Stationery card

Simply Modern Band Holiday Card

Create photo new year's cards at Shutterfly.com.

View the entire collection of cards.

Hot Mom, Here I Come!

I want to be a hot mom.  I don't mean skinny, let's get that straight.  I don't care about numbers on a scale.  I also don't mean I want to look good for someone that has three kids.  I want to get rid of that "for someone that has three kids" qualifier.  I mean I want to be HOT.  I want to be sleek and strong and fast.  I want my husband's jaw to drop when I get dolled up for a night out without the kids.  I want to be the kind of woman that other people look at and think, "Wow, she must work out."  I don't want to jiggle, I want to strut! I already know that my body is capable of amazing feats.  I have grown babies and birthed them all by myself.  So now, I want to be the best ME I can be.

Just to clarify, I am not completely shallow.  I also want to be able to keep up with my active boys, and set a great example for them, too.  But most of all, I want to do this for me.

When Caleb was born, I set a goal to be a hot mom by the time I turned 30 (14 months after his birth).  I knew this was a big, lofty goal, especially because I hate exercise and love eating.  However, I figured I had plenty of time. Well, having three kids has been a little more hectic than I anticipated, and I didn't really do much to meet that goal for the first nine months of his life.  I lost the baby belly and even a few extra pounds by walking and counting calories, but I was just back to my pre-baby self.  That was okay, but it wasn't fabulous.  It was NOT hot mom status, for sure.  I heard a great phrase on TV the other night - "sweat pants purgatory."  That pretty much sums up where I was - too caught up in the hustle and bustle of three kids to really devote much effort to my goals.  I also used the excuse that breastfeeding uses up about 5,000 calories a day, so I could eat whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted (this is not true, by the way, it was just what I told myself.  Breastfeeding does burn calories, but not that many!).  So life went on, and I stayed where I was physically, back in my pre-baby clothes as long as I did the "after-the-dryer jean stretches" before leaving my bedroom, but not jiggling any less.

When we found out we were moving to Jacksonville for a few months before heading to Japan, I immediately thought I should push back my goal.  I surely wouldn't be able to achieve hot mom status with our life so much up in the air.  I knew it was just an excuse, but then I reminded myself that I looked pretty good for having three kids.  I was walking Sammy to school a few days a week (a little over a mile round trip), so I was exercising, right?  I pretty much talked myself out of my goal.

Then I started reconnecting with Jacksonville friends.  I saw that they were all going to a class called Stroller Strength, and they were definitely hot moms.  After Gabriel (baby #2) was born, I went to a similar class called StrollerFit and got in pretty good shape, so I was intrigued.  Then I found out that there was an eight week fitness challenge through Stroller Strength that my friends were doing.  I thought that this was the perfect motivator to get me to work out twice a week to give me that little push I needed, and the timing was perfect.

That challenge started four weeks ago, and it has been lifestyle-changing.  This class is no joke, and it's much more involved than a simple stroller workout twice a week.  Here's a picture of our leader, Joan Dandeneau.

Yeah, she is hardcore to the core.  I should also mention that she has three kids who are not much older than mine.  Just the sight of this ultimate hot mom made me want to quit before I started.  I went to the registration and discovered that this was serious business, much more than an exercise class.  This was Biggest Loser meets bootcamp.  Here's how it works. All the moms are put into teams.  On Day 1, we would be weighed-in, measured, and then complete various fitness tests that we would re-test at the halfway and final testing days.  Clean eating would be emphasized and encouraged throughout the challenge, meaning you eat whole, unprocessed foods as much as possible.  You are also supposed to focus on eating 6 small meals a day.  Each member logs their food intake and exercise each day on a spreadsheet that the whole team shares.  Stop. Hold the phone.  That piece of the challenge really bugged me.  I couldn't do this!  Everyone was going to see how much I shovel into my mouth, and they were about to find out just how lazy I am??  There was something about prizes for teams and individuals at the end, but I couldn't get past the team logs part to really care about that.

Something in me decided to suck it up and try it out.  I went to the first day and was pretty disappointed to find out just how out of shape I was.  I just about died trying to keep up with the other moms, who were definitely hotties.  They were fast and strong and amazing to watch.  They were exactly what I wanted to be!

I continued going to class twice a week, which is at least an hour and a half of very intense cardio and strength training.  We run.  A lot.  Then we run some more, but this time we include lunges with weights and push ups and other really hard things in between laps.  I'm dead by the end of the warm up, but I know I need it.  I look around at the hot moms I'm working out with, and I make myself keep going so that someday I can look like them.

I've even added a few extra workouts on my own during the week, mostly running a mile or two and doing some strength training with dumbbells.  If you know me at all, you probably think I'm lying here.  I don't run unless I'm being chased, and even then I hate it.  I swear that this time it's true.  I'm working out because I want to, and I want to be sure I keep up with my team.

I have also drastically changed how I eat.  I like this clean eating stuff!  I've been trying to eat organically for the last few years, but I've really cut out the amount of processed food and chemicals I've been eating.  Yes, the cupcake demon is still alive and well inside me, screaming at me to eat cookies and brownies and french fries.  I have been able to resist for the most part, and I've cleaned up my recipes.  And when this challenge is over, I'll allow a splurge here or there.  In the meantime, it feels so good to write that in my logs for my team to see and comment on.

Joan is a brilliant lady.  Her idea of putting us on teams and working so closely with them is genius.  I was afraid of this part of the challenge, but it is now my favorite aspect of it.  Being part of a team makes all the difference by holding me accountable and motivating me at the same time.  I saw great results at the halfway point, both in my measurements and on the fitness tests, and it feels amazing.  I look forward to testing again in a month.  

I think I can safely say that when I set the goal of becoming a hot mom, I had no intention of actually meeting it.  I would never have pushed myself out of my comfort zone and off of my couch without this class.  Now I know that by the time the big 3-0 rolls around in January, I'll be a hot mom.  I'm already on my way.  So watch out, Japan, hope you're ready for me!! 

To learn more about Joan and Stroller Strength, click here.

For great clean eating recipes and ideas, check out this blog.

On the road again...

This has been one crazy summer!  When it comes to life in the military, the only thing you can really plan on is not being able to plan on much.  The past few months have been a perfect example of this.  We left San Diego on really short notice and are temporarily in Jacksonville, Florida.  In January, we are moving to Japan, courtesy of the US Navy!  It’s a very exciting, although a little bit daunting, change in our lives.

