Birthdays and The Butterfly Effect

My first son, my furry son, turned EIGHT today. Eight, wow, this boggles my mind. I remember driving from Baltimore to Lancaster, PA to look at him with a friend of mine. We were doing AmeriCorps together at the time and in less than two months our year of service would be complete and I was moving to St. Louis to live with my (now ex) fiance. Despite this poor memory of mine I often harp on, I remember meeting Apollo for the first time like it was yesterday. Maybe because it was the first time I really got to experience the Amish. Who would have guessed I eventually live in Lancaster for 3 years someday!

Youngest pic I could find of him.
Probably about a month after I got him.

I remember the breeder calling to tell me one of his kids dropped him, he broke his leg and I could get a refund on my deposit or a discount. I considered him mine already so of course I drove there the next day to pick him up, despite not planning to pick him up for a few more. The nuns at the convent I was living in during my year of service were very kind and allowed me to keep him there since it was just a few days. Yes, I said nuns. And yes, I said "convent I was living in". Yes, everyone laughs, it's okay, I do every time I say it too!

Anyway... little did I know Apollo would turn out to be one of the world's most challenging animals to own, my first dog and quite possibly my last, if Craig has it his way. He has had stomach issues from the start, I of course had his broken leg to deal with in the beginning, he's had surgery for a damaged spleen and twisted stomach, he pukes frequently, can't eat anything but his food, not even treats, he has separation anxiety and is now on Prozac for that, he has ruined doors, furniture, kids toys, carpets, snatched our dinners off the counter, he's also very unpredictable and has run after neighbors and acts like he's going to eat the mailman's head off if he's out when the mail arrives here at our new home... he's a handful to say the least!

Kitchen door and trim at our new house.
He went on Prozac shortly after!

Until my (less furry) children arrived I probably would have ended that last sentence with, but he's mine and I love him. Now his challenges along with my young children make him more of a nuisance and this makes me feel awful. He really is a sweet dog. If he could have someone's undivided attention 24/7 he would be the best dog around; the mailman may not agree! He was great with my Pap. It's hard not to look at Apollo and think if only.... I truly believe if my Pap could have taken Apollo he'd still be with us today. He loved this dog so much, more than me I sometimes think! It didn't work out that way for many reasons, but part of why I try to hang on and not find him a good home is because of my Pap. He would want him here with us, with his family. So, we trudge on.

Happy Birthday Old Man :)

But mostly Apollo reminds me of just how different my life could have been now, eight years later. You see, I bought Apollo to help ease the pain from my first miscarriage. He became the baby God decided wasn't meant to me. He provided me with the mothering; nurturing need I lost almost as soon as I accepted I was going to be a mom. I had a really difficult time dealing with my first loss. I've analyzed this quite a bit and will write about it another time but the point is, I remember it all, not like my second loss. I remember seeing that positive test, and taking three more! To say I was freaking out might be a bit of an understatement. I remember my due date was July 31. I remember my first OB appointment. I remember the names I had picked out by 12 weeks. I realized something was wrong on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, on my way back to Baltimore from a weekend of apartment hunting in St. Louis. I found out the next day I had actually miscarried somewhere around 9 weeks and had surgery the following day or maybe it was two days. My ex flew in, my mom, dad and step mom drove in. I was surrounded by so much love and support but the pain was unbearable. I just couldn't deal with it. I let that pain sit for too long and as I mentioned in a previous post, at one point was on a hefty cocktail of an anti anxiety, antidepressant and a sleeping pill. This was nearly two years later.

It's difficult not to think of all of this when Apollo's birthday comes around. He was my "replacement baby" and now he is a reminder of these terribly trying days that turned to years. A reminder of a life I can't even picture. I don't really even try anymore because I realize that there is a slim chance that Craig and I would have found each other again had that fetus grew into my first child. As such, Rylie and Caleb wouldn't exist. That's one of those gasping thoughts that turns all other thoughts to a hazy swirl of grey until they just wash away.

The therapeutic tree planted to help with the loss... 8 years later

That thought alone ends my wandering mind of the baby that never came to be, of what he or she would be like or become, because life without my two little munchkins is even more unimaginable than the life that was not meant for me. The butterfly effect of this one single moment in my life is truly remarkable. Maybe that's why I remember it all so clearly, because it led me to where I am now. It ultimately led to my beautiful children. That pain that I was so convinced would never subside led to many forks in the road over the past eight years. I made decision after decision as to which path to stroll down and then held on tight, praying it was the best choice.

So, the way I see it, Apollo's birthday is a reminder each year of how many years it's been since that pain washed over me, since my first chance at motherhood vanished. It's a reminder of how that pain, and a whole lot of other emotions, decisions and experiences in between, in the end led to joy, love, frustration... to the motherhood I was meant to experience.

