Something happened...

My very first "bumpie"! I slapped myself
for using that term, so you don't have to.

The Atkinson Enterprise is expanding!  Baby #2 is due March 24, 2015!

Minus the 2 months of expected nausea and distaste for all things delicious, it's been smooth sailing!  We did have a twist to the plot, when the results of our first trimester scan prompted my midwife to order a MaterniT21 advanced screening to verify our true risk for Down Syndrome.  Processing the idea of potentially having a baby with special needs was quite a rollercoaster, but one that left me feeling empowered.  I felt like if we were being trusted with such a great challenge, we could do it. And though it would be hard/really hard/really freaking hard, isn't that what makes a life story so great? Science is so incredibly sophisticated these days that we would also learn the gender of our baby through this advanced screening, a whole 6 weeks early!  So, I focused on that during the week it took to get our results.

This baby, my friends, is a sweet little boy, and we are 99.4% sure his chromosomes are a-ok.  I say this like it guarantees him clemency from a childhood of bumps and bruises and broken bones (what I really want to say is cancer/car accident but I feel like that is too scary so I'll put the scary words in parentheses). I guess what I continue to learn is that we can never be free from tragedy so, (cue camp song) Trust in the Lord and he will direct your path!

Through my incessant blog reading, I'm well aware that second pregnancies are much different than the first (no doy!) For instance, at this time in my pregnancy with Max, I hadn't told my co-workers, and was interviewing for jobs while wearing very dark, loose clothes.  This time around, I can't even zip one of the skirts I would wear for job interviews and co-workers are already helping us brainstorm potential names.

I'm also already experiencing some ligament pain and if I try to roll out of bed the wrong way, I'll get what can only be described as a charlie horse in my stomach.  It's much too early for this kind of nonsense!!

But on the flipside, I hear recovery from 2nd birth is a breeze(ish) compared to the 1st time around. Please oh please let that be true.  If I'm dealing with a newborn, a mischievous toddler, AND the aftermath of a forcep birth all at once, I will have a real bone to pick with God.

Much to my dismay, I am not one of those people who is good at being pregnant. I feel good right now, but I know my good days are numbered.  I get side cramps from leisurely walks with Max, so I can't understand those gals who are doing Tae Bo the day before they deliver!!  I did buy a Groupon for prenatal yoga, in hopes that it will help keep my body loose and limber and turn me into a glowing goddess by week 40.  Stay tuned!

But, no matter how itchy my skin gets, and how hard it is for me to get in and out of bed, I know what's waiting for us come March.  A new laugh to add to the mix as we chase each other around the house. A best buddy and karaoke partner for Max.

18 weeks and counting!
xo

If only we knew then what we know now

This week I've been enjoying a great group text with some mom friends about our latest parenting woes. We all have little ones around the same age and we're all working moms (working moms unite!!!) Thank goodness we have each other to vent to, because most days I can go to work without incident, but on the days when I am angry and sad that I spend my weekdays in an office, I take comfort in knowing I'm not the only one.  (My misery loves company - so sue me!) It's hard to watch our sweet children cry when they have to leave their dear babysitters.  It's hard to know that someone else is getting their "good" hours, while we are getting their "cranky, it's-almost-bedtime" hours. It's hard, it's hard, it's hard.

As you go through life, you hear people say that parenting is hard, and you believe them - no doubt.  But you don't quite know the specifics until you're crying at work about someone else raising your child, or you're wondering if you should wake them up to brush their teeth because how many missed brushings equals a cavity?  It's kind of like childbirth.  Sure, it's going to hurt - but specifically, HOW will it hurt?

One of the funniest things to realize is that what troubles us now will be a scalp massage compared to the riff-raff that lies ahead in the tween years.  Yes, it's been hard to teach Maxwell to not throw his food at me.  But I assume it will be harder to teach him that life isn't fair and sometimes the kid who promises to install new pop machines will win the job of Student Body President (true story).

But one of the saddest things to realize is that it takes way too long to understand how much your own parents love you.  Maybe that's not the case for everyone, but I think its safe to assume that many new parents have a guilty stomachache every now and then when they think about how many "thank yous" and "i love yous" they owe their parents.  My entire Christmas gift to my dad last year was a letter about how thankful I was for his sacrifices and I totally get it now but still, I AM JUST NOW GETTING IT.  Luckily my dad is an emotional fella so I don't think he felt all that jipped that his present was just a piece of paper.

If only we knew THEN what we know NOW!

The potato slicer

I knew we were in trouble the second I heard you cry, and I looked up to see that blood was all over both of your hands.  Some weird object that you found in the cupboard had been keeping you occupied, and I was in such a hurry to get dinner made that I didn't think twice about what it was. It was the freaking potato slicer. I swept you up and took you into the bathroom to rinse your hands and find out where the cuts were. I had a feeling it wasn't just one. I mean come on, a potato slicer!!! In my head, I figured there was no way that you hadn't cut each and every one of your fingers.