Parenting is complicated enough, but adding an international move to the mix adds a whole new set of challenges.  Our movers came three days after my husband got his written orders for Japan, so our world was turned upside down pretty fast.  Our children watched their belongings get packed up and either sent to storage or across the Pacific, and we didn’t have much time to say farewells to our San Diego friends.  The past month has been filled with a lot of paperwork that has required our attention and time like passport applications and medical screenings, and the kids had to be dragged along for all of it.

I thought my kids would turn into wild hooligans in response to all the changes swirling around them, especially at the rushed circumstances, but they are handling the move surprisingly well.  We even survived a three-day drive from California to Florida!

My oldest son Sammy was starting kindergarten this year, and he is attending the neighborhood school in Jacksonville knowing that he’ll just be there for the first semester.  I was so proud of him on the first day, not just because my baby had grown into a big kid, but also because he gave me a hug then, with a smile on his face, walked right into his new school, with new kids and new teachers.  Gabriel, our two year old, started preschool with the same courageous, positive attitude.

My children’s resilience amazes me, but I still feel a little guilty knowing that they will be uprooted again in just a few months.  I cringed when Sammy mentioned his “best friend” from kindergarten today, knowing he’ll have to say goodbye to him in just a matter of weeks.  We were in San Diego for less than a year and a half, so my little boys have seen their fair share of moving trucks in their life already.  I worry about what kind of effect all the changes will have on them down the road.  Moving is hard on me, too, and I’m a grown up!  I’m always leaving my friends or getting left behind, but at least I’m a grown up and can understand what’s going on.

Just as it’s not healthy for a plant to be transplanted over and over again, I wonder sometimes if our kids will be able to withstand all of the moves they will experience in their childhood.  I hope they don’t resent us for never allowing them to put down roots and instead always having to be the new kid at school.

My wish is that my boys look at moving around a lot in a more positive light than my doom and gloom forecast.  I hope that they don’t feel like they were being uprooted their entire childhood, but instead they feel lucky that they got to see the world. They will have the opportunity to soak up other cultures and languages, become experts at meeting new people, and hopefully have empathy for the new kid in school someday.  I hope they appreciate and take advantage of the fact that no matter where we move, they will always have built-in best friends in their brothers.

Most importantly, I hope that Jesse and I can provide enough stability in their lives at home that they feel rooted to us, that we are their constant and their security, and that they’re okay as long as we stick together as a family.

I was also a “Navy brat”, and there was a little cross-stitched picture in my kitchen growing up that read, “Home is where the Navy sends you.”  My goal is to make us feel at home together no matter where in the world we land.

So stay tuned for blogs from Japan!

Making Baby Food

I have a love/hate relationship with my babies starting solid foods.  It's so messy.  Even with bibs, the baby ends up wearing most of his meal.  The floors are gross because food is flying everywhere.  Diapers no longer smell sweet and innocent.
On the other hand, it's kind of fun, because it's another milestone of infancy, a completely new experience for your baby.  I get a lot of pleasure out of food, and it's such a delight to get to introduce my baby to the world of food and discover what his likes and dislikes are.
I was not in a rush to start my youngest on "people food."  I learned my lesson with the first two.  Once you start solids, you can't go back.  It complicates life.  I can no longer live by my motto "Have boobs, will travel" because breastmilk alone doesn't cut it for "Sir Chunx A Lot" anymore.  He still loves nursing, but he is one hungry boy that demands to be let in on the fun when he sees people eating.  I caved and figured he was ready to eat when he started stealing food off my plate during meals.  He would stare in awe at my fork as it traveled from my plate to my mouth, then give a little grunt as if to say, "I want that."  The grunts quickly turned to screams, so we decided he was ready.  He started on mashed banana and rice cereal mixed with some expressed milk, but he was quickly bored.  I can't blame him!  Before I knew it, he was eating three meals a day.  It was time to put on my chef hat and make some baby food.  I have made baby food for all three of my kids, and here's why:

1. I have leanings towards being a crunchy, natural mama, and I like knowing exactly what my baby is eating.  There are a lot of great organic foods on the market these days that are less processed than traditional jarred baby food, but I still like being in control over what goes into my sweet baby's system.

2. It's a lot easier and less time-consuming than you might think.  I usually whip up a batch while I'm making dinner.

3. I believe it does a lot for a baby's palette.  Which would you rather eat - fresh peas, or pureed peas from a jar?  I like the idea of getting my children used to how "real" food tastes.  I season their baby food with spices that I normally cook with, so that they get to experience a variety of flavors.  They also quickly transition to eating whatever I'm serving for meals.
4. It's cheap!  Contrary to what retailers want to you to believe, it doesn't require fancy equipment or storage devices or cookbooks.  One large sweet potato might make 6-8 meals for my baby, which translates to costing much less than jarred baby food.


The Low-Down on the How-To
I usually begin with purees of the typical first foods for baby -  bananas, avocados, sweet potatoes, carrots, peas, pears, blueberries, etc.  Your pediatrician will likely give you reading material on starting solids somewhere around the 6-month well-baby visit, and a quick google search will turn up tons of websites to consult in a pinch if you're unsure of what your baby can dig into and what he might need to stay away from (like honey, for example).  I should note that we don't have food allergies or sensitivities in our household, so I might be less conservative than some about the age I introduce foods.
What You'll Need:

• microwave, oven, or stove top
• blender, food processor, or food mill
• ice cube trays

What to Do:

Some foods, like bananas and avocados need no special preparation.  Simply mash them with a fork.  Most fruits and veggies need to be cooked before they can be pureed, and you'll have to add some liquid to it to make it a soft, creamy consistency that's easy for your toothless (or nearly toothless) baby to enjoy.  I usually steam fruits and veggies, but I bake things like sweet potatoes or acorn squash.  For blueberries, I pour boiling water over them and let them sit for about 10 minutes.  Put your cooked/steamed food in your food processor.  Add a small amount of liquid.  I like to use breastmilk to increase the nutritional value and add a familiar taste to the food, but you could use water (if you steamed or boiled the fruits or veggies, reserve the water you cooked them in for this purpose).  I also add some brown rice cereal or baby oatmeal to thicken it and as added nutrition.  Puree until you've reached the desired consistency, then pour/scoop into ice cube trays.  Place in your freezer.  Once the cubes are frozen, transfer to a zip-lock type storage bag.  Voila.  Baby food.  Ice cubes from a standard tray are about an ounce, so take out as many cubes as you need per meal depending on your baby.