Apollo's a good boy, he deserves more from me but at least he has two little monsters that think he's even cooler than mom so I hope he's still a happy dog and I hope he knows he's still loved!
Happy Birthday buddy! And thank you for the reminder each year of all I have.

Rylie loves to cuddle with her Apollo

An old one (obviously) but a fave,
Caleb at 2 months getting some lovin from is pow pow!

Angry, Embarrassed, Offended... shove it Time magazine

As a mom, I am angry. As a mom who breast fed each baby for a year or more, I am embarrassed. As a woman, I am offended.

Yes, last week I saw that Time magazine cover, you know the one that has virtually every mom in an uproar and pedophiles collecting the edition by the dozens? Yup, that one. I refuse to give it more publicity so if you haven't seen it just google "Time" or "extended breastfeeding" or "attachment parenting" or something along those lines and you won't have a problem finding it, along with hundreds of other articles and blog posts about it. I haven't had a chance to give my two cents until now because I thought Mother's Day and mommy love was more important to focus on than the grand scale mommy judging this cover and title has thrust upon us once again. But, yes, I am jumping on the bandwagon now. Sorry, but it sparked too deep of emotions for me not to weigh in.

Everything I have read seemed to focus on the same things that were appalling to me... the cover sexualizing the beautiful and natural act of breast feeding, the title pittitng moms against one another, even prompting mommy guilt feelings in some, and the overall misconception that the combination of the two elicited, all for the sake of making a profit, go capitalism!

So let me tell you my story first because the way I see it, if every mom keeps sharing their style of parenting, or for me an eclectic hodgepodge of styles, then maybe we can all learn and grow and stop focusing on these one word parenting styles which, unless you are very rigid, no one really does by the book anyway. AND THEN maybe, just maybe, we can STOP CRITICIZING each other for how we choose to parent. There are countless styles of parenting because every parent has their own way that works for their own kids. It can even be different with each kid and no one way is right or wrong. I have a book called, You Don't Have To Be Wrong For Me To Be Right. It's book about faith (without fanaticism), but I LOVE the title, because it's a profound idea for situations like this as well.

My parenting style started out guided by all the books and after struggling against nature a bit and realizing that the baby is each parent's own book I found my own way. I tried wearing both of my babies. Rylie hated the sling and after accepting this fact I resold it on eBay a couple months after buying it there. Though both liked the baby bjorn, it was used to help me get things done around the house more so than as a way to always have my baby touching me. I also tried baby massage to help Rylie sleep. Granted, in the past nearly three years I've tried EVERYTHING, except a sleep doctor and tranquilizers, to help Rylie sleep.
I breast fed both my babies their first year, having to supplement with my daughter at 11 months when I became pregnant with my son. I extended breast feeding with my son to about six weeks past his first birthday. Just six weeks but man, it was obvious some people thought there was something wrong with that, though no one said anything outright. He was 13 and 1/2 months, not 13 years old, geesh. Actually some people thought it was odd I breast fed exclusively all along. Or they didn't understand and thought it was a problem that my son would refuse bottles.  Someone actually asked me how he eats since he wouldn't take a bottle! This exclusively breast feeding thing was as odd to them as it is odd to me that people choose to not feed their baby with what nature made exclusively for them, rather than something formulated in a lab. But just because I find something odd and I don't understand, it doesn't mean I judge those who choose this! I have lots of friends who didn't breast feed and they are all great mom's and I don't think negatively about them for their choice because that's what it is, a choice. There's a ton of reasons why mother's make every choice they do and there's just no room for judging these decisions, unless a parent is actually hurting their child and in that case I have a problem with it.

I should mention, my kids really don't ever get sick. A couple colds is it. Because I breast fed? Who the heck knows. But it was part of why I made this choice, along with all the other research that proves the benefits of breastfeeding....but I won't go on my why to breast feed tangent right now. The point is, for those who never did, don't have kids or just don't get it... the picture on the cover of Time is not what breast feeding looks like. It's not sexual, despite what any of Freud's crazy cocain induced theories may have you believe... it's just not. Period.

Some might say, of course she says that she's one of those attachment parenting crazy mom's. Ummm, nope, not really. We also Ferberized our daughter and to a lesser extent our son, who figured out the sleeping thing on his own pretty early on. We went by the book, the other book that is, for sleep training Rylie. I was not into the whole cosleeping thing, no way my kid was going to end up in our bed until she was five or something "crazy" like that. (umm, yeah) Anyway, she always went down awake, we never fed her to sleep, we never picked her up once she was in her bed but would rub her back and leave, repeat, repeat, repeat, repeat, extending the returns longer and longer. Nothing worked so we tried every other book and advice that rolled in too. After a really bad bout of sleepless nights around the start of this year she started sleeping with us... at 2 and 1/2 years old we started cosleeping, oy vey! Both of these scenarios, cry it out and cosleeping, I'm sure face great criticism from many, but I don't care. We did what we thought would help establish good sleep habits for a very poor sleeper and then ultimately what was best for our sanity.
Our son, on the other hand, slept in a swing for 3 months and then his bed. I would pick him up because I was terrified of him waking his sister...when she was actually asleep. I nursed him to sleep too. A no-no for some of "the books". At times I nursed to get him to sleep when his reflux was bad because breast milk is a natural antacid, but mostly just because it was easier for me and he enjoyed it and would go right to sleep, usually. Now if he wakes up and we try to bring him in our room he won't have it. He wants his bed. Just goes to show how EVERY KID IS DIFFERENT and your parenting style needs to adapt to their different temperaments. The whole nature versus nurture debate leans towards the side of nature in our house! Of course I always leaned more towards the nature side from my studies, my kids simply proved my hypothesis for me.

