HE

**A year ago this week, we found out that Max was Max (and not Hannah Banana).  He was a he.  It has been so fun to reminisce about the excitement of that news, while hanging out with our little dude.  I knew I had written about the ultrasound but just realized I never published it.  So here is a little blast from the past!!**

December 18, 2012
In just a few seconds, you went from "it" to "he".

It had been a hectic morning...I left work to come home and pick up your dad, who was trying to pull off a million things at once, like usual! (shirt in the dryer for a last-minute meeting...loading the car with random goods to move to our new house later that day...) The poker chip case got knocked over and spilled all over the kitchen, so putting the chips back in order kept me from nagging at him like, "MIKE, lets GO!!" He kept racing around the house and I was on the floor collecting chips while watching the clock.

We sped down the road, knowing that our appointment would be cancelled if we were 15 minutes late, and we would have to wait even LONGER to find out if you were a he, or a she?! Not an option!! As we were driving, your dad looked at me and said, "Its a girl, you know. That's why I made more pink pretzel sticks than blue pretzel sticks." I laughed and said, "Well you know what you just did, you just made him a boy!"

Once inside the ultrasound room, the fun began right away. Images of you moving and bouncing displayed on a large screen, and because our tech knew we wanted to know your gender, it only took her about 5 seconds to exclaim, "This is a little boy!" I was expecting it to be revealed later, after we settled in and checked out other things first. I was so shocked, SO shocked!!! All I could do was laugh and look at your dad.

Instantly, you went from "it" to "he" and it was so natural! "Is that his arm?? Look at his spine!" All of the sudden, you became that much more real to us. All I could think was how excited the men in our families would be. Finally, a BOY! Our tech had a hard time getting certain measurements because you were so wiggly and active, but she did say you had very long arms.  Like a monkey. Seeing you so alive and well and hearing your strong heartbeat made my heart flood with love for you. I couldn't wait to snuggle you and hold your little hand.

When I was younger, I always thought I would want my first born to be a boy. Then, as Brittany started to have her little girls, my mind switched and I thought, I wouldn't even know what to do with a little boy!! But now you are here, you are decided, and I know that we were meant to be your parents. We are so lucky to have you, our little monkey boy!

This picture makes me want to have 45 children.

Dudes napping.

Oh, THIS head??

Well, that sucked

Today, Maxwell started crawling.

And I was at work.

<insert crying cat emoji>

Mike called me to tell me the news, and then offered to FaceTime.  (Thanks, Steve Jobs.)  While he was re-calling me to set up FaceTime, I had to pep talk myself: Don't cry...don't cry...don't cry...

Some people were off serving our country when their baby started crawling!!!
Some people were off fetching clean water for survival when their baby started crawling!!!

But why should I use other peoples' situations to make myself feel better?  That shouldn't make me feel better.

Adult Ashley says - Hey! Snap out of it!  Are you going to spend your entire life being sad or are you going to get over it and just live?

I'm not sure.

Yes to...cyber feuds?!

I think I need to have my internet privileges revoked. 

Lately, I have been ultra annoyed at people who are so willing to troll the internet and leave nasty comments here and there.  No matter what the topic, there is always some basement dweller (I assume) who has nothing better to do than snarl at someone’s attempt to put good into the world.  These trolls are not able to see any good.  They can only find bad and highlight the crap out of it.

So, today, I found myself emerging from the shadows of “anonymous reader” and becoming a “commenter”.  I set out to defend the honor of Yes to Carrots, an amazing beauty product company who was graciously offering $2 products for Cyber Monday.  Their website couldn’t handle all the traffic and no one was able to place an order.  Well shoot, you would have thought Yes to Carrots had sent out a bulletin announcing that they were going to eat your dog for dinner unless you were able to access their website.  Ridiculous comments ensued with pathetic sob stories of how much this was ruining their day.  It was all so absurd!!

I had had enough.  I posted a carefully constructed comment in which I was cautious to not be nitpicky or rude, but to just say, Hey guys we are pretty lucky that online shopping issues are our #1 problem today, let’s give them a break, fa la la la la, la la, la la.  My comment was pretty well received, except for one homegirl who commented back about how annoyed she was about the situation, and how website issues are completely avoidable. 

Then, I joined the troll club.  I shot back at the “annoyed” woman that it was ridiculous to be annoyed by this situation and I hoped she held herself to the same unrealistic standards in her line of work.  My effort to be so P.C. in my first post had gone out the window and now I was involved in a cyber feud.  I clicked POST and I was shaking. 

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME???

I realize now that I must pause to re-evaluate.  How can I use the internet like a mature adult to conduct the business that I need to conduct, read the news I need to read, find the entertainment content I need to give my brain a rest, all while avoiding the CRAP!?

I need to set some limits.  I need to stop reading comments, in search of trolls to be annoyed at.  There is crap out there to be found, and I need to stop trying to find it.  Because my measly attempts to play cyber defense will never be enough to stop the trolls. 

PS: I also learned that my Facebook settings are set in such a way that my internet feud was being published in many friends' news feeds.  Do you ever get a text that makes your face hot as you read it?  Yeah that was me today. "Hey what is going on with you and this Yes to Carrots deal?"  Errrrr.......  Quick!  Someone transport me to the Land Before Internet!

PPS: I got my Yes to Carrots products for $2 each.  What a steal!

Early morning realizations

Maxer knows when it's the weekend and we don't have any morning plans because that's when he wakes up multiple times in the night. Usually I wake up to his cries so panicked, so once I sleep-run into his room and realize he isn't being kidnapped or attacked by a pack of dingos, I am more relieved than annoyed at being up. This works out pretty well.

I had a basic realization of a new option tonight. I used to think it was either nurse until he sleeps or lay him down crying. Turns out there is an in-between step: rocking! What a sweet sweet option. I guess he just hasn't allowed it until now, but he didn't want to nurse anymore so he let me rock him to sleep. Simply precious.

So obviously this leads to an emo moment. When do babies stop being so innocent and precious that it hurts? When do you stop being in awe of their existence? I am fresh off watching a video of newborn twins clinging to each other as though they are still in the womb and it was seriously so innocently precious that it hurt my heart. This makes me wonder about when that hurt stops? When do we forget that innocence? Tonight I am hopeful that maybe it never stops?!

I used to see couples out to dinner sitting in complete silence and I would think, oh man that is gonna suck when I run out of things to say to my husband. Later I realized, that doesn't have to happen...it's more based on personality than just something that inevitably happens.

I am encouraged that maybe I will never stop being in awe of max and his existence, or at least it's not inevitable. Sure, there will be days when he is farting all over the house and bringing lizards into the kitchen and talking back to me, but I hope that doesn't make me forget how precious his life is. And even though he barfed all over me last night, he is still my miracle and my joy. 

That kid! He always gets me!!!

Holiday red

Last night, I painted my nails for the first time since our new roommate Maxwell arrived.  This is a big milestone, you see, as I used to paint my nails every week.  In middle school, I painted them EVERY NIGHT to match tomorrow's outfit.  I remember one night I planned to paint my nails an obnoxious orange, then use a toothpick to paint multi-colored flowers on each nail....but as I was trying to get the bottle open in the kitchen, I dropped it and it shattered all over the wood floor, leaving a hideous stain.  After I realized the stain was permanent, I remember running up to my room and dropping to my knees in terror, feeling like I had just committed murder.  I went to bed with a knot in my stomach the size of Alaska.  I wish I was being dramatic about my emotions, but this is real.  I don't know why.

