tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-75861978637029317452024-02-07T02:53:59.541-08:00Truth or Dare: Confessions Of A Stay At Home MamaAshley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.comBlogger23125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-25131013461266902722017-02-28T13:25:00.000-08:002017-02-28T13:25:51.960-08:00The Parenting Illusions of Social MediaParenting and relationships are difficult enough by itself, but throw social media into it and it just got a whole helluva lot more complicated. Don't get me wrong, the plethora of information out there is great, and the support I've found from mom groups has given me lot's of comfort during some lonely times.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAucIBOj2NxffqOZcwlHHPfgF6AH_7xb7_Z3eFT_cSw3uufxOvI6yRPTeaOkaqBriszfkLYQsvt8IRt5q6eX4Zahh8KO9uNSO15X9PS1rHCUDP8lxbxZVvlLcIVmfsdacyhVA2R4ill2WW/s1600/1231141145.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAucIBOj2NxffqOZcwlHHPfgF6AH_7xb7_Z3eFT_cSw3uufxOvI6yRPTeaOkaqBriszfkLYQsvt8IRt5q6eX4Zahh8KO9uNSO15X9PS1rHCUDP8lxbxZVvlLcIVmfsdacyhVA2R4ill2WW/s320/1231141145.jpg" width="180" /></a>But it's dangerous out there. We all want to do the best thing for our children and so naturally when we hear about someone doing something different, we compare. And we are usually comparing their best day with our worst. We also seek advice from complete strangers when sometimes the answer is deep within ourselves.<br />
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Facebook, Instagram, Twitter . . . it's just one big highlight reel. Celebrity marriages create this horrible illusion that what they portray is reality. It's not. Reality is full of messes that celebrities experience too. They just don't want us to see it. Social media showcases our best moments. But life isn't just a compilation of our best. We all have those horrible days.<br />
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Now what if I posted this photo with the caption: <b>Enjoying some alone time while my beautiful babies take a nap!</b><br />
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You form an opinion about me and my life. But it's not just this one picture on my Facebook account. It's hundreds just like this. Highlighting the "better" moments. It's easy to assume my life is a certain way.<br />
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What if I told you I took that picture 20 times before it looked just right, and it actually took me an hour to get both babies to sleep. I also spent the entire morning ugly crying because I was up with my baby 6 times last night and I'm so exhausted. It wasn't just last night, it's every night. And I haven't gotten more than five hours of broken sleep in eight months.<br />
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And we missed a doctors appointment and when I called to reschedule they said," if you ever miss an appointment we cancel all future appointments and don't allow you to be a patient anymore." And we have been through hell since we moved trying to find a good pediatrician that takes our insurance and have already had one horrible experience and have no other options. I begged them to make an exception. I cried on the phone to someone I barely knew.<br />
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I cried because my husband is gone 12 hours a day and I wake up alone every morning. I struggle every day to not lose my shit while I get four kids ready for the day. Myself included. I wake up alone because my husband commutes to work because we couldn't really afford to live in the city he works in and we wanted more for our kids. We wanted a great neighborhood and great schools. A nice house. So we sacrificed. I cried because my sinks were full of dishes and my kitchen was a mess and I felt like a failure. I felt like life was just too heavy for me to handle. I cried because I felt like I was failing.<br />
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I cried because I've been telling myself that things will get easier. My daughter will figure it out and sleep. One day. Work won't completely consume my husband. One day. I will crawl into bed one night and not wake up until after the sun comes up. One day, I cried because I've been so patient and this morning, I didn't want to be anymore. I wanted everything to be the way I wanted it to be.<br />
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I'm typically a genuinely happy person. Honestly. It's the one thing my family and close friends have always said about me. Why are you so happy all the time? And this morning, I cried because I was disappointed in myself for being so negative. We all need days like that. I'm not a robot. I can't always be happy. I cry so hard sometimes because I need to.<br />
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Next time someone posts a photo or several photos, or their entire social media account seems like they have the perfect life, just remember they probably don't. We are all going through our own stuff and have days when we leave the house in leggings, a mom bun, and a baggy sweater. No sexy peep toes, but dirty flats with a hole in the side, But we don't post those kinds of photos. We post the photos of ourselves when we manage to shower, do our make-up and leave the house holding a hot Starbucks coffee, donning our best skinny jeans and designer blouse.<br />
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To the mom right now sitting in her pajamas reading this, You aren't alone. I'm in sweatpants right now, my toddler didn't take a nap and my coffee is still sitting in the microwave from this morning.Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-53311733640490053862017-02-08T12:35:00.001-08:002017-02-08T12:35:09.321-08:00I'm In There SomewhereMy first child was born when I was only seventeen years old. Despite all the advice I was given about motherhood, nothing truly prepared me for it. Nothing. I foolishly thought who I was would never change. The truth is, you can't really be that great of a parent if you <i>don't </i>change. You have to. There is something about motherhood that honestly changes you whether you like it or not.<br />
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Who you are, what you look like, and what you're wearing begins to take a back seat to who your children are becoming, what they look like, and what they are wearing. Half of mine are usually running around naked anyway.<br />
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Before I had my kids I thought of myself as vibrant and fun. A self proclaimed night owl who loved to explore the day away. I would listen to music, go to the gym, write, watch a movie in the afternoon. Take a damn nap if I wanted to. Waste the day away lounging in coffee shops, or driving around just because.</div>
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The picture above was taken a year or so before I found out I was pregnant with my first. I spontaneously decided to bike ride down to this pond and fish. Spontaneity is a word that no longer exists in my world because every single thing we do for the most part has to be planned. We have nap schedules to work around and bed times and homework and guitar lessons and swim class. </div>
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When my husband met me, I was a very difference person than I am today. For a really long time I used to think that was such a bad thing and would often apologize for not being the girl he met all those years ago. I promised him that I was in there somewhere; beneath the bags under my eyes and extra baby weight and leaking breasts,and stretch marks. I was in there. Somewhere.</div>
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<b>I wanted to be the girl in the picture again. I pined for her. </b></div>
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One night, my husband and I were lying in bed, the kids were asleep, and we started talking about all the free time we had before we had four kids. He looked at me and said, "Back then you were this dependent, confused girl. Look at you now. You went and grew into a strong, independent woman."</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mVXK2MxGkDlMTV2A13mhaZshREIkyLeXYdchWe2rMKbPGjbdsa-i9CHP700tdwu7ZmoRuysqxJA9mNbnQODBI2Pa5CoS9g4p0jG0uwC2yeR0gD9hNTfx-1bRHXO_Kmqjpv7Kk4qsRYhB/s1600/PhotoShoot4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi4mVXK2MxGkDlMTV2A13mhaZshREIkyLeXYdchWe2rMKbPGjbdsa-i9CHP700tdwu7ZmoRuysqxJA9mNbnQODBI2Pa5CoS9g4p0jG0uwC2yeR0gD9hNTfx-1bRHXO_Kmqjpv7Kk4qsRYhB/s320/PhotoShoot4.jpg" width="320" /></a>It took me some time to realize, but I don't ever want to be that girl in the photo again. That season of my life is over. She was a first draft of the many versions of myself I will grow into. I've become something more incredible than the sixteen year old version of me could have ever dreamed of. I developed self worth, self confidence, strength, appreciation for so many things in life. I became a mother and learned more about love and life than I could possibly try to write about. The years have given me experience. The kind of experience you have to actually live through and can't be explained to you.</div>
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Strength. Drive. Dedication. Perseverance. Patience. Knowledge. Realization. Love. Words I've come to truly understand the meaning of.</div>
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There are days I fall apart. Days where I'm sleep deprived, defeated, frustrated, and moments I cry so hard because I feel like I am failing. I feel like I can't possible do this anymore. But I know who I am, and I'm so proud of that. When I look at that photo, I'm standing there alone, living only for myself.<br />
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When I look at photos now, the lives my husband and I created are in them, and I'm not just living for myself anymore. I have this incredible full, crazy, hectic, exhausting life, and I've never been happier. </div>
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I<i> am</i> in there somewhere, along with all my other experiences and pieces of my past self who have made me into the woman and mother I am today. That girl couldn't even fathom the degree of happiness I have today, and I would never want to go back to being her. I had so many other amazing things ahead of me, I was just too naive to realize it. </div>
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<b>Always remember who you used to be. Know who you are. Look forward to who you will become. </b></div>
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Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-49542013280551083982017-02-02T07:23:00.000-08:002017-02-02T07:23:01.840-08:00My Marriage Comes First<i>So if there was only one apple left you would give it to your husband?</i><br />
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When I say my marriage comes first, I don't mean I would deprive my children of something for my husband. Our children wouldn't even exist if my husband and I weren't together so our relationship needs constant nurturing and attention.<br />