All this said, do I think it's odd for a mom to breast feed through toddlerhood and upwards of four (or older), like the little boy on the Time cover? Yes, actually, I do. Do I judge these moms? No. It's just not my thing, I weaned when I did because I wanted to be able to leave the house before 7:30pm, maybe go away for a weekend or a night for the first time in over two years, I wanted my life back, a bit. Now my son and I cuddle as we read a story and say his prayer but I don't have to be the one to put him to bed.

I know a mom who extended nursing because her son was allergic to everything and until they figured out what he could have it was safest for him to get the vital nutrients breast milk provides. Would she have extended anyway?  Maybe. I never asked, but who cares? Now, I'm not judging this mom on the cover, or I'm desperately trying not to. She didn't design the photo shoot or approve the image for the world to see. She's defending it, but really, can you blame her? We can't say how we would respond if we were in her position and the world was judging us. Some have even claimed she's sexually molesting her son for doing something millions of mom's throughout the non westernized world do every day! In the end, the cover made it's point. Extended breastfeeding exists. They also made it seem less okay than society already perceives it to be despite having their chance to help normalize it... what a damn shame.

I should also point out I'm not personally a fan of public breast feeding. I just don't feel comfortable, but if my baby was hungry and I didn't have a cover or more accurately my baby would pull the cover off because it was distracting, I still fed them. Why wouldn't I? The fact that some states still ban mommy's from doing this is so unfathomable to me I can't even comment more on it. The fact that nursing sit ins are even a necessity because of the discrimination so many have faced for feeding their babies in public is despicable. It makes me wonder how we have come so far as a society with so many living in a bubble of ignorance.

a breast feeding flash mob

Moving on... because there's the still the title to contend with and that really got my blood boiling too... Are You Mom Enough? OMG! Seriously, Time? How many people sat around the table and agreed to this title that really should have said... Hey, mom's who don't nurse should question their motherliness and those who can't should feel more guilty and those who do should criticize those who don't and those who extend should feel superior to all.... until they see the picture and then just feel embarrassed that is. That's what they meant to say but that wouldn't have sold as many magazines I guess. How many of those people who decided on this title are actually moms, how many breast fed their babies, how many extended breast feeding? If even one, shame on them. But still, I wasn't there and maybe it was too hard to stand up to those who thought it was a brilliant selling strategy. Maybe they feared being fired, discriminated against, mocked, who knows... but it happened and Time made their money. It was a brilliant selling strategy, I'll give them that!

I won't read the article because I refuse to give Time any more money for this. I have read snip-its from other articles and it seems it really wasn't all that enlightening as far as the attachment parenting and extended breast feeding goes. Given that, as far as I'm concerned, Time dropped the ball on an opportunity for what could have been a very eye opening article about bringing moms together and helping us be more accepting of one another's choices. As a mom who wishes this was the way of the world and works to not judge the choices other mom's make, I take this personally, as an attack on all of us. They managed to make attachment parenting look even more wacky to the outsider by sexualizing extended breast feeding, they set back what I felt was a subtle turn for mom's accepting one another's differences and they fueled the fire of ignorance that makes breast feeding taboo rather than beautiful, all with one magazine cover, unreal.

So, all that's left to say is this...

Dear Time magazine,

You can shove this appalling cover up what one might call, your proverbial ass. Thank you.

Sincerely,
A Mom Who IS Enough

To My Daughter on Mother's Day

On my third Mother's Day as a mom I debated writing to my mom or to my daughter. Since I felt my post a few days ago, Motherhood is Not for the Weak, was a reasonable tribute to the greatness of my mom I went with the latter, especially considering my little girl is nearly three and I always feel a pang of guilt when I see the "note to baby" spots in her baby book, pre-made scrapbook and 1st year calendar all remain blank.