After your baby has gotten the hang of this whole new concept of eating food, it's fun to experiment with different combinations of flavors.  If your baby is anything like mine, he/she won't be satisfied with the pureed goods for long.  My seven month old is already refusing when I attempt to feed him from a spoon.  He wants to feed himself finger foods, which really translates into dropping most of his food into his lap or into the dog's waiting, open mouth.  This is a phase that is a little more challenging, but this is also when I start feeding him "table food."  He's beginning to eat what we eat, although I might modify how it's prepared or served.  I had a burrito the other night, for instance, that Sir Chunx was dying to get his pudgy hands around.  I gave him some of the black beans and guacamole and tiny bits of the tortilla, and he was in heaven.  If we're eating pasta, I cook ditalini and peas in a 1:1 mixture of chicken broth and water until the pasta has soaked up most of the liquid and is very soft and easily mashed in his little mouth.  He's in love with blueberries and diced cantaloupe.  He had his first taste of french fries the other day, and he could not get them to his mouth fast enough. I found my two year old giving him bites of fresh mozzarella, and he wasn't complaining (and luckily not choking!).  Can you tell I get such pleasure out of watching him eat?

Here are a few great resources to check out if you're interested in making your baby's food:

New Moms New Babies, Episode 24

Momtastic

Ask Dr. Sears

Homemade Baby Food Recipes

Super Baby Food

Stop the Clock!

What is the one piece of unsolicited advice that you get most often if you are pregnant or a new mom?  For me, it was something along the lines of "Enjoy these times when your baby is little because they fly by."

I am now here to tell you that all those annoying commentators were correct.  It flies by at lightning speed.

May has been a month full of milestones in our house for my "book end" kids, Sammy and Caleb, a month that makes me want to freeze time somehow.  I just want to hold my three babies close and keep them from getting any bigger.  Scenes of life 10 years, 20 years, 30 years from now keep flashing before my eyes.  My babies will be all grown up, turned from boys into men, and they're not going to need me anymore!  If you've ever read the children's book Love You Forever (and I recommend that you do if you are a mom to boys), I envision myself as the mom driving across town in the middle of the night to climb into her grown son's room and rock him while he's asleep.  Go ahead, call me crazy, but someday, you might just know the feeling.

For starters, my oldest son Sammy turned five this month.  Five?!  Seriously, how did that happen?!  In the same week as his birthday, he also graduated from preschool.  How is it possible that I'm going to be the mother of an elementary schooler?  It seems like yesterday that he was a tiny baby, yet somehow he's already heading off to kindergarden!  Needless to say, I was a wreck last week.  I cry every year on all of my children's birthdays.  I do it to myself by playing this cheesy birthday song (see it here if you want to cry on your kids birthdays, too), and I cry buckets.  This year was different.  My son is entering a different chapter in life, and I'm not so sure I'm ready.  The tears weren't all sad, there was also joy and pride mixed in there.  Sammy is definitely not a little kid anymore, at least he'll tell you that.  As his mom, I relish in his accomplishments and take pride that I've helped him get where he is today.  And let's face it, I'm proud that I've actually kept him alive this long.
He's got his own friends that I didn't choose, and I'm already not allowed to sing or dance when they're around because I embarrass him.  He's starting to think girls are gross, and he takes his karate classes very seriously.  He's brilliant, too, much smarter than I've ever been.  He uses words like "demonstrate" and "terrified" in the correct context and can read site words and do addition problems.  But I think the biggest symbol of him shedding the preschool years and growing up into a big kid is that he's started wearing a watch.  Gone are the carefree days of preschool.  This kid suddenly has places to be!
Luckily, Sammy still wants me to kiss him and hug him

At the other end of the child line-up, my youngest son Caleb (also known around here as Sir Chunx A Lot) has suddenly shed any remaining semblance of  newborn-ness and turned into a little person.  In the span of two weeks, just shy of his six-month old birthday, he got two teeth and began sitting independently, scooting around the floor, eating solids, and waking up just once a night.  He's like a different baby than he was just a month ago, and I am so conflicted with each milestone that he reaches.  I know I can't hold him back, but sometimes I wish I could.  While I still want to snuggle him, he wants to be on the floor and on the move, scooting after every choking hazard that catches his eye (and there are a lot of them in our house, thanks to his brothers!).  When I try to nurse him, he's too busy watching his big brothers to latch on for any good length of time.  I just wish he would slow down a little because this is IT.  No more babies in our house.  I'm reminded every day of that fact as he grows, and it's killing me!  I've mentioned this in a previous blog, and I want to reiterate that I don't want any more babies, but why can't the one I have just stop growing???
Don't get me wrong.  At the same time, it's kind of nice.  Remember the four-month slump I wrote about a few months back?  Well, it seems like the fog is lifting around here.  I'm not completely, utterly exhausted anymore.  I can set the baby down, and he entertains himself (or his brothers keep him busy) for a few minutes.  I can now throw all the kids in the tub together, and then he actually goes to bed when they do and sleeps most of the night.  I'm even getting rid of a lot of the gear and baby clothing that has taken up so much room in our house for the last five years.

But at the end of the day, I'm still sad to see my baby days coming to a close.  Take it from me, moms-to-be out there.  It goes by SO fast.

Mother Load of Love Today!

My mom with Sammy and Gabriel

Happy Mother's Day to all the moms in the PregTASTIC blogosphere!
I am feeling very lovey this Mother's Day, very womanly and warm-and-fuzzy about being a mom.  Until I became a mom, I didn't really care all that much about this "Hallmark holiday."  I always sent a card and a gift to my mom, I always told her I appreciated her for giving me life, but I didn't really get it.  Honestly, did we really need a whole day dedicated to our mothers?  YES, I have realized we do.  Now Mother's Day has a whole new meaning.  I know the depths of the love my mother felt for me and my siblings growing up because I feel it for my own kids.  I understand the highs and lows of being a mom because I am living it.  I never realized before, but now I do, that I would actually treasure the craft that my preschooler worked so hard to keep secret from me.  Becoming a mother made me appreciate the efforts my own mom has made throughout my life.  She was also a stay-at-home mom until and a Navy wife just like me.  I never appreciated the hard parts of her job as a mom -  the amount of birthday cupcakes she must have made, the number of field trips she chaperoned, the loads of laundry she folded, the difficulty of parenting by herself when my Dad was on work trips, cheering us up when we were in a fight with a friend or rejected by a boy.  I understand it now, and I am grateful for it.  So I called my mother this morning and jokingly thanked her for giving birth to me, to which she replied, "Oh, it was my pleasure."