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Our marriage is the foundation for this beautiful fortified kingdom we created together. If our relationship weakens, everything we have worked so hard to build begins to crumble. Our whole world falls apart and our kids need us to be strong and work together. They need us to be a team who works together and fights for the family.<br />
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This doesn't mean I tend to my husbands needs before my crying children, but we actively carve out time for one another and never stop dating. Our love and relationship is far more advanced than that of a dating couple in the honeymoon phase. We flirt, send naughty text messages, ask each other out on dates, and romance each other as if we just met. We pursue one another, all the time. My husband still opens the car door for me, fills up my water bottle, and texts me to tell me he misses me. I do his laundry, iron his shirts when I have time, leave him sweet notes, and make sure I tell him how much I appreciate him.<br />
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None of that comes easy. We have four children. Two of them have activities during the week, homework, want to spend alone time with each of us and the other two are both under three years old. I have also been breastfeeding every single day and night for the past three years. And was pregnant for 18 months out of the last 36 months.<br />
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We also recognize that things aren't always going to be equal or 50/50. There have been times when Greg needed me to give 90% because he only had 10%. Times when we were both able to give 50%. There were also times when I've been so sleep deprived and had absolutely nothing left to give. When he travels for work I'm giving more than I thought I had to give. Marriage isn't always about things being fair. It's about working together and being a team. Sometimes one of the people on that team has to bear more of the burden. Neither one of us are ever bearing it alone, or for very long.<br />
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I don't think anyone ever really tells you how much work it is to maintain a marriage and keep it thriving. It's not easy. But it's worth it. Any anything worth anything is hard.<br />
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Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-45969907571526130132016-12-09T08:10:00.001-08:002016-12-09T08:10:37.055-08:00What's Keeping You BusyThere 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.<br />
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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'.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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I haven't even included doctors appointments, grocery shopping, meal planning, budgeting, and a handful of other things that come up.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-64837495738160997132016-10-13T11:44:00.001-07:002016-10-13T11:44:12.162-07:00Mr.TrumpDear Mr. Trump<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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I will share something with you that I tell my kids to ask themselves before they do or say something.<br />
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)<br />
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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.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-56250249057165378392016-09-07T08:07:00.003-07:002016-09-07T08:09:34.097-07:00"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.<br />
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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.<br />
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We accepted that we would never get out of debt<br />
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We accepted that after two failed attempts, we would never sell our house<br />
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We accepted that our "master bedroom" was really in a partially finished basement and we wouldn't have privacy for a long time<br />
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We accepted that we would probably be living in Christiansburg until our kids were in high school<br />
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We accepted our life for what it was and tried to find things to be thankful for every day<br />
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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.<br />
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We both got stuck in our life. Too comfortable and accepting things we weren't really happy with.<br />
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.<br />
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But here is the thing, "If you don't let anything happen to you, nothing will ever happen to you."<br />
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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.<br />
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"If you don't let anything happen to you . . .<br />
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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!<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-91094050683617889662016-08-08T16:52:00.002-07:002016-08-08T16:53:24.495-07:0010 Things I Stopped Trying To DoI 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>1. Showering in the A.M</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>2.Pooping with the door shut</u></b><br />
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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<br />
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<u><b>3. Anything during nap time </b></u><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>4. Spending a lot of time making fancy dinners </u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>5. Making important phone calls</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>6. Thinking Your Kids Are Still Sleeping</u></b><br />
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Waking up in the morning <i>before</i> 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.<br />
I broke one of my own rules when starting to write this because it is now 2:13 pm. Jokes on me!<br />
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<b><u>7. Wearing nice clothes</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>8. Having Sex</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>9. Leisure Shopping with toddlers</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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<b><u>10. Using Glass plates for every meal</u></b><br />
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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.<br />
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ThereAshley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-35360182599576139962016-06-10T18:06:00.001-07:002016-06-10T18:06:28.539-07:00Our Home Birth StoryDeciding 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.<br />
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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!</div>
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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.</div>
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And it was--</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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. </div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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.</div>
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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"</div>
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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.</div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TV9pCcnm6WjPwpynDfyfUn2AHhoUsmTJ-NCUwUy_X0wEfqii9wmtPze3nGwz7Cw_KW-q3jeQau-TRhbwn42P3eqOaI3yrh3T21sJkhC5lQPWIZrJmX8hJpFcOfLvsWA3yd-W0TCDmqLH/s1600/DSC_0849.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh3TV9pCcnm6WjPwpynDfyfUn2AHhoUsmTJ-NCUwUy_X0wEfqii9wmtPze3nGwz7Cw_KW-q3jeQau-TRhbwn42P3eqOaI3yrh3T21sJkhC5lQPWIZrJmX8hJpFcOfLvsWA3yd-W0TCDmqLH/s320/DSC_0849.JPG" width="320" /></a>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.</div>
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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.</div>
Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-62174323345682049662016-03-03T18:44:00.000-08:002016-03-03T18:44:14.268-08:00It's OkayLast 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.<br />
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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.<br />
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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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."<br />
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<i>-Why wasn't she getting better?</i><br />
<i>-She doesn't have a fever, so what else could it be?</i><br />
<i>-Why wont she drink anything? </i>I offered her some water, then juice. "No. Away," she cried, pushing the juice box from her face.<br />
<i>-She isn't really peeing. Maybe she is dehydrated.</i><br />
<i>-Bladder infection? UTI from having so much diarrhea? I know I wiped her carefully and bathed her every night.</i><br />
<br />
I started to cry. Tired. Worried. Irritated. I lost my patience. I shouted, "Just be quiet."<br />
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.<br />
<br />
I was at my limit. Pregnant. Tired. Scared. Sad. Annoyed. Needing a break so badly but felt too guilty to actually take one.<br />
<br />
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.<br />
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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<i> forever </i>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.<br />
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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.<br />
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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.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-2571594185174539412015-12-21T19:21:00.000-08:002015-12-21T19:21:12.607-08:00What I Wish I Was Told About MotherhoodThe fierce love I feel for all my children is undeniable, and something I don't think anyone could have even begun to try to explain to me. I wouldn't have truly understood. The moment all three of them were born, and I held them for the first time, looked into their eyes, this urge grew inside of me. The urge to protect them and love them.<br />
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After my son was born, and I was expecting my second, I wasn't sure I would love her as much or the way I loved my son. He was my first and we had such a special bond.<br />
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The heart is an incredible thing. When my daughter was born, I instantly loved her so much. I literally could not stop staring at her out of disbelief that this beautiful little creature was mine. And then my third came along, and oh my goodness, the love. The love is incredible. Sometimes my heart feels so full I can look at them and it brings tears to my eyes. They are each so different and special in their own way, and they way they need me and my love is different. Its the most amazing I have ever been lucky enough to experience.<br />