Anyway, back to last night.  Earlier in the night when searching for a moisturizer, I had come across a "holiday red" nail polish that my grandma had given me, and knowing that I would be decorating a Christmas tree this weekend (yes!!!) I just knew I had to polish 'em up.  After Max was a'snoozin, all cute and snuggly in his fleecy jams, I took all the necessary steps to have a successful paint job.  Brushed my teeth...lotioned my feet...took my hair out of my hair tie...pulled sheets back so I could slip into bed...blew my nose (very important)...peed...then finally, all that was left to do was paint my nails and slip into bed.

When I first saw the color on my nails, I thought to myself...I look like Cruella DeVille!!!!  What am I doing? I can't wear this!  Mike is going to hate this!!!

See what happens when you take a 8 month hiatus from one of your most treasured hobbies?

After slopping on a top coat, I tried my best to crawl into bed and fall asleep with my hands folded neatly above the covers.  I woke up numerous times during the night to feel my nails for "bubbles".  Friends, I am pleased to announce I woke up this morning with no bubbles.

And now, I get to sip on my coffee and type at my desk while flashing my holiday red nails.  And the very best part is that this afternoon, Mike and I will decorate our Christmas tree with my holiday red nails.

In other news, I am a freak.  Let me explain.  Two nights ago I had a dream involving 2 on-air personalities from our media partner station.  I casually interact with these 2 gals every once in a while, but by no means does that qualify me to dream about them.  In the dream, we were in an old house and one was telling me about the tank tops she likes best and the other was trying to wear a swimsuit to deliver the news.  Anywayyyyy, then I woke up.  Went to work, and attended a workshop at said media partner station.  And just what 2 on-air personalities stopped by this workshop to give a quick presentation?  The same 2 I had just dreamt about.  I mean...what am I, a psychic??

Well, off to work - my last day of work before a week of vacation!  Woo woo!  I am most looking forward to getting Max out of his crib every morning.  Eeeeeee I am so happy!

The only way to get Charlee to sit still is to "swaddle" her.  Love these two kiddos!!

Holiday red and lime green.  My fave!

Max's impromptu nap on the bathroom floor. Zzzzzzz...

Pumping problems

While I'm at work, I get the pleasure of pumping every 3 hours. I try to think of this time as "me" time, where I can read books and magazines, catch up on social media nonsense, and maybe someday, I'll figure out how to get in a quick cat nap. 

My office has a locker room type bathroom on the first floor, so it's not all that bad. There is a chair and a shower and, oh yes, did I mention this is where every gal in the office comes to poop? Yup. So far I have been pretty lucky and have somehow managed to avoid having to pump in someone else's recent stink. 

Not today.

As I was about to go into the bathroom, the door swings open and out comes one of my co-workers. She was obviously startled because she knew that I was about to go in there and bust her bomb. So she says, "yeah....you might want to give it a minute."

Come ON!!!

So I am making a mental note right this instant, to make sure I tell maxwell of the times that I sat in other peoples stink to hook myself up to a machine for 30 minutes, all to provide him with nature's milkshake. 

You are welcome, my sweet boy.

(He's going to thank me someday, right??)

Food for thought

Working in a non-profit that is dedicated to health has inadvertently caused me to be more thoughtful about my lifestyle. Does this mean I have taken up hiking and triathlons? Heck to-the no! But what it does mean is that I'm more prone to prepare healthy lunches instead of road rage to Taco Bell every day. This means enjoying the 3 flights of stairs up to my office (it could also be my fear of the crickety elevator that makes me take the stairs, but lets pretend like its my healthy ambitions). Lately, this has also helped me to frame my thinking about what kind of eater I'd like to raise Maxwell as.

While I was on maternity leave, I started thinking about how people get fit after having babies. I started following a lot of clean eating blogs/Instagram. I was really surprised at the creative meals that these women were preparing, and it wasn't plain 'ol chicken and veggies either. I let this inspiration lead me away from King Soopers and to the aisles of Sprouts, where I felt like there were less "Easy Mac" opportunities, and more fresh produce and proteins purchases. I started to really think about ingredients: what's necessary and what's added in as a gross bonus? Why does peanut butter have 30 ingredients? Shouldn't it just have one - you know, PEANUTS?? So, one day I made my own almond butter. Turns out, glory hallelujah, ITS JUST ALMONDS. My head started spinning. What if Maxwell never knew the Jiffy peanut butter world? What if he only knew a world of homemade almond butter?

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

I was raised with a grandma who loves to cook, loves to eat, loves to make us eat, loves to reward us with food, etc. It's all fun and games until you realize that your attitude towards food is extremely unhealthy, and it's even scarier when you think about the threat of passing those attitudes on to your children. I don't want Maxwell to struggle with his weight. I don't want him to be motivated by a Schwann's Man golden nugget bar. I want him to love fruits and veggies. I want him to recognize that good, pure food makes you feel like an Olympian; bad, "enhanced" food gives you a food hangover.

I'll always remember the guilt and humiliation I felt as my parents returned from a weekend away and our babysitter told my parents what a "good eater" I had been, even finishing my sister's burrito. I felt like a monstrous garbage disposal.  I never want Max to feel that way. Ever. (To be fair, said burrito was like a homemade chimichanga and it was DELICIOUS.  See?? I am a freak. This happened at least 15 years ago and I can still recall the flavor.)

So while I may be a lost cause, who will always feed a bad day with ice cream and get wayyyy to excited when I think about eating Mexican food, maybe I can attempt to break the cycle.  Maxwell will be starting solid foods next month. Jigga whaaaaa, you say? Yes, it's true. My little buddy is growing like a weed. What if I raise him to appreciate good, well-prepared, and simple food, and to not crave the crap that I grew up loving?  What if he and I started a garden next summer and we bonded over harvesting cherry tomatoes? (Assuming that my hypothetical cherry tomato plants will actually produce real vegetables.)

I would just love it.

PS: This video makes me feel so proud of these kids.  Way to break the stereotype that all high school kids are texting, bullying, life-hating, up-to-no-good, perps.  Gives me chills to see all the different clubs, having spirit and loving life! (almost like Todd Helton chills)

Dream report (warning: violent content)

Last night I dreamt that I was going to take Max to a Rockies game but I needed to buy something warm for us to wear.  So I rode a series of elevators up from a parking garage to get to a store...meanwhile I'm also trying to coordinate picking up a new TV for my mom in Greeley, so she ends up buying my Rockies game gear.  Then all of the sudden, my friend Erinbear and her mom are trying to fly into Denver from Boston but their flight is cancelled because of an attempted terrorist attack.  Later, we watch a small plane nosedive crash and explode into flames.  A shooting happens on the street and we retreat to our apartment in a highrise.  We hear a knock on the door and it's this suspicious little kid who is trying to hide from all the violence.  I make him a bed on our couch and keep my eye on him.

Dreams like this make me welcome my alarm.

As I ponder where these violent dreams are coming from, I think I know...Mike made me watch a video of his brother's hunting company, where they shoot an elk.  This has happened before and normally he tells me when to stop watching, aka right before the murder takes place, but this time I watched the whole thing.  I've never seen such a site.  The noises associated with this type of thing are not pleasing to me.  Based on the narrative I provided and the comments I made, I can guess I won't be invited on any Atkinson hunting excursions in the near future.  