My sisters, my mom, and her beautiful sister Vivian

Here are some things I've learned from my mom:

• Put your kids to bed early and enjoy time with your husband alone.  My parents still have "wine time" every night!  It's a great way to share your day and reconnect. 

• Keep your kids busy.  Make them run out of energy before you do.  One summer, she paid us to swim laps in the pool.  I know now that a penny a lap was probably well worth her sanity.

• Natural childbirth is possible.  Mine was her fourth unmedicated birth!  She was my motivation for heading down the path of natural childbirth that I am so obsessed with.

• Make loving your kids your top priority.  We always knew we were loved, and is anything more important than that?

• Make your kids love each other, even when they don't want to.  There were four of us, and we moved around like most military families do.  We always knew we had each other, and we were always encouraged to play together and get along.   

Speaking of always loving my siblings, I have to give recognition to my two sisters Sarah and Jessica this Mother's Day.  If you are a faithful PregTASTIC listener, you may have heard them share their Ups and Downs on Episode 195.  As my big sisters, they have been my best friends and role models my whole life.  Words cannot express the bond that we share and the love I have for them.   Being pregnant together was amazing, and now we are all mothers together!  They both gave birth in the past month, and I could not be more proud of these birthing superstars!  

Sisters and parallel cousins in utero

Sarah had her daughter Sophia on April 8, two weeks before her due date.  She was indoctrinated into our Church of Ina May club because she gave birth without pain medication - that's no easy feat, especially for a first time mom!  Sarah has been "Tia" to my boys for almost five years now (they like her better than me), so I love watching her embrace motherhood.  

Jessica just had her baby girl Julia on Friday.  She planned on a homebirth and rocked it like a champion.  She had a 20-hour labor.  When I talked to her just awhile after having the baby, she told me it was the hardest 20 hours of her life, but it was well worth it.  She definitely deserves a medal or a trophy or something to reward her incredible efforts.  

I love my sisters, and I can't wait to raise our babies together!

Follow by Email!

I'm not too savvy when it comes to blogs or following them.  There's a new gadget for those of you out there to make it easier on people like me!  To follow this blog, simply enter your email address in the "follow by email" box in the upper-right part of the screen.  Voila, you're a follower!

Can't We All Just Get Along?

I recently had to remove myself from a few "mommy" websites.  I loved the content - articles and blogs and forums created by other moms.  As a self-declared birth junkie and mother of three boys, I love that stuff.  However, I just couldn't take the comments from random readers anymore.  These moms were so mean-spirited and hateful that I had to stop following.  Unlike the warmth and open-ness embraced by PregTASTIC listeners and panelists (insert shameless plug here!), these women were ruthless. One even wished cancer on another one and called her the "b" word!  Seriously?!

I first chalked it up to the anonymity of the Internet, a freedom in being able to say whatever you want with no repercussions.  But when I got to thinking about it, I've come to the conclusion that moms are "judgey" in real life, too, although we might not share our opinions as openly. 

I get judged all the time in the world of moms.  Here's the run-down on my pregnancy/birth/motherhood style: I gave birth to my children in a hospital setting (the first with "the works," the next two without drugs), I breastfeed my babies whenever and wherever they are hungry for about a year,  and I use chlorine-free disposable diapers.  So the crunchy mamas want to know why I didn't give birth at home, how I could wean my babies so quickly, and why in the world aren't I using cloth diapers?  Then the modern mamas think I'm crazy for having a baby without drugs, think I'm "one of those" crazy breastfeeders, and do I think I'm better than them because they use Pampers?  Of course I'm stereotyping and pigeon-holing and dramatizing for the purposes of this blog.  Sometimes, however, I feel like I'm defending my actions way more than I need to with other moms.  And as much as I hate to admit it, I'm guilty of some mommy-judging, too.

Motherhood is rough.  It's a long, tough journey.  Wouldn't it be better if we supported each other and helped each other instead of judging and bashing?  Can't we agree to disagree?  Of course!  So why do we still do it??

Here are my theories:

1. Women can be catty and competitive.  I'm pretty sure it's just a carry-over from our middle school days.  Instead of backpacks and trapper-keepers and school pictures, we're comparing our minivans and BPA-free teething toys, and how cute our babies are.  Of course we want to be the best and have the best and look the best when it comes to our children!

2. In today's society, we have a lot of options on how to parent - childbirth, feeding, circumcision, sleeping, diapering, eco-friendly parenting, the list goes on forever!  There's probably research and books published to support any parenting decision and any philosophy out there.  Parents want to do the best job they can for their kids, so they do their research (hopefully), make a choice, and stick to it.  Everyone defending their own choices can turn these topics to turn into controversial, divisive subjects.

3. Motherhood changes your identity.  For me, for the past five years, motherhood has been my identity. I am mom first, Amanda second. Because mothering is such an integral part of who we are, the parenting choices we make are really important to us.  When we feel like our choices are questioned, we feel personally attacked, or at least I do.  We want to defend our choices because we want to defend ourselves!

4. Moms need other moms to hang out with.  We need girlfriends to chat and vent and commune with.  We need people who we know are on our side.  So when we find these like-minded souls, it feels good to open up to them.  It's easy for the conversation to turn to mom-bashing.

5. When I was little, my mom always taught me that bullies have low self-esteem.  They make fun of other kids to make themselves feel better.  Sometimes even the most confident, most experienced mom can feel insecure, so it makes her feel a little better to knock someone else down a notch or two. 

Are any of these theories right?  Are they justified?  Of course not.  I'm making a resolution to be more supportive, less judgey as a mom.  I've always said that when it comes to motherhood, I believe in a woman's right to choose.  It's her body, her birth, her baby.  Now I'm going to really try to live out this mantra.  I want to own my personal parenting choices without judging anyone else's.  I want to enjoy the company of my girlfriends without smack-talking other moms.  And most importantly, I want to feel confident in myself as a mom because I am very important to three little boys in this world.  I want my sons to grow up to be men who value compassion and acceptance and tolerance.  If they don't learn that at home, they're probably not going to learn it at all.