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There are so many things people tell you about motherhood and becoming a parent, and so many things they don't tell you. I always heard a lot about how amazing it is. And how cute babies are and what a special thing it is to be a mom.<br />
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Well, I want to tell you everything I wish someone told me. I want to share the raw truth of what being a mother is.<br />
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You will never know exhaustion like you do when you are a parent. You think you do. You might even try to compare it to something. But whatever you are comparing it to isn't even close to how painfully tired you will be. You will be so tired, you will contemplate the unthinkable just for five minutes of shut eye. You will be so tired, that you will cry when your baby cries because you just want him to go to sleep. Then you will cry because you feel bad for wishing he would stop crying.<br />
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You will do a lot of crying.<br />
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You will go days without a shower. This will seem horrible at first. It will bother you that you have spent three days in the same yoga pants, but eventually this will become the norm and it wont bother you anymore. You will come to realize that putting on a full face of make-up and heels is a waste of your time. You cannot effectively parent in heels. Trust me.<br />
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You will try to protect your kids from everything and it will be horrible when you realize you can't. And you will feel pain when they feel pain, only worse. Worse because you couldn't prevent it and you can't always make them stop hurting.<br />
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You will develop spidey senses and the ability to see germs on every.single.surface. Every person is a suspect and you will trust no one. This does get better with each child. You will boil every toy, pacifier, and sanitize everything with baby number 1. By the time you get to baby number 3, you wont even flinch when you see them eating sand.<br />
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Everything in your life will change. You will think it wont and that everything can just stay the same. It wont ever be the same. You will change, and grow and become someone you never thought possible. Instead of an 8pm dinner on a Friday night, you will be in pajamas at 7pm rocking your sweet baby to sleep. You will love this. You will hate this. You'll pine for a night out and when you finally get one, all you will think about is being at home.<br />
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Motherhood is not always great and special. Some days its horrible and you will wish the day would just end, and that your kids would just leave you alone for five seconds. You will get frustrated and irritated and annoyed. Bedtime will never come soon enough. When the house is quiet and everyone is asleep, you will lay in the dark, wide awake, going over everything you could have done different that day. You will pray for more patience for tomorrow, then you will wish your kids were awake so you could give them a hug and remind them how loved they are.<br />
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Don't rush them to sleep through the night, or eat solids, or crawl or walk or anything. They will do all of these things when they are ready and before you know it they will be teenagers you can't get up in the morning who love hanging out alone. For some reason, society wants us to think there is something wrong with our children if they aren't potty trained, weaned from breastfeeding, and reading a book by their second birthday. Hold your baby when they want to be held. Don't let anyone tell you you are spoiling them because you can't spoil your baby with your love. They need your love and attention. What they don't need is things. But they need you, and nothing can replace your touch or presence.<br />
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People will love to give you their advice and try to tell you how to raise your baby. They will tell you what you are doing wrong, what you should change, etc. No one knows your baby like you do. Trust your instincts and have confidence in your choices.<br />
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If you don't like coffee now, trust me you will learn to. And there are at least 20 different kinds of creamers out there to choose from. Coffee. Great stuff. Either invest in a killer travel mug that will keep your coffee warm for hours, or be prepared to reheat your mug at least 3x every morning. But, it's the one thing you absolutely do not have to share.<br />
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Sharing. Let's just say you won't have privacy for a very long time. You will pee and poop with toddlers on your lap, playing on the bathroom floor, and coming in and out of the bathroom. If you try shutting and locking the door, they will sit outside and cry and knock and talk to you anyway. You won't even bother shutting the door. No matter what it is you are eating or when you are eating it, someone will want a bite, or two or three, oh hell... you'll end up just giving it to them.<br />
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Don't expect your kids to act like adults. So often children are expected to not act like children. They are expected to grow up way before they are ready. Let your kid just be a kid. In the entirety of life, their childhood is short. There is plenty of time to be an adult and it's not during their childhood. Let them make messes and be silly and sit on your lap during dinner. They will throw tantrums and cry. They are not being brats, they are being kids. Guide them through, don't punish them for being what they are.<br />
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No matter how tired, or irritated, or drained you feel,never forget your purpose. Don't lose sight of the amazing thing you are doing. Some days it wont feel like much, but you are raising tiny people and what might have seemed like a boring day to you, could have been the best day ever to them. Fill your heart with kindness and patience because children learn more from what they see from you.<br />
Even on the absolute worst day, remember to take a deep breath, look into our baby's eyes, and remember they have feelings too. They are frustrated and sad too. You are in this together and every moment of exhaustion and craziness is worth it. It's all worth it.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-71603525328834979332015-12-09T07:52:00.000-08:002015-12-09T07:52:53.057-08:00Babies Are ManipulativeI've really been struggling with what to blog about recently. The weeks are flying by and things are happening one after another. From hosting our first ever Thanksgiving, to a near house fire when our leaky kitchen sink decided to completely flood and soak our electrical box, to a full sink and faucet replacement, in addition to everything else, needless to say we have been busy.<br />
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When my first child was born, I was so young, and had no idea about parenting or different styles of parenting. I simply took the advice of family, and assumed it was for the best. I didn't have the confidence to do something other then what they were saying. They all said he would never sleep through the night if I didn't let him cry it out. So, I did it. I listened to my sweet baby boy cry himself to sleep. After a few nights, yes, he stopped crying and just went to sleep. But did he really learn to self sooth? I don't believe so. He learned I wouldn't come. This breaks my heart, even twelve years later.<br />
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My youngest daughter, who will be two in March, woke up at 2am and just did not want to go back to sleep. ( I ditched the whole cry it out method once I had my second because it went against every motherly instinct I had so not hold my baby when they needed me.) It's very easy as parents to get frustrated because we are tired and just want to sleep, but we have to remember babies are little people with feelings and fears and so many emotions that they can't express to us in any other way then to cry.<br />
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We can't expect to have babies, and then mold them in a way that makes our lives easier simply because what they need in momentarily inconvenient.<br />
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When I went to get her from her crib, she hugged me so tight, her tiny feet were cold, and she said, "mommy", between her sobs. Maybe she was cold. Maybe she just couldn't sleep. I will never know what woke her up or what she really needed. I just know that she needed. I could have laid her down and let her cry until she fell asleep. Assumed she was being manipulative. Crying just to get her way.<br />
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In some countries, and in a lot of cultures, it is unheard of that a baby will sleep in a separate room from their parents. And it makes me sad when I see moms asking for advice on how to put their baby down without them crying, or how to get them to sleep through the night. They thrive off of our physical touch and warmth. They have needs that have to be met. And while it might not always be a convenient time of day or night, we chose to be parents and it's all part of it. The exhaustion. Running off 3 hours of sleep like I am doing today.<br />
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Even as adults, we have difficulty sleeping. We wake up and need a drink of water. We wake up from being too hot, or too cold, Or maybe we just aren't tired. Guess what people?? Your baby goes through the same thing only that can't tell you and they can't fix it. So until they learn how, it's our job to try. Imagine waking up in the middle of the night, cold. And you can't tell anyone. And you can't pull a blanket on yourself. Imagine being left in the dark to fall asleep on your own.<br />
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My daughter wasn't being manipulative. All she knew was that something was bothering her and she needed her mommy. She needed comfort. And that is exactly what she got. I am so exhausted right now. But I gave my daughter something way more important then my sleep. I gave her the reassurance that I was there for her.<br />
