2 weeks of December, and, oh yeah, it’s Christmas, and to top it all off you are raising a very energetic toddler.”

So, there it is folks: the reason I’ve been MIA the past 2 months. I have missed writing, I have missed seeing posts from friends, I have missed taking lunch breaks or actually getting to spend a weekend at home doing nothing. In general, I feel like I have been missing LIFE these past months! While most were busy trimming the tree and enjoying Christmas parties, Mike and I have been assembling boxes of our life to be moved into storage in just 3 days. Needless to say, the end of this year has just been chaotic.

Now that the rumors as to why I disappeared for so long have been put to rest, I’m sure you are wondering why on earth Mike and I would make the decision to move at Christmas. With a toddler.  And speaking of those rumors, my favorites were:

1.       We were tied up in our garage and couldn’t communicate with the world. Thank you, Carolynn for reaching out to make sure this one wasn’t true. At least ONE of you tried to make sure we were still alive. ;) 

2.       We were getting ready for another baby. If this one were true, this post would be more about how my husband had had a stroke over the mere mention of another Miniature Milligan and I would be including an address where you could send meals or checks.

Okay, so here’s the why behind all of this and in order to tell it, I need to back up just a bit:

About four months ago, I got a REAL JOB. For the first time in about 5 years, I started reporting into an office where I have set hours and a boss that sees to it that I keep those hours. The job change was my choice and it was one I was happy to make. After spending some time in the non-profit sector, I was ready to take on Corporate America again. BUT, that meant a big change for me. I haven’t had to really report in in quite some time and my previous jobs have allowed me a lot of flexibility. Up until August of this year, I have been able to take care of nearly all of our household activities (making sure that groceries were bought, birthday gifts wrapped, doctor appointments made, dinner ready, etc.). With this new gig, all of that came to nearly a screeching halt.

The first big hurdle is that my new office is 25 miles away from home. That equates to about 45 minutes here in DFW. The second is that Mike was also commuting nearly 40 miles away from home. The poor man has done that for more than 2 years and it wouldn’t have been a huge deal if I also had not had to be away from home so much. Here’s a little sample of our schedule for the last four months:

5:00 a.m.                              Alarm goes off. Curse at alarm. Wonder if I will ever feel rested ever again.

5:15 a.m.                              I go to the gym, Mike gets ready for work

6:30 a.m.                              I get home from the gym, Mike leaves for work

6:30-7:30 a.m.                    I get ready for work, praying that I have 5 minutes of solitude in the shower before The Boss Lady signals me.

7:30-9:00 a.m.                    Make breakfast for me and The Boss Lady, read books, play with baby dolls, do laundry, morning errands, get dinner prepped, etc.

9:00 a.m.                              Leave for work and Oli’s daycare

9:40 a.m.                              Drop Oli off

10:00 a.m.                           Start work (I work a 10-7 shift)

5:00 p.m.                             Mike gets off

5:30 p.m.                             Mike picks Oli up from daycare

6:30—7 p.m.                      Mike and Oli get home and start dinner

7:00 p.m.                             I leave work

7:45 p.m.                             I get home and we eat

8:30 p.m.                             Mike gives Oli a bath while I clean the kitchen

9:00 p.m.                             We beg The Boss Lady to PLEASE go to sleep

9:00 p.m.                             Mike leaves for the gym

10-11 p.m.                           We crawl/stumble/fall into bed

About 2 months into this complete INSANITY, I told Mike at dinner that I thought we should consider putting the house up for sale and moving closer to work and family. I wasn’t sure how this would go over. I mean the poor guy had been doing this for 2 years without a single complaint and here I had only been doing it for 2 months and I was about to fall over dead. He looked relieved though and said he had been thinking about it too.

We got a realtor, put a nifty For Sale sign in the front yard and waited. That was around the first of October. We fully anticipated being in this waiting mode for about 6 months, possibly even a year. We were shocked when we received a call from our realtor on November 20 that we had an offer. And the offer was in line with what we were asking for the house! We were cautious at first because we weren’t quite sure this was all really going to happen.

We spent Thanksgiving weekend packing and moving furniture to accommodate our ever growing stack of boxes. We’ve been packing every weekend since. And the pile keeps growing. Do you have any idea how much CRAP you accumulate in a house after 8 years??