"Luckily", it was really just your thumb that got it the worst.  A few nicks on 3 other fingers were easy to ignore when we had a thumb that just wouldn't stop bleeding.  As I held you on my lap and pressed a washcloth to your thumb, I wondered how long I would let you bleed until I panicked and called someone.  It's amazing how calm I have been in situations where you've gotten hurt - I guess when you can't look away and let someone else deal with it, it's a little easier to keep a level head.

A few weeks ago, I had bought a package of band-aids "just in case".  The Sater girls were with me and wanted me to buy the "girl" band-aids, but I instead chose the "boy" band-aids - you know, basketballs and robots.  I got one of the robot band-aids out and tried to wrap it around your poor thumb but I think this made you even more aware of your injury and made you even more sad.

Dinner was hard - you would forget about your injury, use your thumb, and then cry in pain. It's so hard to not be able to reason with you and explain what's happening. A soapy bath was out of the question!

All throughout the night I kept having flashbacks to seeing you sitting on the floor with blood on your hands.  I felt so bad.  I know this is just the beginning of bumps and bruises and cuts, and they only help you learn what not to touch and what can hurt you, but STILL!  I know you'll never remember this.  Which is why I'm writing this down now. My sweet little boy - stick with me as I try to find the balance of not being a helicopter mom but still protecting you from injury. It's gonna take me a while to figure this out.

Its getting harder

Those days of just keeping Max alive...those days are coming to an end.  Now, I am harshly feeling the phase of "real" parenting move in, when we need to help him form his knowledge of right from wrong.  How in the WORLD do you do that correctly, while still feeling like you're giving them enough love?!  It's getting hard.

Max loves to be outside.  Loves to squish bugs (that's my fault), throw rocks (that's not my fault), throw anything, take anything apart (who knew there was a vent that blew hot air from the laundry out the side of our house...and who knew the vent flaps came off??)  He likes to walk up and down the street and pick up pine cones and eat them.  He loves to go for walks in his stroller (his throne) and he MUST HAVE SNACKS at all times.  All in all, his little personality is shining and developing and it really is hilarious!

But then he bites me on the shoulder.

I start to say, "Don't you know I was the one who gave birth to you??" But I stop myself.  I don't want to be that mom who is constantly reminding her children of how much they owe her.  I can totally see how that happens though.

He bit me on the shoulder as I was carrying him home from down the street where he loves to pick up and throw giant rocks.  I'm thinking to myself...okay: Take him in his room and tell him that biting people is wrong and leave him in his crib for 1 minute.  But as I'm building myself up for this, his favorite neighborhood dog "Georgie" has finally emerged and is whining for us to meet him at his fence and throw his toy for him.  Max and Georgie are practically best friends.  Mike fostered this friendship - all the nights I wondered where they were, they were down the street playing with Georgie.  It's pretty cute.  So anyway, I figure playing with Georgie will get Max back on track (screw the 1 minute crib time-out!!)

We have finally worked up our dinner appetite so I prepare a gourmet meal for him with chicken, beans, corn, a little sweet potato...I mean come on!  The kid eats like a king!  It's all fun and games at dinner until he throws his food.  He winds up his arm....looks right at me...and then chucks a bean as far as it can go.  This is our nightly struggle.  Is he not hungry?  How can he tell the difference between what you can throw (balls) to what you can't throw (everything else)? Our pediatrician has recommended to take his food away and tell him sternly, "NO."  I do that, but 5 seconds later he's winding up again.  Do I need to be more stern? How do I get his attention without being the wicked witch of the west?

We get through that and have a lovely bath.  I'm doing our usual routine of chasing him around his room to lotion him up, and he loves to crawl back behind his chair and play with his nightlight and the electric outlet.  Because this is a matter of safety, I feel the need to be more stern here.  I tell him that we don't play with that, and I try to pull him out of his den.

But then he bites me on the thumb.

I want to cry and say, Maxwell!  Remember me? Your mother?  I hobbled around for the last 3 months of my pregnancy because my body was at capacity and then I could barely walk for a month after I gave birth to you and then I fed you from my body for the first year of your life!  You should be rubbing my back and writing me love poems!  (Ashley, no. Guilt is not an appropriate motivator.)

Instead, I tell him no and sit in the chair with my arms bear-hugging him (a gentle restraint).  He screams and cries so he must know this is my attempt to communicate that biting is wrong?  Who freaking knows.

But you know what the worst part is...these little "challenges" I'm dealing with now?  This will be easy compared to what's ahead!  Life only gets weirder and moral situations only get deeper and how am I equipped to know off the top of my head what the answer is??  If only parenting duties were cleanly divided where Mike would handle all moral issues (and math homework) and I could just handle bath/kisses/Halloween costumes.  Wouldn't that be a dream!  I feel like I am constantly evaluating how I handled each situation: was that good? was that bad? don't do that...next time do this!

The days of just snuggling the baby are over.  Now, each day I am a contestant in a very real game of Life.

Take me to Georgie!!!

Don't ever leave us, summer!

"The Fork" - a dangerous attempt to
distract from food-throwing.

Will walk for puffs

Max has had a big week - he started walking!!!