What do you think?  Am I way off track?  Is there any chance the mommies of the world can all hold hands and unite and sing "Kumbaya"?

No matter what you think, please don't leave me ugly comments!  I don't think I can take being called the "b" word!

The 4-Month Slump

The honeymoon is over.  I have entered a period I like to call the “four-month slump.”  It’s a little phase that I never knew existed before I had a baby, and one that I always forget about until my hair starts falling out around four months after giving birth. Literally. By the handful.  Pretty gross, right?

I hit the four month mark, and I hit a wall.  I think it’s a perfect storm of hormones shifting and exhaustion taking its toll, but three times over, I’ve had the same experience. It’s not depression, by any means. It’s just a feeling of being a little down and overwhelmed, and it always begins with the postpartum hair loss and ends about two months later.

My hair might be falling out by the handful on its own, but I’m also ready to pull the rest out!

I AM TIRED OF BEING TIRED!!!  I don’t make babies that easily sleep through the night at 6 weeks.  Or 12 weeks.  Or ever.  I try to savor the midnight nursings, but lately, I pass out in the glider with my baby as soon as he’s latched on to me.  We wake up an hour later and start the whole process over again.  Eventually he goes back in his crib, and I stumble back to my bed just to be woken up by my two older sons at the crack of dawn, and the day begins anew!

Being so tired makes me downright cranky and crazy.  It’s harder to handle my older boys because their normal little boy behavior suddenly seems completely obnoxious and annoying.  I get overwhelmed by the fact that we have SO many children, and that life is not going to slow down for the next 18 years or so.  Then I feel guilty for feeling that way.  I am so blessed to have three healthy, amazing boys, and I have the luxury to choose to stay home with them.  I need to enjoy this time, as it is so fleeting!  See what I mean about the tired making me crazy?  I can’t think straight!

There are other things  that aren’t helped by sleep deprivation.  I don’t have my pre-baby figure back yet (will I ever??), but I’m far enough postpartum that I can’t exactly use the excuse that I “just had a baby.”  I have free daycare at our YMCA, but the effort just to get there seems daunting.  I look at the other polished moms at preschool with envy – you know, the ones with the full face of make up, hair and nails done, and the designer shoes?  How do they do it??  It’s all I can do to get there on time, and I feel like a frumpy-dump, hopping out of my minivan in a ponytail and flip-flops.  I have so many tasks, and so little time, and I feel like someone always wants a piece of me!  I don’t have time for blow-drying and pedicures!  And who am I kidding?  I’m a flip-flop and ponytail kind of girl anyway.  Normally it wouldn’t bother me, as I’m comfortable in my own make-up-less skin.  I know that the post-baby body is a controversial subject.  I’m not talking about being super skinny.  I just want the muffin top to go away and look healthy, and since I’ve achieved that goal twice before, I have expectations.

I can’t get anything done around here, and I get down on myself for it.  I know moms of multiple kids that mill their own flour and only feed their kids unprocessed, whole foods.  I know other moms that do crafts and sew their kids’ clothes and actually keep baby books on all of their kids.  I know other moms (who I really, really admire) that work full time, then come home and deal with a gaggle of kids, and they somehow manage to cook and clean and do laundry without sticking their kids in front of the TV. So what’s my problem?!

The good thing about this phase is that I know it has an end, as I’ve been through this before.  Eventually, I’ll hit my rock-bottom of sleep deprivation and decide it’s time for baby #3 to learn to self-soothe (You’ll probably see another blog from me then about my love-hate relationship with “crying it out”).  Getting to sleep all night again will make me feel so much better.  I’ll stop comparing myself to other moms because it’s just wrong.  As my hair stops falling out, and I keep up trips to the Y, I’ll feel better about myself physically.  I’ll have more energy for chasing my kids around, too.

But for now, can’t I just have a nap?

Can I put this on my Resume?

My Bosses

This spring my oldest son will turn five.  That means I've been unemployed for five years.  I joke that I'm on an indefinite sabbatical.  Sometimes I even like to say I'm retired, although that implies I lead a life of leisure.

I used to daydream about not working back before I had children.  I never really liked getting up and going into work every morning.  It was such a drag.  The thought of hanging out in PJ's, drinking coffee, taking naps, and watching soap operas for the rest of my life was so appealing.  I even secretly hoped we could space out our baby-timing so that I could stay home for longer. HAHAHA.  I hope all you stay-at-home moms out there are laughing at me right now.

Even though that's NOT what my life is like as a stay-at-home mom, I still love my job.  Sometimes, however, it gets tedious, even monotonous.  I then have a grass-is-greener moment and fantasize about working (never would have predicted that!).  For a fleeting second, I long for the day that my kids are a little older and I go out and get a job, one that involves other grown-ups and wearing cute outfits that require dry cleaning and going on business lunches.  Then I am consumed with terror that when that day comes for me to return to the workforce, a prospective employer will see me as a lazy sack who's been unemployed for a decade, not as a woman who chose to stay home to raise babies.

My current bosses are pretty cute and pay me with sloppy kisses and rocks picked up from parking lots, but they would definitely have their drawbacks if I tried to use them as a reference.  They can't read or write, so a letter of recommendation is out of the question.  They don't care that I used to be smart and once graduated with highest honors from a university.  If you ask my four year old what Mommy's job is, he says "You make dinner and milk the baby."  Basically, they're no help at all.

So since I can't rely on my kids to help get me a job someday, I'm polishing up my resume to make my mommy skills seem more marketable.  After all, I don't think an employer will find my obsession with birth or my "eau de spit up" perfume very worthwhile qualities.  Here's a sampling of what I'll include.



Education

B.S. in Domestic Engineering from Motherhood University, 2006

Professional Experience
Chief of Operations, McFadden Industries, 2006-present


Skills


Waste Management

• Earned the distinction of changing over 10,000 diapers, many of them poopy.  
• Proven proficiency at changing diaper blow-outs with minimal damage to baby, clothing, and furniture.  
• The ability to wipe multiple butts while simultaneously talking on the phone, checking Facebook, and playing Candyland shows outstanding multi-tasking skills.

Logistics Expert 

• Successfully kept three children alive through such precarious and complicated scenarios such as navigating school parking lots, karate classes, grocery super centers, theme park lines, cross-country airline flights, trips to the park, and crossing the street.