Everything you ever wanted to know about flu shots and my meals

I got my flu shot this week.  I had to pep talk myself that if Max can get 3 shots in one day, I can get one measly flu shot.  Even after all the pokes and prods of having a baby, I still get scared to get a flu shot.  And as soon as they stick me, I'm like, hey now that wasn't so bad!!  But within a day I forget that it really doesn't hurt and I go back to being a weenie.  I mean come on...I had a freaking epidural, for goodness sakes...a little prick in the arm should be nothing!  But there I am, shaky and feeling weird after the 1 second flu shot.  The nurse was ready to give me the shot while I was standing up.  Something about that felt unsteady and weird.  Mostly I was scared that if I remained standing, I would be more inclined to jump away from her.  So I asked if I could sit.  Then the nurse told me I didn't need a band aid, but I insisted.  There is just something about the pressure of a band aid that makes it feel better.  On the way back to my office, my arm stung and I felt weak.  A quick investigation revealed that it was the band aid pulling on my arm hair that hurt, not the injection site.  Phew.

This weekend, a grand reunion/introduction is taking place!  My college gal pals are getting together for Homecoming, and while this is something we often do, this year will be especially adorable as there are lots of new babies that joined the world this year.  It was quite the baby boom with our little clique: March-Jonas; April-Emerson; May-Maxwell; June-Sophie; July-Jackson; November-TBA.  The TBA baby will be honored with a little baby shower while we're all together too.  Weekends like this make me wish that my best pals lived closer together.  Some of my very best friends live much too far away.

In honor of Crocktober, I performed my very first crockpot meal yesterday.  I have known that crockpots are sweet for a while now, but I never really did anything about it.  But finally...yesterday, at 6:30am, I threw some frozen chicken, salsa, taco seasoning and water into a crockpot.  Then, when we finally got home last night at 7:30, we feasted on delicious chicken tacos.  Mike should get the majority of the credit though, as he shredded the chicken (the worst part, I think) made a delicious chopped spinach/avocado/tomato salad, AND went above and beyond the call of duty by grilling the tortillas to add a little crispiness.  If we had tacos every night, I don't think either of us would be sad.  However, most week nights I do my own thing because he is working, which results in me making one weird meal in bulk on Sundays and eating the same thing every night - this way, when I get home and I am FAMISHED like usual, I don't have to choose between making dinner and loving on Maxer. The last couple of weeks has been Meat Cakes - meatloaf baked in a muffin tin.  I like to "ice" the meat cakes with some mashed cauliflower - I find that since it looks cute or comical, it helps me to forget I am eating meat wads and fake mashed potatoes.

Whenever I am in meal prep mode on Sundays, Mike offers me the challenge to make something that looks so good that he can't resist eating.  So far, I haven't been successful in that.  I would say that's both a good and a bad thing.  I haven't quite reached the balance of healthy AND appealing to many.  I'm not so sure I'll ever get there...my staple meal used to be a baked potato with ketchup (special occasions called for baked potato with black beans and avocado).  I mean come on...how is that not delicious!  But when I revealed that meal to Mike when we first started dating, he was horrified.

As I blab on and on in this post, I realize that this is not fulfilling my blog's goal of helping me to remember the special moments of my life.  Try again tomorrow, I suppose!

Helicopter mom

I'll be the first to admit that I am an extreme worrier.  Duh.  I worry about everything.  I worry that the second I stop worrying, the worst will happen.  So, I continue to worry.  It's my way of forecasting the horrible things that can happen, so that I will never be caught off guard.

But what started as a funny phrase now offends me.  "Helicopter Mom".  Oh I'm sorry, did you mean that I care for my child's safety and well-being?  Because that, I'm fine with.  What I'm not fine with, is the visual of me fluttering around Max like a psychotic butterfly, and being so up in his bizness that I don't allow him to flourish.

What offends me the most is this:  All my life I have wanted to be a mom.  Throughout my life as I realized things that I am not good at, I always had in the back of my mind, the idea that I would be a mom and I would be a good one.  So, if my worrying keeps me from being a good Mom, then what the $@%# am I good at???  Piano lessons didn't pan out...  Sports, nope... Science/Math/school in general, that's not on the list of skills.  So come on, life, please.  Can I just have this one thing:  Mothering.

I want to be cool, calm and collected.  I want to always be one step ahead and be prepared for everything, but have it all appear seamless.  Is this possible?  All of that takes effort, but if the effort is so apparent, then does that still count?  Am I trying too hard?

I haven't had a pity party in a while, so I guess I am due.  Table for one please.

PS. To add insult to my injury, I attempted to put on this pink lip stain so that I would stop biting my lips.  It backfired in the worst way possible.  Now my lips are: raw from trying to rub off the stain; still stained; clown-like.  Can I go home yet?

Week in Thoughts

Target has scary produce.  This week, they had the largest, creepiest apples I have ever seen.  (exhibit A).  I can't even imagine eating that.  I would feel like I was eating a prop from Honey I Shrunk the Kids.

Exhibit A

In other news, our health insurance is going up $111 per month next year.  Which is fine...I work for a non-profit and Mike is self-employed, so we will probably just pay for it from our treasure chest that is filled with gold coins and diamonds.  This is just an added incentive to reach Mike's goal of having Max potty trained by 6 months - then we can use diaper money on health insurance.   See, it's tricky. I'm not mad at ya, Obama.  You my boy.  You have a tough job and you gotta start somewhere.  But, with the way my health insurance plan is looking for 2014, I can guarantee I will not be visiting a doctor when I'm feeling a little under the weather.  I generally don't do that, but even more so now.  And the problem I have with that, is that the purpose of this legislation is to provide health insurance for those who previously couldn't afford it.  But, I still see quips on Facebook of people saying they still can't afford it and will continue to refuse health insurance.  So, I'm trying to be responsible and healthy and have health insurance for my family, while bozos who claim "can't afford it" will refuse coverage, inevitably end up getting sick and go to the doctor, and the responsible ones will cover those costs.  Why I oughta........... I have been following a pretty fascinating debate on The Book, and saw this quote: "You're driving a car?  You are required to have car insurance.  You are living a life?  You are required to have health insurance!"  Now as I've mentioned in the past, I'm no politics expert.  But that seems pretty solid right there.  These are just my thoughts.

I had a realization last night: I am no longer the center of attention queen.  It is theme week in GoKickball world and so we got Mike dressed as his staple "Blind Ref" and got Max into his FREAKING ADORABLE hot dog costume (exhibit B).  We didn't have time for much else, and on the drive there, I was thinking...aw shucks, I am totally missing this opportunity to wear a costume!  Then I realized, while I am not giving up costumes all together, it is time to pass the torch to Maxwell.  I need to take on the role of getting him gussied up and parading him around while in my civilian clothes.  I would hate to steal the show from him.  So, while I still plan on begging for attention in other ways, it is kind of cool to assume this new role of Assistant {to the} Center of Attention.

Exhibit B

Maxwell woke up twice last night.  Each time, it was so hard to get out of bed...but once I'm in his nursery with him and we are snuggled in the chair, I don't even care what time it is.  He has started to rub my arm when I am nursing him and it is 1 part: adorable; 1 part: funny; 1 part: similar to a massage.  That kid is my fave!!  I can't wait to get home today and introduce him to snow!  Because, it would appear that winter has arrived in Denver.

I am getting a hair cut today.  A significant cut.  Not a mom pixie cut, but something substantial.  I realized that I get a lot of comments about how long my hair is, but that's not necessarily a good thing.

"Your hair is so long!" - what I generally hear
"Your hair is so long and it looks great!" - what I should hear
"Your hair looks great!" - what I'd like to hear

So, armed with a photo of Selena Gomez's shoulder length hair, I will hope that this hair cut doesn't result in tears.  Oh that's never happened before, but I'm just saying.

Welp, see ya!