For whatever reason, I was convinced he would be walking by his 1st birthday.  But, that day passed without him even showing an ounce of interest in moving past his aardvark crawl.  I knew he would walk when he was ready, and I didn't give it much thought after that.  Except when I saw that the Royal Baby was already walking, I had to do some quick calculations: he is HOW old??  Great job, George.

Last week, Max took a ministep as he was trying to pick up his basketball.  I got pretty pumped.

Then, when I picked him up from Nana's on Tuesday, she casually said - oh yeah he's been walking all over today.  She is Bosnian and sometimes she says things that don't quite mean what she thinks they do, so I didn't believe her.  But then, off he went!  He walked from one side of the rug to the other!  I couldn't believe it!  I was so happy and so proud, I was tearing up and smothering him with kisses!

Luckily, Mike would be home early that night, so I told him we had a surprise for him.  As he walked into the kitchen, Max was already standing up, and he just walked right over to Mike.  It was so freaking cute - not to mention, impeccable timing!  We got a few videos where Mike would entice Max to walk by offering him puffs.  If you don't know what puffs are, they are Max's best friend.  He would do anything for a puff.  When he sees the puffs come out, he literally squeals with delight.  The first thing he does in the morning is point to the kitchen and signal for more.  More puffs.

I handled this milestone way better than when he started crawling and I was at work.  I was just so happy about this new phase and what a big boy it made him look like.  I went through my usual thought process:  he is his own person.  He is going to experience so many milestones and chances are, you won't be there for a lot of them.  I mean, will I be hiding in the bushes as he picks up his first date?  Probably.  But the point is, he is progressing and he is learning new things and it's all good in the hood.

Ole!

Endorphins are real

Something about the summer weather makes me want to work out.  Naturally, I spend the first month debating how I should satisfy this craving.  Gym?  No...too expensive and what would I do with Max? Crazy BeachBody DVD?  No...I want to be outside.  Then I always end up at the same conclusion: I want to RUN! By run, I mean walk/jog.  Then I debate the logistics.  Morning or evening?  Does Max come?  Where do I go? What do I wear?  Do I wash my hair afterwards?  Will my current yoga pants let me do this activity comfortably or will I be tugging at them the whole time?

Finally, yesterday night - also known as last night - I had it all figured out.  I would look up a beginners running plan and run in the morning before Mike left for work at 6:30.  It's already light out, and chances are, the level of my walk/jog would not leave me too sweaty, so I wouldn't have to deviate from my twice/week hair washing schedule.

I popped out of bed, slipped into my clothes that I had carefully laid out, and was turning on my Lady GaGa Pandora station by 5:57.  In the words of Borat, GREAT SUCCESS!  The morning air was cool and the sun was shining.  My route was a perfect 2 mile square, on main roads where the risk of getting abducted are low.  With my beginners running plan, I was only running for one minute and then walking for two (hey I'm a beginner...don't judge!) but the side cramp I experienced felt like I was running for a million minutes, walking for 10 seconds.

I had some time to ponder things.  How did I find this perfect route?  Do they plan the blocks this way? Why do they turn park sprinklers on in the morning, when people are more likely to be out walking/running/etc?  Why not turn them on in the middle of the night, which would also keep the juvenile delinquents from drinking 40's in the park late at night.

When I got home, I remembered an article I had read where a woman swore by "oiling" her insides by putting coconut oil in her coffee.  I was already done with Step 1 of living healthy, so why not keep it going?!?  I brewed a delicious cup of coffee with a teaspoon of coconut oil in the mug.  Can you believe it, another GREAT SUCCESS!  My morning was off to a fabulous start.

After getting ready, with the help of my friend Maxwell, I made my usual smoothie.  But then, I had a moment of genius.  I had extra smoothie but not a lot of time to spoon it to Maxer, so I put it in a to-go container, put it in his "lunch bag" that goes with him to Nana's and took out the yobaby yogurt I normally send.  Hey now...if I'm already making this smoothie, and I know exactly whats going in it, why not always make a little extra and have that be his "yogurt", instead of buying an additional pack of yogurts for him that probably have too much sugar anyway??  This idea made me really excited.  Streamlining!

On the way to work, I'm thinking about the many homeless people I see on my way to work.  I have a quick daydream about if I ever sat down for a chat with one, I would probably realize he is just a human.  I start thinking....we are all JUST HUMANS.  Anything negative that comes after that is just Satan's work.  Not to be an evangelist, but isn't it true?  We are all just people with a good core, but things happen to give us weird quirks or harden our hearts...but at the base of it all, we are just people with feelings!

At this point, I come to the realization: endorphins are real.  All because I burned about 12 calories this morning, I want to start pow-wowing with the homeless.

Why don't I exercise more?  Because I want to "sleep"?  I spend the last 20 minutes in bed each morning hitting my snooze button and wondering what the weather will be like.  If I just got out of bed and moved my body around for a bit, my day is naturally off to a good start.  I owe that to myself and to my family.  I need increased energy when I get home from work and Max wants to play but I want to pour a vodka drink and lay on the couch.