The thing is, I'm not very good with expressing my emotions. Sometimes my writing will overtake me and I can make people laugh and/or cry and maybe feel a bunch of other emotions too, but verbally, I really suck at saying how I feel. I've never been quite sure what I want to express to my daughter. How important it is to me that she be Jewish, not just by blood and birthright but by celebrating the traditions that make our heritage so meaningful to me? How important it is to be strong and stand up for what you believe in? I haven't done a fabulous job of that lately so it's tough to tell my baby to do this and not feel a bit like a hypocrite. Granted, I haven't done a real stand up job at celebrating all the joys of being a Jew lately either so....what do I want to say to her...... Hopefully my fingers will just figure it out because... if not now, when?
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My Dear Rylie

I'm sorry it's taken me so long to write my 'note to baby'. It's not that I wasn't instantly smitten by you and that freakishly full head of hair on such a teeny tiny little being....

10 days old and ALL that hair!

It's more that I just found myself overwhelmed by the first six weeks of motherhood and then time seemed to get away from me, especially after your brother came along less than 19 & 1/2 months later! You'll find that once you keep putting something off then it just seems silly to do it after the point. But this Mother's Day I realized it's never silly to tell you how loved you are, how special you are and how I can't even begin to imagine my life without you in it. It's never too late for that.

There are so many things I want you to know and learn, so much I dream you will be. Strong, loving, compassionate, giving, honest, respectful, smart, beautiful in every way that really matters. I want you to reach for the stars and never give up. I won't say you can be anything you want because I always found that saying a bit ridiculous. I'm sorry babe but it's very doubtful you'll play in the WMBA someday, though I guess you could be in the guinness book of world records for shortest professional basketball player, who knows. (Great) Pap sure would be proud if that happened! And since our space program is pretty much a thing of the past, becoming an astronaut that flies to the moon is a long shot too, but maybe anything else you dream of. The point is to dream and hope and fight to make your dreams come true. 

Most of all I wish you to be happy. Happiness can be a fickle thing sometimes. You might think, if only I had (insert pretty much anything you can think of here) then I would be happy. But really, the secret to happiness comes from within. Once you find happiness in yourself, with who you are, then the happiness is there no matter what you have or who you have to share in this adventure of life with. Find that happiness, embrace it with all you've got, bottle it up and keep it close, because life is hard and there are lots of bumps in the road but that bottle of happiness will keep you strong and moving down the right path that's meant just for you. 

Don't believe everything you hear. Friends don't always know best and I know this is hard to believe but I won't always have the right answer! Ask questions, search for the truth, follow your heart but use your head. While family is blood  know that every family has issues. If someone isn't healthy for you and you find that bottle of happiness slipping from your embrace it's okay to let that person go their own way, no matter who they are. Daddy and I want nothing more but for you to enjoy your life and be happy so it's okay, I promise, it'll be okay. But you have to believe too.

You have to believe in yourself and believe in God, or at least in something greater than you. Though I would prefer for that be God. Just know that there is meaning to life. You may think you found it when you have your first crush and the world seems to stop all around you and your heart skips a beat every time you see this person. This is close but not quite it. You may think you know what life is all about when you graduate high school because everyone knows everything when they graduate high school. You may think, again, that you really figured it out as you walk the same streets mommy and daddy did at Penn State. But please, as you figure out the meaning of life in college just remember one thing... I never, ever want to hear the details of how you came to such conclusions about life, unless of course you found them in the classroom... the classroom, yes, that's where you will find your answers! Tell me all about how you go to every class every day and study all night because that's what mommy and daddy did at Penn State.

As you search and find and search again, just please remember how I asked you to follow your heart but use your head. I hope you'll remember everything I tell you and teach you but if you do forget, just remember that one thing and how much you are loved... and you'll be okay. 

For me, I found that the meaning of life is as simple as it is profound. It's love. Pure and simple, love. Love for yourself and others, for humanity. But ultimately for me, you are that meaning. You and your brother. Love for your child is something that I can't put into words. It's like that first crush, times a million. Because in an instant everything changes. Everything you've ever wanted and dreamed of somehow changes. Nothing can prepare you, my words can't, books can't, having your own baby grow inside you can't, nothing can until you hold that tiny little being in your arms and look in her eyes. That's when the meaning of life hit me, like a gush of wind on a hot day that blows life directly into your soul, it hit me when you entered my world.

I want the world for you but I'll try to refrain from pushing all I want on you because you need to find your own path and your own meaning of life and your own happiness. All I can do is hold your hand and guide you along the way and pray you'll hold on tight until your ready to let go... and then come back for some love and guidance as needed.... and again when I need you to hold my hand.

The day you were born is the day God decided the world could not exist without you. 

~ Rabbi Nachman of Breslov

PS- I also hope you are blessed with a daughter someday. You'll understand why I added this when that daughter is your age now my love, you'll understand.

You Have to "Like" You

Yesterday I saw this picture around facebook a few times and lots of "likes" for those who posted it.

I wasn't one of the people who hit "like".