On a Todd Helton high

I am on a Todd Helton high.  Last night, watching him play his final game as a Colorado Rockie...I mean, come on.  There were multiple times during the night that, if I allowed it, I could have let it loose and ugly cry.  Watching his little girls run out and hug his legs??  Listening to different athletes and well-known people recount the good times with the Todd-ster?  Hearing Eric Church's "Springsteen" over and over and getting chills just hearing the "dong, dong..." of the song...you know what I'm talking about!!!

And as I sat there with my sweet Maxwell (yup, turning it into a post about my baby...#sorrynotsorry) I just think to myself, isn't it the hope of every parent that their child can turn their passion into a career, and do something that makes people feel good?  No matter what it is...music, sports, etc...if Max gets to follow his dreams AND do something that people are interested in, I would say he is a winner.  I can't imagine the pride and emotion that Todd's family feels as they watch an entire stadium stand on their feet and cheer for Todd.  It's amazing.

I would also like to challenge the people of Denver to cheer for the home team.  How many of you fools in Boston gear have actual ties to Boston?  How many of you just like to cheer for them because they win a lot and it's the cool thing to do?  Maybe it's not always "cool" to cheer for the Rockies, but I'd rather be loyal and cheer for a losing team than sneak onto a winning bandwagon and hope that no one asks who the starting pitcher is!  I say this more on behalf of my husband and father-in-law, who are die-hard Rockies fans.  They'll be the ones who get to cry the hardest when the Rockies win a World Series.

Additionally, I'm very curious as to what Todd's retirement will look like.  Sounds like the man is set.  Many messages wished him "good luck" with his retirement.  I'm quite positive that with his $130 million fortune, a secluded ranch and a beautiful family, he's going to do just fine.  Except for that horse that they gave him last night... he probably had plans to sleep in this morning, but instead had to get up and feed that dang horse!  How exactly does that work?  Perhaps the wealthy folks board their horses.  If anyone has any information on how Todd handles horse ownership, please let me know.

Welp, off to sign Maxwell up for infant baseball lessons!

Mike used Max as a cute way to tell the obnoxious
Red Sox fans behind us to "behave".

Phobias and some photos

Aside from the obvious phobia of elevators, I am also scared of the following:

Sometimes at work, I'll sit on the edge of my chair.  Perhaps I do this so that my feet will touch the ground like the rest of the adults.  Either way, I always imagine the chair wheeling backwards, which would then make my chin hit the desk and my teeth shatter.  Always.

I am all about big, volumized hair.  When I'm in the bathroom, I flip my head over to tousle up the strands a bit.  I've started to visualize that as I flip my head over, I whack my head on the corner of the counter.  This would probably result in me passing out, but no one would know, since the door is locked.

I used to work at a smoothie shop in high school.  And college.  And maybe for a little chunk of time after college.  Anyway, as I would be watching the blender blend the smoothie, I would imagine the blades coming unhinged from the blender and slicing into my stomach.

We went to a little housewarming party this weekend, and Max stole the show.  Thank goodness...just as I mentioned before about how my pregnancy gave me things to talk to strangers about, now I'm able to talk to strangers about Maxwell.  I always try to let them continue on the topic of my baby, as I don't want to be "that woman" who won't shut up about her child.  

We made sure he passed out with his shoes off.  

Guess which one is 12 months old and guess which one is 4 months old...

More powerful than the President

A few weeks ago I had jury duty.  I wasn't annoyed by it, I was actually kind of excited!  The only factor that caused me a bit of anxiety was the logistics of how I was going to pump during the day, but I emailed in to make arrangements and they assured me that there was a "Mother's Room" that I could use. (See exhibit A)

I showed up and was fascinated by the process immediately!  We all checked in, and then different courtrooms would show up and request a certain number of jurors, and they would call out numbers of who was going to that courtroom.  We watched a video about how important jury duty was.  The video even mentioned that we, as jurors, were more powerful than THE PRESIDENT.  Oh reallllllllllly!?

Senator Michael Bennett was even there.  He walked in and it was like a political ad.  Women coming up to him for a hug.  Men shaking his hand.  He sat towards the front and stormed away on his blackberry.

A girl walked in wearing lace shorts and a shirt that said "POT HEAD".  Listen, sister...we all know your game.  You aren't getting dismissed by dressing like a bohemian druggie!

I thought there would be coffee?  Is that wrong?

I still hadn't been called around 9am, so I went to the front and told the lady I would need to pump soon.  She was extremely kind and told me I was being called with the next courtroom, so if I could wait a bit longer, I could be escorted to the "Mother's Room" by the court clerk.  Sure enough, I was called shortly thereafter, and sure enough, I was escorted to the "Mother's Room" by the court clerk, aka a 25 year old intern dude.  We walked to the 1st floor, checked the key out with security (had to provide my ID and everything!), then intern and I walked down to the basement, through a long hallway, and he dropped me off at a little room with a picture of a woman and a baby on the door.  He said he'd come back to get me...is 10 minutes enough?  TEN MINUTES??  Bitch please...I'm feeding a human here.  See ya in 30.

So, I settled in to the room and did my thang.  As I emerged from the room, there was intern, waiting like a good boy to escort me back upstairs to our courtroom!  And even better, all 50 potential jurors were lined up in order, waiting for me to return before they could enter the courtroom.  Maybe I AM more powerful than the President....

We filed in, and I was part of the first 17 that got sat in "the box" for questioning.  This was just so so so so interesting!  We were told about the case, and were instructed to let the judge know if there was any reason we shouldn't be a juror on this case...do we know the plaintiff?  the defendant?  the law firms representing either side?  Yada yada.  People who haven't learned how to be sly yet went on and on about why they shouldn't be on the jury.  I just decided to accept my fate and if I was chosen, so be it.  I had this attitude until they said the trial would last 7 days.  Seven WHAT????  And right before a holiday weekend?  Oh hellllllno!  I was nervous.  But I didn't want to join the group of those who were so painfully obvious about not wanting to be chosen, so I settled for telling the judge/attorneys (in private, in the judge's chambers, of course) about how I would need to pump every 3 hours, and that it would not affect my ability to serve on the jury, but I just needed them to be aware of my scheduling needs.

Anywayyyyyy, after a full day's worth of them asking us questions at random, and dismissing some weirdos, and replacing the weirdos with newbies, and then asking more questions, and hearing a vegan potential juror tell everyone that she was probably going to judge the plaintiff more harshly because she was overweight, etc....it came down to the final selection.  Both attorneys felt they had a good group to choose the 7 real jurors from.  They did a little song and dance about passing a piece of paper back and forth and crossing off juror names.  Meanwhile, the hate crime detective/potential juror that was sitting next to me was taunting me, saying I hadn't said anything weird enough to be dismissed so I was definitely going to be on the jury.  I watched the next 7 days of my life get flushed down the toilet.  But then, glory hallelujah, I was dismissed!

In summary, the entire process was extremely fascinating.  I'd like to serve on a jury, but on a case that lasts for 2 days, tops.  I'd also like there to be coffee. 

Sincerely,

The most powerful woman in America

Exhibit A: the Mother's Room

Controversial craft?

Over the weekend, I was a part of a special invention with a potentially controversial name: "the Talibun". 

(I worry that the more I put this word out there on the interwebs, the more the NSA will be a'watchin me. Oh wells!)