Who knows how long this inspiration will last, but I want to ride this wave while it's here.  Happy holiday weekend, friends!

A Mother's Day to remember

For Mother's Day, I got a very special gift: Mastitis.  Due to my incessant internet reading, I used to be terrified of mastitis.  Every time I had a clogged duct, I would think - call an ambulance!!! Mastitis!!!  But, as time went on, I kind of forgot to be afraid of getting it.  I had a few busy weeks at work where I was going pretty long periods of time without nursing or pumping, and we were getting closer to Max's 1st birthday, so I thought we were on the path to successful weaning.

During Max's party, I kept having a sore boob.  I wasn't sure what it was (after I ruled out cancer) so I just kind of ignored it.  After his party, the girls took my sister to get pedicures to celebrate her graduation.  We were sitting in the pedicure chair and I was describing my pain to my sister, and then other symptoms started popping up.  All of the sudden my body ached and I was shivering so bad the lady had to hold my feet down to paint my toes.  By the end of the pedicure, I was positive that it was mastitis.  Luckily I was able to get on antibiotics ASAP, thanks to having a medical dream team at my fingertips.

Mike had to work on Sunday, so he took care of Maxwell until the very last minute, and then I cried as he left the house.  This was Maxwell's birthday...Mother's Day...and I'm going to spend the entire day being miserable and not being a good mommy to this sweet boy.  I felt like I was going to barf most of the day. My body was on fire but I had the chills.  My head felt like I had the worst hangover of all time.  I rolled around on the floor, trying to play with Max, but was so cold I was hovering under a blanket.  I hoped Max would take one of his all-star naps, but he must've known it was his bday, because he wanted to party all day long.  He probably slept for 30 minutes.  I tried to get him to lay in bed with me and watch Pound Puppies on Netflix.  When the exact time of his birth rolled around, all I could do was stare lovingly at him from the couch (and take a screenshot)

Shattered phone led to stupid trip to Verizon where the guy told me that I must stay on an old version of the iPhone software.  I was too occupied with feeding Max a clementine to understand it. When June 24 rolls around, I will be first in line at Verizon.

Luckily, my mom had a couple hours to spare so she came to the rescue and hung out with Max while I tried to sleep.  I laid in bed with 3 blankets and shivered so bad I couldn't even sleep.  When she had to leave, it was almost Maxer's bedtime, so I knew if I could just get through bathtime, I would be okay.  I don't know if it was the hot water or the bending over, but when I got Max out of the bath, I felt so lightheaded and my vision was going in and out, and I felt like I was going to pass out.  I put Max in his crib and went outside into the snowy weather to sit and drink water.  I felt like I needed to text my neighbor and say, will you come over in 5 minutes and make sure I'm not passed out in the yard - and if so, will you please take care of Max while I hop in an ambulance?

Mastitis, you're a bitch.

I took Monday off and sent Max to his babysitter so I could just chill.  Mike was off too, so I had my own personal Murse.  I told our office manager what was going on, and she gave me a good chuckle with this:

I'm happy to report that I feel MUCH better.  I am going to make it.  But, I have a newfound fear of this nasty infection and a new point of irritation.  If breastfeeding is such a natural thing and "breast is best" than WHY are there so many awful things that come along with it?  I get it, Eve ate the apple first, but come ON!  Isn't the pain of childbirth enough?  We're just trying to feed our babies here, can we get a freaking break???  I've added that to my list of "Questions to ask God upon arrival to heaven"

BUT - Max's birthday party was so fun!  He was hilarious with his expressions and his curiosity.  He got showered with love and tons of cool new toys.  Once summer arrives in Denver for good, we are all set with backyard shenanigans.  He didn't destroy his cake, but this is probably because he has a great respect for food and wants to enjoy every morsel, so he didn't dare be careless.  I actually had to take it away because he probably would have sat there for 3 hours and slowly ate the whole thing.

Some nights when Max is just wearing a diaper (because to him, putting on pajamas after a bath is the ABSOLUTE WORST THING I COULD DO TO HIM), he looks so big.  I feel like all of the sudden he is this little boy, and not the little frog baby that we came home from the hospital with.  He points, he mimics sounds, he knows people's names - I know this is all the natural progression of his development but sometimes I forget that he won't be a teeny babe forever.  His laugh melts my heart - he is our world!  Happy birthday to our sweet Maxwell Everett!  

Time to experience summer

Max is a busy, busy, busy little bee.  I'm worried that his first phrase will be: "On your bottom!"  Since that is the phrase I say to him about 90 times during his bath.  He is up, down, here, there - what a curious little cat.  So this morning, you can imagine my surprise when he laid his head on me while we watched my smoothie blend.  I tried not to move so I wouldn't disturb this precious moment.  I think he realized how nice it was to snuggle into my neck, and he lingered for much longer than I ever anticipated.  I started to rub his back a little, and he stayed snuggling into me.  It was like when he was a teeny baby and he spent the majority of the day curled up on me.  Back in the days before he knew what movement his little body would eventually be capable of.

