Today was one of the seemingly rare days where I felt like a warrior mom (at least for a good part of the day). I made the phone calls I needed. I got the kids dressed, fed, and teeth brushed with little fuss. I eventually got to the sink full of dishes behind me. Though I didn't remember to wash my face mask off until AFTER I got the mail and said "hello" to a couple of neighbors out for a walk. 🤷♀️ I conquered the day and for the most part had something to show for it. That doesn't happen every day; heck, that doesn't happen MOST days. One thing I didn't realize about being a stay-at-home mom was just how much my own self worth would suffer. I don't get a paycheck. There's no report card or time card at the end of each day, week, or even year. The seemingly endless housework is a revolving cycle making it hard to feel like I've actually accomplished anything because I'll have to do the same chores when I wake up again in the morning. These things can all make it pretty dang difficult to feel like I'm actually doing anything each day. Would my husband notice if we sat and watched movies all day? Would anyone know the difference if we skipped the cleaning, cooking, and teaching? Maybe, probably not. But my toddler and my baby girl, they would notice. At least they kind of would. These days may be long, but they can also be so, so sweet. Sure my week won't end on Friday. I won't ever clock out, and I don't get over time pay. But I'm doing something pretty incredible with my day, with my life. I'm raising two tiny humans to be good people. I'm making priceless memories with them and get to witness all the growing up, milestones, and bonding that come with being with my kids all day long. My days may look boring and unimportant right now, but this is the grunt work. I'm laying the foundation for the days where I'll get to see my hard work pay off. I'll make sure to wash my face mask off when that day comes, but I still probably won't put on make-up because I'll just cry it off. So here's to the fellow mamas in the trenches, doing the thankless work, and wondering just really how necessary it is to wash their hair or put on jeans today. ☕️ I see you. You're doing something. You're doing so much and so good!
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Ketchup counts as a vegetable right?
Some days in this house, the answer is yes. I obviously know it’s not kale or anything wild, but if it gets him to eat something I’ll let myself feel good that ketchup comes from tomatoes. This weird short post holiday week has us beat so I’ll pick my battles. I’m not even going to compare the non-organic peanut butter toast we had for breakfast to the shrimp, spinach, avocado quinoa breakfast I saw on Instagram this morning. Because you know what? We made it through breakfast. All the bellies were filled. The kiddos were happy. I didn't lose my sanity. Then we made it until nap time. We made it until Dad got home. We made it through the day. Today, or rather this whole week, have been about survival mode. They aren't days I'm exactly proud of. They sure wouldn't make anyone's Pinterest board or #MomGoals, but they're real days. At the end of each one we told each other "I love you" and said our prayers so I'm still counting them as a win in my book. Next week we'll work on vegetables that I can't squeeze from a bottle. Be present.
Enjoy the little moments. No more excuses. In 2019, I am done having excuses for why I can't play in the snow or in the pool with my little ones because none of those excuses are good enough. Put the stress and worries on the back burner and be in the moment. The dishes will still be there after movie night. Skip the toy organization and vacuuming and go out and do something with the kids. Or stay in and build a fort together. I am going to put my mom hat on first and leave the cook, maid, family accountant, and writer hats on the shelf a little more often. Because all of the chores will still be there, but these little years are fleeting. They're flying by right before my eyes, and I don't want to miss a beat. The little voices that love me to the "moon and gack" are going to grow. They'll change. The words will be pronounced properly. The temper tantrums will fade as their language skills become a more efficient means to express their emotions. The little body that tucks herself so perfectly into the crook of my neck is going to grow and not want constant cuddles so I'm going to soak them up and enjoy them. The toys and snacks that seem to materialize out of thin air when I just picked them up are just part of the package. The same package that means my house is full of little voices, laughter, and so much love. So this year I'm focusing on the good stuff. I'm enjoying these little years and living in the moment. No more excuses for why I can't play in the snow. Holiday appetizers and desserts have been prepped. Presents have been wrapped. Children have been bathed and dressed. I am currently enjoying the blissful quiet before the chaos of the holiday ensues. With one Christmas party already in the rearview mirror and church tonight, I am reflecting on all of the wonders of our year so far and all that we have to be grateful for. This year flew by, and I guess that is what happens when I have two littles to keep me on my toes. I am sure I have them to thank for my steady diet of Christmas cookies, ice cream, and chocolate lately. We have started some of our own Christmas traditions in the last three years such as cookie decorating and seeing all of the Christmas lights. We are beyond blessed that my grandma, my children's great-grandma was able to help us decorate cookies just as she did when I was a kid. We are lucky to be surrounded by family who is always willing to lend a hand. My children are lucky to grow up with grandparents who are even willing to brave the pediatrician's office in the height of flu season for us. We welcomed a new baby this year, and my son has become the kindest big brother. I know they will have a tight friendship for years to come. My little girl loves her big brother more than she loves her peanut butter toast! He is her personal entertainment. I cannot wait to see what the future has to hold for the two of them. Tonight we have church, Christmas movies, and my son's favorite meatballs for dinner! Oh and of course matching jammies for the littles are on the agenda! What can I say? It's the little things in life, right? Here's to new traditions, family time, and a happy holiday! Merry Christmas! Holiday stress and anxiety comes in all shapes and sizes. For some of us it's the hosting, cooking, and present wrapping. For some of us, it's the get-togethers, crowded stores, and holiday parties. Sometimes it's all of it. The season for celebration can quickly turn into the season of stressors, and we don't take a breathe until January 2nd is upon us.