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****( I am in no way certified or trained on the habits of infant sleep or crying it out. The above is simply my opinion based on my experience as a parent, and research I have conducted on my own time.)<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-63359803149008296822015-10-23T17:48:00.001-07:002015-10-23T17:48:37.811-07:00Mommy WarsLet's be totally honest because we have all done this. We have passed judgement on other mom's before knowing a single thing about them. Hell, we judge mom's we know. I shamefully admit that I have judged a mom based on whether or not she breastfeeds, how her kids behave, how she disciplines, or doesn't . . . and who am I to do that? I am not a perfect mother and I really don't have the right to judge anyone.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLo8ZAs3vUFefLQav81ldomwjfpVdEyEDwu6R06buZquPO8xN91prRN3IY-ZfQmWZetJyInaC9ogaTndfAFOw3mdgiuhy6cYApn_MYepCO2ncMTI4wUx5oHu2cEnNLl3dw7el6dVcnAoa/s1600/1228141738.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilLo8ZAs3vUFefLQav81ldomwjfpVdEyEDwu6R06buZquPO8xN91prRN3IY-ZfQmWZetJyInaC9ogaTndfAFOw3mdgiuhy6cYApn_MYepCO2ncMTI4wUx5oHu2cEnNLl3dw7el6dVcnAoa/s320/1228141738.jpg" width="180" /></a>I think as parents we all want to feel like the way we choose to raise our children is the best way, and it's very easy to become smug about our choices when we learn that another mom is doing it differently. If there is one thing I have learned about being a mother, it's that there are one million ways to raise kids and just because something is effective for one family, doesn't necessarily mean it's going to be the best thing for you. And that's okay.<br />
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It doesn't make you a better mother because you let your baby cry it out so they can learn to self sooth and be independent. And it doesn't make you a better mother because you rock your two year old to sleep.<br />
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You are not depriving your child of something because you chose formula from day one. And I seriously doubt that the mother who is still breastfeeding her three year old loves her baby more than you love yours.<br />
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We have all been there-- We've been that mom in the store whose kid is throwing a full on temper tantrum because you wouldn't give in and buy that toy, or maybe, just like any other human being, he is having a bad day, and unlike an adult, can't express that in words.<br />
And you're a great mom for not giving in, and your child acting like a jerk doesn't mean you suck at parenting. Kids throw fits. It happens. Stop judging and go give that poor mama a hug. That could be you next week.<br />
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The comments I've listed below and hurtful, and not helpful in anyway:<br />
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<i><b>-You really shouldn't let him do that</b></i><br />
<i><b>-She just gets whatever she wants, doesn't she</b></i><br />
<i><b>-Brat!</b></i><br />
<i><b>-You shouldn't let him get away with that</b></i><br />
<i><b>-It's so weird that you are still breastfeeding</b></i><br />
<i><b>- You need to be more strict</b></i><br />
<i><b>-Or any comment insinuating that you know more about what best for my child then I do</b></i><br />
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We all make the choices we make because we are all doing what we feel works for our individual family. We do what we think is best and what feels right. What feels right to me, might feel completely wrong to you. It's okay.<br />
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We are often harder on ourselves because we compare. I know I compare myself to other mom's a lot. This is probably the worst thing I can do to myself because we are all living a different life and are on a different path and the internet doesn't help. You don't see mom's updating their status about how their baby was up every hour and they haven't showered in three days and the only energy they have is from cold, left over mac and cheese. No. We see the highlight reel. We read about the amazing sleep they got. How lucky they are. And more often then not, you are only going to see the good pictures people take. The ones where they actually had make-up on.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIGZFAv6FhnauiCITI2eGfMFHMcyHJumuTpr0pA5p-DDUqsCEmsK1qp0OfSV9OTNbQSLlHppiKUdYjyDRlYwyS5h1fxBOuxasND6V2a4AAX8uowv6XsaZZcJKeeOoFGe60N928Y2AaF2_/s1600/1231141147_Burst01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgNIGZFAv6FhnauiCITI2eGfMFHMcyHJumuTpr0pA5p-DDUqsCEmsK1qp0OfSV9OTNbQSLlHppiKUdYjyDRlYwyS5h1fxBOuxasND6V2a4AAX8uowv6XsaZZcJKeeOoFGe60N928Y2AaF2_/s320/1231141147_Burst01.jpg" width="179" /></a>When I had my first baby, I didn't have any confidence as a mother. I was so scared of doing the wrong thing, that I followed everyone's advice, even if it didn't feel like the best thing. I have a lot of regrets about the kind of mother I started out as, but as I gained confidence and fell into a groove, nothing will change how I feel about certain things because I know I am doing what is best for my family and my children.<br />
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Before I experienced breastfeeding to the degree I have now, I actually used to say how weird it was to breastfeed a baby with teeth, or when they can ask for it. I never realized how incredibly hurtful a comment like that might be to a mom who chose extended breastfeeding.<br />
It wasn't until I heard comments like that, for me to realize the power of someone's words. It's never fair to judge unless you have been in that situation.<br />
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Taking the time to listen to another mom's choices instead of judging them goes a long way. You might learn something new, or understand something that maybe you didn't before.<br />
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A judgment happens so quickly. Try to stop it, and replace it with curiosity. We need each other because we are all fighting for the same thing-- the best for our kids!Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-79870960931534793142015-10-18T16:59:00.000-07:002015-10-18T16:59:13.563-07:00Why I Breastfeed In PublicBreastfeeding has become such a hot topic recently and I've been faced with a number of questions and statements from family members, friends, and strangers regarding breastfeeding.<br />
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<i>-How much longer do you plan to nurse?</i><br />
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<i>-So, she doesn't eat real food?</i><br />
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<i>- You do know she is just nursing for comfort at this point?</i><br />
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<i>-I think it's time you stop</i>.<br />
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<i>-Using the bathroom is natural. Why can't I do that in public?</i><br />
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Let me start by saying that as women, we do something so absolutely incredible. Our bodies actually grow a tiny human inside of us. Then, our organs and bones move and shift so we can deliver a baby. If that truly isn't the most amazing thing ever, I don't know what is.<br />
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We do something else pretty awesome too. We produce milk specifically composed of everything our baby needs at different stages of their life based on how long and how often they nurse. So cool!<br />
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When someone tells me it's inappropriate to nurse in public, I'm sort of confused.<br />
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It's not inappropriate when cheerleaders are literally in sparkly underwear cheering on America's favorite sport, not to mention their boobs are practically bouncing out of the itty bitty top they are wearing. Victoria's Secret posters in the mall show more cleavage and nakedness then I show when I'm nursing.<br />
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I saw something on the internet that was comical, but true. Breasts can sell everything from beer to burgers, but a nursing mother is a huge no no.<br />
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So why do I nurse in public without a cover? Well, those cover's are total bullshit. First of all, they are hot. Not just hot for me, but my baby was hot underneath them, and I really couldn't even see her. Second, they are so annoying to maneuver underneath of, and my daughter never nursed well with a cover over her face.<br />
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I have two other kids and am constantly on the go, so when I have a newborn baby who is nursing every 45 minutes to 2 hours, it's almost impossible for me to find an isolated place to sit for half an hour while she nurses, and you can go to hell if you tell me to go into a public restroom. And now that she is older, she nurses so infrequently and so quickly, that by the time you have gotten your panties in a bunch over me breastfeeding, she will be finished.<br />
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Speaking of finding an isolated place to nurse-- because I choose to breastfeed, why should I have to leave the room, or be sent away to do it? Something like that can become incredibly lonely. Especially in the first few months when babies are nursing so often. If I "went somewhere private" every time my daughter needed to nurse, I might as well have never left my house.<br />
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I don't do it to prove a point. And I'm not doing it to flaunt my breasts or activate my right as a woman to nurse in public.<br />
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I nurse in public because it's convenient, and if I'm out to lunch with my husband, and my baby needs to breastfeed, I don't want to have to leave the table and go sit in my car alone for twenty-five minutes while my meal gets cold.<br />
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I do it because I'm not ashamed to do what I feel is natural when my baby is hungry.<br />
And yes, pooping and peeing is natural too. But excreting waste is extremely different that nourishing a baby, not to mention unsanitary if everyone starting taking a dump in public. There is nothing unsanitary about nursing an infant.<br />
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If someone is breastfeeding in public and it makes you uncomfortable, stop looking at them. Because if someone was wearing an outfit that was exposing a lot of cleavage, or their ass was hanging out, would you walk up to them and say, "excuse me, you need to cover up."? Of course you wouldn't. Why? Because it is their right to dress the way they want to. Just like it is my right to nurse where I need to. Not so much want to. <b><i>Need to. </i></b><br />
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If society makes it inconvenient for mother's to breastfeed wherever they need to, they simply won't anymore. I gave up nursing my second daughter after only 4 weeks due to lack of information about nursing- my fault entirely- and also feeling like I had to leave the room, or go in my bedroom every time she wanted to nurse. I remember on one occasion, sitting in my bedroom a week or so after giving birth, nursing my beautiful daughter, and just crying while I breastfed. I could hear my family in the kitchen laughing and making jokes, eating dinner, and I wanted to be out there with them. And I felt so alone.<br />