We are coming up on his first birthday, but I don't feel any sadness about how quickly the year passed.  (But DAMN GINA, it sure did go fast!)  I don't wish for him to be a baby forever, because when I think about him as an infant, I think of being scared and being tired.  I think of having a body in pain, and wanting to do so much but not being able to do a thing.  I do miss the sweaty naps we took on our couch, but I must say that getting past the infant stage is quite a relief.

As summer is starting to make its way into our neighborhood, it's like I'm seeing it for the first time...and I'm realizing it's because last year around this time, I was in full-on hibernation, quickly followed by a period of time where we had no idea what season it was because we were just trying to survive each day. If we left the house, I wasn't dreamily noticing the green, lush trees and the blooming tulips.  I was thinking...how long until he cries? How long until he's hungry? What am I doing leaving the house...why am I so hot...why did I allow myself to put on denim...I mean, you get the point.  My postpartum days were far from glorious.

This year, I get to experience summer in our neighborhood with a curious little boy.  I get to show him how to blow dandelions.  I get to put his feet in our sprinklers and show him the squirrels playing on our fence.  How cool is it to watch a little human experience such simple things for the first time??

So this weekend, we'll celebrate our Baby Max and the year we've had.  What an incredible blessing to watch a little boy's mind drink up the world around him.  What a feeling it is to shower him with love and know that he feels that warmth.  In the words of Miley Cyrus, "It's pretty cool."

Max's first tantrum, along with other ramblings

I love it when the morning sun shines in my office and highlights all of the hair I've lost on my chair.  It's quite stunning but mostly disgusting.  I just spent about 5 minutes de-hairing my chair...if it wasn't my own hair, I would contemplate looking into voodoo just out of curiosity.

Because Max's "nana" lives so close to us, sometimes I go home and drop my car off, then walk over to pick him up.  I would do this more often, but a) it's been winter and b) I am overly concerned with what people will think as they see me walking to her house with an empty stroller.  Why am I so worried about what other people think??  WHO CARES!  Let me tell you why...it's because I am that annoying person who has too many useless thoughts about what I observe, and I am under the false assumption that everyone thinks the same as me.  For instance, Max and I will take dinner to Mike some nights. Last week, as we drove to his office, I COULD NOT SHUT MY THOUGHTS OFF.  I was annoying myself so bad.  We drive by a paint supply store, and everytime I see the store sign I think...man...that font is so outdated.  Do you think they just haven't updated it for a long time?  Or maybe the store owner made the sign and doesn't know much about fonts.  And they have two separate signs, both with bad fonts. Why?  Why two different signs?  My brain starts to hurt as I ponder this and then I plead with God to quiet my thoughts.

Last night, Max had his first tantrum and I hate to say it but it was adorable!!!  I know he is worked up and frustrated but man...he is so cute.  He never enjoys getting slathered in lotion after his bath, and he definitely doesn't enjoy getting boogers removed from his nose, but he normally bounces back pretty well once we start to play again.  Last night though, he was in rare form.  He was arching his back and screaming, so I set him down to see if that would help.  His giant tears fell onto the carpet and he would slam his hands into the ground.  I would reach for him and he would just scowl at me before burying his head into the floor.  Its times like that when I realize how lots of moms end up breastfeeding much longer than they expected - its just the ultimate comfort option!

Maxer's birthday is just around the corner and I am so excited.  I have been pretty adamant about not going too crazy for his party...like, no theme (the theme is birthday!!!) and I don't really want him to get tons of presents.  Call me scrooge but I would rather have a simple, memorable experience instead of getting stressed about finding a cute theme and making sure the cake matches the color scheme and bladddy blah blah blah.  I did print some photos from my Instagram using Printsagram and daaaaamn gina was that a good move!  It links directly to your account, so you basically have to click like twice to have your photos arrive at your door (actually I sent them to work so I could view them the INSTANT they arrived)  Real pumped about them.  I'll be sure to take photos of the photos.

I have a devotional book, Jesus Calling, that ended up in my drawer at work.  Maybe my mom gave it to me?  Maybe my sister?  Either way, I kept it but, without even cracking it open, thought it was probably too legalistic for my taste.  I forgot about this book until I was scanning my IG feed and a woman I recently started following posted her devotional from March 29. It was a passage so beautiful that I scanned the comments to see if she would say what book it was from.  Sure enough, she mentioned that it was from a book called...Jesus Calling.  God!  You are funny!  Thanks for showing me that the book in my drawer is right up my alley and it sure wouldn't hurt to take it out every now and then to read a snippet.  I loved this post so much that I will now take the time to type it out:

"Stop trying to work things out before their times have come.  Accept the limitations of living one day at a time.  When something comes to your attention, ask Me whether or not it is part of today's agenda.  If it isn't, release it into My care and go on about today's duties.  When you follow this practice, there will be a beautiful simplicity about your life: a time for everything, and everything in its time.

A life lived close to Me is not complicated or cluttered.  When your focus is on My Presence, many things that once troubled you lose their power over you. Though the world around you is messy and confusing, remember that I have overcome the world.  I have told you these things, so that in Me you may have Peace.