The crowds, small-talk, and continuous over thinking over every interaction I was a part of are major stressors for me. I know I'm way too concerned, and that people probably aren't looking to make a negative assessment of the way I behave at family gatherings. But I still worry. I'll still be up at night wondering if they think I'm a bad mom or too lax because my kid had a fit. Did they think I was lazy or pawned my kid off because I let him play with other children and didn't hover? Was I a helicopter mom? My friends and family aren't out to get me. They aren't looking to judge me (hopefully), but I'll still worry. I'll overanalyze if my interactions could be somehow perceived as rude because in the moment, I won't strike up conversation with many. I wasn't always this way. I used to rock small talk like it was my day job. I could talk to anyone. But now I spend my days with a baby and a toddler. My main subject of conversation with other adults is my tiny humans because it's all I know anymore. I could answer trivia on Boss Baby or what fruit snack colors are of preference. I could tell you all about the rash my son had or our adventure going to the doctor twice in two weeks with two kids...thank you to the grandparents who saved me there! Not exactly grown up party conversation. So dear family and friends, I promise I'm not rude. I haven't forgotten my manners. I'm not mad at you. I'm just not all that great at talking to other adults right now. But if you need a toddler translator, want to swap recipes, or talk fruit snack colors- I'm your girl! I promise to work on my small talk skills for next holiday season because right now I'm a little rusty... Mom life is rocking my holiday stress pimple in all of its glory while taking 500 pictures of my daughter wearing a bow. 🙃😂 Funny how that works, right?
The toddler has been a grinch this year and hates the Christmas tree and lights. Who even is this kid? I was so excited for this season because he is finally old enough to make some memories and remember the traditions. I want him to feel the magic of the season, but I refuse to force it on him. We’ve warmed up to not unplugging the tree, eating Christmas cookies, and wrapping presents. Seeing the holidays through the eyes of a child and what is most important to him is a good wack to my behind. It’s a reminder that we’re making memories every single day. Maybe he won’t have the same favorite holiday activities that I do or did. That’s okay. As moms we stress ourselves out constantly, but especially at the holidays, because we want to make everything perfect. We want to make happy memories for our children. We tend to focus on the big things though. We see our slip ups more than our successes, myself included. To our little ones though, it’s the quality time that matters. It’s no so important that our cookies look perfect or our gifts are wrapped elegantly. It’s licking the spoon and playing with tape. It’s giggles and ice cream before dinner because “it’s the holidays.” Stop stressing, mama. It’s the little things our little ones are going to remember. 🎄❤️ 'Tis the season for Pinterest crafting.
Somehow though my toddler's projects rarely look like what we find on the app. In fact, I am almost positive a great deal of those crafts are done more by moms and less by kids. And really what's the fun in that? My toddler's eyes lit up when he finished his Christmas tree. There were even some "decorations" floating nicely around the tree because he is an overachiever like that. Once upon a time, I thought things had to be done P-E-R-F-E-C-T-L-Y. Sometimes I still do, but crafts with my son is not one of those times. As long as he's happy with it, I'm happy. Because if I did those crafts for him, they wouldn't really be his. Sure, they'd be so great for my Pinterest board or Instagram feed. But they wouldn't be what I'd want to hang on my fridge or what his grandparents would proudly display on their art wall. All too often we see the world through a distorted social media lens. What we really need to do is look at the world through the eyes of a toddler. A papa holds your hand and shows you the world. He teaches you to explore and helps you get back up when life knocks you down. He stands by your side as you face your fears. He cheers you on through every new milestone and accomplishment. He brags about your smile, your successes, and how funny you are.
