What's Keeping You Busy

There is a huge stigma that stay at home moms have loads of free time. This sort of makes me laugh out loud because if any of the people who thought that shadowed me on my 24 hour day they would cry, and apologize.

As I type this blog, with one hand, I'm holding a six month old in the other, while simultaneously teaching my two year old how to write the letter 'M'.

The truth is, I have FOUR full time jobs. FOUR. Each one of my incredible children are different people who need different things on different levels at different times. My 13 year old needs conversations, and discussion about homework and life. My six month old needs 24 hour care. I'm also exclusively breastfeeding so only I do middle of the night feedings, which happen to be every two hours because, why not? My seven year old needs to tell me every detail of every dream she has ever had, and every detail about her entire day and I have to listen carefully to every single word or she will start all over again. My two year old is still very attached to me, so when I'm not holding my baby, I'm holding her and playing with her and teaching her colors and letters and numbers and going for walks and making sure we get enough outside time.

In between all that, I have a 4,000 sqft house I get to maintain and clean. Four bedrooms, three bathrooms, the dreaded kitchen. I don't have a nanny, or a cleaning lady. The thought of getting one has certainly crossed my mind though. Then there is laundry for SIX people. Two of whom are under three and if you have ever had children know they need at least two or three outfits changes a day due to poop explosions, breakfast or lunch not making it into their mouth or any other number of reasons kids get messy.

I cook three meals a day, every single day. Clean them up. Then there are the countless requests for snacks. Drinks of water. Hugs. Alone time with mom. Baths. At some point I have to squeeze in a shower for myself which happens probably every three days. Then there is my husband. Who has dropped from full time job status to part time because the moment he walks in the door after work, he jumps right into the circus as co ring leader while we divide and conquer for the rest of the night.

Once the kids are in bed, our teenage usually wants to talk. So we spend time talking with him while folding laundry or cleaning up the kitchen. After that, when all the kids are in bed, we make all these amazing plans for the rest of the night and usually fall asleep talking about the things we should do now that the kids are asleep. His day ends there, mine however, does not. I am up at least three times a night with our six month old. I do not get to take naps during the day. My husband is gone for work before we even get up for the day so I get four kids up, dressed, fed, lunches packed, and out the door by myself.

I haven't even included doctors appointments, grocery shopping, meal planning, budgeting, and a handful of other things that come up.

I do not get sick days, or weekends off. I don't get vacation time. I don't only work an 8 or 9 hour day. My days blend together. I am also a very hands on mom. I don't plop my kids in front of the t.v. We play and learn and interact. Sure there are days when we just need to chill and watch a movie, but that lasts for maybe an hour. And I'm not sitting watching a movie because  I'm playing with a six month old who doesn't watch T.V.

What's keeping me busy you ask? What am I doing with my spare time? It's almost comical you think I have spare time. There are fleeting moments when the baby surprises me and sleeps for two hours while my toddler is also napping. On these rare days the clouds have opened up and God knows I so desperately needed that two hours.

I may not leave the house and drive to a job. But my family is my job and I give it 200% every single day.

Mr.Trump

Dear Mr. Trump

I'll just call you that, and no, I don't really care if you are happy or not. I've thought a lot about this letter, and about you. Maybe you are a nice person. Maybe you aren't. Maybe you are a sad product of your environment. Someone who is self-righteous and entitled. Someone who thinks they can do and say whatever they want without consequence. You can't.

Your so called "locker room talk". Other's find this disgusting, while I truly find it sad. Sad that you are so undesirable that you have to force yourself onto women. That you feel your fame and wealth have produced some free pass to all the vagina's in the world. Whether or not you meant what you said, or not, and frankly, I normally wouldn't care, but you want to be the president of this country so now you have my attention. You are a public figure. A T.V personality, an extremely wealthy man, and by saying the things you said, you are normalizing the idea of sexual assault, of rape, of groping, cat calls, and unwanted advances. You make the already sick men of this world think that when women are saying no, we mean keep going. You make them think that when we politely turn you down we are being coy.  You contribute to the idea that women are asking for it. That we are a distraction. That men have no control over their minds or their bodies. A real man does. My short skirt, or tight shirt is not a VIP invitation.