Research and Development

• Grew a human being on three separate occasions 
• After extensive analysis and research, implemented numerous, varied courses of action to get baby to sleep longer than two hours at a time
• Spent countless hours on Google researching preschools, developmentally appropriate toys, and various childhood ailments

Mediator

• Extensive on-the-job-training in conflict/resolution
• Tirelessly worked to create a peaceful work environment

Other responsibilities included but were not limited to: education facilitator, financial services, culinary arts, recreation supervisor, transportation coordinator, and boo-boo kisser.


What do you think?  What has been your experience?  How do employers view a 10 year gap in employment history?


If you're a stay-at-home mom looking to return to the workforce soon, the web is full of helpful resources.  I've learned that an absence from work because you were home raising babies is much more favorable than a decade away from work for other reasons (because you were in prison, for instance!).  And you really can include your mommy skills on your return-to-work resume.  You just have to get the wording right!  For tips, tricks, and articles, check out:

Moms Back To Work
Resume-help.org
How to Document Stay-at-home-Mom Experience
How Stay-at-Home Moms Can Get back to Work
Returning to Work After Years at Home
O*NET

Breastmilk Cheese?!

I get a lot of questions about "milking babies" from Sammy.  He could probably get a job with La Leche League by now.  Anyway, somehow we got on the subject of cheese, and we wondered if anyone has ever made breastmilk cheese (or as he says, "Mommy milk cheese")?  A quick google search returned these sites and 973,000 others:

http://www.thedailybeast.com/blogs-and-stories/2010-03-09/breast-milk-cheese/

http://news.nationalpost.com/2011/01/18/deliciously-creamy-the-world-of-breast-milk-cheese/

http://gothamist.com/2010/03/10/breast_milk_cheese_day_3.php

So would you try it?

Baby Fever?!

I am done having babies.  Let me repeat.  I am done having babies.  I have three boys who are my entire universe, and they are quite enough.  I have my hands full (as every old lady I come across in the grocery store loves to tell me), and no, we will not be "trying for a girl next."  I feel like my time and energy and sanity would be stretched too thin if we added more children to the mix.  I am already half-crazy, and my house is never as clean as it could be.  Selfishly, I want do things with my life that will be much easier once our children are older - take a vacation just with my husband, go back to school, read a book that's longer than Goodnight Moon, or be responsible for brushing only my own teeth.  If I keep having babies, then I will never get to that phase of life.

So can someone please explain just what the heck is going on with me?  Today, while browsing Facebook, a friend's status update proclaimed that she was in labor.  I was so excited for her on this momentous day in her life, but I was also so jealous that I'll never experience labor and birth again (if you think I'm crazy for saying this, please read one of my previous PregTASTIC blogs called Birth Junkie).

Yesterday I talked to one of my pregnant sisters (I have two!), who had just returned home from her baby shower.  Her excitement and anticipation about becoming a mom was so touching, and I think I might be even more excited about her impending motherhood than she is.  Then I though about the fact that I'll never be pregnant again, and that my days of having my own sweet baby are numbered.  I looked at Caleb and thought that he looked huge, not really like a newborn anymore at all.  I actually smelled him to make sure he still smelled babyish.  Then I panicked because I realized that eventually I'll have to wean him (I cannot bring myself to think about that sad day yet), and that someday soon he's going to roll over.  Then the next thing I know, he'll be packing for college.  And then I think I actually felt my uterus cringe.

WHAT?!  I have a three month old.  And a two year old.  And a four year old.  I am constantly exhausted and rarely clean.  I have plenty of children that keep me plenty busy, so why in the world would I feel that twinge that I want more babies?  Why have I been sad all day thinking about the fact that pregnancy and birth are a thing of the past for me?  Why do I suddenly want to keep nursing Caleb until he's in kindergarten?  Logically, I know I don't want more kids (see first paragraph).  I should be enjoying the present and looking ahead to the next phase of our lives.  But instead I feel a little like my heart is grieving, mourning the loss of babyhood.  I think I have loved being a mom three times over and love my babies so much that I want to hold onto those feelings and experiences.  I knew with our first two sons that we'd eventually have another baby (we always planned on having three), so I was never hesitant to say goodbye to each phase that passed.  My life has revolved around growing and birthing and raising babies for the last five years.  It's a huge part of my identity that I will be shedding in the coming years, and it's not easy to let go of, even if I know it's what I want.
Luckily, I still have a baby who is very much a baby.  He will prove it to me in about two hours when he wakes up for his first mid-night feeding.  I still have time to savor his chubby thighs and downy hair, and I will enjoy watching him grow into his own little person in the next few months, as I enjoyed watching his brothers before him.  I will also have two new nieces soon.  They should help give me a newborn fix.  Otherwise, I'm in trouble.  I might have to change my name to Baby Junkie!

Pregnancy Parking Privileges?

Okay, mamas-to-be and new mamas out there.  I need your opinions.  The city of New York is considering special parking privileges for pregnant women with difficult pregnancies.  Learn more about the proposal here.

My first thought after reading this article is that it’s a victory for sore backs and swollen feet everywhere.  Hooray for preggies!

My second thought is purely selfish.  What about me and all the other moms schlepping their kids around out there?? Why don’t we get special parking?  After all, I could use it now more than I ever did when I was pregnant!  Picture this typical morning grocery store run for me.  I scour the parking lot for a spot that can both fit my not-so-mini-van but also isn’t four miles away from the store’s entrance.   Every time, it’s the same routine.  I let the four year old out first because he can be trusted not to run.  I load the baby up in the Ergo carrier, put the diaper bag on one shoulder, the reusable grocery bags on the other, then unbuckle the two year old. Taking the two big boys’ hands in mine, we make our way towards the store. Each precarious step is a balancing act – keeping the bags on my shoulders and holding the two year old’s hand hard enough that he can’t make a mad dash into traffic but not so tightly as to hurt him, letting go of the four year old’s hand momentarily to stuff the pacifier back into the screaming baby’s mouth. Basically, the closer I can park to a store, the better.  I want the special parking!  The pregnant lady’s kid is a lot easier to manage IN the womb then my three are out here in the world!