I found these awesome headbands on some random site, and I was determined to make them for myself, my sis, my cousin, and any other human who was interested. This craft was especially simple which made it all the more realistic that I would actually complete this craft. A few yards of jersey fabric and/or a few old tshirts, a couple folds/loop throughs/fabric smoothing, and my new headband was born!! They slightly resemble a turban. Initially, the group concluded that we would call them "turbuns", as the headband is a perfect compliment to a good 'ol messy bun. But then we started to joke that I had found this craft on www.taliban.com (hi, NSA!) and then we started to call them the "talibun". It took off! We made talibuns for all the gals, swept our hair into messy buns, and my new weekend hair was decided.

However, my friend mike still needs some convincing. He said the Talibun is not allowed in our marriage bed. Whaaaa??? 

I wore it to the grocery store the next day and I sort of expected to be so bombarded by compliments that I would have to set up a make-shift stand in the parking lot to take orders. Not so much. That might be because I started to frequent the Sprouts that all the grumpy old ladies go to. 

Anyhow, I look forward to incorporating the Talibun into my life and I also hope that Mike can find room in his heart for my new craft.

I present: The Talibun Gang!

Then, check out this tummy-time pro!

And heck, how about a sleeping baby pic just for the fun of it:

Pregnancy math and a series of annoying things

One year ago today (also our dear Addyson's birthday) I took a little test that changed our lives in a big way.  I think back to that morning, when I was so nervous that it would be negative and that it would start a panicky month of googling things and counting down the days until I could take another test.  I was hoping so so so so so much to see a positive test, but I was expecting a negative test.  Being pregnant seemed like such a peculiar experience, and was something my sister did, not something I did!!  Looking back at the past year, I almost can't believe all that happened.  Not that I did anything out of the ordinary, but I just can't believe I got to be pregnant and I got to give birth and now we have this handsome little fella.  Its like, when I go into the bathroom stall at work and I think, remember when you almost couldn't fit in here??  Having a big belly...did that really happen??  Hanging out with little Maxer last night and thinking about how much has changed over the past year was surreal.  Which brings me to my point:  pregnancy math doesn't make sense. Let's look at this in weeks: I found out I was pregnant 52 weeks ago. I had a full term, 40 week pregnancy.  Maxwell is 16 weeks old.  There are 2-4 weeks in there that I'm not sure what happened to.  I'm no scientist so I'm sure there is a reasonable explanation.  Like, there was a semi-rapture that deleted 4 weeks from my life.  Not a problem.

We went with Mike to Colorado Springs last night for the start of their fall season.  I drove so that Mike could get some work done, and his car wouldn't shift into 5th gear, and sometimes 4th gear, so driving on the highway in 3rd gear made for a unique driving experience.  Traffic was a beyotch, but we finalllllly made it.  Right as we were pulling into the park, Mike realized he forgot the team shirts.  DOH!  That was just the beginning of the series of annoying things.  I was ultra hungry, and Max was screaming, but I knew if I didn't eat things would get weird.  So after unloading Mike, I loaded Max back up and drove to the nearest Taco Bell.  In my extreme hunger state, when the lady told me my food would be right out, all I could say was FOOOOOD.  I think I meant to say, "Good, thanks."  But even then, "Good" is not an appropriate response.  Like, it BETTER BE COMING!!  I got my bag o'burritos y tacos and sped back to the park.  Threw Mike and his refs the bag of food and rushed back to the car to snarf my tacos and feed Max.  Besides from it being 1,000 degrees, things were going well.  Max and I were in the backseat, he was nursing and I was mowing down, when a little VW bug bumped into us as the driver was trying to squeeze into the space in front of us.  I am reading "52 Things Kids Need From Their Mothers" and today's chapter was about how kids need to see their mom have poise in chaotic situations.  What excellent timing!!  I composed myself and got out of the car with Max to talk to the perp.  I'm sure he felt like a huge dong for running into a car with a woman and a baby.  There was no damage, and I was surprisingly calm about the whole thing, so we exchanged info and we went about our lives.  Max and I layed on the grass for a while and watched adults get all riled up about kickball.  I swatted ants and other insects away from us and pondered moving to a place with no insects. The games ended and Mike came back to the car....as I was loading Max up and telling Mike how happy I was that I had had Taco Bell, he started barfing.  Turns out he had accidentally eaten a bean burrito instead of soft taco...and he does not react well to beans.  So after we recovered from that incident and all traces of Taco Bell had been discarded, he went to turn the car on and....the battery was dead.  Oopies....perhaps that was my fault, from turning the key forward to open the windows and leaving it like that for a while.

Surprisingly, we recovered well from this series of annoying events and were able to get home in time to give Maxer a bath, get him snuggled into bed, and then have a couple beers while watching the Broncos game that we had DVR'd.

Whew!

Thanks for the jersey, Charlee!

Maxwell's first Rockies game

Notable moments about Maxwell's first Rockies game:

-->He slept the majority of the game
-->He spit up on the majority of adults
-->We sat in front of a very proud lesbian who loudly talked the whole game about ex-girlfriends, what she is looking for in a woman, first girlfriends, coming out to her family, etc. I am all about loving who you want but I do believe some conversations are meant for more private venues.  At one point Maxwell's grandpa threatened to shoot himself.  This is why I discourage weapons in public places.
-->I dropped the boys off and then parked the car (I parked the car on Harvard Yard).  I found a lovely parking lot that was $4 cheaper than the lot across the street, and had tons of open spots, so I pulled right in!  The sign for their lot said something about "The Church" but I tend to not question anything when I'm in a new situation, so I went with it.  They filled out a little parking slip for my car, asked for my phone number in case they needed to "reach me" (didn't question it, nope) and also gave me a plastic bag full of books.  I made a joke about getting presents for parking in their lot, and they told me how to find my car after the game and also said if we wanted to go out after the game we could leave our car their all night.  I said, no no...we have a baby, we may not even make it through the whole game!  Then, I parked and as I was walking out of the lot, the woman called out to me, "Where is your baby?!"  I explained to her that my husband had him, and she was relieved - she had heard a lot of stories about people leaving babies in the car accidentally. Anywayyyyyyyy, it was the most pleasant parking experience of all time.  When we returned to the car after the game, we realized we were in the parking lot for the Church of Scientology and our bag full of books was literature on the religion.  (Were you wondering what the point of this story is?  Here it is!)  You hear a lot of negative things about Scientologists (and all religions, really!) but these 2 people that I encountered were so helpful, so sweet, so normal (can I say that?) that I was shocked to learn of their religion. Is that weird?  I know I shouldn't make a judgement about an entire religion based on 2 people I meet, but I also shouldn't assume Scientologists are "weird" just because their beliefs are out of line with my own.  Then again, what do I even know about them?  And don't all religions have ideas that are considered a little 'far-fetched' by outsiders?  What am I even saying?!?  Do I want to be a Scientologist??  I hope my grandma doesn't read this. Maybe this is my point: did they have to put the books in a plastic bag so that it isn't obvious right off the bat who they are with?  Would some people not park in the lot because of the association?  Discuss.

And that concludes this message from the Church of Scientology.

Less is more, more, more!!

I often feel a pull to break away from social media and technology in general.  I have started to feel sad for our society when we're all constantly on our phones.  We're at dinner and we're on our phones.  We're in the car and we're on our phones.  It's embarassing!  What are we, robots??

Whenever I get a wave of inspiration to turn it all off, I think to myself...but WAIT!  How would I know who is pregnant/engaged/doing something cool?  And then I tell myself I couldn't survive, and all social media apps avoid being deleted from my phone.

