29.5 Signs You are Turning 30ish

1. Grays. WTF is this? Adults have grays. Oh, wait...

2. You and your friends are now divided in to 3 categories: 

- Single

- Married/Living together  

- Parents of small children

And it's tricky for these categories to mix.

3. You aren't quite sure how to dress. 

4. You get a little too excited about new kitchen appliances. 

5. It no longer feels okay to serve food to your dinner guests out of large Tupperware containers and mixing bowls. 

6. You have big plans to spend the weekend in your pajamas binge watching your favorite new show. 

7. You drink one (or two) glasses of wine at night and you're in bed by 11pm (at the latest). 

8. You already need to create a get-out-of-debt plan. 

9. Board games are extremely exciting. 

10. If you sit for too long, your body aches and pops when you stand up. 

11. You still know your AIM screen name, because you just stopped using it 5 years ago. 

12. You were in college when Facebook was just for college students. 

13. You can't eat like a college student anymore without needing Tums. 

14. Hangovers suck even more and happen much easier. 

15. Everyone younger than you (even by 2 years) knows nothing about life. 

16. Your parents are the same age you remember your grandparents being when you were little. 

17. You are an avid texter, but still insist on texting in complete sentences. 

18. That pet you got when you moved in to your first real apartment is now aging, fat, and likes you a whole lot less now that you work all day.

19. You've recently had a lengthy conversation with your friend about yard work or flooring. Chances are you ran in to each other at Home Depot. 

20. The kids you babysat in high school are now in high school, and you died a little when they offered to babysit your toddler. 

21. You have to plan get-togethers with your friends around each other's 5ks. 

22. Your home page is full of babies you've never met. 

23. You actually know who George Takei is apart from his memes. 

24. You still blare the radio in your car to your favorite songs after a long day, but by the third song you start to feel over-stimulated and your head starts to hurt. 

25. You have recently tried to go out on a Saturday night (maybe with some younger friends) but by 1am you were tired and everyone became stupid and you were ready to leave. 

26. You still expect Christmas presents from your parents, but this year you asked for a Keurig. (And is it okay to ask for gifts from them?) 

27. You read the news on purpose. On Facebook. 

28. You've started paying closer attention to your fiber intake and buying low sodium turkey bacon. 

29. You still feel like a college student until you are around college students, then you feel like you're 40. 

29 part II << You now consider this a legit age. 

I'm Not That Mom

I'm not that mom who can look pretty when I'm tired,

I'm rarely a person who showers daily.

I'm not that mom who left the hospital in my skinny jeans, 

9 months later and I'm not back in my pre-baby clothes.

I'm not that mom who runs marathons, 

Or who runs, 

Or who understands people who run. 

I'm not that mom who has organized crafts with play dates with multi-colored pasta and home-made play dough. 

Play dates are for adults to interact someone who speaks in full (coherent) sentences. 

I'm not that mom with the amazing-looking ass in my designer work out pants. 

But I do get angry when my Old Navy yoga pants are dirty and I have to leave the house (because yoga pants are okay and pajama pants clearly are not). 

I am the mom who's tired, 

Because I rocked my baby to sleep for two hours. 

I am the mom who spent months carrying a baby hours giving birth, 

My body is proof of that. 

I am the mom who carries a baby on my back, my front, and my hip when she cries for me. 

Somehow I pull the energy out of me to hold her just a little longer. 

I am the mom who plays on the floor with my daughter, reading books and tickling little legs. 

Those moments are better than some conversations I have with adults. 

I am the mom who's comfortable in my own skin. 

My ass may not be what it used to be, 

But nothing is as it used to be. 

I'm not that mom, 

And I'm just fine with the mom that I am. 

Depression: Clawing out of the Pit

 

Writing about mental illness sucks, it fucking sucks. I've been trying to for a weeks now, and I haven't posted because I know it's the thing I need to write about and I just can't figure out how. I can't figure out how to do it without sounding cliche', trite, bossy, or preachy.

All I've figured out is that I just have to be honest and tell MY TRUTH, which is not anyone else's Truth.

By this this point, the story of Robin William's tragedy has been covered by all angles all over the media. Everyone has an opinion about it. Why did this happen? How could it have been avoided? No one knows these answers because no onen can be inside another person's head or heart.
Depression is awful. It's dark, cold, and terribly lonely. It can be debilitating. And it's everywhere- people struggling alone in that darkness. They may be smiling and happy, the life of the party. That doesn't mean they aren't suffering deeply. In college, I was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, and ED/NOS (Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified). 

I was in this dark, lonely, terrible place off and on for years starting around age 15 and hitting bottom when I was in college, then again when my husband deployed shortly after we were married. It was the worst time of my life, and very painful to think about. Had it not been for other people sticking with me through, I may not have survived it. My husband carried me through most of those hard times. I can never thank him enough for not giving up on me when I was so close to giving up on myself. 

Depression is not just extreme sadness. It's not something you can "buck up" and get over. Some days, merely getting out of bed was more than I could handle. There were debilitating panic attacks and many, many nights without sleep. Some days I spent 12-14 hours watching television. My anxiety would rise the moment a show was over- when my distraction was gone. Some days, I didn't get off the bathroom floor for hours. Food, alcohol, no food, pills, smoking, sleep, television- those were my coping tools. Unless you've felt depression and anxiety, it's hard to understand someone going through it. It seems so simple to fix. I heard so many times "just get up," "just eat something." Or my favorite: "I read exercise helps, go for a run." Yep, a run will cure me. There were doctors and therapists with bad advice, there were friends who didn't get it. There were days I didn't get it and didn't see an end in sight. Everything just seemed pointless some days.

