Time

Life with little ones can be hectic.

Mornings are consumed by "do this, do that, let's go" nagging, while rushing around the house like a crazy person to simply get out the door on time.

Sometimes I shout and get frustrated.

Like any stressed mommy does.

 

I try not to rush him or hurry him along. Because I want him to learn in his own way.

We're in that phase where everything is, "I do it!" as mama's patience is tested each and every time.

I'm constantly stopping myself to breathe and let him do it his way...getting himself dressed, making my coffee with the Keurig (his favorite), putting on his jacket, carrying the groceries...taking his time.

It happens more often than not.

I'm late to work. Things are forgotten. Lights don't get turned off. Leftover yogurt doesn't get wiped from his cheeks. He's dropped off at school without shoes on. He's screaming. I'm frazzled. 

We're both exhausted by 8:00 AM. If only we had more time.

Sure, we have better days than others, and there are weekdays where I question how we made it out of the house so smoothly.

But weekends are what we live for.

Time to play outside, make forts, help mommy and daddy with housework, paint and color, build towers out of Tupperware, run and jump, and play in the fall leaves.

It's our time together. 

Time where no rushing is necessary.

Time for play, giggles, adventure, learning, rough-housing and pure joy.

Time to forget the mom guilt and enjoy sleeping in, pancakes for breakfast, hangin' in our PJ's all day long, and sliding into leaves head first.

Because all that matters, is making the most out of the time I have with him.

The kind of time that stops us in our tracks, and makes us realize what life is really about.

We're looking forward to a four-day weekend with family. Happy Thanksgiving friends!

Carson's 2nd {and 1st} Haircut Experience

Carson got his 2nd haircut last week. Which reminded me that I never posted pics from his 1st haircut. What kind of mother am I?

 All photos are from C's first haircut.

Anyways, he was working with the pretty sweet shaggy-fro-mullet look.

Not the best look for a one-year-old. He's got ladies to please my friends.

His hair has definitely reached that stage where he needs it cut at least every 8 weeks. Geez, guys are so high maintenance. :)

Brian didn't get to join me this time around, so it was just me and C headed to the barber shop. And by barber shop, I mean my salon. Barber shop just sounds way cooler. Carson will agree someday.

I wasn't worried at all considering he did relatively well for his 1st haircut. He cried at first, and was unsure of the gadgets, but soon warmed up to it.

Well...his 2nd haircut was not like that. It was definitely the opposite.

I'm talking an all-out wail the entire time we were in the chair. Fifteen, what seemed like forever, minutes.

Carson was sitting on my lap and I tried everything in my power to get this boy to be happy.

Paci? Nope. Keys? Nope. Comb? Nope. iPhone? Nope. Everything I tried just made it worse. And the crying got louder and louder. He did not want Amber, our stylist, to even touch him.

Luckily, he wasn't moving much. Just bawling. He would turn his head away from her, but she could still get in there to take care of that fro.

I received all the stares you can imagine. It was horrific.

All these women there to catch up on their gossip, read about celebrities, and just sit in peace. But nope, Carson had a different plan for these ladies that day.

I was embarrassed. They just stared with that look of "Aren't you going to shut him up?"

I'm sure I was over-analyzing their stares, but it was quite the experience.

I hope the 3rd haircut is better or I'm seeking a kid-focused salon.

Seriously, women need their gossip sessions.

Humpty Hump

Last week, I was feeling recharged.

Six days on a kidless vacation will do that to you.

I was feeling light and airy.

In an stress-free kind of way, not a I'm-feeling-skinny-kind-of-way.

Because I'm pretty sure I gained 10 pounds after vacation and this past weekend.

We had a weekend full of junk food and get togethers. And the Superbowl. And lots of fried food.

But I love fried food. And life is just too dang short to say no to jalapeno poppers.

Last week was awesome. We reunited with our boy after a long, but much needed vacay.

Every moment was cherished. Other than him pooping in the bathtub our first night home.

We missed him. And took every chance to soak up his contagious cheesy smile.

He took a few days to adjust to our once-formed routine.

He hadn't heard the word no in awhile.

And cried when I dropped him off at daycare.

He was touchy for a few days. And pretty needy.

We were just getting back to normal, unaware of this week's hump.