Now, if many people actually read my blog I would imagine this might spark some hate messages but this is a blog of truth and the truth is, I don't find beauty in this picture. The poem below it is very sweet but MANY mom's I know (and don't know) couldn't wait for their pregnancies to be over. And not just that last month when we all just want the baby OUT! For some women, every minute of their pregnancy is filled with nausea, pain, in inability to sleep, maybe worry over serious health conditions or overall it just simply sucked. Imagine if those same women were unfortunate enough to end up scared with stretch marks too. Where's the beauty in that? The beauty is in our kids, not the scars. For me anyway.

Yes, I understand that's sort of the point of this picture but you don't have to find the scars all over your abdomen "beautiful" in any way, even symbolically, in order to cherish every moment of your child. I sure don't look at my pitiful boobs and think, oh they are beautiful and only look like this because they nourished each of my babies for a year or more. I'm very proud I stuck with breast feeding for so long, it's one of the few things that makes me proud as a mom actually, but it doesn't make me cherish those moments less because I don't like how my boobs look now! Just like it doesn't make a mom love her child any less if she resents her body for looking like this (picture). The two are simply not mutually exclusive.

I was fortunate not to get permanent stretch marks and really only had a couple by the end of each pregnancy. But if I had, I wouldn't find them beautiful. In fact, I would be really upset about them. I would feel self conscious and probably even a bit less attractive. While I think it's awesome that this mom embraces her pregnancy scars and I don't feel mom's with such battle wounds are unattractive by any means. It takes more than scars to make a person unattractive as a human being. This is simply how I would feel. I find it hard to believe there aren't a whole lot of other mommy's out there with this same mindset, especially those who do bear such scars. And even more so if they also felt those nine months were absolute torture.

Now, I was also one of those mom's who loved being pregnant, the first time around anyway. Well, I should say the first time I made it through the first trimester. After two miscarriages I was very concerned it may be more than simply some awful luck but once I felt my daughter move for the first time I LOVED being pregnant, despite feeling pretty crappy for a good 18 weeks, some really awful pains early on and until the end and constant worry of losing her too. Now, my son's pregnancy was a different story. Though the magic of feeling your baby grow and move makes it difficult for me to say it was all out torture, so lets just say I didn't love that pregnancy.

Given I had healthy, for the most part easy pregnancies that did not result is permanent scaring, some might ask why am I even weighing in? Some might think I'm being unfair or even judgemental. It's in part because I feel like pictures like these on facebook, along with status's like, repost if you love your kids or don't care that you gave up your salon cuts and nights out, blah, blah... add to the seemingly never ending mommy guilt. I certainly felt some pressure to hit "like" and wondered if I should or if it made me lesser of a mom because I didn't find this picture beautiful. I actually thought, people really like this? Maybe something's wrong with me. I'm not a fan of the mommy guilt or perpetuating it in any way and wondered how many mom's felt peer pressured in a way, which made me feel bad, so.... I'm weighing in, and giving the other side, because this is the truth too.

The truth, I don't have stretch marks but my belly button isn't exactly attractive now, not that belly buttons are all that sexy to begin with. But if I ever decided to flash back to my 20's and put my belly ring back in, it wouldn't be sexy, to me. Though I'm currently a bit underweight my daughter looked at my belly before getting in the shower yesterday and said "baby". Um yeah, nice. Thanks darling. Gotta love kids honesty. I still have that "baby belly" which I hate but at some point I decided I was too tired to do sit ups every night, the mommy and baby workout video doesn't work so well with a toddler running around and getting to yoga is a challenge with two. So, at some point I gave up on the exercise part but that doesn't mean I have to like that baby belly or think, oh my sweet beautiful babies were in there and that's why I can't get my body back. No, I don't think it's beautiful and at some point I'll find the energy I need to feel good about the way I look again. Most mommy's won't ever look the same, to others we might, but how we feel about ourselves is the only opinion that really matters.

I should mention that I could describe myself with many words but one thing I know I'm not is vein. I'm actually quite the opposite and more of a plain Jane, or plain Jaci. I have never worn more than concealer when needed to cover my awful acne and scars from picking at it. Which is why I know I would feel self conscious over scars, I am every day. I tried some make up at various points in my life and to be honest I think I'm prettier with a bit of eye liner, mascara and some lip gloss. That's not much, and it certainly doesn't take long to put that on and I wash my face before bed every night anyway, but I just can't be bothered. It feels like a waste of time and one thing I despise is wasting precious time.

I also have no style. I wear some sort of lounge pant most days which can convert from hanging at home pants, sleeping clothes, not looking like a total bum at the grocery store and yoga attire if I get the chance. I prefer tee shirts or tank tops in the summer or some other super casual long sleeve shirt, which I can also wear to yoga. Like most women, I have many shoes, but I wear flip flops as long as the weather allows and tennies the rest of the time, for the most part. I'm quite plain. I know this. I wish I had style. I look at other's styles and think, I like that, but I rarely go shopping for myself and feel that the cost of things for just staying home or going to the park or having the kids wipe their peanut putter hands or boogers on me is a bit ridiculous. Despite having a love for designer purses, Coach in particular, I buy one purse every couple years or so and I NEVER switch purses to match outfits. Too much effort and what's the point really? To me, that equates to a waste of time.