Even more importantly than my own selfish wants and desires, I also worry about what this proposition says about pregnancy.  It seems that pregnancy is viewed by some in our society as a disability.  The article doesn’t specify what counts as a “difficult” pregnancy, but it does say that a doctor’s note will be required to get the special parking permit.  I definitely support the idea that women who have real medical issues should be entitled to the services and help that they need.  Most pregnant women, however, are not disabled or weaker because of their “condition.”  Instead, they prove every day how capable women are – we can grow babies after all!  I am a true believer that pregnancy is an empowering experience for a woman.  I fear, however, that this parking permit situation might have a negative effect on that cause down the road.  If the system is taken advantage of, for instance, and women are bombarding their doctors with trumped up symptoms to get a special parking pass, will it perpetuate the viewpoint that pregnant women are not as capable as non-pregnant women?  Will they be resented for taking up prime parking unnecessarily?  Could it even have implications on birth in the future?  After all, if a pregnant woman can’t park in a regular parking spot, how could she ever push out a baby all by herself?

What do you think?  Am I reading too much into this situation?  Am I just too jealous of all the preggies who will now get prime parking?  Should I just shut up and be happy for my pregnant sisters in NYC?

Admiring the Centerpiece

My son Gabriel turned two a few days ago.  Last week, I discovered that he knows how to count to ten.  I was very proud and completely mortified at the same time.  After all, what kind of horrible mother doesn't know that her kid can count?  Even worse, he obviously didn't learn it from me!
When our oldest son Sammy turned two, he and I spent our days putting together puzzles, reading books, and doing all the other things perfect mothers of only children do.  I knew what milestones he was supposed to reach and how far in advance he accomplished them.  Now, my life is a little more hectic.  Okay, a lot more hectic.  I spend most of my days trying to keep my head above water in a sea of chaos and poopy diapers.  I don't spend the time with Gabriel that I did with Sammy, although I justify this to myself with the fact that Gabriel and Sammy have constant playmates in each other.  Gabriel is a pretty easy-going child, yet he is spirited, energetic, and such a boy.  To know him is to love him because he is so adorable and cute but tough and crazy at the same time.  I know I'm his mother and completely unobjective, but trust me, it's true.  His personality helps make my life easier in a lot of ways because he's not whiny or demanding, and he's happy playing by himself or following Sammy around the house.  However, I sometimes struggle to find a balance between fostering his independence and neglecting his need for special attention.  Because he is so easy-going, it's easy to cut corners with him.  I might put him to bed on a busy night without reading to him, for instance, because he doesn't need the choreographed, ritualized bedtime routine that Sammy requires.

A friend of mine refers to her middle child as her "centerpiece," and I have borrowed the term from her.  Since discovering that my poor child had to teach himself how to count, I'm now working on making sure that Gabriel is our family's centerpiece and not the type-cast, forgotten middle child that will spend his adulthood in therapy because of me.
I started by giving him credit for being such a good kid.  Gabriel deserves a lot of admiration in my opinion.  He went from being the baby of the family to a big brother a few months shy of his second birthday.  The week before our new baby arrived, he potty trained himself!  I thought he would certainly regress once the baby was born, but he didn't.  Instead, he has taken on his new role as big brother with huge amounts of pride and very little jealousy.  He is great with the baby, surprisingly gentle for a rough and tumble toddler.  He hasn't hurt him yet, whether on purpose or by accident.

I am also working on giving him more one-on-one attention and trying to make sure that the individual attention I give him is more positive than negative.  As most parents in the throes of the "terrible twos" can tell you, this can sometimes be a challenge.  Two year olds, at least in my experience, are all about testing limits and causing a ruckus, no matter how sweet they may be.  I'm pulling a trick out of my old teaching days here.  For every instance of negative attention I give him (ex: "Gabriel, stop hitting the dog!"), I am attempting to have three positive interactions (ex: "I like how you shared your toy.").
We're also putting him in a sports program at the YMCA that is for two year olds and their parents to participate in.  I figure that will give him a chance to both run off energy while getting me all to himself at the same time.
He might still end up in therapy in 30 years, but at least I can say I tried!