Big Boy had to be picked up from daycare because of a fever.

He was resting on his cot while all the other kids played around him.

He was miserable. He didn't want to eat. He just wanted to snuggle.

Last night he kept us up for three and a half hours.

Fever. Runny nose. Couldn't sleep.

We broke all the rules and pulled him into bed with us.

He was a wiggle monster.

After a trip to the doc, we determined the culprit.

Big Boy's first ear infection.

I'm not feeling recharged this week. It's a distant memory.

Happy Hump Day. Sending wellness vibes to everyone that is sick this week.

Here's a video that brought a smile to my face today. Kids are just too darn cute!

Pressure

I've been feeling a lot of pressure these days.

It's like I'm running through a hailstorm, desperately trying to find somewhere to step inside, but every door I try is locked. So I continue to get nailed. All I have to do is find the one door that will let me inside, and I can't.

It's been occurring for several weeks now. This pressure I speak of.

I have knots in my back, and I've never had back problems before. I'm not sleeping very well. My mind is constantly racing. Ambien hasn't even worked (yes, I resort to drugs when I can't sleep for weeks at a time, don't judge).

Brian has asked, "Are you stressed? Are you having anxiety?"

Yes, we're busy and life is chaotic. But, that isn't slowing down anytime soon. And yes, I'm a planner and tend to be an over-analyzing perfectionist, but not able to handle pressure? No, that's not me.

Ok, I am an over-analyzing perfectionist. Couldn't be closer to it if I tried.

But today, after reading a friend's blog (about pulling the plug on her blog), I had an epiphany. Yes, a bring-you-back-to-high-school-reading-lesson epiphany.

No, I'm not pulling the plug on my blog (sorry friends, you're stuck with me).

I'm simply feeling pressured.

Pressure to blog. 

With pictures in every post, of course.

Pressure to not have to resort to frozen meals for dinner.

Because frozen pizza doesn't win you the mommy of the year award.

Pressure to have a spic and span home.

Because people will judge me if I hire a cleaning lady.

Pressure to get my pre-pregnancy stomach back.

 C'mon, it's been almost a year, what is taking so long?

Pressure to dress my kid cute for school.

 He cannot wear sweat pants everyday, can he?

Pressure to capture the perfect picture of my kid.

Then, post it to Instagram, Facebook and my blog.

Pressure to make his first Halloween memorable.

Because he's totally going to remember it.

Pressure to make a big deal out of every milestone.

And be sure to document them...pictures included.

Pressure to be the one who starts our family traditions.

If I don't, who will? 

Pressure to not feed my kid ice cream before he turns one.

Apparently, it's not ok to feed your kid sweets before one. 

Pressure to plan the perfect 1st Birthday.

Complete with color-coordinated and themed everything.

Pressure to finish C's baby book before said birthday.

I have all these pictures, and no book to show for it? 

Pressure to please everyone else.

And keep a smile on my face.

Pressure to keep up with all the other craftastic, artsy, involved moms.

What is this a competition?

Pressure to not scream and fall apart when I really want to.

For the love, quit your whining Krista.

Now, I know some of these sound extremely silly.

Especially since we have the east coast in shambles after Sandy. Including one of my dear friends who lives in Hoboken and just went six days without power.

But it's seriously a problem for me. I am pressuring myself about things that shouldn't even warrant pressure.

Who cares if we eat a frozen pizza for dinner or Carson's birthday plates don't perfectly match. Why am I causing all this anxiety and worry? Why do I care so much?

I come from a family with worry genes. I worry too much, and feel off kilter if one little thing isn't perfect. It's not ideal, nor who I want to be, I wish I could let go and not care...but it's the way I am.

I don't know...

how an anal, detail-oriented, obsessive planner (I have no idea who that might be) will learn to come to terms with not making everything perfect.

But I do know...

that something needs to change. I need to relax. Let things fall into place. Redirect my energy and focus on things that really matter. Don't sweat the small stuff.

I'm not the perfect blogger. I'm not the perfect wife. And I'm definitely not the perfect mother. But I do the best I can.

Lucky for me, I married one of the good ones. He's patient and laid back, and continually tries his damnedest to get me to relax. And puts up with my moodiness and antics when PMSing goes into overtime.