--Ecclesiastes 3:1; John 16:33

I read that and thought, NAILED IT.  If I read that every morning, and took a deep breath, then I probably wouldn't get so worked up about the paint store sign and how to get my car battery to work properly and if I sent that email to the right person and when will Mike be able to work less. Not complicated.  Not cluttered. Peaceful.  I like those words.

Well, that about sums up my life lately.  Loving on my boys, having crazy brain, and being thankful for the reminders of God's presence.

xoxo

Good

When I was pregnant, I would dream of the day that I could hold Maxwell close to my cheek and dance with him.  Now, I force my squirmy 10 month old to snuggle up to me as we dance to a song by Dave Barnes called "Good".  Everything Dave Barnes creates is a gift from heaven, but man oh man...this song makes me cry every time.  

Years ago, as a serious relationship began to unravel, I felt panicked and so scared that I would never have a family of my own and I begged God to make this relationship work.  To give us the pieces of the puzzle that were missing so that we could make it work.  That relationship finally ended and for weeks, I used the long drive home from work to cry my lonely heart out.   

But then came Mike.  

What if God had answered my prayers?  What if I had forced a relationship that wasn't meant to be?  I think we all know Garth Brooks said in best in "Unanswered Prayers".  What if I never gave myself a chance to get to Mike?  That God, he sure knows what he's doing.

And that is what I want Maxwell to know.  That no matter what, God is in control.  That even when Maxwell thinks he knows best, that he should never let his human need for instant gratification overpower his confident hope in God's plan.  That even in his darkest hour, God is laying the groundwork for good to come again.

Now everyone do yourself a favor and listen to this song.  (This also reminds me to take more home videos.)

Meow!  Gigi's bed is so exotic!

Coffee and prayer

Well, week one of our new schedule is done. Just like everything that I overreact about, I can look back in retrospect on this week and say, it's really not that bad. I need to learn to be less dramatic.

The hardest part of our new schedule is being tired, but that's nothing new. I've come to terms with the fact that being tired is just part of being an adult. If you don't have to tape your eyelids open every afternoon around 3pm, then you aren't doing it right.

Our new nanny is a blessing. She is an older Bosnian woman, and she insists that Max call her "Nana" which I think is adorable. She is concerned about his leg strength so she is sure to tell me that she helped him walk around throughout the day. His little cooler of food comes home completely empty each night, so I'm proud of her for getting Max to eat so well! She even managed to get him to eat all of the tofu I sent. Ha! I had to laugh when I dropped him off on Wednesday morning and she said "Uhh I forget baby's name?!?" Fair enough...it's not like he can tell her himself! And after a long day at work, sometimes I am driving home and my fried brain goes--Ashley! You have a baby! His name is Max!! And I think, how did we choose the name Max?? 

Thank you everyone for your support as I blab about my so-called struggles. I promise I am only 10% motivated by the need for attention. The rest is purely to just write and capture the events so that when Max gets older I can say, thennnn when you were 9 months old, THIS happened... So thanks for reading.

I have come to realize that when I crave easier times, I am absentmindedly wishing my life away and wishing away some of our most precious moments with Maxwell. And then I realize, all I need is a lot of iced coffee and a lot of prayers for a continued positive attitude. That, my friends, is my recipe for success.

Nine month appt confirms: His head is large.

Max is his own Valentine this year!

Spring fake-out (and a quick rant)

It's that time of year again, where it's not pitch dark when I leave work each night, which puts me in a springtime frame of mind...then temperatures surge into the 50's so I ditch the coat in the morning, and I start to wear pastels thinking that will propel us into spring, and I just get butterflies in my stomach thinking of the fresh feeling that spring brings!!!!!

I know we are weeks (and a few snow storms) away from spring but gosh darnit, we are well on our way to green grass and less hibernating!

My goal for this spring is to get out and about with Max after work.  In the winter, and with him being a little babe, it has been so easy to just come home and play on the floor until bedtime.  But, with warmer weather approaching, and now that he is a bit older, I feel like we can really get out and see the world.  Luckily, my friend Mike provides the perfect opportunities for outdoor activities - kickball games!  Last fall, he had games at a park down the street from our house once a week.  I don't know why we didn't go more often, but there was a handful of glorious nights where Max and I would walk to the park and watch a few games in the final hours of daylight.  I was still such a rookie - on our first trip to watch kickball, I packed up practically his entire nursery into his stroller and then tried to nonchalantly run across a field with him, but all of the crap kept falling out of the stroller and players were like, "HOLD THE GAME, BABY ON THE FIELD" as I made a scene.  Not to mention it was super windy and I was wearing a dress so....I can only thank the good Lord that my confidence and my parenting skills have improved since then.

Also, when will I stop having dreams that Max is in our bed and going to fall out if I don't thrash around and save him?  I'm sure Mike is wondering the same thing.

Flashback to a kickball tournament
 last fall.  Who is this baby??