No one in this world has the right to touch me without my consent. Not even my husband. This might be a hard one for you to swallow now, but even if I tell my husband no, he doesn't have the right to do it anyway.

The more normal it becomes to say it, to joke about it, the more normal it becomes to actually do it. And people are doing exactly what you claim is just talk. Women are assaulted, raped, touched without their consent. What you have stated was just words.  Sometimes words cut the deepest. All poor decisions start with a thought, then become just words, which develop into action.

Were you even sorry about any of this before it went viral? People who get caught usually have no intention of being honest or truly being sorry.

Once upon a time, the president was someone kids looked up to. It was someone at least five people in my second grade class wanted to be when they grew up!  I don't want my children; my son, or my daughters to want to be you. You are supposed to be a role model. Someone who sets a great example. The only example you have set is that women are objects, here for your pleasure, whether we consent or not. That all we deserve is a number rating.

I will share something with you that I tell my kids to ask themselves before they do or say something.
Is what you are about to do or say helpful, or hurtful? Maybe you should start asking yourself that before you speak. Maybe you didn't mean what you said.(wrong)  Maybe the media is taking a lot of things you have said out of context, (not true) or trying to make you look bad. Maybe you are misunderstood. (doubt it)

Maybe your actions are sort of like what we have done to this country. You realize you screwed up big time, but it's too damn late.

"If you don't let anything happen to you, then nothin' will ever happen to you"

I could blog about motherhood or parenting today, but I feel like this is a more important topic that in a way, pertains to motherhood.

When my husband and I started living together and moved into our first little house, we were thrilled to have a place to live and start a family, despite the overwhelming amount of renovations the house needed to simply make it livable. As we settled in, and drowned ourselves in renovation after renovation, and credit card debt, after credit card debt, we began to accept things in our life.

We accepted that we would never get out of debt

We accepted that after two failed attempts, we would never sell our house

We accepted that our "master bedroom" was really in a partially finished basement and we wouldn't have privacy for a long time

We accepted that we would probably be living in Christiansburg until our kids were in high school

We accepted our life for what it was and tried to find things to be thankful for every day

It's great to be thankful for what you have, lot's of people have less, but there is nothing wrong with wanting more if you are willing to work for it.

We both got stuck in our life. Too comfortable and accepting things we weren't really happy with.
I'm not good with change at all. I actually try to avoid it as much as possible and do what I know. I have always avoided trying new things, I hate traveling because of all the unknowns I might not be able to control. I'm a planner and an organizer. I want to know exactly what is going to happen and when, at all times. I like a routine. A routine that I made and am comfortable with.

But here is the thing, "If you don't let anything happen to you, nothing will ever happen to you."

Ever since my son was little, he watched Finding Nemo over and over again. Five times a day sometimes. I can recite the movie in my sleep and yet Dory's advice to Marlin never hit me.

"If you don't let anything happen to you . . .

I never let things happen to me. Ever! If I thought something would turn out bad, or be a stressful experience, I wouldn't do it. Over the last six years, we have had three different opportunities to move to Colorado and turned each one down. THREE!

The last time my husband was presented with the opportunity, we said yes. And more things have happened to me in the last six months then over the last six years.

Some of it was horrible and I cried. I cried so hard some days, and didn't think I had it in me to do anymore. But I did. My kids witnessed a strength in me that I didn't even know I had. Here is the other thing. Anything worth anything is never going to be easy. And after all the exhaustion and stress, and worry and having everything that could have possibly went wrong, going wrong, I can't even tell you how worth it it all was when we made it to our new house. In a neighborhood. With actual neighbors and kids and a playground and a gorgeous house that didn't need any work or renovations.