Oh, and can you imagine the fun of packing with a 16 month old?? Olivia has actually been a really good sport about all of this but the poor kid just cannot understand why she’s not allowed to climb the new Box Jungle Gym we’ve installed in the dining room. She did really well looking at homes and she’s been a champ but I’m ready to be able to spend mornings relaxing with my girl instead of packing or running moving related errands. This morning, she kept trying to hand me books and bubbles as I was packing up her room and I just felt like crying because I couldn’t stop to spend time with her.

And, oh, yes, the BIGGEST holiday of the year was going on the whole time. Every year since Mike and I have been together, we have decorated our home from top to bottom and really made Christmas great. This year, our house looked like a bomb exploded. Where there is normally a Christmas tree in my dining room, there is now a mountain of boxes. Instead of lights on the outside of the house we still have our flippin’ fall décor out. Seriously this season has just not been the same. Luckily, Oli doesn’t have a clue what day it is so I guess it’s better that this all happened this year than in a year where she knows how this whole Christmas gig works.

Amid all of the excitement of packing, we were also anxious to find another place to live. The second weekend in December, we started looking for homes and at the end of the third weekend, we found the one we wanted, put down and offer, and signed a contract. Though we didn’t set out for this, the home is actually kind of our dream home. We initially just wanted a place we could be comfortable in for the next 10 years but we ended up finding a home that we LOVE and that can grow with us (this is NOT a clue about another baby!).

The only downside is that we don’t close on the new home until the end of January and we have to be out of our current home by January 2. We’ll be keeping our belongings in storage and spending the month of January in the Bahamas. Ha ha, yeah right. We’ll be staying with my sister, Michelle and bro-in-law Michael, who to my delight (and I’m pretty sure theirs), live just 3 miles from our new house! We are so thankful to them for opening their home to us and we are especially thankful that this time next week, we’ll no longer have these ridiculous commutes!

So, here we are, less than 24 hours from us signing the title of our home over to a new owner (Her closing date is December 29 but we don’t have to be out until January 2). I am nervous, excited, and a tiny bit sad about leaving the place I have called home for nearly 7 years. It is the place where my husband proposed and where we brought our daughter home. It is the place where we have hosted 6 years of Thanksgiving dinners, a multitude of cook outs, patio parties, and Sunday Fundays. It is the place that has been my comfort zone, my safe haven, my HOME.

Tomorrow we begin a new journey. A journey that includes a month of homelessness (ha!) and  a new home in a new neighborhood with new memories waiting for us. Since our new digs come complete with a swimming pool (American Dream, anyone?), we plan to re-start Sunday Funday beginning February 5. 

I’m still reeling a little from all of this and the crazy isn’t over yet but I can’t believe I GOT A FRIGGIN’ HOUSE FOR CHRISTMAS!!! Pretty cool, right?? I’ll be honest though. I’m a little at the end of my rope with all of this moving nonsense. It’s a good thing we found our dream home because I am NEVER MOVING AGAIN!! This morning I actually cried because I am just maxed out.

The good news is that this will all be over on Saturday when the movers get our stuff and take it into storage. Well, at least it’ll be over for a month until we do it all again moving into the new place! No worries though, Sunday Funday is just around the corner. I can taste the margaritas already...

Bye Bye Boobies

It's official: I, Stephanie Milligan, Milk Maker Extraordinaire, Wet Nurse In Another Life, The Boss Lady's Boob, am done breastfeeding! I have so many emotions about this new development and they run the gamut from total excitement and a feeling of insane freedom to sadness and fear that my child is officially done with my body.

It's been a little more than 2 weeks since Olivia last nursed (Wednesday night, October 26 to be exact) and now that I no longer feel like I have rocks in my boobs, I feel like I can write about this a little more rationally.

I have been ready to be done with breastfeeding for a little while now and I started to sense that Olivia was done as well. I didn't plan out our final nursing session or really even think about it much. Mike and I had plans to go out of town on the 28th for our anniversary and I was kind of hoping that me being gone for 2 nights would help ease us into the transition but I wasn't entirely sure how it would all go down.

A couple of months ago, we already transitioned to a morning and night nursing session and then several weeks ago, it became night only. I began to realize that Olivia didn't even ask for her morning session so I just stopped offering. Nights were different though. At night, my normally spastic, energetic, chatty girl would crawl up in my lap and nurse herself to sleep. She would lay snuggled up in my arms, nursing happily, then she would (usually) peacefully drift off, milk drying on her cheeks. It was the only time she ever really let me just hold her and be still with her.