**Quick rant, if you don't mind: Is anyone else offended by the phrase "Welcome to the club" or am I solidifying my status as the most annoyable person alive?  I mean....how does one establish themselves as the "official welcome committee"?  It's almost as if they want you to know they were there before you, and so "welcoming" you is their way of saying, "Oh man, you just arrived?!  I've been here for a while now and it's cool.  Glad you finally caught on to this cool thing, and as I said, I've pretty much been here forever, so...welcome."

Even worse, people are welcoming others to "clubs" that have either been around forever (parenting, etc.) or are so mainstream and so hip (craft breweries, etc.) that it's impossible to determine who is qualified to offer the official Welcome. So, QUIT IT.

Is this rant legit - too legit to quit? Discuss.

Worst Life Competition

I'm offering myself a challenge this week.  Don't go for the gold in the worst life competition.

It's so easy for me to try to compete.  It's so easy to make a conversation entirely out of what is currently sucking the most.  But why?? What's the point?  What do you really win when you realize that you have the worst situation?  Nothing but a trip to Downerville.

This week, our routine is getting a shake-up.  Mike's work schedule has shifted significantly and we are starting with a new nanny.  So now, instead of getting ready in the silent darkness and then sneaking out of the house, we are getting Max up and ready and I'm dropping him off on my way to work. Mike hits the road well before the sun comes up to get to the gym and beat traffic.

It's like we're adults or something!!!

Change is scary and I hate when my routine gets a shake-up.  I feel like I have so many little things I need to remember to do to have a successful day, and any shift in my routine compromises those little things.

Last night, as I put Maxwell to bed, I counted my blessings and remembered to be 1000% thankful for every single one.  Comparison is the thief of joy and darnit, isn't that the truth!!!  This is my life.  I (try to) choose to love what I get and ignore what I don't get.  I hate to get too crazy here but I really feel like I'm making a huge discovery in "the meaning of life" and "things you can only learn as you get older".

Things I'm excited about:
--Getting to turn the bedroom light on in the morning!
--Getting to dress Maxwell in the mornings!  It may sound silly but I was sad for only getting to choose his outfits 2 days a week.
--Mike's new commute takes him right past a Chik Fila so I'm quite certain this will be a dinner treat at least once a week!!!
--Since we no longer have an in-home nanny, I'm crossing my fingers that our Excel Energy bill will go down since our TV and lights won't be on all day during the week.
--Our new nanny lives literally 3 blocks away.  (The location is almost so perfect, I feel like we're on The Truman Show.  In that case, can I start collecting royalties or what??) She is a sweet older woman and as I was dropping Max off this morning, she kept saying, "You don't worry.  I'm the grandma.  Don't worry!" And even though dropping him off this morning was probably harder than going back to work after maternity leave, I got to work with a huge surge of excitement to pick him up later this afternoon.

We tried cheese this week.  Success! (duh)

Not to be left out, I caught what the boys had.
This pretty much sums up my week.

Super Bowl fun.  For those of you who don't
know, it went downhill shortly after this.

Filed under: Adorable and Blackmail

Warming up for the big game!

Mat Kearney makes me emo

When it comes to music, Mike would tell you that I'm a teenybopper at heart, but that's only because he played Miley Cyrus Wrecking Ball so much that I just HAD to download it!!!  So while I don't claim to have "good" taste in music, I know what I love and I know what songs give me chills and I know what songs make me feeeeeeel something...and isn't that what it's all about??

I love when I forget about music and then have a grand reunion with a certain album - and let the good memories of those jams just flow.  Somewhere around the time of Max being born, I misplaced my iPod. By the grace of God, I finally found it in a random drawer somewhere a few weeks ago.  I've had the greatest time getting re-acquainted with my music.  Especially Mat Kearney.  Oh yes!

So I'm jamming to him right now at work, and I can't help but remember the season of my life that I was listening to Young Love (Sooner or Later) every free moment I had.  I would listen to it as I grudgingly drove to my terribly depressing job, and I was so unsure of what the future held for me and my little family.  Would I ever get a new job?  Where would we live??  Can I survive outside of the Fort Collins bubble? WHAT AM I DOING WITH MY LIFE!!!!! (I also learned an important life lesson during this season of my life...having a husband does not solve all of your problems. Had I known that a few years ago, maybe I would've had less panicked nights, fearing a forever-single life) 

SPOILER ALERT: it all worked out - and Mat Kearney was there for the ride.  Today, I sit at a job that I get to love, with co-workers that are true adults and fantastic human beings.  I can indeed survive city life, even though I miss Old Town Fort Collins terribly.  I love that certain songs can remind me of sadness that has been replaced by happiness.  I can still feel the hopelessness and fear of that season of my life, but I can smile as I know that it's been stomped out by new beginnings.

Maybe it's my Bronco brain...maybe it's my coffee buzz...maybe it's just because life is good. But darnit, today is going to be a good day!!

Also, will I ever learn how to spell "liaison" correctly??  Who invented that word anyway?  

Peace out.