A papa is someone you can always count on when you need something. He’s always there to lend a helping hand. He’ll teach you about sports and help you throw a ball. He’ll carry you when your little legs are too tired. A papa is proud. He shows you off because you are the apple of his eye. He’ll always be in your corner, and his bet will always be on you. He’ll be there to cheer for you or tell you to run some dirt on it and brush it off. At the end of the day, you know he’ll always have a treat for you. A papa loves you fiercely and spoils you rotten. He helps mold you into a good man and leads by his own example. He encourages your manners and shows you to be respectful. Papa bear will protect you like a baby cub. A papa also melts into butter when you bat those big brown eyes. He’ll cuddle up with you for a movie or a nap. There’s nothing better than a boy and his papa. Below is an entry I wrote when I was pregnant with my daughter. It was my second high-risk pregnancy with the same concern: intrauterine growth restriction (IUGR). My first pregnancy, with my son, a year-and-a-half prior I was diagnosed with the same condition. He ended up being delivered early at 37 weeks because his growth rate dropped significantly between appointments. My second pregnancy, with my daughter, I received the same diagnosis around the same time (29 weeks). Her growth was actually more severely restricted than my son's, and we prepped for a second C-section at 37 weeks. We had two appointments per week to check on her and actually scheduled the C-section. Less than a week before I was due for my C-section, around 35.5 weeks, her growth increased dramatically. It increased so much that she was no longer considered IUGR. We rescheduled the C-section for 39 weeks (which is standard), and she made it until then. She was nearly 7 pounds when she was born. That was HUGE compared to her big brother who was a mere 5 pounds at birth. I am 32 weeks pregnant. That's about 8 months. I've gained a little over 10 pounds from what I weighed before I got pregnant (not for lack of eating, that's for sure). My little peanut is a small baby, and that is the nicest way any of our care team has described it. The clinical term seems to be "poor fetal growth." My first born was an IUGR baby which means intrauterine growth restriction. The conditions are pretty much the same thing from my understanding. So what does this mean? It means that my baby could be totally fine, and she's just small. I'm small. My husband's small. Our son is small. It's a likely scenario. There might be some issue for concern though so doctors want to take every precaution possible. Right now that included two ultrasounds a week for the past 3 weeks. As of this week, it means one ultrasound per week and one non-stress test per week. So I am the doctor's office twice a week right now. It's a lot of doctor's appointments. It feels like I should be paying rent at the clinic because I spend so much time there. I watch my calories not for the point of limiting them, but to know that I am eating enough. Pregnancy is a blessing. I am totally grateful for my 2 healthy babies, relatively healthy pregnancies, and the ability to carry my babies. However, pregnancy is not always a cake-walk. It is not always a happy, glowy time.
I don't say this to sound selfish or to be shamed. I'm not. But it's hard. For me, high-risk pregnancy means dozens upon dozens of doctor appointments, it's thousands of dollars in medical expenses, it's worrying, calorie counting, and wondering what I'm doing wrong. When our babies are inside our own bodies and we still can't keep them 100% safe and healthy, it's a pretty crappy feeling. It's terrifying and frustrating. It can really make a woman feel like a failure as a mom even though it is totally out of our hands and control. What is supposed to be a happy, exciting time becomes stressful and hectic, but on a positive note the weeks FLY by when you're visiting the clinic so much. No two babies are the same so we can't expect pregnant mothers to be the same. Not every mom is going to be happy and excited. Some of us are just trying to claw our way to the finish line, to hold that sweet baby in our arms, know he/she is safe and healthy, and feel as if we can breathe again. As I prepare for the birth of my second child, I cannot help but to think back to the traumatic experience we had with my son's birth. I would be lying to say I wasn't still a little angry almost 2 years and a bogus apology later. I may have been 18, but I surely was not naive about the woman wanting to put a needle in my son's spine when he was a mere 2 days old. I will never forget the lump in my throat as I requested a second opinion because who was I to question a doctor?
It didn't take long to find out I made the right decision asking for a second opinion and a different doctor to see my baby, but it did take a heart wrenching amount of pain and more strength than I knew I had. In order to see a different doctor, my two day old baby had to go on a 45 minute ambulance ride that I couldn't accompany him on. I signed more paperwork than it took to buy a home in order to make sure he saw the right people and they still lost his name along the way. I had to get myself discharged from the hospital 2 days early and a mere 48 hours after abdominal surgery because there was no way I was spending more time away from my little guy than necessary. There is no possible way to describe the amount of relief I felt when I got to hold my little boy in my arms again. It was a couple of hours that we were separated so I could get myself taken care of and discharged, but it felt like ages. Finding out he was okay despite the false accusations and concerns was the confirmation I never knew I needed that we were going to be 'okay' because my instincts were not going to let me down. It was an unimaginable breath of fresh air and load off of my shoulders that he got medical clearance and was a perfectly healthy baby boy from some of the best doctors in the country. |
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Megan is a stay-at-home mom to a stubborn and charming toddler and adorable baby girl. She is a freelance writer who hasn't slept in way too long.. She survives off of the pot of coffee her wonderful husband makes her FRESH each morning and any snack she can grab while keeping up with her little ones. Archives
October 2019
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