I didn't even know that the 26th would be our last time to experience that together. On the 27th, we went to a fall festival at her school and she fell asleep on the way home. She stayed asleep as we got her out of her car seat and into her pajamas. And though she normally would have awakened just long enough to latch on and nurse if even for a minute before going to bed for the night, that night she didn't. She just went to sleep. And just like that, we were done. She has not asked for the boob since.

Mike and I spent our weekend away, happily drinking wine, spending time together and sleeping in and never once did my always faithful, always handy breast pump make its appearance. I stopped pumping a few months ago but I wasn't sure how an entire weekend away would be. But it was fine. No leakage, no engorgement, no physical feeling of any kind. Just a small voice in the back of my head wondering if my sweet girl would be able to peacefully go to sleep without me or if she was terrorizing my sister and brother-in-law back home.

I do not regret that our nursing relationship has come to an end. I am sad only because that part of my relationship with Olivia is over and it makes me realize just how quickly she really is growing up.  For 23 months, my body supplied her with life, comfort, and a reassurance that we would always be together. And now that physical relationship has come to an end. Though that does make me sad and though there were a couple of nights around the first of the month that I nearly offered her the boob just because...well...just because I guess a part of me wanted to hold on to her just a little bit longer, I am happy that we are transitioning to a new type of relationship. Part of me though, didn't or doesn't want her to be so independent from me. Isn't that strange? I guess this is one of the hardest lessons of motherhood: when you start realizing that your little person, your heart, your every thought, is becoming independent of you. It is exhilarating and exciting and completely terrifying all at the same time.

I don't want to perpetuate the myth that women keep nursing their kids for their own needs or because they don't want to let go but I will say that my nursing relationship with Olivia allowed me a closeness with her that I wouldn't trade for anything.

I won't strap on my rose colored glasses here and say that nursing was just fantastic all the way through. It wasn't. There were times that I thought "What the hell????"

I have bled, I have cried, I have cleaned up milk off the tile floor. I have been so engorged that I've shot Olivia in the eye with a stream of milk while she happily opened and closed her mouth trying to catch one of the runaway streams pouring out in 5 different directions. I have lost hair, lots of hair, so much hair that I have to be strategic with my ponytail. I have carried a breast pump out shopping, out camping, on a road trip, pretty damn near every single place I went. I have soaked through shirts. And before I realized that you could buy nursing bras with a little padding, I was the fashion faux pas of the year since you could see my round breast pads through my very thin nursing bras.

Yeah, nursing hasn't always been easy or fun or fashionable. BUT I LOVED IT.

I will never judge another woman based on whether or not she breastfeeds her child. I do not think formula is poison. I do not think formula companies are ruled by Satan. I do not think really much of anything about anybody who chooses or has to use formula. The bottom line here is that nursing, for me was, simply put, INCREDIBLE.

I'm not sure if we'll have any other children but if we do, I will happily nurse that baby. I will dig out my pump, buy new bras, and clean out the freezer to make room for milk. I will relish the closeness of that little body curled up against mine. I will indulge in the feeling of soft baby skin, of the happiness written all over the face of a child as they nurse. I will embrace every moment when my child turns to me for food or comfort or that reminder that I am there to provide for them. And I will encourage every new mom I meet to do the same.

There are going to be women who have problems nursing, for whom breastfeeding is not an option. And for those women, I feel sad. Because breastfeeding is one of the best things that ever happened for my relationship with my daughter. When we first brought her home, it gave me an opportunity, a reminder that it was okay to sit still. It was okay to be quiet with her. It was the one thing I could do that made her so happy and calm. As she grew, it became a way for her stay healthy, for her to be comforted, and it helped ease minor pains. As she became a toddler, it was the one moment during the day when we got to be quiet and still together.

And it wasn't just our relationship that it was good for either. It was good for ME. It gave me confidence in my body. Not just because I saw how incredibly well built my body was for making food for another person, I also felt more comfortable sexually too. Before breastfeeding I only ever understood the recreational side of my boobs. Suddenly, I was seeing a whole different side and it looked amazing. I realized the true beauty of my body--not just as a sexual being but as one that was built to care for another person.