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It wasn't until I had my third baby that I took action and researched, joined support groups and realized it was okay to nurse wherever I wanted to. And the whole experience was very different for me. I stopped leaving the room, or excusing myself from the table, and I didn't feel like because I was nursing that I had to be isolated. Its a beautiful, normal thing that should not be looked at as inappropriate.<br />
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The length of time I nurse is entirely up to me and my daughter and it's so weird when people ask me how much longer I'm going to do it? It's weird because I really don't know. When I started breastfeeding my now 19 month old, I had hoped to make it to a year. I never imagined we would have made it this long. And I'm proud of it, and I'm happy to do it. I've sacrificed a lot to exclusively breastfeed for this long.( Yes, my daughter eats three meals a day and lots and lots of snacks) I nurse her to sleep every night, and some people have commented on how it must suck, or they can't imagine never being able to go anywhere over night.<br />
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Well, you know what-- That's you, not me. And in the entirety of my life, sacrificing two to three short years of my time to my child really isn't very long. Before I know it, she will be my older son's age, and I will pine to rock her in my arms one more time.<br />
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So yes, in a way, she does nurse for comfort when she is nursing to fall asleep. But lot's of people have a means of comfort or relaxation to help achieve sleep. She falls asleep warm, comfortable, and peacefully. Nothing at all wrong with that. I'm sure with age, her means of comfort will change or the need for it might go away entirely. And no, I don't know when that will be.<br />
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My husband and I go out, and we do things together. We just plan it around her. I usually nurse her to sleep, and then we go out. No big deal really. She sleeps through the night, and I know we have so many wonderful years ahead of us to take vacations alone, or get away for the weekend. We improvise for now, and it's really okay. Do we miss being able to be completely alone for days at a time? Absolutely.<br />
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There will be a time when my daughter will wean from nursing when she is ready.Until then, I will continue to nurse her when she needs it, wherever that happens to be.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-75237664530488494632015-09-11T10:21:00.001-07:002015-09-11T10:21:32.897-07:00Parenting Is Not A Competition<br />
I hate how parenting has become a competition of who works the hardest and who does more of this or more of that. Which type of mom is more tired or has it the toughest. And by type I mean, single moms, stay at home moms, working mom's, mom's with nanny's. . .<br />
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Everyone works really hard, Parenting is hard no matter how you look at it and everyone struggles in different ways. Just remember we are all supposed to be there for one another. It's not a competition.<br />
I've been a single mom, a working mom, and now I'm a stay at home mom, and there was never a time when I said to myself, "hey, things are so much easier <i>this</i> way." Being a single mom was hard. Being a working mom was hard. Staying at home is hard. And when I was working or a single mom and even now being at home, I always thought things were easier another way. Each one has it's perks, and each one also has it's downfalls.<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQFmd9ZaXGDvfxR111XWRAcsQlluao3jDcUyHpefM5Jj7KllUr5UqCwswICCjGbp_cMvpE0WK_jcEk9lM4KAXp-iw23f8FwjKXntNs0BxUScbboO1nhkPbRntPOB1kqM4EgFQVIr4oitM/s1600/IMG_0740.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguQFmd9ZaXGDvfxR111XWRAcsQlluao3jDcUyHpefM5Jj7KllUr5UqCwswICCjGbp_cMvpE0WK_jcEk9lM4KAXp-iw23f8FwjKXntNs0BxUScbboO1nhkPbRntPOB1kqM4EgFQVIr4oitM/s320/IMG_0740.JPG" width="320" /></a>The thing I loved the most about working was being around other adults and feeling like I was accomplishing something as a team. It was a good feeling waking up to an alarm, getting ready for the day, and having a job to do. The downfall: I missed out on things my kids did that day. I didn't see them off to school, or their little faces when they came home. I don't know what they had for lunch, or how they fell asleep for a nap.<br />
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Being a single mom is draining. There is no one there to help you when you've had enough. No spouse or partner to take over while you shower, or nap. The one thing I do miss about being a single mom is the one on one time my son and I had. It was just me and him and we followed our own routine and did what we wanted.<br />
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Staying at home is a blessing. I have the opportunity to see my children every single day, from the moment they wake up, to the moment they go to bed. I hear every story, and see everything they see. I know what they have for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and if they are happy. I'm the one that gets to make it better if they aren't. But staying at home can be lonely and the things I sacrifice, the pieces of myself that get lost alone the way, can be truly difficult to overcome.<br />
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The truth is nothing will ever make this journey we are on any easier. It will be hard forever in different ways. From the moment we decided to become parents, we embarked on a lifelong journey to care for and raise another human being. We worry, all the time about whether or not we are doing it right. Are we making good choices? Will our children grow up to be good, successful, nice, honest people?<br />
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There were times, especially after my third baby was born, that I didn't even know who I was anymore. I couldn't think about anything except how I was going to get through the next hour. My days and nights merged together and I felt alone. Isolated. I wasn't me. I was this feeding machine. An exhausted feeding machine who couldn't even wear her own clothes or find time to apply just a little mascara. You would never have known this from looking at me, nor would I admit that I was drowning in my life.<br />
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My youngest is almost 18 months now and I've started to feel like myself again. I get a full night's sleep. I have a couple hours during the day when she naps to regroup, shower, write . . . and I can breathe. . . most days.<br />
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Looking back on the darker times, I feel proud of myself. I got through something I didn't think I could get through and I wasn't alone. Lot's of mom's go through what I went through and are afraid to admit they are struggling. It's because we judge, we feel we can't seek help for fear of judgment. And whether we work, stay at home, go it alone, breastfeed, don't breastfeed, we all have the same fears and struggles. We probably have the same goals. Be great parents. Love our children.<br />
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Stop comparing and don't judge. We are all doing the best we can. Offer support. A hug goes a really long way. Trust me. Not a stupid side hug. A real, long hug!<br />
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You're not a better mom because you rock your baby to sleep. You're not a bad mom because you have different parenting idea's then the strict mom down the street. <br />
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We are all just trying to survive being in the trenches of parenthood. Give each other a break.Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-19907772626223336842015-09-04T20:30:00.002-07:002015-09-04T20:30:14.982-07:00Dirty Thirty<br />
When I was a kid, I was one of those wild stallion's that thought she had it all figured out when really I was just lost, and pretending like I had it figured out, trying so many different things, hoping something would stick. I was so unsure of myself and always worried what other people thought, almost too much. My family probably remembers hearing me say, "I don't care what people think." I hoped if I said it enough, then maybe one day it would actually be the truth.<br />
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There isn't anything I would necessarily change about my life, because then so many things would not be what they are today, but if I could go back to my younger self, I would tell her she is smart, smarter then she thinks she is. I would let her know that one day she won't have crooked teeth or braces, and that mustache, thanks to her Italian heritage, can be waxed. She won't always be taller then every boy she meets, and the ones that don't pay attention to her wont matter when she is older.<br />
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I would tell her not to be afraid to believe in things and like things, even if she is the only one. I would tell her being a dork is the coolest thing ever, and that one day she will meet someone who loves her for every weird thing she does, every habit, every passion.<br />
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I would tell her not to care too much what people think, because there will always be someone who disagree's with her. Try to keep an open mind, and give people the benefit of the doubt. Everyone deserves a second chance at least once, and some don't deserve them at all. I would tell her to learn who is worthy of her time. I would tell her youth really is wasted on the young, and not to waste her youth. To cherish it, because it will be over before she knows it. She will have plenty of time to be a grown up, and while it seems great, once she is one, all she will want is to be a kid again.<br />
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Now here I am days away from my 30th birthday and I'm definitely smarter, more sensitive then I ever thought possible, a self proclaimed dork, but I don't really have it all figured out. I'm still figuring it out every day, making ton's of mistakes, and I'm really okay with that. If I have it all figured out, then I don't know what I'm living for. After the mistake comes a lesson and a learning opportunity and something about that is just beautiful. No matter what, I am never too old to learn something new. Whether it's kid related, or something just for me, I learn everyday.<br />
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Thirty was always such a scary age for me because it was sort of like my deadline for accomplishing things, meeting goals, and traveling the world. The closer I got to this horrendous age, I realized thirty isn't ninety and my life doesn't stop at any age. Turning thirty really is like turning any other number. It's just a number. A measurement of how long I've been alive.<br />
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What's important isn't so much the number itself, but how I feel, and what I'm doing now, not what I haven't done. There is no cut off because it's never too late.<br />
