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/

It's Story Time!

Right now, The Boss Lady is really into her books. Or, more accurately, she is really into pulling all of her books off of her shelves and then ripping pages out or chewing on them. On occasion, she'll bring one over to me, hand it to me, and in her baby babble, ask me to read it to her. I LOVE to read and I'm hoping Oli will inherit this hobby from me so I really enjoy the times that she sits on my lap and lets me read a page to her. I say "a page" because that's about all I get through before she yanks the book from my hand and toddles off to find something else to destroy. Then I'm left sitting there wondering what in the heck ever happened to that crazy Lorax.

I have to say though that the books I have read the entire way through are a little perplexing. Children's literature is WEIRD. Have you ever read some of those nursery rhymes?? I'm pretty sure the author's were partaking in a few herbal remedies when they wrote them. It kind of makes me wonder if those books used to come with a hit of acid so you can understand them better.

Some of them have words in them just so that the story rhymes. Take for instance that book Goodnight Moon, which I know is a huge hit with parents. The story is this little bunny kid who is going to bed and they point out all of the stuff in his room and then they say "goodnight" to all of it. I find it odd to say goodnight to a bunch of inanimate objects but it's not so bad I guess. What gets me though is the bowl of mush on the nightstand. First off, why is this bunny kid eating a bowl of mush before bed? And what the crap is mush? And why is it being left in his room? That bunny kid looks old enough to be able to start taking his own dishes to the kitchen when he's done with them.

This weekend, I was reading another favorite, Mike Mulligan and His Steamshovel. This one was a favorite of my husband's when he was a kid and we actually still have his original copy. So, I'm reading it to The Boss Lady and the story is basically this: This dude, Mike Mulligan, has a steamshovel named Mary Anne. They are the best steamshovellin' team in the country but as technology advances, Mary Anne sort of becomes obsolete. So off they go to find a place where they are wanted and they happen upon this town that needs a basement built for their new town hall. Since the town is so small, they are going to have dig out the basement by hand. Here come Mike and Mary Anne to the rescue! They dig out the basement in one day while the town cheers them on. In appreciation, the town says that Mary Anne can live in the basement of the town hall and Mike can be the janitor.

WTF??? The janitor?? Thanks so much for your help, Mike, ole' buddy. We like you so much, you can clean our toilets and live in the basement! I can imagine that Mike and Mary Anne really just thought that was swell. If I were Mike and Mary Anne, I'd have rammed my steamshovel where the sun doesn't shine after that offer. But, that's just me.

So, anyway, after all of my reading, I realized that I could just write my own story. Go get yourself a nice cup of tea, snuggle up, and enjoy the read:

This is Mommy

Mommy can do lots of things.

Mommy can do the dishes

And Mommy can do the laundry

But, Mommy's biggest job is taking care of

The Boss Lady

The Boss Lady is a VERY active little girl

She likes to run,

And play in the dirt,

And she likes to make LOTS of messes!

So, sometimes at the end of a LONG day of taking care of The Boss Lady,

Mommy likes to have a glass of juice.

Then, finally it is time for bed and time to say goodnight!

Goodnight to the mess, goodnight to the juice,

Goodnight to the little brown moose.

Goodnight laundry and to the kids in Haiti,

Goodnight Mommy

And goodnight to The Boss Lady!







You've Come a Long Way Baby!

This weekend, Mike and I packed our suitcases, strapped The Boss Lady in her car seat, and headed off for our 16 hour (round trip) car ride to New Orleans to visit my dad's side of the family. We weren't sure what to expect this trip since it had been nearly a year since we made the drive but we were ready for whatever came our way. Well, lo and behold, aside from a small playing incident where Oli ended up with a black eye, the trip was excellent!

Since Olivia's first birthday, one of the things I find the most fascinating is to look back on where we were a year ago. For instance, when football season started up again this year, Mike was so excited to spend Sundays watching the Cowboys (don't hate!) with Olivia. I, however, had horrible flashbacks to our attempts at nice family Sunday evenings from last year. I remember that first Cowboys' game vividly. We dressed Olivia up in her little Cowboys onsesie, turned on the game, then listened to her scream for several hours. Mike walked around the living room with her in her carrier, just swinging it back and forth trying to calm her.

This year though, she's perfectly content to run around the living room playing with her dolls while Mike cheers on the 'Boys. She'll even stop on occasion to clap for the guys. It's pretty darn cute.

Similarly, our trip to Louisiana this year was VASTLY different than our experience last year. Last year, we weren't even able to get out of the house before 9 a.m. This year, we woke at 5 and were out the door by 6:45. Ha!

During most of the drive last year, our sweet, then 6 week old daughter, screeched at the top of her lungs while I pumped breastmilk from the front seat of the car. I'm sure a few truck drivers got a view that probably took weeks to erase from their memories. The louder Olivia cried, the faster we drove, just hoping to get to our destination as quickly as possible. And of course, we got stuck in 2 major traffic jams. Of course.