I'm A LOT of things but vein is not one of them so I don't feel troubled to say I'm not a fan of this picture.

Though, I also know that a person has to feel good about how they look, for themself, in order to just feel good. That doesn't mean you have to meet some Vogue "standard", you just have to meet your standard. That is why I respect the mom in this picture and the mom's who genuinely "liked" this picture. It's also why I respect the mom's, or anyone, who chooses to find anyway possible to feel good about themselves, including the way they look. If someone wants botox, a boob job, puts make up on every day even if they are just staying home, goes shopping every week for new clothes, or maybe a different approach and doesn't take any type of medication, doesn't eat meat, runs every day..... whatever. Whatever makes you happy! We can't be good mom's if we feel shitty about ourselves. I know this for a fact.

So, I say to each his own, love yourself and feel beautiful but that doesn't mean all us mommy's have to "like" the same thing to be good and loving mommy's who cherish our babies and feel good about ourselves.

Motherhood is Not for the Weak

With Mother's Day approaching I've been thinking a lot about my mom as well my thoughts on being a mom. Both thoughts seem to circle back to the ever plaguing question, how the hell did she do it on her own?!

I've always had such gratitude for my mom deciding to have me despite being young and I'm sure having other dreams in mind before wanting to become a mother. But I'm more in awe at her ability to raise me from the age of two as a single parent. Yes, she had lots of family help but in the end she's the one who worked every single day and even picked up extra weekend or evening shifts at the paper during the holidays. She's the one who put food on the table, albeit I would never think of feeding my kids some of the stuff I grew up eating, or at least not very often! (Sorry mom, but McDonald's is pretty nasty.) She's the one who rubbed my back when I couldn't sleep, helped with school work, never missed an extracurricular activity I was involved in and saw to it that I was the first in our family to graduate from college, later going on for my Master's. I'd say she did a damn good job!

I don't remember her yelling at me even when I deserved it, and once I hit 12 years old or so I sure deserved it! Wait, I lie, she would get pretty upset if I spilt milk, but that's it. I don't remember her ever spanking me. I was smacked once, but not by her, for back talking my mom. I think I was eight and I scremed bloody murder as my mom would say. But that was it. I can't even recall her being disappointed in me, again, even when she should have been.

I do however remember her digging in the couch or car for one more quarter so we could walk across the street for a DQ ice cream. I remember going to work with her on the weekends and thinking all the office stuff I could play with was pretty cool, like label makers, which I still think are pretty cool actually. I remember her staying up late to type my high school papers I had handwritten. She could type so much faster so it was just silly for me to do it! I have a bad memory in regards to whole days or vacations and whatnot. My memories are more feelings with flashes of actual moments and for the most part I seem to recall my mom being fairly relaxed about being a mom. She's a worrier and anxious about lots of things but she always seemed calm in the mom department.

Maybe some people are just meant to be mom's. My mom wasn't perfect but she was definitely meant to be a mom. Lately, I'm feeling like maybe I wasn't.

Tonight a friend helped me feel less alone in this insanity also known as motherhood. She said, or more accurately  she text, "Motherhood is not for the weak!" It was like a sigh of relief washed over me because one thing I have always known is that I am strong. It was a short lived sigh because then I thought, well, I don't feel very strong right now. I feel like going for a run along the road where the train goes by the house so I can scream as loud as I can without being heard. I feel like throwing dishes from an upstairs window. But most of all I feel like getting on Career Builder and finding a job because I'm just not sure this stay at home mom thing is for me.

This idea of working outside the home again makes me feel like there is a window of hope that these awful days filled with yelling (which I hate doing) and 15 time outs (which are clearly not very effective) and feeling like ripping my hair out of my head can be over. I just have to make the choice. It also makes me sad because all I ever wanted was to give my kids what my mom wasn't able to give me, their mommy at home until they go to school. And home when they get home from school. I feel like a failure for even considering "quitting my job".

I NEVER give up on anything when it gets tough, it's just not in my nature. I do however stop doing things I know I'm not good at or I just don't do them to begin with. You'll never see me join a volleyball league. I'm 5 foot, I mean, that would just be silly. Plus, I suck at volleyball. Though I did participate on my old Temple's team for a fundraiser last year. It wasn't my intent when I volunteered my time but it was what they needed so I (very reluctantly) thought, what the heck?! I also don't dance anymore, ever. That saying, dance like nobody's watching, yeah, not me. It took me awhile to realize it wasn't that others were simply better than me, I am just really, REALLY bad, despite taking lessons for about a decade! My problem is that I'm competitive, I like being good at things. Who doesn't? So to feel as though I'm not good at the only thing that really matters (since becoming a mom) is a crazy depressing thought.