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One of my favorite movies ever is Vanilla Sky. I cry every time I see it because it has such a powerful message about choices and appreciation and time. My favorite quote comes from that movie.<br />
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<b>"<i>Every passing minute, is another chance to turn it all around." </i></b><br />
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I fell in love with this quote long before I worried about turning thirty, but now that my 20's are coming to an end, this means more to me then it ever did. My spirit is young, and no number is going to change the way I feel.<br />
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I'm going to make Dirty Thirty beautiful again!<br />
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Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-22883182592558858942015-08-25T08:56:00.000-07:002015-08-25T09:00:10.735-07:00What Is A Good Mother?There are thing as a stay at home mom that I often feel are my daily responsibility and if these things don't get done, then I'm not doing my job because staying home and keeping our house in order is my unpaid job.<br />
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Waking up before my kids and showering, getting dressed, making school lunches and greeting them with a smile and a hot breakfast makes me feel like a good mother.<br />
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Keeping the house spotless and and making sure laundry is caught up and bills are paid and our budget is up to date makes me feel like a good mother.<br />
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Playing one on one with each child, coming up with an activity or project makes me feel like a good mother.<br />
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Making some kind of healthy/inspiring dinner every single night and setting the table with napkins and decorative center pieces per the season makes me feel like a good mother.<br />
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Skipping the gym and spending time with everyone makes me feel like a good mother.<br />
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So why don't I feel like a good mother if I drag myself out of bed, and pour myself a cup of coffee before placing a bowl of cereal in front of my kids instead of homemade waffles and maple syrup?<br />
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Why don't I feel like a good mother if we are eating off paper plates and serving them from the stove-top instead of everything in fancy dishes?<br />
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Those question got me thinking about what really makes a good mother and why we feel this need to check off so many things on our to-do list as some kind of proof that we are doing a good job.<br />
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There are so many days when my house isn't spotless, and I'm not awake before anyone, and dinner is something I threw together at the last minute just so I can say we ate as a family.<br />
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What makes me a good mother is taking my youngest for a morning walk instead of standing in front of the sink washing dishes because there will always be dishes. There won't always be morning walks, because unlike dishes, babies grow up.<br />
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What makes me a good mother is serving them chicken nuggets because they freaking love chicken nuggets and dinner time isn't an episode of Chopped and my kids are just happy we are sitting together enjoying their favorite food. Presentation doesn't mean anything because half of it ends up on the floor anyway.<br />
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What makes me a good mother is at the end of a busy day, I lay with each one of my kids before they go to bed. I rub their backs while they talk endlessly about random things and ask me crazy questions. I listen. They love it.<br />
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Kids don't care that you cleaned the dust bunnies under the fridge, or organized and color coded their closet. Your worth as a mother isn't based on how many Pinterest projects you completed that month, or life hacks you applied to your house, or activities you dragged them to.<br />
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I realized my worth as a mother is measured in love and my urge to fight for them when things go wrong. The desire to help them with homework. How my heart swells when I hear them laugh, and the thought that goes into everything I do and plan to do-- even if I don't ever get around to it.<br />
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Being a good mother is not about spending an hour getting dressed and putting on make-up because my kids think I'm beautiful anyway. I'm their mommy, and they don't care if I spend the day in yoga pants, as long as I'm spending the day with them.<br />
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Being a good mother is knowing when I need a break, and taking it. It's okay to leave for an hour or two so I can clear my head and take a breath. No matter how many breaks I say I need, I miss them so much the minute I step out the door every single time.<br />
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Mom's are hardest on themselves because we take so much pride in feeling like we are doing a good job. We don't need a check list, and I know that now. I'm reminded what a great mother I am with every smile, every hug, and every time my children make good decisions. Even when they make bad ones, and act like jerks, I still know I am a good mother because I am right there catching them when they fall, correcting the wrong, and even sometimes watching as they fall because I know they are ready to pick themselves back up. Knowing they will make mistake after mistake for the rest of their lives; being there to guide them through it and loving them so much anyway.<br />
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Now that makes me a damn good mother!<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-76855167832551554712015-08-19T06:26:00.000-07:002015-08-19T07:04:39.701-07:00Dear Working Mama<br />
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Dear Working Mama,</div>
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You are amazing and strong for going back to work. Maybe you wanted to go back to work because you spent a lot of time earning a degree and getting a great job and you don't want all your amazing hard work to be for nothing. Maybe you have to go back because your family needs your income. Whatever the reason, I know it's not easy leaving your baby every morning.<br />
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It's hard getting three kids out the door and lunches made, but you probably have to do the same AND get yourself ready. I'm lucky if I shower every two days and look at you ready for work at 8am! You're awesome!</div>
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I know you sometimes cry after you drop your baby off because you feel guilty. I don't know how you do it and I admire your strength.</div>
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When I'm home nursing my baby I know you have to sit in the break room pumping, wishing you were home, or hoping whoever is watching your baby is mixing the formula correctly and that she will actually take a bottle from someone other than you. Your determination is incredible. </div>
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I know after a long work day you still have to come home and cook dinner, and help with homework.</div>
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After my kids go to bed I can relax, but I know you are probably catching up on work you didn't finish because you were pumping, or calling the daycare, or maybe you were daydreaming about your beautiful baby. </div>
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I know it's annoying when people look at you with judgement and say, " Don't you want to stay home?" </div>
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When I'm having a rough day, secretly wishing I went back to work, I know you wish you could stay at home.</div>
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When I lay my baby down for a nap, I know how badly it hurts you that yours is falling asleep with someone else. The way you stay calm and continue your work day is amazing.<br />
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Sometimes I envy you-- I envy the career you have and wonder how exciting your day is. There is no routine and nap times. There are business lunches and interaction with someone other than a tiny version of yourself.<br />
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But then I realize you might envy me too. I bet you wish you could hang in your pj's all day sipping coffee, spending time with your babies. We can be friends and share pieces of each other's worlds with one another. Because the grass is always greener, right?</div>
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Going back to work doesn't make you a bad mother, it makes you an amazing mother. You deserve more recognition for the tough decisions you are forced to make every single day and I think you rock!</div>
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Love,</div>
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The Stay At Home Mama</div>
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Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-65031226088880894712015-08-17T05:15:00.000-07:002015-08-17T05:15:44.925-07:00Why We Read Shit Like 50 Shades and Secretly Love It<br />
Sex once you have children is either a quickie on the couch before the baby starts crying or locked in the bathroom while one of your toddlers is knocking on the door asking why two people are in there at the same time.<br />
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And on the lucky nights, the nights when there are no children in your bed and everyone is asleep in their own room's by 8pm, it has to be quiet sex. The minute that headboard starts banging into the wall a kid will come bouncing on the bed while you and your husband scramble to get dressed because they heard a "weird sound". And forget about trying to moan with pleasure because guaranteed one kid will think there is a ghost in the house and never leave your room.<br />
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So when books like 50 Shades of Grey come out, no matter how bad the writing is, we read it and love it. Well, honestly, I didn't really read all of it, I skimmed through the fluff and read the shit out of all the intimate parts with a bowl of popcorn in my lap.<br />
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When you're a mom, you do temporarily lose who you are. Things change and you don't live for only yourself anymore. Your relationship with your spouse changes, or maybe you are an incredible single mama who craves stimulation again and the closest thing you get to it is a breast pump.<br />
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And to the haters, yes we know Christian Grey is a fictional character who does not exist and no we don't really (okay maybe a little bit) expect our partners to be that way. Yes we know this is not realistic and no, we do not care.<br />