Don't get me wrong, the days following were miserable. Adjusting to the altitude, the time change, unpacking with three kids and a newborn, crying children. But in that moment, that five seconds before everyone lost their shit, I knew it was worth it. I wasn't going to not let things happen to me. I would be brave and take chances, meet new people, stray from our routines. It's hard sometimes. The kids cry, throw fits, and I wonder why we even try. Then I remind myself that we only have one life, and we aren't promised tomorrow, so I want to make sure that today, we are truly living and loving and trying something new, even if it's hard.

And Lord willing, if I am given decades, I don't want to look back and realize I did the same thing every day because I was afraid.

I took chances when I was scared. Tried things when I didn't want to. Taught my kids to be strong and work hard for things you want because really living is worth it. Settling is not.

10 Things I Stopped Trying To Do

I actually giggled while writing the title to this blog, because it currently 8:11 am in Colorado and due to the altitude, or the time difference, or constant go, go, go, the past couple months, my kids are all exhausted and still sleeping. Yup! All four of them.

 I bravely (and quietly) made coffee, opened my laptop, to find the battery dead of course, and decided I would finally try to write one of five blogs I have had floating around in my head.

Things have changed drastically since moving across country, which is a whole other blog entirely, but there are a number of things I decided to stop trying to do during the day, while my kid are here, and it's made my life so much easier.

1. Showering in the A.M

Why have I ever even tried to do this with a toddler and a two month old? The baby is happy, I would say to myself. The toddler is occupied. The moment that amazing warm water hits my skin, either the baby starts screaming, or one of my kids is yelling my name because my two year old is lathering herself in chocolate syrup. I now shower at night when the littles are in bed, my husband is home, and I can lock the door, be alone, and take my time.

2.Pooping with the door shut

Something about me being in the bathroom is so awesome, that three out of four kids are either on my lap, in the bathroom, asking me questions, telling me stories, or just watching. I don't even bother shutting the door anymore, which is awkward when your so used to leaving it open, that you forget to close it when your at someone else's house

3. Anything during nap time 

Nap time is like murphy's law. If I decide to take a nap, my kids sleep for 40 minutes. If I wander around the house anxiously waiting for them to wake up, the sleep for three and a half hours. I can't win, so I relax during nap time no matter what.

4. Spending a lot of time making fancy dinners  

I used to fuss so much about making these super nice dinners. Spending an hour of prep time and using all my good spices. Making sure it was healthy and creative. Theeenn, only half my crew would eat it. The leftovers would sit in the fridge and I would be forced to eat the same thing for a week because I didn't want food to go to waste. I keep it simple now. And maybe one night a week Ill make something awesome.

5. Making important phone calls

Every single kid could be completely occupied until the exact moment I dial someone's phone number and start talking. I'm the most popular person in the house . . . until I hang up the phone. I save my calls for nap time.

6. Thinking Your Kids Are Still Sleeping

Waking up in the morning before my kids and thinking I have time before they all wake up to accomplish anything, like a shower, a work-out or the chance to enjoy a cup of coffee.
I broke one of my own rules when starting to write this because it is now 2:13 pm. Jokes on me!

7. Wearing nice clothes

I almost feel like moms of littles should wear scrubs! It is amazing how many smears, stains, and bodily fluids I have on me by the end of the day. It is a guarantee that if I put on a nice outfit, it will be ruined. I just stopped wearing nice stuff unless I am going somewhere special.

8. Having Sex

Okay, so I'm not trying not to. We actually plan to every night, but end up falling asleep. So we just stopped planning on it all the time and just let it happen. And it actually happens more by not trying then by trying.

9. Leisure Shopping with toddlers

Time and time again I've attempted to be super mom and take my toddler shopping with me. This is always more stressful then fun. Toddlers are curious little bugs who want to explore and touch, They touch everything. Trying on clothes, or shopping for specifics is almost impossible. I set aside special time for me to do this alone. Kind of alone. I have the baby with me, but I can wear her and she isn't mobile yet, so she snoozes away while I shop stress free.


10. Using Glass plates for every meal

I know its wasteful, but I have seriously underestimated the amazingness of paper plates! We use about five plates a meal, times 3 meals a day. That's a lot of dishes. Fast, easy clean up means more time with my kiddos instead of washing and loading the dish washer.