But the more I have those thoughts of "unplugging", the more I start to think...I should.  I can.  I will.  The most recent wave of inspiration came after a lunch conversation with Mike about, big surprise, me having to work.  I am constantly comparing my situation to others, and I think that if I didn't do the constant comparison, I would be pretty content with my situation.  But I always experience a setback when I am working away and then take a quick break to sneak a peek at my Instagram or my blogs, and I see a cute photo of some stay-at-home-mom putting her baby down for a nap, or running to Target really quick.  I get a wave of jealousy, and then mope for the next half-an-hour/2 days about how I don't get to put Max down for naps, and my Target trips are either on Sundays are during lunch.  Booooo hooooo.

Bottom line: I need to stop comparing myself.  Who gives a shit what craft so-and-so just made?  Who cares what so-and-so just made for dinner?  Here is the line I am drawing: Unless it motivates me, I can't be exposed to it.

So, I went through a huge Instagram/blog clean-up.  Photos and recipes on "clean eating"?  You're safe.  Photos of mid-day trips to the park?  You're outta here!!!  Blogs about how to talk to strangers and how to keep a clean house?  You're safe. Photos from a random semi-celebrity of her and her newborn spending the summer in Greece with her billionaire husband?  GET OUTTA HERE!!!!

And in turn, removing tons of these silly blogs/IG photos from my life also helps me to unplug, since there won't always be something new to see every 5 minutes.  This is a start.

Next on the chopping block: Facebook.  I struggle with this.  Facebook used to be MY LIFE.  It consumed me.  Now, as the "older crowd" is turning Facebook into one big game of Farmville, it has lost its novelty.  As more and more ads pop up and "suggested posts" fill my news feed, the information that I actually seek isn't there anymore.  Its cluttered and messy and I find myself being annoyed by the things people post more than I find myself actually interested or inspired.  A while back, I went through a huge unfriending phase where I would ask myself, "If you ran into them in the grocery store, would you talk to them?"  If the answer was no, then what the heck are we doing having an internet friendship?  But now, its evolved into more than that.  The answer is simple.  Facebook - you gots to go.

Now wait, calm down.  I'm not deleting my FB account, people!  That would just be silly!  But I am going to delete the app from my phone.  Do I really need to be sitting on my couch, watching Netflix AND looking at Facebook?  NO!  What I should actually be doing is taking Max on a walk or, I don't know, just letting my brain think??  Maybe go sit on our patio and just breathe??  Yes, yes that sounds very nice.

Less comparison+less social clutter=more satisfaction (I hope).  Here goes nothing.

Panic in Idaho (flashback)

My shower door is one of those sliding doors, and its old, so I struggle on a daily basis to get it to glide smoothly to a close.  This morning, when I was ram-and-jamming it shut, I had a flashback:

The year was 2001 (or 1999?  2002??) and I was on a mission trip with my youth group in Idaho.  I know what you're thinking - what mission is there to serve in Idaho??  And I have to admit...I don't quite remember.  (Were we repairing homes on an Indian reservation in Montana?  No no...that was another mission trip {one where we slept in a school and woke up at 5am every morning to do TaeBo in the gym and I had to get picked up in a small airplane by my uncle to make it to family pictures in Nebraska and the weather was bad so he and I, the quietest people in the family, were forced to spend 2 days together in the same hotel room checking weather reports to see when we could get the heck OUTTA there...} Were we building a house in Mexico?  Nope, that was another very weird mission trip {one where we slept in a compound near the beach and one night some locals scared the shittttt out of us by whispering and tapping on our windows, and we ate fish tacos from a taco truck that had a 3 legged dog}.  I'm really just trying to share with you guys that I used to go on a lot of mission trips.  Ta-da!)

ANYWAY.
\
All I can remember is that this particular mission trip was SO FUN.  We spent the week sleeping on the floor of the church, and hanging out with the pastor's daughter and her BFF, and playing music, and getting ice cream, and swimming, and writing jokes and drawing funny pictures which led us into thinking we were the most hilarious kids alive.  We were pretty funny though.  I was even involved in a fake wedding - I was the bride, of course - and again, we just thought we were so funny.  Listing off all of these activities, I'm questioning if this was a mission trip or just a youth group vacation??  I'm pretty sure we helped with a VBS or something.

ANYWAY.

Our youth pastor was one of the best human beings that I have ever known, and as I remember all these things, I am making a mental note to try to look him up on Facebook.

ANYWAY.

We used the bathroom of a house across the street.  It was weird, looking back.  But, that was where we showered.  This was back in the times of arm-shaving.  That was an interesting phase for me.

ANYWAY.

One day I went to the house to shower.  This shower was a weird shower, with a door that slammed shut - it didn't glide or slide, it was like a vault door.  So, on this particular day, as the shower door vaulted shut, I had a moment of sheer panic that I was trapped in the shower.  I used all of my might and slammed my body into the door to get it to open.  Of course, it popped right open - and, I used so much of my incredible strength, that I knocked the door completely off of the hinges.  So there I am, naked and shower still running, with the shower door leaning against the bathroom counter.  Our youth pastor happened to be in the house too, and when he heard the door slam into the counter, he cautiously approached the bathroom like....uhh, everything okay in there?  This is where it gets weird.  I put on my towel and yelled out to him what had happened, so he came in and helped me put the door back on.  As I'm re-visiting this memory, I am reminding at how inappropriate it was, but I can also recall how we were both laughing at the situation and admitted to each other that it was very strange and uncomfortable but if we could just pop that door back in place, we can move on with our lives and forget it ever happened.

But, I'm not one to let an awkward story go to waste, so of course I ran back over to the church and laughingly recounted the whole experience.  And we cackled the night away.

ANYWAY.

If I was a good blogger, I would dig into my box of old pictures and get out some photographic evidence of this trip to share.  I'm sure I have tons of photos, and I'm sure I'm wearing cargo pants in the majority of them.  Look for Panic in Idaho - Part 2.

The end.

Oh hey Max

My sweet Maxwell.  I'm back at work now.  It hasn't been nearly as bad as I thought it would be.  I guess what makes it not so bad is the idea that someday you will hear about these times and you will be proud of me.  

I try so hard to not think about you during the day, because if even for a second, I let myself stare at your picture, I feel guilty and sad, like I am missing so much of your day and you will feel more of a connection to the nanny than to me.  I am already a jealous person and this isn't helping!!  

Sometimes I play "It Could Be Worse..." like, it could be worse - I could be in prison and never get to see you (obviously I've been watching Orange is the New Black too much).  

Earlier this week, after tuning into the nanny-cam MUCH too often, I was worried and sad.  Every time I tuned in, you were in the mamaroo.  I died inside.  I wanted to be home with you and cuddle you and never put you down.  What in the world were you doing in the mamaroo??  But, just like always, I had prematurely freaked out.  Now, 3 days and a few managerial conversations initiated by your dad, nanny is reading you books, taking you for walks, and being the best nanny to you we could ask for.  What can I say, I'm a freak.  And when it comes to you, I am a freak x 1000. (Crossing my fingers that you get your dad's voice of reason and calm nature.  If you get my brain, you're in for a wild ride of worry!)

You are the cutest. The sweetest.  The silliest, already!  I can't get enough of you. From 5-9pm, you would think its the dead of night...you are so zonked out you don't even know what's happening in the world around you.  Then, just as my body is ready to hit the hay, you perk right up - Heyyyrooooo!!  You're smiley and playful as ever.  How did I get a night owl child??  Give your dad a high-five for taking over around 11pm every night so I can go to bed.  Thank goodness he can survive on less sleep than I can.  What would we do without that daddy of yours.