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It's like knowing vampires don't exist but secretly hoping Edward Cullen will find our blood irresistible and never leave us alone.<br />
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It's exciting and sexy and in the midst of breast milk stains, shitty diapers, and Elmo we need sexy in our lives, even if it's through a book about S&M starring a twenty-seven year old hot billionaire who is actually single and actually falls in love with the plain Jane. Exactly why we love this kind of thing. We feel like we have become the plain Jane's because it's a good day if we aren't still in yoga pants at 4pm.<br />
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It reminds us that one day we will feel sexy again, but until then all we get is 50 Shades of Poop, 50 Shades of Breast milk stains, 50 Shades of coffee stains on my clothes, 50 Shades of questionable substances, 50 Shades of magic marker on my walls . . .<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-58458567499227783362015-08-16T07:36:00.000-07:002015-08-16T07:36:04.695-07:00The Way I Look At Him NowWhen I first met my husband, neither of us were looking for a relationship but there was something about him I couldn't stop thinking about. A week later we went for a walk together, a walk that turned into four hours of talking, laying in the grass looking at stars, and falling in love. There was so much mystery to him then, only knowing as much as one can know about someone they've just met.<br />
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I used to think that once I fell in love that was it. The love I felt for Greg was what it would be forever. I couldn't have been more wrong.<br />
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When I woke up to him sitting beside me for the first time, waiting for me to open my eyes, I fell more in love with him.<br />
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When I got a bad cold and he tried to make me some strange concoction of hot tea and cough medicine that tasted like bitter menthol; I fell more in love with him.<br />
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When he got really sick, like really sick, and I had to take care of him for a week, I realized how badly it would hurt if something ever happened to him.<br />
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When we had our first bad argument, I got to see how he experienced regret, and sorrow.<br />
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When he proposed to me on the same sidewalk where we had ended up the night we took our four hour walk, despite having no money, and no job, I saw determination and nervousness.<br />
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When he lost his grandfather, I saw him mourn and witnessed strength.<br />
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When I heard him tell my son he loved him . . .<br />
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The way he comforted me the night we moved into our first house and I sobbed for hours out of fear and change and wondering how the hell we were going to make our house livable.<br />
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On our wedding day; the way tears filled his eyes the moment he saw me walk down the aisle.<br />
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After our second child was born, I missed him when he worked 75 hours a week so I could stay home.<br />
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When things got tough in our marriage, and we separated, I saw him in pain and I saw him keep going despite that pain. I pushed him away and he never stopped trying. I witnessed a love between the two of us that some only dream of.<br />
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Watching him rock our daughter to sleep . . .<br />
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I experienced how calm he is when everything around us isn't.<br />
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The way he spoke to me with such a gentle and loving tone, despite driving 85 miles an hour and running red lights to the hospital because my water broke at home and I was about to deliver our 3rd child in the front seat of our car.<br />
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After eight years, he still makes my coffee every morning . . .<br />
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There is something beautiful about knowing you love someone so quickly and when you are so young. We have gotten to be apart of so many things in each others lives. We have watched each other learn, and helped each other grow.<br />
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The way I look at him now is different then the way I looked at that hot college guy I wanted to get to know so bad. He is my partner, my best friend, an amazing dad. He drives me crazy and pushes my buttons. He gets me in a way a lot of people don't. We laugh at things other's don't understand because we are the same kind of weird. I love that things don't have to be perfect and he can love me at absolute worst and I can love him during his.<br />
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I love the way I look at him now, and I look forward to how I will look at him seven more years from now.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-56844941656169064192015-08-13T09:08:00.002-07:002015-08-13T09:08:45.263-07:00They Understand<br />
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When you're a mom, your friends are no longer just friends, they are mom friends. I refer to all my friends that have kids now as mom friends and getting together with them over coffee . . . a lot of coffee, helps me feel like I'm not on this journey alone. They get it in a way my husband doesn't and can't because he works to provide so much to our family. </div>
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They understand feeling tired in a way you never thought possible. Getting woken up every single night. Breastfeeding alone in the dark while the rest of your house is quiet minus the heavy breathing of your spouse. </div>
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They get it when you say the feeling you get when you look at your peacefully sleeping husband while your breasts are leaking milk as you attempt to change a diaper in the dark so you don't overstimulate the baby is anything but love. You want to suffocate him! They know you really don't.</div>
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They attend play dates at your house without judgment even though your dinner dishes are still in the sink, and there are breakfast bowls and spilled milk on the table. You answer the door in your pajamas and unwashed hair swept up in a messy ponytail. They get it. </div>
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They bring over bagels and coffee because they know that even though it's ten o'clock, you probably haven't eaten yet.</div>
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You can vent about how your husband is driving you crazy and never picks up his clothes off the floor, ever. And when he does the dishes he never wipes off the fucking counter and always leaves that one big pot in the sink. They know you love him anyway.</div>
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The understand your need to have a mom's night out and happily finish a bottle of wine ( okay, two) with you while you talk about everything but kids. </div>
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They know what it's like to completely give up everything you are to be a mother and to feel so lost sometimes because you are so busy taking care of everyone else. </div>
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When people say that being a mother isn't that hard, your mom friends are right there with you-- dark circles under their eyes and unwashed hair telling those people to fuck off. We have been there for each other through the pregnancies, sleep regressions, breast feeding struggles . . . we've seen it all. They get it. It's hard. Period.</div>
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They know the beauty of kids having an early bedtime and why it's crucial to our sanity because they also know that no matter what time the kids go to bed their wake up time stays the same. </div>
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When you're crying and bitching and complaining and freaking out, they listen not lecture. They know you need to vent and they know you love your family. </div>
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I know that when I'm nursing at 3 am they probably are too and I don't feel so alone.</div>
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I know that when I'm stressed out because my house is a disaster that so is their's and it's okay to not be able to do it all.</div>
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I know that when I'm serving my kids mac and cheese for the second night this week that their kids had some turkey and a slice of cheese for dinner last week and that doesn't make us bad moms. Just busy ones. </div>
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Motherhood is the most amazing, challenging, annoying, difficult, beautiful thing I have ever done and thanks to my mom friends and lot's and lot's of coffee, we got through it.</div>
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Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-14375710244754781232015-08-10T07:46:00.001-07:002015-08-10T07:47:00.959-07:00Top 5 Most Challenging Places to Bring ChildrenMy husband works a lot and I'm often totally on my own with my three kids and we don't have family close enough to baby-sit or take the kids for a weekend. Yes, one of my kids is almost a teenager, but don't let that fool you into thinking it makes it easier. He helps, a lot. More than most twelve year old boys would, but he is often bored out of his mind because of all the little girl things that take place in our house.<br />
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I've compiled a list of the top five hardest places to go with young children in tow and how to arm yourself accordingly.<br />
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<i><b>5. Grocery Store-</b></i> This one isn't too bad, challenging, but do-able. My 17 month old hasn't figured out that she can get down and walk yet and I'm sure once that happens it's a whole new ball game at Wal-Mart. To survive, make a list and map out a route beforehand so when you get to the store you know exactly where you are going and what you need. On too many occasions I've had all three kids with me and they start losing their patience one by one and I get flustered and forget a handful of things only to have to *gulp* return the next day for said items. If all hell breaks loose, but them each a doughnut and haul ass to the check out line.<br />