I became more confident with my choices and actions as a parent. Before nursing, seeing someone breastfeeding in public made me anxious. I just did not get it. But then there I was, feeling proud that I was able to feed my child, comfort my child (quiet my child!), and eat my dinner with one hand while carrying on a perfectly normal non-breastfeeding-related conversation all at the same time. Never once did someone dare to tell me to feed my child outside, in the car, or in the bathroom. People just accepted it because I was confident with it.

Can you sense a little pride here? Yeah, I'm proud of myself. Not proud for being able to produce milk. Most women are able to do that and quite frankly, I think I was just really blessed with the amount I was able to produce. But I'm proud of myself for giving it a chance. I'm proud of myself for asking for help from my husband, my family and friends, and lactation consultants (God bless them!!!). I'm proud of myself for finally embracing this body, this woman that I am. I'm proud of myself for getting over my own fears, stereotypes and pre-conceived notions about what it means to be a Breast Feeder. I am proud of helping to dispel the ignorance, prejudices, and pre-conceived notions of family and friends about what it means to be a nursing mom. I am proud of nursing my baby in public and showing the world that it is not gross or weird or inappropriate. I am proud of myself for loving this process through the good and the bad. And I am proud of myself for embracing the end of this journey as well.

Mine and Olivia's relationship is evolving and we are finding new ways to be close. At night, we sit in her room or in the living room and we read about a hundred books. When I get home in the evening, she runs toward me, arms open wide, and we collapse into each other like 2 people reuniting after several years of having been apart. I enjoy those quiet moments at night when she lets me hold her just before going down in her bed. We rock, we sing, we sit forehead to forehead, noses squished together, laughing. She gives me one of her sweet mouth open kisses. She runs her fingers through my hair as she falls asleep on my shoulder. And on Friday night, as though sensing I needed a little extra closeness, she curled up next to me on the couch and she fell asleep.

So I happily and somewhat wistfully say "Bye bye, boobies." Hello, to the new and exciting chapter in my relationship with my daughter.

A letter to my husband on our 4th Anniversary!

My sweet Mike,

Can you believe that 4 years ago today, we stood in front of our family and friends, and said our wedding vows? At times, I feel like that was just yesterday. Other times I feel like we have lived a lifetime in this 4 years. To think that this is still just the beginning of our journey together is exciting and gives me so much to look forward to. Since the day I met you, I have asked myself "How can my life possibly get better than this?" And every day, you show me that life can, indeed, get better.

Four years ago, I watched you watching me walk down the aisle and never once did you take your eyes off of me. And you still haven't. Thank you for showing me the good, the beautiful things about myself. Thank you for loving me, for being my husband, my best friend, the person who truly knows me best in this world. Thank you for accepting me as I am and for loving me because of my quirks, not inspite of them. Thank you for pushing me to be my best without really pushing at all.

You encourage me, inspire me, amaze me. You are the things I am not: patient, calm, quiet. You are graceful and kind. And, yet, you have never made me feel lacking. You have been the person who balances me. The person who strengthens me.

Some would say I'm quite the handful and my 11 roommates through 10 semesters of college, might tell you I'm hard to live with. But you are still here, and (I'll go out on a limb here) happy here with me. You have been able to soften my rough spots and strengthen the good.

Before I met you, I believed that the person I would fall in love with, would somehow complete me. Through loving you and being loved by you, I realize I was complete when I met you. Falling in love isn't about being completed by another. It's about growing with another person to be the best you. It is not a growth that comes easily or quickly. It is a lifelong journey and I am so blessed to be on this journey with you.

Our life together is not perfect. At times it is messy, chaotic, and exhausting. But it is incredible. At the center of the hurricane that sometimes is our life, there is US. Thank you for always being on my team to work through whatever has come our way. Thank you for being honest and facing our life head on with me. Our home is filled with laughter, love, and comfort. It is my safe zone, the place I never have to worry about being judged, belittled, or afraid.  And no matter where the physical structure is, my home is with you, wherever you are. 

I always thought I would see fireworks when I fell in love. Isn't that what all of the movies and books talk about? I didn't see them with you. Instead, I felt a calm that I had not ever felt. I felt warm and comfortable, like I had found where I belonged. There were no fireworks in the sky when I met you. Instead, falling in love with you has been like seeing every single star in the sky for the very first time.

Happy anniversary, my sweet husband. I love you more than all of the stars in the sky...

Things you shouldn't say

It's happened. Yes, I have become one of THOSE women. The ones that want to tell you all about THEIR experience. You know, one of the women you ran from every time you saw them when YOU were pregnant??