And that sweet, precious kid of mine? He doesn't give a damn about what he wears to school, how many pictures his baby book will contain, or if his birthday cake will be homemade or store bought.

If you're feeling pressured, mom or not, join me and just let go. Even if it's just for a day.

I must say, writing this really did help. Thank you for listening. Now go vote.

Learning to Sleep

We have Carson's 9-month appointment tomorrow. I'm anxious to see how my boy has grown, ask some feeding questions, and leave the office without getting shots. Yep, at 9-months, no shots. Wahoo!

However, I can hear it now, standard questions I assume most doctors ask,  "Is he sleeping in a crib? Are you co-sleeping?"

One month ago, my answers to these questions would have been yes, he's in his crib and sleeps all night long (most of the time). Done and Done.

But nope, that hasn't been the case lately. I swear he's teething. I blame everything on teething. Fussy? Teething. Not sleeping? Teething. Slight fever? Teething. Loose stools? Teething. Not eating? Teething.

Teething causes lots of things to go awry. Brian says I've been blaming teething for 6 months. Maybe, just maybe, I am just trying to point fingers and pinpoint reasons for his lack of routine. Stupid teething.

I don't know what the deal is, but his sleeping has altered. He wakes up a lot throughout the night. And now  that he is upright, he just stands at the crib rails and wails.When he was sick, he did the same thing and would only sleep while being held. So what did we do? Held him, all night long.

It got better though. He went back to being a sleeping angel. But now I feel like we are taking steps backward. Great nights of sleep are spotty and extremely inconsistent.

We've tried rocking him back to sleep, but he wakes right back up once you set him down in the crib. About every hour. Well, I'm not going to do that back and forth all night long. No thank you.

So, we resorted to co-sleeping. Gasp! I know, it's a no-no in mommy world.

But, Moms and Dads need sleep too, and sometimes, you have to do what's best for your sanity. It hasn't been a ton of nights, but more nights than we would prefer.

So last night, both Brian and I decided we were going to put a stop to this before it becomes a habit. We made a pact at dinner that we were both going to stay strong and let him "cry it out."

I felt good about it.

We have some experience with "crying it out," but only for when he first falls asleep for the night. The middle of the night...when sleep is abruptly interrupted is a whole different ball game. I tend to do whatever I can just to get sleep. Hence, Carson has us trained to pull him into bed with us.

First of all, listening to your baby cry is just heart wrenching. Not running to comfort them is one of the hardest things I've ever done. It sounds silly...until you experience it.

I sat there with two doors between us and just listened. Even a pillow over my head didn't help. I had to find the willpower to not run in there and pick him up. And kiss him. And tell him I love him.

"This is good for him Krista," was on repeat.

He woke up every hour for about 10 minutes starting at 10:30 and finally stopped at 3:30, when he gave us a good stretch with no crying. The few times we allowed ourselves to check on him, he appeared to be in a very uncomfortable position or slammed up against the rails. It was obvious he was falling asleep while standing and wailing or trying to get there.

It was a tough night, but he hasn't made a peep yet tonight. Keeping my fingers crossed that tonight goes better. And if it doesn't? We'll keep trying. And learning.

See, that's the funny thing about parenthood. They are learning just as much as we are.

Mixed Emotions

I had my first normal meal today for the first time in four days.

We've had a lot of sickness running through our household lately, and well...a stomach bug just ransacked its way through all three of us this past weekend. With Brian and I getting the brunt of it.

It all started last Tuesday when we found our sweet angel covered in vomit around midnight.

I just stood there for a few seconds, looking at my baby covered. Preparing myself to clean up the mess, but mostly trying to calm my racing worrisome mommy thoughts.

And then he gave us the biggest smile you've ever seen, just as happy as can be, to be lying there in soiled sheets. So I picked up my baby covered in vomit and cuddled him. Because that's what mommies do.

He then received his second bath for the night and we did a load of laundry.

I then hurried to the iPad to research baby vomiting. It was a first for us, so I immediately went into mommy freak-out mode. He seemed very normal, and it only happened once, so we chocked it up to a new food upsetting his stomach.

And then Thursday came around and he didn't eat much at daycare...
And then Brian threw up all night...
And then I threw up all day the next day...
And then Carson got diarrhea...
And now we are recovering.