Eventually, we discovered that those bumpy things on the side of the road helped calm Oli so we would drive half on the shoulder and half on the road. When she would settle down, we'd slowly ease back on the road only to have her start up again and we would swerve back onto the shoulder. It's a wonder we didn't get stopped for suspicion of drunk driving!

I remember both of us just staring at the road ahead, our eyes glazed over. I remember having a little pep talk with Mike and saying something like "Well, this is just how our life is gonna be now. Better buck up and get used to it." I was convinced we had another 18 years of screeching in store for us before we could ship her off to college.

Last year, when we got to New Orleans, we picked up my sister and brother-in-law who had flown in earlier that day and had been spending the afternoon in the French Quarter sampling some of Louisiana's finest beverages. During the hour long drive to my aunt's house, Olivia screeched uncontrollably prompting Mike to tell Michael and Michelle, "Well, I guess that pretty much sobered you up!"

Throughout our trip this year, Mike and I would just stop to reminisce about where we were just one short year ago and how different things are. It really is incredible how much has changed. What once seemed like utter insanity that I would never adjust to is now completely normal. And it's really not that insane.

Olivia really did great on this trip. Sure, we had a few fussy moments but for the most part she was excellent. At my grandparents' house, she played all over the yard while we all hung out. In the French Quarter, she sat back and enjoyed the sights and through most of the car ride she was pretty good. Instead of lots of screeching, we mostly heard her chatting to herself and her doll.

As we were out and about with her, people would stop to ask how old Oli was. I was surprised every time to hear myself say "13 months." WHAT??? When did that happen? When did we suddenly enter into the 2nd year of our child's life?

The small, screeching baby we brought to New Orleans a year ago, is now a babbling toddler who walked up to a perfect stranger at a restaurant and tried to crawl up onto his lap (or maybe she was just trying to get to his Bloody Mary).

I could seriously go on for hours about how fun and cute Olivia is these days. When we stopped to visit on the way back into town, my step-mom asked "Did you ever think you'd have this much fun with her?" NOPE!

We are having such a great time watching her little personality develop. It seems she has the best of Mike and me and a little of the worst of me (my head-strong tendencies and temper) and she is a fantastic little kid. She is mimicking everything she sees us do and she's starting to try to say a few words. "Uh-oh" is a favorite these days.

So, yeah, we're pretty glad we never really dropped her off at one of those safe-baby-drop-off-zones because we would have missed out on this really cool kid. And maybe on one of our future trips to Louisiana, Olivia will care less about playing in the dirty street puddles and I'll get to share with her some of the cool stuff I did as a kid. Based on the changes of the past year, I think anything is possible!

Happy Blog-i-versary!!!

One year ago today, I sat down at this very computer and I started to write about this crazy journey I was just 3 1/2 weeks into at the time. Mike and I had just put our sweet, new daughter to bed and we were hoping for a relaxing Saturday night together. Alas, that night would not happen. At the end of this night, one year ago, we were covered in poop and wondering if our new life would ever feel normal.

Today, we spent the afternoon with family and friends, cheering on the Cowboys and watching while Oli and some of her playmates ran all over the house scattering toys and tupperware. We laughed together, toasted with a few margaritas (it is Sunday Funday after all!), and enjoyed this beautiful Sunday.

As I began this blog last year, I could not imagine that my life would ever feel this RIGHT. It is chaotic and messy and sometimes just plain insane. But I'm right where I'm supposed to be.

Thank you for reading this crazy account of my adventures for the past year. Thank you for laughing with me, crying with me, empathizing with me and never once calling the authorities on me...well, at least not that I know of...

Thank you for following me on this journey and for being here every step of the way! Cheers to all of us!

Happy Very First Blog-i-versary to The Really Really Real Adventures of Mommyhood!

You Know You Are a Parent When...

You know you are a parent when...

You have a party. You buy beer for the party. Your house is empty by 8 and you are in bed by 9. And you have leftover beer.

You are driving home from date-night with your spouse and you see people just pulling into the restaurant/movie theater and you say "What are these people doing out so late???" You look at the clock. It's 8:30.

You start calling a night out with your spouse "date-night." People without kids don't call it "date-night." They call it Friday or Saturday or whatever other day of the week they go out with their significant other because they can go out whenever the crap they want.

It's not unusual to come home to find your husband patting and kissing a baby doll while sipping out of a tea cup.

You turn on Pandora radio as you get ready in the morning and you start bopping along to the song that comes on. It takes you until about the 3rd verse to realize you are dancing to "If You're Happy and You Know It" on Toddler Radio. And you are doing the motions.

You are on the phone with a friend who doesn't have kids and your kid starts squawking in the background. Your friend stops mid-sentence and says, "Do you need to take care of that?" You respond, "Take care of what?"

Doing 5 loads of laundry is considered "light."

You are digging in your purse for a pen and you happen upon goldfish crackers, cheese, lunchmeat, or some other kind of food and you have no idea how old it is. You just shove it aside and continue looking for that pen.