There

Our Home Birth Story

Deciding to do a home birth wasn't a difficult decision for me. The labor and delivery of my first was so traumatic, that I opted to be induced and get an epidural with my second, which went much smoother, but I still wasn't in control. I labored on my back in a hospital bed for ten hours, unable to eat, drink, or walk around. When it was time to push, I couldn't really tell when I had to, so the nurses told me when to push and how long to push for.

When I found out I was expecting my third, I knew right away I wanted my birth experience to be very different. I wanted to be in control and I wanted to be able to do what felt natural, whether it was eating, drinking, walking around or taking a shower. I researched throughout my entire pregnancy, read books, practiced visualization and felt ready. My labor went very fast and I was able to labor almost the entire time at home. Mavis was born just 20 minutes after we arrived at the hospital. She came out in one push and I did it without any pain medication. 

As great as my labor and delivery went, there was still just one thing. Well, a few things. We were in a hospital with well meaning nurses who drove me crazy. They come into the room constantly to check my blood pressure, check on the baby, do wet diaper checks, ask when she nursed last... It always seemed to be timed just right too. As soon as I finished nursing and started to drift off to sleep there would be a knock at the door.

 Because I delivered in the late evening, the hospital kitchen was closed, so all I had to eat was a dry turkey sandwich and a blueberry muffin. I was starving!

 

Eighteen months later we found out we were expecting again and right away I knew I wanted to do a home birth. It took about 28 weeks to convince my husband that this would be an amazing experience.

And it was--

Doing anything had become increasingly uncomfortable. Standing, walking, sitting, laying down... nothing relieved the pain or the pressure of the baby being so low. I woke constantly in the night to pee or chug water, and getting out of bed was excruciating. I kept thinking my entire pregnancy that I would go early. I was convinced. Probably because I was so miserable towards the end. Pregnant, three other kids to take care of and a house on the market with daily showings.

At my 40 week, ugh, yes, 40 week check-up, I was 3cm dilated and about 40% effaced. I was feeling so hopeful that labor wasn't far away. I spent the whole day thinking any moment the baby would just come. But she didn't, which was actually okay because my sister was arriving that afternoon and staying for four days. I remember worrying that I wouldn't go into labor before she left.

Later that night, I had this weird urge to go grocery shopping. It was around 6:30pm and we are usually cleaning up from dinner and getting ready to give our 2 year old a bath, but I needed to go grocery shopping. 

My husband was a good sport and went along with it as we stocked our cabinets and freezer with all kinds of foods and snacks. We all sat in the living room after the two younger kids went to bed and joked and laughed at all the silly labor inducing techniques there were listed online. We tried a few just for fun and I went to bed around midnight.

I woke up around 4am having contractions and I knew this was it. I went to the bathroom to pee and noticed I was losing my mucus plug. I climbed back in bed and waited about thirty minutes before waking up Greg to be really really sure the contractions would continue, and they did. Once he was awake, I opened my contraction timer app and had him start timing them. They were about 9 minutes apart. Around 5:30 I decided to get up and take a shower, while Greg called the midwife and let her know I was in labor. We also woke up my sister.

Somehow, by the grace of God, the morning fell into place. My husband got our oldest off to school, dropped our toddler off at a friends house, and our baby-sitter came and took Layla to school for us so Greg could start setting up the birthing pool.  I bounced away on my birthing ball while the pool filled up. I was able to breath through the contractions and was pretty chatty and happy in between them. They were now six minutes apart and I felt better once the midwife arrived.

My contractions started lasting longer, about a minute and half to two minutes, but I was still in control. My sister and I started out watching a movie while I bounced on the birthing ball, but as the contractions became more intense I found the noise to be very distracting. I wanted it quiet.

The pool was finally full, and I couldn't wait to get in. It was cold. I labored on my ball while Greg and my midwife scooped out pots of water from the pool and boiled pots of water on the stove to dump into the pool to warm it up.