We just can't seem to stay sick-free. We found out yesterday that a "stomach bug" has been going around daycare. Several babies and teachers out with flu-like symptoms. I keep telling myself that C is just building an insanely strong immune system with superhero powers that will help him one day when he goes to kindergarten. Sigh.

Thanks to the stomach bug, my milk supply has dwindled and I'm having mixed emotions about putting Operation Wean in place.

When I first shared with you my breastfeeding experience, my goal was six months. I've made that goal. I've stuck it out longer than I hoped for. I should be happy, right?

But no, I for some reason am finding it hard to let go. I, of all people, never thought I would be this way.

It's a bit out of character for me really. I tend to seek the easy way in most things.

And breastfeeding is definitely not that at times. It's hard work and takes patience, motivation and diligence.

I don't know why it's such a hard decision for me. I actually only nurse him once a day (in the mornings), and the rest of the time I pump. So, it's not the bond that I'm struggling with solely.

I guess I'll feel like I didn't go as long as I could have? The feeling of quitting when I didn't have to.

Whatever I decide, I need to tell myself that I did good. And that I was successful for longer than I expected.

Carson will still be the same sweet, healthy baby, and we'll still have the same bond.

Capturing the Changes

Life is busy.

The crazy, pull-your-hair-out kind of busy.

And I'm revisiting my single mom days this weekend because the husband will be out of town. Not for work. For play.

Twenty five guys at the lake of the Ozarks for a bachelor party. Over Father's Day.

Good thing he packed Pedialyte. Seriously, he really did. I'll let you know how it works for him. He's going to need it if it's anything like his recent 30th birthday party.

I wasn't aware just how far behind I actually was on blogging until I downloaded pics from my camera for the first time in a few weeks.

Geez, I take a lot of photos.

How can I not? When I have this little booger as my model?

Me, always pulling out the camera not to miss one single moment of my changing boy. Snap, Snap, Snap.

And times that by a hundred for each sitting. Seriously, I'm a crazy person. What is a mom to do with thousands and thousands of photos?

As I sift through these thousands of photos I capture, I wonder how a mom can take so many pictures of her child just sitting there. I try to delete them, but can only manage a handful.

I hesitate, and stop, and question...whether I really want to press down my index finger making the photo disappear forever. Our memories vanished.

It's quite the dilemma for me I tell ya.

I know every mom says this, but I can't believe how fast he is growing up.

It feels like just yesterday he was wearing this outfit. One of my faves.

He couldn't sit up. He wouldn't turn in the direction of sound. He wasn't eating real food. He wasn't pooping real poops.

He wasn't yet antagonizing Jake.

 

He wasn't going outside as much because his mama was worried about his precious skin.

He wasn't yet big enough to be pushed in a swing. And he definitely wasn't gnawing on a dirty rubber swing.

And he most certainly wasn't doing this:

Where has my little boy gone? I swear, trouble is approaching.

He'll be crawling soon. And walking. And talking. And one day, he'll be telling me he hates my guts and that I'm the worst mom ever.

We haven't even started baby proofing the house. Oh dear.

There are so many things I look forward to. Milestones and experiences I know I will pack away in my head forever.

There will be vacations and sports, homework and school field days, visits from the tooth fairy and birthday parties. Christmas mornings, oh I can't wait.  

And mud, boy will there by mud! And probably even broken bones.

I know those days will be super fun. Of course they will be.

But, for now, can life please just stop?

I want to enjoy it. And wrap myself in it. So I can savor every precious moment with my changing boy.

Solids Are In

I like stripes, I really do, but solids are the choice this week.

I'm talking about solid food my peeps.

Big Boy is quite the little eater. He loves his sweet potatoes.

Oh you liked the sweet potatoes? How about some more? How about three times a day for five days straight?

Mmm kay Mom.

Daddy* tried them too.

When you start solids, you follow the 5-day rule to monitor any reactions they might have. So, Carson will get sweet potatoes for breakfast, lunch and dinner for the next 5 days.

Then, we'll move to peas. Maybe green beans. I haven't decided yet.

Carson can now relate to big brother Jake. Eating the same meal over and over and over.

This great site follows the 4-day rule and provides a ton of great 'make-your-own-baby-food' recipes for all stages of solids.