When your kid wakes up in the morning, even though you have about 8 million other things to do around the house that now won't get done because you'll be busy child-chasing, you still feel like your heart just came alive when you see that grin as you open the door and say "Good morning, Sunshine!"

My Sister

A couple of months ago, I saw a contest in Real Simple magazine. It was a blog contest and the topic that they asked people to write about was "The person I'm most surprised to be friends with is..." and you had to fill in the blank. The only rule was that it had to be 300 words or less. I submitted an entry and we were supposed to find out this week if I was a finalist. Well, I didn't hear anything so I'm assuming I'm not BUT I'm really happy that I submitted something anyway and I wanted to share what I wrote with all of you!

I want to say a word about this piece before you read it though. This piece is about my sister, Michelle. I have 2 other sisters, a younger half sister, Megan, and an older step sister, Carly, and they are both very dear to me. I was also blessed with a step brother later in life, Taylor. All of my siblings are so close to my heart. I chose to write about Michelle because we have been through so much together. Not only do we look quite a bit alike (we're often mistaken for twins), we have forged a relationship over the years that is so very, very close that we are pretty much inseparable.

Anyway, enough chatter! Enjoy!

 “When I grow up you will NEVER be allowed in my house!!” These were words my sister, Michelle, and I shouted at each other often. We frequently made this proclamation to each other, to family, friends, and anyone who would listen to us rave about how much we disliked each other.

Looking back, I’m not sure why we were such arch-enemies. I can’t remember what a single fight was about. Family and friends would remark to us and our parents that they had never seen siblings who fought so much.

On February 2, 1998, that all changed. I was in college when I got news that my father had lost his battle with cancer. When I got home, there was Michelle, running toward me with her arms open, tears streaming down her face. We collapsed into each other, sobbing. I stroked my little sister’s hair as she moaned “Why?” into mine.  Suddenly, my arch-enemy was my life line, my anchor, the only person who shared my pain.

The life of my friendship with my sister was born that day of my father’s death.

We’ve grown a lot in 13 years. Our shared grief eventually evolved into the shared joys of life: college, marriage, and most recently the birth of my daughter. We still fought over the years but have always been here for each other. Lately, I am often struck by the knowledge that I could not live without Michelle. She has been the constant in my life. The one person I never thought I would want in my circle of friends has become my best one.

I hope someday I can give my daughter the gift I was given. The gift of fighting, frustration, laughter, and unconditional love. The gift of a very first, very best friend. A sister. 

Party On!

How can I ever begin to describe Olivia's birthday party this past Saturday? In a word, it was

AWESOME!!!

I really don't know any other way to sum it up better than that. We had a house full of kids, friends, and family and I loved every minute of it! We did a "splash party" with water activities for the kids outside, we had a margarita machine for the grown-ups, and, of course, way more food than we could eat. The cake and decorations were so beautiful and though our house is not huge, it was comfortably crowded on Saturday. The Boss Lady got some very generous and fun clothes, toys, and gift cards. She also did a great job tearing into her smash cake! The kid definitely takes after me! All of the kids got along and seemed to have a blast. Not ONE of them had a meltdown the whole evening!

But most of all, our house with filled with the love and support of our family and friends. Cheesy but true.

The next morning, I surveyed the mess that was now my house. There was cupcake crumbled in the dining room carpet, little foot prints on the kitchen tile, and my backyard looked like someone had done figure 8's in it in their monster truck. And I loved every bit of it. Seriously. I love knowing that our life is filled with an enormous amount of excitement and fun and a little bit of mess. The mess in my house Sunday morning was the aftermath of an incredible outpouring of love and excitement for the celebration of Olivia's birthday.

I am still on a high from the awesomeness that it was. This might be silly but I kind of needed that party to have some closure on the fact that I actually, really do have a 1 year old. I didn't talk about this too much, but the days leading up to Olivia's first birthday were so surreal, sad, and a little challenging for me. I felt so excited about this milestone but also a little sad that my "baby" is really, truly a toddler. It's hard for me to let go of the tiny little person she once was. I needed a big celebration to ease the transition into this new chapter.

To say thank you to everyone that was here would not be sufficient to truly express the gratitude in our hearts and souls. We are more blessed than we ever thought possible. Thank you, thank you, thank you to all of you who came to celebrate. There are many who were unable to attend and we appreciate your well wishes that day. I had a flood of texts on Saturday that just made that day even better. Thank you for thinking of us and for being a part of our celebration!

We hope all of you know how much we love and appreciate you. I hope we are as good to you as you are to us. Thank you, thank you, and thank you again and again and again!

The scrapbook table featuring the beast of a scrapbook I finished of Oli's first year! People left messages for her to be included later.

The fireplace mantel featuring all of her 1 month birthday pics and the book where her birth story was published.

The cake and cupcakes

So cute, right?!?!?

It was so gorgeous AND delicious!

The Boss Lady splashes with some friends.

"Um, what am I supposed to do with this and why is everyone staring at and singing to me?"

"Seriously, what the heck is going on?"

"OH!! Now I get it!! YUM!!!"

"IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!"

Oli and her loot.