The thing is, now that I'm a mom I have a whole new concept of what love is, the purpose of life and God's plan so to speak. So, I don't know what I would want to do other than be a mom. Nothing else seems fulfilling anymore, not even knowing I'm good at my former career. Or even feeling that it's a very fulfilling career, helping others that is. Until I became a mom it was all I ever really wanted to do, help others and make a positive difference in their lives. In effect, helping others meant changing the world, making it a better place. Now, I just want to be a positive influence in my kids lives, help them grow and learn and hopefully make their own positive impact on the world.

What I want and what I feel I am able to do don't seem to be meshing very well at the moment. Which makes me wonder, am I weak? I wouldn't trade my kids for the world, but I do wonder if I knew then what I know now if I would still have chosen motherhood. Eh, I'm sure I would have, it was just a crap ass day. BUT, I'm not so sure I would have chosen to become a stay at home mom. All I really ever wanted was to be a mom. But being a stay at home mom isn't for everyone. I thought it was until I embarked on this adventure. I thought every mom must want to stay home but some simply can't, it's not their fault. Then I met mom's or read about mom's who admitted that staying home is the last thing on earth they would want and it's not because they don't love their kids as much as the next mom, it's just not for them. I really do understand why.

Motherhood IS NOT for the weak. The strong barely survive! It's hard as hell. I know for some it's a bit easier in some ways but I'm not one of those mom's and I sure can't lie and say it's all good, or as Rylie likes to say, "I got it". I don't got it. Some mom's get to sleep, at some point anyway. I'm used to poor sleep but nearly three years of this is really showing me just how vital sleep is to maintaining one's sanity. Or at least to having enough patience to be calm through the terrible two's so you can enter the treacherous three's with a  bit of energy left. I have no energy left with one in those three's and one on the brink of hitting the two's.

I'm. SO. screwed.

I may be beyond exhausted but that's what caffeine is for. I have to remind myself that I'm not weak, I'm a MOM and I'll survive. My mom survived as a single parent, with more than a decade less life experience than I have. She was and still is a great mom, even though I'm not a very good daughter to her. Maybe she survived because she wasn't a stay at home mom. Maybe she was just meant to be a mom and would have been great at it no matter what. Maybe I was just one of those exceptionally well behaved kids. I'm told I was a really good child.

I read in one of the mommy blogs I follow that some mom's are better at the baby years, some toddler, some childhood, adolescence or maybe even adulthood. Every mom has their own mommy nitch you could say. Maybe these toddler years just aren't my cup of tea and I'll turn out to be a great mom too. Time will tell. Right now, I'm just praying I don't screw them up too bad while I fight to survive these toddler years. In the meantime, more yoga and writing can't hurt... and maybe some Xanax.

Wild and Wonderful

Back in December we had a special visitor to our new home (of three months, at the time) here in West Virginia. One evening I went downstairs to do some laundry and saw all sorts of lint and debris on the dryer. I looked around wondering if there was a hole in the vent or something and called my husband down when I couldn't find any issues.

Me (very concerned): What could cause something like this?
(worried the laundry would pile up until we could get it fixed or there was some other serious issue in this old house we bought)

Craig looks up in the rafters and all around and calmly responds: A squirrel

Me: How do you know?

As I said this, upon seeing my husband looking at him, Rocky came flying through the rafters and jumped down, clearly not noticing I was also there, right on me! I screamed, jumped on Craig and then pretty much in the washer, as if it could protect me from the rogue squirrel. By now the dog and Rylie had come down to investigate all the commotion.

Apollo caught sight of our new friend and the race around the basement ensued. Picture frames were knocked down, I was screaming and half still hiding, half peeking out the door, plotting how I could make my way up the stairs in the middle of the basement without getting caught in the chase. Rylie was in the middle of it all laughing with Craig saying, "get em Apollo!" as I screamed "No, don't let the dog get him!"

The chase came full circle as Apollo ran the squirrel right back towards me. In my feeble effort to run for the stairs I ended up stuck in the doorway as Rocky once again flew at me, hopping from the bed, off the door, on to my shoulder and back up into the rafters where we lost track of him. Craig looked and looked and determined he was well hidden and there was nothing we could do about it.

We went upstairs and Craig said he would get a live trap and catch him tomorrow.

Me: I'm supposed to sleep with a squirrel in the house?! What if he gets into the baby's room? What if he has rabies?!?! WHAT IF HE BITES ONE OF THE KIDS! (My panic grew with each more disastrous thought)

Craig (very calm): He doesn't have rabies, he won't get into the main part of the house, I'll get him tomorrow. By now he couldn't stifle his laugh any longer and was dying as he managed to get out, "You should have saw your face, that was the funniest thing I've ever saw, I can't wait to tell everyone!"

He then starting texting everyone he knew to relay the story. Laughing the whole time. Yes, yes, real funny, a crazy squirrel jumps on your wife, nearly kills me and it's funny.