Once I was able to get in it felt like heaven floating in the water and I was able to escape into my zone. I closed my eyes and with each contraction tried to relax and let my body work. Not fighting it. I let myself feel each contraction, knowing I was that much closer to being done and meeting my daughter. I remember feeling my water break in the pool and knowing we were getting closer because the contractions were getting harder to breath through and I started humming through them now. I asked the midwife to check me and I was already at 9cm. I didn't realize it, but I had been in the pool for four hours. I was still calm and focused, but with fleeting moments of wanting it to be over. Greg patiently sat by my side in silence for hours, only leaving me to heat up a pot pie, which I remember telling him to go away while he was eating because the smell was making me sick.

There was an increase in pressure with each contraction now, and I was moaning through each one loud enough that everyone was in the room, waiting. I wasn't expecting it to happen so fast, and neither was anyone else, but with the next contraction I started pushing, and I heard the midwife ask my sister to grab something, but all I could focus on was pushing her out. She didn't come out in one push like my last delivery. I had her out up to her ears and I remember pleading, "just get her out"

She was big, and I could tell she was big. The position I was in wasn't working, so with her head out, I climbed out of the pool, got into a squatting position and pushed with the next contraction and out she came. I will never forget that feeling of relief the very second she came out. It was over. The contractions, the pressure, the need to stay calm and focused. It was over and she was here.

I held her in my arms and studied her, made sure she was okay and breathing. With Greg's and my midwife's help, I climbed into my bed, still holding my precious daughter. We waited for the placenta to stop pulsing completely before cutting it and I was able to comfortably relax in bed while they got me cleaned up and I nursed my newborn baby girl.

Adaline Ameila was born on May 24th, 1:15pm, weighing 11lbs 9oz 21 inches long. Our home birth was everything I had hoped for and a fantastic way to welcome our fourth child into the world and into our beautiful family.

It's Okay

Last week was probably one of the hardest weeks I have had in a very long time. I had been planning my husbands 30th surprise birthday party for six months. This was not easy because we can't keep anything from one another. We both always know what we are getting for Christmas or birthday's because we end up telling one another. The moment something exciting happens, we are on the phone gushing to each other about it. Keeping this from him for so long was almost unbearable.

I planned and schemed and even wrote a speech for the big day. Everything went perfect. Getting him out of the house, keeping him gone. Finding spots for everyone to park so he wouldn't see cars.
He was so surprised that he cried when he walked in the door and saw everyone waiting inside. Then things got difficult . . . My toddler, who is usually super friendly and happy, became withdrawn, quiet, and only wanted me to hold me. She rested her head on my shoulder as I made my way around the party. I kept trying to put her down, get her to eat, or play, but she just wouldn't. I wasn't sure at first, mostly because I was carrying her against me for so long and I'm 7 months pregnant, but her little body felt so hot.

I was getting tired and sore from holding her, and it was time to do cake. We sang happy birthday with my sad little girl still flopped over my left shoulder like a limp doll. Cake got cut and passed around and she finally let Greg hold her so I could have a small break. Within two minutes of me passing her over, and maybe four bites into the cake that took me a combined four hours to decorate, she threw up all Greg!  In the middle of all our guests eating cake, we took her to the bathroom and got them both cleaned up and decided to wrap up the party.

As I snuggled with Mavis on the couch that night, it hit me that I didn't take one picture of anything. I had my camera out, and I planned to get photos all day, but was distracted from holding my daughter. I also never read my speech. The speech that I secretly worked on during her nap time for two months! I never got to even read it. The speech my husband deserved. For everyone to know how incredible he is and all that he has accomplished. It sat under 'saved documents' on my laptop.

Mavis woke up that night with a 103 fever. She slept in our bed and the next day we took her to the doctor. They thought she had an ear infection and we started antibiotics. A couple days later, she still wasn't better. She was actually worse. She had watery diarrhea all day long for 3 days, wouldn't eat, barely drank anything, and only wanted to lay on me on the couch, falling in and out of sleep. By Wednesday, she was still not improving. She threw up again that morning and we took her back to the doctor. She never had an ear infection and we were told to stop the antibiotics, and she had something viral and we just had to ride it out. The rest of the day we snuggled under a blanket on the couch, and Greg took the day off work because Mavis was too sick to ride around in the car all day picking up her siblings.