It all started this summer when I was talking to my sister's friend who was then expecting her first child in early September. It was June and I said something like "I don't envy you AT ALL being pregnant during the summer! It is just going to get even hotter and you are going to be so miserable! I certainly was!" My husband looked at me like I had just farted in the middle of the room and I realized that I had, in fact, become one of THOSE women (no, not the ones that fart in the middle of the room). There I was, thinking I was enlightening this poor girl with my tales of pregnancy woes when all she probably wanted to do was get away from me and all of my negativity. Damn.

It's so hard not to be one of those women though! Once you've gone through pregnancy and you've been initiated into this crazy world of parenthood, it is SO HARD not to give unsolicited advice to women who are expecting. A pregnant belly is like a magnet for women who have been through it.

The funny thing is that I hated all of those comments and little tidbits of advice when I was pregnant so you'd think I'd remember that! But, of course, being a mom has only depleted me of more brain cells and the small filter I used to have on my big mouth is officially gone.

And though Mike gave me a hard time about my comment this summer, he's just as bad! Earlier this month we were hanging out with some friends and one of the couples is expecting their first child in the spring. The mom-to-be was telling us about she had had to clean up a huge poop mess from their dog. Mike and I immediately jumped in the conversation to tell her all about the piles of poop she'll soon be cleaning up. Our friends Chris and Christina had to practically drag us away from the now terrified soon-to-be parents. I think we shouted "They need to know!!!!!" as we were being pulled away.

So, this got me thinking about all of the things that were said to me while I was pregnant and since Olivia has been a part of our family and all of the things I am now unable to keep myself from saying. As a reminder for myself and all of the rest of you who can't zip it (you know who you are) I compiled this little list so that we can remember all of the things we SHOULDN'T say to moms-to-be and/or new parents.

****

"Sleep while you can!"

This is by far the one statement I hated hearing while I was pregnant and I'm proud to say that I have not yet said it to a pregnant lady. To the people who said this to me: Have you ever BEEN pregnant?? Have you ever tried to sleep when you have about 30 extra pounds sitting on your bladder and treating it like a friggin' trampoline? Have you ever tried to sleep when you keep having hot flashes and you are sweating like a fat man in a wool sweater in July? Have you ever tried to sleep with 9 pounds of baby kicking you in the rib cage and the kidneys every 17 minutes? I have an idea. You go to bed tonight with a 30 pound dumbell on your stomach. Make sure your heater is turned up to about 135 degrees. I'll come in your room every 24 minutes and punch you in the rib cage. Then, you have to get up, go to the pot, squeeze out a *tiny* little bit of pee even though it felt like you were about to burst, lay back down, and try to go back to sleep with the knowledge that you get to do it again in 45 minutes. Then we'll talk about "sleeping while you can."

You know who I say this to? I say this to couples who are NOT expecting their first child. I tell them to nap and sleep in and enjoy every single bit of sleep they can BEFORE they go and get knocked up. Besides, it's like my sister, Michelle says: it's not like you have some Sleep Bank where you can save up your sleep so that at 4 in the morning when your new gremlin child is screaming at you, you can be all "Oh, it's totally cool. I saved up 6,743 hours of sleep before I gave birth."

"Don't you want a little boy?" or "Maybe the next one will be a little boy!" 

Why? So my husband, King Henry the VIII doesn't have me be-headed for not producing a male heir to his throne? First, I just want to remind folks that this is the year 2011, not 1442. Second, my husband is Mike, not good ole Hank. Last I checked, girls are just as human as boys. And just as capable. I mean, sure, they don't get to carry on the last name and all that but is that really that big of a deal? The craziest thing about this statement is that most of the people who ask this are WOMEN! My own husband really could have cared less if he had a son or a daughter. He just wanted a healthy kid. The only reason he *might* want a boy is to even up the estrogen to testosterone ratio in this house (even the cat is a girl).

Also, if my memory serves me correct, at the time of conception, you don't really get a lot of say in the matter. Try as you might, yelling things like "Come on Boy Sperm, get there first!!!" really doesn't help. You just don't get a choice. So, really even if I did *want* a boy, I think my cheers for the Boy Sperm would fall on deaf ears. Or no ears, really, since sperm don't have them.

"When are you going to have another one?"