Yep folks, I will win the mommy of the year award for making my own baby food.

Just kidding. It's really super easy and I only plan to do veggies, fruits and a few combos of the two.

Making my own baby food was something I never thought I would do. I also didn't think I would successfully breastfeed for 6+ months either (I'm too impatient), but I'm still going strong.

Well, after hearing how easy it is to make your own baby food, it's a no brainer.

Thanks to a great suggestion from my extremely talented pediatrician friend, these trays are working out great.

So Easy...for real.

Cook, puree, distribute, freeze, pop out, store and repeat.

That way we will have lots of sweet potatoes on hand and ready to go for Big Boy.

I heard starting solids would be an adventure. Not to mention the mind blowing, rank-ass poopy diapers they cause.

Not gonna lie, the poops are thicker and way too similar to ours. Yesterday, I got to experience what I call a 'sweet potato patty poop cake'.

Just use your imagine. I'm sure next week we'll experience green poop cakes.

Ok, I'm done talking about poop today, promise.

Off to make and freeze some baby food. Bye Bye!

*Don't you just love the husband's cutoff? We keep it classy around here.

Think Before You Speak

So, I'm driving Carson to school this morning when I hear disturbing noises coming from the little man's direction.

I think to myself, "Crap, I think he just shat himself. Hmmm...maybe it was just farts."  

Then, I realize that it has been two days since the little booger pooped.

"Well, I'm in for a treat when we arrive at school."

Because I don't want to be that mom that drops off her kid with the "Here's my kid, gotta run, oh and he just pooped." I would feel terrible.

I'm still about seven minutes away (there is three school zones to pass through people!) when more exploding air and squirting noises fill my ears. I wrinkle my nose as I start to contemplate.

You know, like a mother contemplates what to do when her son poops.

"Oh man, two whole days of poop."

"What if it's all over his car seat?"

"Should I pull over?"

"Dammit, I really like that onesie."

Like any rational mother in crisis would do, I call the husband.

I wasn't looking for real answers, I mean really, what was he going to do for me? I just wanted him to know this is the kind of shit I have to deal with in the mornings.

Literally.

He just laughs at me.

So we arrive at school. I was right. Shit everywhere.

Front, back, sides, you name it. He was covered.

Thank goodness for really kind teachers because I have never had to deal with shat like this.

I'll leave the clean up details to myself and continue on with this story.

All you need to know is that his onesie and pants were so nasty that I decided to take them to work with me and wash them there (we have washer/dryer in our fitness center).

I arrive at work and tell my pod buddies my lovely morning experience. I go start my laundry.

At 3:00, I remember I forgot to switch the clothes to the dryer and head down to the fitness center.

When I arrive back at my desk, I announce, "The poop came out like a dream!"

Awkward silence...

...until they realized I was referring to Carson's poop from my morning story.

 Heading out for a stroller ride at school.

I'm glad you're happy buddy. Hope you feel relieved:).

Modified Me

I  used to be fun.

And had a lot of time to do really fun things.

Like double fist at happy hours.

Play silly drinking games on NYE.

Wear ridiculous wigs and make up for Halloween. If you couldn't guess, we are Kat Von D and Jesse James.

Or how about this wig from 2009? Kate Gosselin.

I once found a Taylor Lautner look-a-like on the lake.

Would take Jake Swimming.

And to the dog park to capture a ton of great photos of my fur baby.

 Headed south to the ranch to shoot guns in trendy sandals.

 And captured meaningless photos of my hubs killing bees.

 We used to play Guesstures.

Where Brian drew the card "turban." What is it with me and turbans?

I used to partake in dance parties.

Take inappropriate pictures in Vegas while drinking a yard marg.

This one time, we took Jake sledding.

And played beer pong on the water.

It's funny how most of these involve drinking. Sorry for partyin' y'all.

Now I'm that girl that has three beers and wakes up with a hangover.

Who am I these days?

I guess a modified version of the old me.

My time may now be consumed by mommy duties, poop, spit up, and talking about nipples and rectal temperature taking, but I couldn't be more blessed.

I have a ton of great memories from before I became a mom, and now I get to create new ones with this little stinker.

Thanks for modifying me my sweet baby.

I am one lucky girl.

Happy Friday Everyone!