So now that our hang outs are limited to nights and weekends, just know that I am only away from you because I have to be.  And soon, we will be into a better routine, where we actually do things at night.  Because right now all I want to do when I get home from work is cuddle you and let you sleep on me.  Someday we'll get out and see the world.

In the words of Dionne Warwick, "keep smiling...keep shining..." because your smiles are what make me DRIVE LIKE A MANIAC to get home at night.  

What a blessing you are Mr. Max.

Found this quote last weekend and made it
into a poster for my office.  Sounds like a
pretty good recipe!

  

I made it to hump day

I really surprised myself with how composed I was on Monday.  I popped right out of bed with my alarm, went through my routine as planned, even had time to read a quick devotional (which just so happened to be about women throwing pity parties because their husbands work so much, but they were reminded to be grateful that they were able to stay home with their children....uh okay, I GET IT! EVERYONE gets to stay home with their kids but ME, #thankyouforthereminder).  Luckily I didn't let that coincidence make me too annoyed.  Max and Mike were all cuddled up, so I was able to whisper a quick goodbye and leave the house with no tears!  I guess I expected a congratulatory marching band and parade to meet me in the street after such an accomplishment.

Work was just as I left it.  Our sweet office manager had taken great care of my plant, I had a few loose notes on my desk, but other than that, it was like I had never left.  My co-workers are incredible and they all are very interested in Max and my new role, which is so great.  The gals even let me lock them out of the 1st floor bathroom every 3 hours for 20 minutes so I can pump.  Which, by the way, is going to get old real quick.  I am like a pack-horse with all the crap I have to haul in/haul out every day, I might as well get a roll-y backpack.  I just know that there will be days when I am busy and stressed and flustered and this whole little routine that I'm a part of will be the death of me.

I got home on Monday night and I wanted Max to leap out of the nanny's arms into mine and be like, Oh mama I am SO GLAD you're home!!! Instead, I fed him and he slept on me for like 3 hours.  I didn't want to end the snuggles even though I was so hungry and knew that those stupid pump parts wouldn't wash themselves...and tomorrow's lunch wouldn't make itself...(pity party, table for 1 please!) I let him sleep on me for so long that when it was bedtime for the adults, he was ready to party.  Which led to me being up until 3 with him, and then getting up at 5:30....well lets just say I was a cranky biatch most of Tuesday. Which ultimately led to Emotional Breakdown 2013 within 5 minutes of getting home last night.  I just hate this.  I hate it, I hate it.  I don't want the only time I see my son is at night and on weekends, when I'm trying to balance life chores with bonding with my little guy.  Maybe that's just life.  BUT WHY.  Why do we put so much emphasis on the other "stuff" that we're expected to be okay with not giving our full attention to our children?  Who decided this and who signed off on this?

So, while I fight bad attitudes about our society, I'll continue to brainstorm ways to earn a living while still being able to spend more time with Maxer.  Taking all suggestions.

PS: Let is be known that I do have things to be thankful for:
•Starbucks drive-thru (and a sissy who gives me a gift card at just the right time)
•Being able to download songs on my phone for instant gratification on my drive to work (what is it about Maroon 5 that I just LOVE SO MUCH!!!)
•A cousin who finds awesome sales on work clothes and buys me whatever she buys for herself (she is also dealing with back-to-work blues so sometimes my pity party is a table for 2)
•A husband who knows that part of my sadness can be fixed by dinner and a nap (Taco Tuesday what what!!)
•Hair that will allow me to go 4 days without washing it
•A body that can feed a child

Extra, extra, read all about it!!!

Life goes on

July 22 is here.  I have spent the last couple of weeks dreading it, and here we are...on the last night of my maternity leave.  Saying I am sad is an understatement.

But.

Mike just sent me out to go get us ice cream after he served up a dinner of halibut, asparagus, corn with lobster, etc (exhibit a) This guy can cook!!! Anyway, I hit the road and since I didn't have the babe with me, i cranked some tunes. I haven't car jammed for quite some time! I turned on Cruise by Florida Georgia Line/Nelly and that carefree song combined with the hot summer night air finally gave me a new perspective. Finally.

Yes, my maternity leave is over. But look at what chapter is ending...the chapter of uncertain life that comes with a newborn. My body has done one of the coolest things it will ever do, and endured one of the most painful things I will ever experience. i have healed from the physical and emotional duress that by body went through. I am no longer scared to venture out to target or to the grocery store with Max. We even took him to our hotel bar this week to have a couple margaritas! I know Max, and Max knows me. 

Tomorrow starts life as a family of three. Not a frazzled couple with a newborn. We start our routine, and Max starts meeting new people so that he can gain skills to someday live independently from us. (But then again if he never moves out, oh well!!!)

Just like with the end of my pregnancy, Mike hasn't given my back-to-work pity party much attention. He remains Positive Pete and tells me how Max will be proud to have a mom that works. And it's annoyed the crap out of me, until now, as I realize he was just waiting for me to catch up with him and join in celebrating life. We have so much to be thankful for.  Please, God, let this attitude of celebration continue. We can celebrate life tomorrow, and the day after that, because taking on challenges and conquering milestones along the way, now that is living! 

So while its super annoying to have to pack my lunch every night, and dress like a professional human again, I'm returning to a job that I enjoy, in a company I'm proud to work for. And I will start knowing what day it is again! Maternity leave can't last forever, and maybe that's okay. 

Ask me again tomorrow as I'm driving away.

Exhibit A

Toots McGee

Ever since max entered our lives, he has impressed us with his "tooting" skills. At first I thought all babies had this power. After hearing from multiple sources how impressive it was, I am proud to say that he is unique in this fashion.

Right now he sleeping by me on the couch and starting to wake himself up...with a steady stream of toots. It is just cracking me up!!  He is clearly very content and relaxed. 

i figured i had a few more minutes before he wakes up fo real, so i read a blog post about a little girl learning to whistle which made me laugh, because my sweet niece Addy is also becoming quite the whistler. I let out a little LOL, and then my heart exploded when max matched my LOL with a little dream laugh. Followed promptly by more toots. 

I hope I am always this charmed by his farts. I have a feeling I won't be :)

How to grocery shop frugally

Max and I went on our first grocery store trip this week. i thought it would be a super breeze, I would just plop him on the cart like I had seen so many other moms do, and he would hang out while I perused the aisles and accomplished my list. 

Not so much! Apparently sprouts frowns upon having carts that accommodate carseats, and it clearly said, hey don't put your carseat up here like you can with all other carts, suckah!!

So I put his carseat in the main basket part, you know, where you put all your groceries. So with baby in the main basket, where do the goods go?  See exhibit A.

So, I had to stack Maxwell. I tried to avoid piling things on him but towards the end he did have a ginger root and some almonds on his legs. On the plus side, I stayed well within my list, and even said no to a few non-necessities. 

Something about sprouts makes me feel like everything in there is good for you. Chocolate covered peanuts at king soopers? No way! Chocolate covered peanuts at sprouts? Super healthy, I'm sure!!

Exhibit A

Dream report

Last night I dreamt that a random group of people and I were all at a hotel dance, and would be going to a special group lunch afterwards. The hotel dance was super cool. Mike wasn't there, but I danced with a college friend who was such a good dancer he could twirl me in circles, high in the air, without me ever touching the ground. Amazing!

After the dance, it was a bit hectic trying to get everyone to load the bus to head to our group lunch. We arrived to a Mexican food restaurant that was a bit sketchy. We went in through the back entrance and were given a private room to ourselves, even though there was a line of people outside just waiting to get in.