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<b><i>4. The Vet-</i></b> I recently had to endure this challenge after getting our new puppy, Holly. Yup! All three kids came with me. Make the appointment as early as possible. Everyone is much happier first thing in the morning, especially after a good breakfast. Just like the doctors office, appointments show up late, run long and the later in the afternoon you arrive, the more of a chance you will have to wait forever. Snagging one of the first appointment times ensures you will be seen quickly.<br />
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<i><b>3. Street Fair-</b></i> Our town has one every year called Steppin Out and it's great and there is so much to do. It's also in August, so it's hot and crowded and overwhelming for little ones. Tips are simple. Babywear! I had my youngest, Mavis, in the Ergo. It's tricky trying to keep up with two other kids in the crowd while maneuvering a stroller through hundreds of people. It also made it easy for me to walk in and out of the different booths quickly. Start with the boring stuff, the stuff you want to look at, then work your way to the kid friendly activities. Why? There is no way that after two hours of sand art, face painting, and fun kid stuff that they are then going to want to browse the hand carved wood, or homemade candles.<br />
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<b><i>2. Road trips-</i></b> If you have more than one kid or a child who hates the car then you know how hard this can be. I'll never forget a 7 hour car trip with my oldest when he was around 12 months old and he cried the whole way. My dad and I sang Row Row Row Your Boat three hundred times because for some reason it made him stop crying. If your like me, and freak about safety, then your youngest is probably still rear facing. So much for that DVD system because they can't even see it.<br />
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The truth is, there is no toy or movie that makes long tips easier on little ones. Patience and practice are your best friends. Take a few practice drives beforehand so the real thing isn't a huge shock. Be patient and have realistic expectations. You can't drive five hours straight and know that it's okay to have to stop every two hours and snuggle your kids and let them run around Chic-fil-A for an hour before heading out again. Be prepared to entertain! Exhausting, I know. But towards the end of an eight and a half hour drive my youngest was just done. Ready to be free. Me sitting in the back with her and reading her books, playing peek-a-boo, and holding her hand went a long way. I'd be pissed too if I had to stare at the back of a seat for an entire day. Never underestimate the power of cookies.<br />
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<b><i>1. Your Own Doctor's Appointment-</i></b> Ah- this one is tricky. I've had to do this before and let me tell you, it gets awkward. My oldest is 12 and a boy and there is nothing weirder then him tagging along at my OB appointment. He is at that age where it's kind of, sort of, maybe, maybe not okay for him to be at home alone. I go back and forth constantly. At the doctor's office, he can't exactly be in the room with me. He can sit in the lobby, but then I feel bad that he is out there alone for 30+ minutes while I'm in the room with the two girls. So what do you do? If you can't find someone to go with you or watch them, let the office know you are bringing your kids with you, they are probably used to it. And again, like with the vet, schedule your appointment for the earliest time they have! Bring them back in the room with you, then just have the older one step out while your being examined.<br />
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Mom's are superhero's and we are capable of doing anything. Be brave. Be calm. And even if your kid is going completely nuclear in Target, you're not the first mom this has ever happened to, your child isn't the devil, and it's going to be okay.Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-39415258929511848582015-08-06T06:58:00.001-07:002015-08-06T06:59:53.780-07:00The Bittersweets of Back to School<br />
Back to school is a season of it's own with it's freshly sharpened pencils, and the look of a box of unused crayons. It's a new beginning. Like springtime.<br />
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The requests for school supplies are a little different then when I was a kid. We had one folder and one composition book. The classroom shared a bin of dull nubby crayons with no wrappers on them and we borrowed pencils from one another when our own were too small to write with.<br />
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My daughter's list asks for 20 freakin glue sticks! 20! No way she is going to use 20 glue sticks. And I assume every kid in the class has the same request for supplies, so if there are fifteen kids in her class and each one buys 20 glue sticks, you're telling me as a class they need 300 glue sticks?<br />
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Everything is mechanical now too. Crayons. Colored pencils. Regular pencils. There is no nostalgic smell of a freshly sharpened pencil or the loud grinding of a manual pencil sharpener on the wall with a line of students behind it.<br />
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I wish my kids could experience raw learning. School for what it is. Not get caught up in new backpacks every single year ( in our house they use their backpack until it's falling apart) and new supplies when the ones from last year are just as good.<br />
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I get excited about my two older ones starting school again because let's face it, I'm home with three kids all day, every day, for months. This is fun in the beginning. We get to hang out everyday, do whatever we want and there is no wake-up time or rush to get to bed. We get to visit family and go on vacation, but then something happens. They get bored and we all begin to annoy one another.<br />
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I think I'm so ready to send them off when the time comes, and I watch as my 12 year old flies out of the car, too cool now to cling to me with tear filled eyes; not wanting to go to school.I'm the one with tears in my eyes now.<br />
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My six year old telling me that she will think about me all day long and it makes her feel sad because she misses me, as she slowly gets out of the car and bounces off to her classroom. How did they grow up so fast?<br />
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On the bad days, the days when I haven't showered, and realize at 3pm I haven't even eaten lunch and my older two kids are fighting and the baby wants to be held, I make myself stop. I stop and think about how my heart feels when they aren't with me. I keep holding the baby, because one day she won't want me to hold her anymore and I'll wish I could. I smile at my two older kids arguing about who pinched who first because when they are gone there is silence. If I deeply wanted quiet in my life I wouldn't have became a mother. It's the noise, and the craziness that bring the joy, not the alone time, although this is nice on occasion. And each year of school complete is another year closer to when they leave me for good.<br />
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Sending them back to school is bittersweet. I get a piece of myself back, a moment of silence to breathe and remember who I am. But I also temporarily lose two very special parts of who I am as well and hope that when I send them out into the world and entrust strangers to teach them, that I'm doing a good job, and they will be okay.<br />
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<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7586197863702931745.post-57268164116756313392015-08-05T07:30:00.004-07:002015-08-05T07:30:48.548-07:00Summer Vacation NightmaresSummer Vacation. Freedom. It's a breath of fresh air . . . until you have children. Summer vacation has a whole new meaning to me now.<br />
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In my ultimate fantasy my husband and I head to the beach with a couple of towels and a few drinks while we sleep the day away under the sun listening to the waves crash on the beach. What actually happens is so far from this it's almost comical.<br />
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We spend forty-five minutes applying sunscreen, packing a cooler with drinks and snacks because even though we all just had breakfast, something about arriving at the beach makes every child instantly starving. And God forbid we don't bring a tent, towels, toys, and boogie boards because the beach itself isn't entertaining enough.<br />
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Phew! After our long production we finally make it to the beach and have the joy of unpacking all the crap we have brought with us and dragging it up the boardwalk to the beach while holding my 16 month old, convincing our twelve year old to help carry stuff, while listening to our six year old complain about the two hundred minute (45 second) walk to the beach.<br />
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Once we have found a good spot we then get to set-up everything. Put up the tent so our fair skinned girls don't burn, blow up the pool, because everyone is warning you not get in the ocean. You will get eaten by a shark! And let's not forget that 1 out of 3 children are hungry already, and the baby wants to nurse.<br />
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Now it's been an entire 70 minutes since we first decided to go to the beach and you are thinking it's worth it because the kids will spend the whole day enjoying the beach, right? There is so much to do there, right? Can I laugh in your face now?<br />
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Two hours in-- "I'm hot." "I'm bored, when can we go back?"<br />
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I don't want them to get too much sun because then my in-laws are asking why my kids are sunburned. Then I start worrying about skin cancer and heat stroke . . . Is that a fin in the water?Crap! We pack everything back up and head out.<br />
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Fifteen minutes after we get back to the beach house the, "I'm bordes" begin.<br />
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Vacations with kids really aren't vacations. They are a cruel test of your patience and creativity because you're in an unfamiliar beach house rental with twelve other family members. I then find myself wondering why my husband and I do this to ourselves. Drive 8 hours with three kids to go on vacation when it really feels like anything but that because we are bed sharing with our six year old and room sharing with the baby who wakes up twice a night because she is squished in the pack and play.<br />
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When people ask me how my vacation was, or insinuate that is was probably amazing, I just smile and nod because I'm supposed to be thankful I get to go to the beach for two weeks, right? And I'm not allowed to be irritated or stressed.<br />
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The truth is it wasn't a vacation, it was work.<br />
<br />Ashley Khttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07728299878371661444noreply@blogger.com1