Caleb's Birth Story

My due date was Friday, November 19.  I figured Caleb would be a little early, but I wasn't in any big rush to be done with pregnancy.  We spent the last few weeks of my pregnancy making meals, making sure the house stayed pretty clean, and focusing on quality time out of the house with our two boys.  The weekend before I was due was a great one.  I went to yoga on Saturday, then on Sunday we walked around an outdoor mall.  When we got home, I took the boys to their room for a dance party (a pretty usual occurance at our house), but I just didn't feel like dancing.  Instead, I suddenly felt nauseated and feverish, and my lower back hurt.  When I mentioned this to Jesse, he reminded me of the fact that I had the exact symptoms the day before Gabriel was born.  The rest of Sunday (and Monday, actually), pretty much followed the same pattern as my labor with Gabriel.
That evening I continued to feel crappy.  We didn't have a working thermometer in the house, but I knew I was feverish.  I was restless all night, having contractions that were somewhat steady, but not painful.  I knew that we'd have to go into the hospital in the morning if I still felt feverish because a fever in a laboring mother can be bad news, but I didn't want to.  I wanted to labor at home!  I checked the baby's heartbeat with my stethescope (a carry-over from my pre-med days.  Pretty proud of myself for being able to still use it!), and it was a little higher than normal for labor and about 20 bpm higher than it had been at my last few appointments (around 162, and a normal fetal heart rate is between 120 and 160 during labor).  Jesse took one for the team and went to CVS to buy a thermometer around 4:30 in the morning.  Sure enough, I had a low-grade fever.
So we loaded up the van with all the birthing tools I would need later and packed up the boys to drop them off at the hospital's daycare (Jesse's brother would pick them up later).  I was a little anxious on the drive there.  I knew that I was at least 3 cm dilated from my last appointment, and I figured they wouldn't just check us and send us home, especially because of the Group B strep.  My midwife had warned me that natural birth at this hospital was not very common, and that they were pretty aggressive about watching the clock (meaning if you weren't progressing, they would want to begin interventions like Pitocin or rupturing membranes).  I was prepping myself to go into "assertive patient" mode because I was sure that even though I didn't feel like I was in labor, that we'd be staying.
Sure enough, I was 5 cm dilated, I had a mild fever, and the baby's heartrate was in the 170's.  Of course the regular contractions I had been having at home completely stopped the moment we walked through the doors of the hospital, but there was enough going on to keep me there.  This was at 9:00 am, and I told Jesse that we'd probably have a baby at 6:00 pm, because that's what time Gabriel was born.  So far, this was a deja vu morning.  We even checked into the hospital with Gabriel at 9:00 am!
When we got to the room, the nurse hooked me up to the fetal monitors and started an IV with antibiotics (for the Group B strep but also to combat whatever was causing the fever) and fluid (in case the fever was causing some dehydration).  I thought, "here we go, let the interventions begin."  But then she said something wonderful.  She said that she had looked at my birth plan and saw I wanted a natural birth.  So, as soon as the antibiotics were done, she'd remove the IV, leaving just the hep-lock, and she'd take off the fetal monitors.  I could have intermittent monitoring, meaning I'd have to be hooked up with the belts for 20 minutes out of every hour.  I didn't have to be in the bed for those 20 minutes, either, just close enough for the power cords to reach the machine.  An anesthesiologist would be by to discuss pain relief options, but I could just tell them I wasn't interested, and they'd leave me alone (actually, two anesthesiologists visited me, and were skeptical but impressed that I wasn't interested in their services).  This was music to my ears!
I was having occasional contractions, but they weren't painful.  When the antibiotics were finished, Jesse and I started walking the halls.  I started having regular contractions, but they weren't really strong at all. We did the same routine for another hour.  When I went back for my next 20 minutes of monitoring, I actually got into the bed, then ended up staying there for a couple of hours resting.  The contractions were a little uncomfortable at this point, but still not painful.  When I was checked around noon, I was still 5 cm, which didn't really surprise me.  I spent the next couple of hours walking, sitting on the birth ball, and sitting on the toilet.  Because it's best to get two doses of the antibiotics in my system before delivering the baby, I wasn't in a real rush to get things going, as I'd get my second round around 2:00.  When the OB resident on duty checked me again at 2:00, I was still 5 cm.  I was a little disappointed.  She offered to break my water for me, but I was hesitant.  I didn't want the 24-hour countdown to begin, which is usually as long as you'll be allowed to labor with ruptured membranes.  I also knew that the pain increases exponentially once the cushion of amniotic fluid is gone between the baby's head and my cervix.  At the same time, things weren't really progressing for that same reason.  I figured that in order for me to dilate any further, I'd have to have my membranes ruptured, but I just wasn't ready.  She was completely cool about it, and said she'd be back in a couple of hours to check me again.  This was great!  The staff was allowing me to make my own decisions about how this birth day would go, and I was very appreciative.  When she returned around 4:00 and I was still 5 cm, I was ready to get things moving and agreed to having my membranes ruptured.
She broke my water around 4:30, and about ten minutes later I had a contraction that definitely felt different.  They started coming more frequently and the intensity built with each one.  Within half an hour or so, the "birth noises" were back, and Jesse had to kick the back rub/pressure into high gear.  I was hoping things would move quickly as they had with Gabriel (I dilated from 6 cm to pushing in less than two hours).  However, Caleb took his time.  I was very relieved to find out that a midwife I knew came on duty at 7:00, but I was bummed to know that I'd still be in labor then.  The contractions were incredibly intense and pretty long, but I wasn't feeling any urges to push.  I could, however, feel the baby moving down, which also meant that I felt a ton of downward pressure with the contractions.  I spent the next couple of hours on the birth ball, trying a few different yoga and standing positions, trying the toilet, but always going back to the ball.  Very loud moans and groans got me through the pain, combined with Jesse's back pressure, and remembering to breathe.
I started to feel overwhelmed after a few hours of this routine, like this baby would never come out.  My moans and groans became pretty loud.  Okay, I'm pretty sure I was screaming.  I kept thinking of my sister and my friend Tina, both converts to the "church of Ina May."  I heard their voices telling me to "open like a flower."  Why wasn't this kid coming out already?!  I began to feel "pushy" and asked to be checked.  When I went pee, there was also blood running down my legs, so I was sure I had to be fully dilated.  I'm was counting on it!  I was, however only 8.5 cm.  I didn't want to do this for much longer.  Logically, I knew I was close, but I was in the hardest part of labor, where rational thought goes out the window.  Awhile later, I felt even more "pushy" - for real this time, I was sure of it!  I should mention that when I apologized to the nurse and midwife for being so loud that the whole floor could hear me, they both applauded me for doing a great job.  I can't speak highly enough of the team that took care of me!
Anyway, alas, I was only 9 cm.  My midwife offered to keep her hand in my cervix during a contraction to see if she could dilate me to completion.  It was as painful as you might imagine, laying flat on my back during a giant contraction with her hand up my lady parts.  She was not able to make me dilate anymore, and I was starting to lose my mojo.  So she gave me a game plan.  I should lay on my side through three contractions, then flip to the other side for three contractions.  That usually worked.  Was she kidding?  Lay down for these contractions?  No F-ING way!  I tried it, and I made it through about one and a half contractions before I could not resist the urge to push.  I didn't care what she said, this baby was getting out of me!  She checked me again, and sure enough, I was complete.  FINALLY.  It was about 8:15 pm.  Geez!  Now I could push this kid out - piece of cake, right?
That's when the real work began.  Pushing felt good, because I was in the home stretch (no pun intended), and I was actually DOING something instead of just riding the waves of contractions.  I never actually had to do the work of pushing a baby out before, however, so I didn't know how difficult it would be.  I had an epidural with Sammy, and Gabriel had to be extracted with the vacuum before I actually got into pushing (his heart rate dropped to 70 and stayed there.  The doc thought he was compressing the cord with his knees).  Once again, my midwife was great.  I tried a few different positions, from being on my back, to yoga child's pose, to hands and knees, but I ended up on my side.  He was moving down, but slower than I would have liked.  They brought the mirror over for me to watch, which was incredibly motivating.  Still, I was getting discouraged and I was ready to be done, but tired.  The baby's heart rate dropped a little, and I was afraid that he'd end up being taken like Gabriel when I was told to put on an oxygen mask.  I knew I had to work hard for just awhile longer.  When the midwife told me to reach down and touch his head, I was rejuvenated.  I was ready.  I pushed my heart out, watching in the mirror the whole time.  I could see him coming out - it was absolutely the most painful, most wonderful moment ever.  The further his head emerged, the more I pushed, until at last, it was out.  Another push or two, and I heard, "Reach down and grab your baby."  I did, and together, she and I put him right on my belly.  And just like that, he was here, and our family was complete.

Caleb's PregTASTIC Debut

Jesse and I recorded Caleb's birth story at PregTASTIC last weekend.  The podcast hasn't been released yet, but you can watch the video recording on Ustream:

http://www.ustream.tv/recorded/11893241

I'm still working on the written version!