You know those people who go to the airport and greet the troops as they are coming home from war? Well, what if the first thing someone shouted at them as they got off of the plane wasn't "Welcome Home!" but rather "When are you going back!?!?" Can you just imagine the insane looks the person shouting that would get. Well, you get the same reaction from me when you ask when I plan on having another baby. I mean, look, we aren't ruling it out completely, but I feel certain Mike and I still have a little residual PTSD from the sleepless nights. We are loving life with The Boss Lady now but we still VIVIDLY remember those early weeks. Just last night, I was watching a show and the couple had a newborn and the mom was up at like 3 a.m. and I almost started crying for her. It wasn't even reality t.v.! It was a made up show!!

If we are ever going to have another kid, we need the memories of having an infant to be so faded we can't remember them at all.

I need to also take a moment to issue an apology here: When my cousin, Trey, and his wife, Monica, had their daughter, I asked Monica this question. In the hospital. After a very long labor and an emergency c-section. Thank you, Monica, for not flying out of the bed and punching me in the face.

"I know of this lady who was pregnant and she went into early labor at like 26 weeks and then she had like a 10 day labor and then a c-section and then the baby was born with like 3 legs and 7 ears and then both of their heads fell off and everyone died."

I cannot begin to tell you the number of horror stories I heard during my pregnancy! DO. NOT. TELL. PREGNANT. WOMEN. HORROR. STORIES. Google does a great job of that already! Regardless of what you heard or what you personally went through MOST pregnancies and births are completely normal. Pregnant women are already susceptible to excess worry and sleepless nights. Do not give a new mom-to-be extra things to worry about. Not to mention that this is supposed to be an exciting and happy time. Don't drag her down with negativity.

Unfortunately, it's the negative stories that take center stage. There are no chat rooms or message boards about perfectly normal, healthy pregnancies without any complications. But those pregnancies are the majority so let the new mom bask in the glow of soon-to-be-motherhood.

"Are you getting any sleep?"

This seemed to be everyone's favorite question right after Olivia was born. The people who asked it the most? Other parents!! I don't know why people ask this to the parents of a newborn. I mean, is it just to be mean? Or some kind of crazy curiousity because they think that maybe there is some special breed of newborn out there who actually does sleep and yours might be it?

If you've ever had a kid then you know sleep is just thing of the past. Like pension plans. Or gas that costs less than $3 a gallon. So don't ask this question to new parents. It's the equivalent of walking up to a homeless person and asking "So, you eating good?" It's just mean.

"Is she teething?"

People ask me this question almost every single time Olivia is fussy. There are 2 answers here: 1. How the hell would I know? and 2. All of the damn time. Look, in case you haven't noticed, babies are ALWAYS growing/teething/crazy-in-the-flippin-head so I have no idea why she's fussy or chewing on her fist like it's coated in sugar. She could be hungry or teething or maybe she just realized she drew the short straw getting us as parents. I have no idea. While God did create these little angels perfectly, He forgot to give them the ability to speak so they can tell you what the crap is making them so unhappy.

In this house, everything gets blamed on 2 things: growth spurts and teething. Why's Olivia fussy? Teething. Wow, look how much she's eating! Growth spurt. Why did she wake up 87 times last night? Teething and growth spurt. Why does my house look like a toy bomb exploded? Teething and growth spurt. Seriously, everything.

*****

Okay, well, that about sums up the top ones. And, look, if you've ever said these things to me, don't worry, I don't hold it against you. Because I've said most of them too! Now let's all just print this out and keep it in our back pockets. So, next time we are at a party and we see a couple of soon-to-be-parents we can just rub the big belly and say "Good luck, suckers!"

Pictures

As mentioned, a couple of weeks ago, we were in Louisiana visiting family and, while we were there, my cousin Sarah and her husband Ivan captured some really got shots of Oli that I just had to share! They are very talented photographers and I am so grateful to them for capturing The Boss Lady's little personality!

Shortly after we arrived at my grandparents' house and after dinner, my aunt Helen gave Oli a chocolate cupcake. What is it that is so fun about giving kids chocolate frosting? I'm not sure but we had a blast watching her smear chocolate all over herself and she had fun with it too! Before she ate the cupcake though, we made sure to strip her down to her diaper so no clothes would be permanently destroyed. She loved running around in just a diaper since it was pretty warm so most of the pics are of her in just the diaper.

You can check out more of Sara and Ivan's awesome work at http://www.filpophotography.com/