Rylie proceeded to open the basement door the rest of the night and the next two days while we had our guest staying with us, calling "squirrel, squirrel". I calmed down, posted my status to facebook where people weren't sure if I was quoting a scene from National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation or not and then Craig and I looked at each other as we do more than once a week, shook our heads and said "Effin West Virginia".

It took two days because someone at Craig's work
had this trap he could borrow,
of course they did...effin West Virginia!

Since moving here 8 months ago we tend to blame every crazy thing that happens, ridiculous thing we see, incompetent person we encounter on the state of West Virginia. Unfair? Sure, but we are Pennsylvanians at heart and well, that's just what Pennsylvanians do, make fun of West Virginians!

Today I saw a very pregnant lady walking her dog at the park and I thought, oh good for her getting out before it's too hot, I remember those days, walking and hoping (praying) I'd go into labor. Then I saw the cigarette she was smoking and I shook my head and thought, effin West Virginia.

I spent two days this week calling the doctor and express scripts after finding out the Dr. called in my new prescription to the wrong place. I wanted to get it locally first to make sure I want to stick with it before getting a 3 months supply. I explained this before leaving the doctor on Friday and was told to call for the 3 month supply once I decided, yet they still called it into the mail order. I got it sorted out but making 5-6 unnecessary phone calls over the course of two days with these two munchkins is challenging. I thought... Ahhhh, effin West Virginia.

I also had to go back to Lowe's this week after being charged duplicate times for a handful of our garden items. The woman scanned them and when done realized only a couple items scanned. We took her word for it that she didn't double up on those items when she redid it all. Stupid us for not checking, but yup, we said, effin West Virginia!

And once again the mailman left our box open and once again something important came and was soaking wet after some bad storms. Once again Craig flipped and wanted to wait for him and tell him what he thought of his incompetence with his fist but we settled for shaking our heads and saying, you got it... effin West Virginia!

This was all just this week, so you can imagine the past 8 months!

When we told people we were moving and said where to they either would say, "Why would you do that?" or hear wrong and say, "Oh, Virginia, nice!" We'd say, "NO, West Virginia" and the consistent response then was, "oh". The jokes rolled in, hey, will you shoot your food from your porch each night or just grab some road kill for dinner? Hey, at least there won't be a wait for the dentist! Me, "Huh?" You know, no one has teeth so they don't need a dentist. Me, "Yeah, yeah".

We weren't let down. After finally getting in touch with our realtor, her first question was, "Do you want neighbors?" After closing I left a message for the painter we hired. He called back, "sorry, I was bailing hay". After our first visit we realized this. is. the. south., accents and all! We thought, oh good God, we are Yankee's through and through, what did we get ourselves into?

We moved and within five days I had an allergic reaction to something we still aren't sure of. I had hives for a month despite two urgent care visits, a steroid shot, two full rounds of steroid packs and a doctor visit which sent me with a stronger steroid and 2 additional allergy meds (I already take singular daily). That did the trick but all I thought the whole time was, I'm freaking allergic to this state! Or at least my house, oh my gosh, we have to buy a new house!!!! Good grief. Effin West Virginia.


Within this first week Rylie fell in our neighbor's coy pond and also found her very own dirt pit out back. Formerly a fire pit I assume. I thought, well, she's fitting right in! But after two baths per day for four days straight I thought, how the heck am I going to keep her clean?!




Like most things in life, it all just eventually works out. We still have a ton to do around the house and aren't fully "settled" but as it turns out, West Virginia isn't so bad. We have awesome neighbors and since it is the south, everyone is exceptionally nice. One neighbor not only helped Craig repair the front slate steps (Craig isn't exactly what one would call a handyman) but he mowed our yard while Craig was travelling the week after we moved in! Rylie has a best friend right across the street, who's mom took care of the kids, including putting Rylie to bed, while I went to the urgent care that first week here.

We can walk to a little park and the city is so small anything you want (that's available here) is close by with the added bonus that there's never really any traffic. We just planted an awesome garden that is three times the size of our old one yet doesn't take up even a fraction of our yard. And though I had serious anxiety over not having my starbucks, I finally found a good coffee shop... where they also sell the world's best cupcakes, no lie. Today, I finally took the plunge and got a mom's number I met at the park. Turns out they just moved here a couple months ago. Looks like I'm all set... parks, coffee, cupcakes and play dates!

It also turns out that we have yet to eat road kill or shoot our own dinner. Oh, and everyone I've met has teeth, go figure! Even better, people either like or at least don't hate Penn State, and since Penn Stater's don't have much love for Pitt, we fit in just fine with these Mountaineers!

Who would have thought that two PA kids would actually enjoy it here in Wild and Wonderful West Virginia?! Not me!

Don't get me wrong, it's still effin West Virginia ;) But at least for now, it's home!

A gift from my Aunt after hearing about our visitor,
a perfect little stepping stone for our garden!