After lunch we went in the backyard of the restaurant, which was a huge lot of sprawling grass. Plenty of room to play games. We were playing one game, but it ended in tragedy. The two participants somehow got stuck on the nearby train tracks and were killed. You would think with such a morbid twist to this dream I would have woken up at this point. Nope. Our only thought was, we probably should switch to a new game...how about kickball!!

Then I finally met up with mike, who didn't look like mike, he was actually a short Hispanic dude. But I knew it was him because he had a camera around his neck like mike does at work sometimes :)

I also had a mini dream where I was wearing a Wyoming Cowboys shirt, and someone passed me on the sidewalk and yelled, Go pokes! 

Pretty insignificant, right? Until max and I were out for a walk today and I saw a neighbors car had a UW sticker on the back. This made me remember that mini dream. 

Does that ever happen to you? Seeing something silly reminds you of a dream you had...almost like your dream knew what your day was going to be like so it catered that nights dreams to it. I'll need to spend some more time on this fascinating wonder. Let me gather some more research. Look for more posts regarding this important topic.

Welp, off to the pool again with my boys! This time, Max will get to "swim" with his sweet Sater cuzzos. Happy weekend!

I'm still a 12 year old

Remember when you were a tween and there was a sleeping baby around and all you wanted to do was wake the baby up so you could play? And the baby's mom always threatened your life if you woke the baby up?

Now that I have my own baby, I find myself still playing the role of the tween and not the threatening mom. Twice this week, I have woken up Mr Max from a marathon sleep. For a few reasons...to make sure he was still alive, and because my boobs might explode if he didn't wake up and eat, and also because I just like to snuggle him!

I had my 6 week appt today and its amazing how I feel today vs how I felt 4 weeks ago. I was in so much pain and was still a bit freaked out by the whole delivery/here is your baby/he is yours forever situation. It's amazing the clarity that time provides. Hoping for this same feeling of relief and confidence after a few weeks back at work. Stay tuned.

Today was hard.

Today was hard.

And it's just the beginning.

Mike, bless his practical heart, brought up logistics about our daily schedule with our nanny.  Like, what time will she start?  When Max is at her house, who will pick him up?  Etc.  I entertained the conversation for about 30 seconds before I just started to cry.  Six weeks ago, the reality of someone else watching my sweet boy seemed so far away.  Now, its getting closer and closer and I can't ignore it anymore.

I buried my head in a pillow on the couch and cried because I couldn't express what it is exactly that makes me the most sad.  Is it the possibility of missing some of Max's adorable "firsts"?  Is it the thought that I'll get back to work and feel like I'm so distracted that I won't be good at my job anymore, and I'll want to just give up, but I can't?  Is it the reality that I feel like I'm going to have to skip back into work with a fake smile and pretend like I'm not dying inside that someone else is spending the day with my little man?  But of all those things, I think it's that my middle child brain expects life to be fair, and because of that, I get so sad/mad that I can't think of one person in my life that is experiencing what I'm experiencing.  I can't think of one mommy-friend who is faced with (or who has conquered) going back to work full time after maternity leave.  And that makes me pissed.

After my couch cry-fest, I took Max to the nursery to change him, and I stood there and stared at him for a minute, just being a cute little stinker on the changing table.  As I started to cry again, he released one of his standard woodpecker farts that lasted for at least 10 seconds, and then smiled this freaking adorable smile, and I couldn't do anything but lay my head next to him and sob.  THIS is what I'm going to miss out on.  His silly little quirks that make him our son.

Perhaps I'm being too dramatic, and hopefully in 6 months I'll look back and think, phewww!  That really wasn't that hard!!  But, I think the scariest part is realizing that once I conquer this separation, a new one will come along.  There will come a day when he heads off to school, and my heart will break all over again.  Then, he'll (hopefully) go to college and Mike will probably have to sedate me so that I will leave Max in his dorm room.  Thennnnn, what if he graduates and wants to live in Hong Kong and  I only see him for Christmas every other year?  So this situation that I'm currently faced with is only the beginning.  And when I realize that, I freak out...what have I gotten my heart into??

4 Weeks

It was four weeks ago that I cried at my midwife appointment after learning my body had made absolutely zero progress in the quest to give birth.  At the advice of my midwife, I went straight to Sprouts and bought raspberry leaf tea and evening primrose oil, with the intention of just "seeing" if they would actually get my body moving in the right direction.  We came back home and I was feeling defeated.  I was feeling anxious, big, annoyed, annoyed at myself for being annoyed, etc.

And then, it HAPPENED.  I remember getting ready for bed that night thinking, "you know, inevitably, one of these nights I could wake up in labor".  I had no idea that TONIGHT was THAT night.

All of a sudden, we're in the car heading to the hospital.  Then, I'm getting admitted.  Then, I'm getting an IV, an epidural, taking weird naps, starting to push, and then, all of a sudden, I'm a mom.  I am holding a baby that I created with the man I love and we are suddenly a family of 3!

The past 4 weeks have been a mash-up of every emotion.  Panic.  I panic that he is so tiny and innocent and what the HECK are we doing???  Worry.  I worry that a secret germ will float into our house and into his nose and make him sick.  I worry that he will experience sadness in his life and I won't be able to fix it.  Love - incredible, heart-wrenching love.  When he is wide awake at 4am and then poops for the 90th time, I just look at him and think - my goodness, I love you so so much.

We are learning new lullabyes to sing to him.  We are perfecting techniques to soothe him with.  We are learning to survive on less sleep than ever imagined.  And when I start to question myself or freak out about going back to work or worry that I'm not doing enough and I'm being too lazy, I just remind myself - just take one day at a time.  I remind myself, you are doing it - you are parenting this little baby and you are following your instincts and if all you do today is snuggle him and feed him and keep his diaper dry, then you have succeeded.  

I love his facial expressions...sometimes he looks so annoyed and like a grumpy old man, and it just cracks me up.  I love his little dracula cry.  I love that his needs are so simple at this point. I love the funny little pictures that Mike has been capturing. Keep it up, Mike!!

So tomorrow, at 1:24pm, he will be one month old.  We probably won't do much other than what we've been doing...snuggle, sleep, eat, poop.  And that's all I want, because if the one thing I hear over and over again from friends/family/strangers, is that it goes SO FAST.  So I'm going to soak him in. And ignore the insurance paperwork that I keep putting off =)

Still here

Every morning at work, this is what I am greeted with: "Oh, you're still here, huh?"

Yup, still here!  You would think that with my eagerness and anxiety and impatience that I have past my due date.  Nope!  So technically, I need to give this little guy a break.  He still gets a few more days to stay where he's most comfortable, until I start eating habaneros and going for 25-mile walks.

My work peeps have been so great and supportive.  The nurses that I work with take my blood pressure if I'm feeling weird (or bored) and have even offered to fetch the hot towels should I want them to attempt an in-office delivery.  They tell me what I want to hear and I'm sure they wouldn't let me stay in the bathroom stall very long, if I was to get stuck in there (these stalls are not very big...its a surprise I am able to maneuver in and out of them at this point). 

I have been annoyingly anxious, and I find that when Mike doesn't give in to my pity parties, the crazier I get.  UNTIL I found this quote (on Pinterest, of course!): Have you prayed about it as much as you have talked about it?  Errrrr no, you got me...so I am trying to take that new approach.  Turn my anxious thoughts into prayers and not babble on and on about how uncomfortable I am and how ready I am for the pregnancy chapter to come to a close. 

This weekend, I plan to:

Make lemon-mint jello

Buy a hanging flower basket for my front porch

Nap

Make an audition tape for The Mindy Project (I just LOVE that show!!!!)