Tasks

I hate household tasks. They keep me from relaxing and they haunt me until I complete them. I do always feel amazing and refreshed and euphoric after they're done but sometimes I have to have a real pep talk with myself to get them done.  I also suffer from Obsessive Chore Disorder so as I am trying to clean the floor, I see the fridge is gross, so I stop cleaning the floor and clean the fridge, and then realize I need to emtpy old food containers, then realize I need to start a load of laundry....ahhhhh!!!! By that point I think it would be easier to burn my house down than to accomplish all I'd like to accomplish.

Last night, I had a golden hour to get a bunch of stupid crap done while max was napping. I huffed and puffed while I emptied the dishwasher...folded laundry...put away Target purchases...cleaned bottles and pump parts...and I almost had a mental breakdown when I emptied the soapy water from the bottles into the sink and it all poured onto the floor. I had to have a timeout before I threw the microwave across the room or something equally psychotic.

Ashley, listen. Tasks are the devil. The worst. THE WORST! But, look at what they symbolize. You have dirty dishes because you had food to eat. You have Target bags because you have money to buy necessities (and Oreos...). You have bottles to clean because a precious baby lives in your house and is part of your family. 

We have had a wild week with Mike being down and out with the flu, an impromptu sleepover because of a snowstorm, scrambling for childcare, etc. I am tired. But my fatigue doesn't get to steal my happiness, darnit!!

So, when the next round of tasks present themselves, I will try to remember how to reframe my thinking. Tasks are proof of blessings...most of the time.

Feeling capable

I am feeling capable today. My house is a mess, both of my boys are fighting colds, but I'm feeling so relaxed. 

Maybe it's realizing that you don't have to be a pioneer woman to make chicken noodle soup from scratch. That shiz is incredibly simple to make!!

Maybe it's realizing that if I continue to emphasize cooking with real, fresh ingredients, it's starts to become an easy habit more than a "diet".

Maybe it's realizing that I don't have to be a child psychologist to be a good mom. That by absorbing good habits and relying on my instincts, maxwell really will grow up to be a fine gentleman, and I might have a teeny part in that.

Sorry for the brag post, but for all the times I feel defeated and childish and worthless, I have to soak in this moment of knowing that I can do hard things.

Now, back to my 24 marathon.

Dodgeball and passport rejections

Last night, Max and I went with Mike to dodgeball.  Usually he is just managing the scene and the refs, but last night he was actually going to play, so Max and I just had to witness this.  Turns out, there was about 3 inches of space where we could sit in the gym, and those dodgeballs get flung at about 65 MPH.  The sound of the dodgeballs smacking into the wall and into human skin is terrifying.  All I could picture was a wild ball smacking Max in the face and then me getting branded "Worst Mom of 2014".  I had already forgotten to bring his winter coat along, so I really couldn't risk it.

We started wandering the halls of the middle school and ran into a woman who was working late.  She was so sweet and showed us an open classroom that had carpet and toys that we could play with.  I am reaching the point in my motherhood experience where I realize that germs are germs and germs are everywhere and maybe even a few germs are good?  So we plopped down on the carpet and played our little hearts out!  He acted like he owned the place, eating pictures of the actual students that were taped to the carpet (??) and flipping through their books (some were in Spanish...he didn't say it, but I think Max was really impressed by my ability to interpret).  We bounced a ball around and took a few selfies.  Just to be clear, I think solo selfies are ridiculous and should be outlawed.  Selfies with one or more peeps are fine.
**Mike played so hard that he burned a hole in his pants while sliding for a ball.  I love it!!!

I'm getting a blowout after work today.  I can't wait.  But really I can't wait for the hairdresser to try to get a brush through my hair because I haven't washed it since Sunday night.  I'm not sure when I'll stop bragging about how long it's been since I cleaned my hairs....check back in a few years.

We are in the process of getting Maxwell a passport, and last week we received notification that the photos we submitted for him had been DENIED, because his eyes had a pindrop amount of red (exhibit A) This tells me that whoever was processing his application got a call from her boyfriend in the middle of it, got into a silly fight about emptying the dishwasher or something, then returned to processing the application with a chip on her shoulder, so she denied an 8 month old a passport.  This is all purely speculation, but come on....ridiculous. Meanwhile, my sister's girls' passports were all issued, no problem, even though their photos made them look like blonde Icelandic children, when in reality they are all brown haired olive skin babes.  In the words of Gob Bluth, COME ON!!!!!

I just started watching 24 on Netflix.  Coming off of a Parks and Rec marathon, this has been quite a switch for me.  I get so scared watching it my legs get tingly.  This leads to me being scared at all times.  On the days that I leave for work early in the morning and it's still dark outside, I imagine what I would do if someone tried to accost me in my garage while getting into my car.  As I walk into my building and up the stairs to my office, I have my keys in my hand ready to stab any attackers.  Even now, picturing myself in any of the scenes from Season 1, I get tingly legs.  Let me pause to say a quick prayer that I continue to lead a boring, non-confrontational life where I don't have to steal a gun during a sexual assault and then hide a body in a barn.

Well, that about sums up my week.  I have Bronco Fever pretty bad, along with the rest of the state.  Can't wait for next weekend!!!!

Exhibit A: You be the judge: happy baby who
 wants to play in the sand in Mexico,
or potential threat to homeland security?