The next two days were about the same. I was exhausted, worried, and in pain from sitting in one spot all day and carrying her around on my hip if I had to do anything. If I had to pee I had to take her with me and then she would cry on my lap the entire time. After almost 3 days had passed since I showered, I had to take one, but Mavis wouldn't let me leave her side. I had to do it. I brought her in the bathroom with me and hopped in. She sat outside the shower and screamed my name, tears streaming down her face while I quickly scrubbed down. As soon as I got out, she jumped into my soaking wet arms where she stayed as I struggled to get dressed with one arm and she clung to me as tight as she could.

By Saturday I felt completely defeated. It had been seven days and she woke up for the seventh morning in a row at 5 am and all she wanted to do was snuggle on me on the couch. Greg had to work so I was on my own. I kept telling myself each day that it would be okay, that she would be better tomorrow. But tomorrow came every day for a week and she wasn't better. I was tired, emotional, and frustrated.

Mavis eventually fell asleep on me as Layla was waking up. Layla is very particular and likes things to happen in a certain order in the morning. That order was not going to happen. She wanted me to get up and make her breakfast and I couldn't. It was 8am and Mavis had been up since 5 and had just drifted off to sleep. I knew if I got up, she would start crying and I wanted her to rest. She had to get better. I explained this to Layla and after a small tantrum, she understood. I watched her from the couch, my heart slowly breaking, as she made herself some toast. It hurt that I couldn't be everything they both needed at the same time.

We got through the afternoon, me still in my pajamas, the exact clothes I also wore the day before. Mavis wasn't getting better and I couldn't coax her into eating anything. I mentally began to panic. Thoughts of all these possible things wrong with her infiltrated my head as she cried on my hip while I tried to make lunch. "Couch. Couch," she cried. "Mommy, couch."

-Why wasn't she getting better?
-She doesn't have a fever, so what else could it be?
-Why wont she drink anything? I offered her some water, then juice. "No. Away," she cried, pushing the juice box from her face.
-She isn't really peeing. Maybe she is dehydrated.
-Bladder infection? UTI from having so much diarrhea? I know I wiped her carefully and bathed her every night.

I started to cry. Tired. Worried. Irritated. I lost my patience. I shouted, "Just be quiet."
The moment I grunted those words out, regret immediately followed. I felt like a failure. I just shouted at my sick toddler to be quiet. The tears poured out of me as I kept cooking lunch, and crying while she cried.

I was at my limit. Pregnant. Tired. Scared. Sad. Annoyed. Needing a break so badly but felt too guilty to actually take one.

It took her two more days and a reassuring phone call to her pediatrician before she was 100% again. After getting some gym time and rest, and peace of mind from actually seeing my daughter act like her happy normal self again, I reflected on the past week.

I'm an incredible mom. I am not a robot who can go endlessly without emotion. I get cranky and pushed to my limit. I break sometimes and that's okay. No matter what anyone says, I will forever feel guilty about taking time away for myself even though I know I need it. Even when I whine about needing a break, when it comes down to it, I would rather be in the middle of chaos with my family, then sitting at Starbucks drinking a hot coffee that isn't spilling on me or needing to be reheated 400 times.

It's okay that my daughters saw me cry because it's okay for them to know that mom's get tired too. We aren't this disposable thread of everyone's needs all the time. It's okay for my kids to understand that mom's are human and we need breaks and hugs just like they do. They saw me break down, and then they saw me take a deep breath and keep moving forward despite being exhausted. Even when I thought I was failing, I was showing them how to keep fighting and stay strong. They saw me putting other's before myself in a time of need. They saw compassion, love, and tenderness.

I'm so hard on myself that I often fail to see myself through my kids eyes. I think I'm falling apart and they see me pulling it all together. I think I look awful and they simply see their mom.