Because depression is a mental illness, it's not recognized as a real illness. Depression is a real illness. But, unlike the flu, mental illness can't be fixed with just a pill- despite what drug companies tell you (though the can help dramatically). Chemical and emotional imbalances both play a role- it's the perfect storm. It often requires more than some Prozac and a "brighter outlook." 

I needed a lot of tools to cope with my mental illness. You can try to push a boulder up a hill by yourself. It's much easier with help. My husband was my biggest support- he would not allow me to give up. It was simply not an option. I went to therapy and looked at why I was hurting. I found a doctor who actually got it and she helped me find the right meds and doses to make my depression manageable enough to be able to get out of bed and do the work to get better- she refused to numb me so I could connect with my feelings. I had friends who checked on me and answered when I called, even when I ignored them and pushed them away. I had myself. The choice to get better had to be mine. I'm not saying it's that simple, I'm saying you can't force someone out of mental illness by saying to them "I've decided this is over." I had to say that to myself every day, every minute. 

Clawing out of a pit is harder than falling further in to it. I had to look at myself, my choices, and my past. I had to use my tools (and have people remind me to use them...). I got much worse before I got better. Clawing out of a pit can leave you with bruises and scratches. But they heal. I didn't have to do this just once. Mental health is part of daily life, not something you are just cured from. Going to treatment, rehab, therapy just once isn't enough for some people. Sometimes, things get hard again and you have to go back. When I tell people I had an eating disorder, some say "but, you're cured now, right?" or "you're over it now." Yes, I am in recovery from depression and my eating disorder. Most days, I don't even think about them. Some days, I have to chose not to go back there. I still have the battle wounds, the memories, and sometimes even the temptations. Sometimes my anxiety gets bad, my obsessive thoughts take over, and staying in bed sounds marvelous. It's part of how my brain works. I have to know how to work with it so that part of my brain doesn't take over and I can keep on going. This is how it works for me. When I found out my husband was supposed to deploy again, I made an appointment with my doctor and called a therapist, I prepared myself. That time, it all looked different.

 I did get out of the pit. Eventually. I had to go to my scary places. But I could go there one at a time, with help. 

 

I am not broken. 

Relapse happens 

but I can guard myself against it. 

And get back up when I fall. 

I know my warning signs and so do those who care about me. 

You are not broken. 

Clawing out of the pit is the hardest thing you may ever do. 

There are tools to help. 

Take your meds 

Talk to people 

You don't have to be another one claimed by the darkness, and neither do I. 

Being out of the pit is better than being in it, I promise. 

You are worth it. 

Baby Girl, I'm Scared You Will Be Like Me

When my husband and I found out we were pregnant, I felt for sure we were having a boy. I had dreams about a son and could only think of boy names. I wanted a boy, because to me a boy seemed so much easier. I've a hard time as a girl. I'm very emotional and I tend to be a tad dramatic. I've struggled with depression, an eating disorder, body image, bad relationships, crazy friendships, and had a rocky relationship with my mom for pretty much all of puberty to adulthood (not to say that males don't deal with these things or have their own struggles). I'm opinionated and passionate. I know a daughter just like me could be a real struggle.

A couple of weeks before the big gender-reveal ultrasound, I realized I could be wrong about having a boy. That tends to be how my life goes -when I think something is going to be a certain way, it's usually not. I started mentally and emotionally preparing myself for the possibility of having a daughter. My husband also felt like we were having a boy, and was terrified of having a girl. I wasn't sure how he'd react either. Would he be happy with a daughter? 

The big day came. The ultrasound tech took one look at my spread-eagle little baby and said "there's no doubt about it, you are having a girl!" In that moment, I was happy. A huge smile came over my husband's face and he kissed me. It was okay. Well, kind of. 

My husband went out to the waiting room with the over-joyed grandparents as I signed paper work. The woman at the desk said "what are you having?" All of the sudden, tears filled my eyes. "A girl," I said. Then I excused myself, went into the bathroom, and broke down crying. All my fears came crashing down. What if her life is hard? What if bad things happen to her? What if she hates me one day? What if she hates herself? I looked at myself in the mirror and held my belly as I cried. Was I really growing a baby girl?? The world is not safe for her. 

There was a knock at the door and I heard my husband's voice, "Sweetheart? Are you okay?" I had clearly concerned the receptionist and she went to find him. My husband came in and asked what was going on helped to calm me down, (this being one of the many times he's found me crying in a bathroom in ten and a half years). I cleaned myself up and put on my brave face. On my way out of the office, I apologized to the woman behind the desk. She smiled kindly. "Don't worry, hon," she said. "It happens here all the time." 

As my pregnancy progressed, I became incredibly excited to have a baby girl. I began to understand that I am me because of my life experiences. My daughter may have a similar personality, but my life is not her life. She is not me, just as I'm not my mom, and mom was not her mom. I am not a terrible person to be like, either! My passion comes from my big heart. I am opinionated but I have convictions. I am flighty because I am creative. Plus, I know how to deal with me, so if I have a daughter like me, I can understand her and help her. 

The moment Isabelle came out of me and the doctor placed her on my chest, my husband and I cried out of pure love. I knew in that moment I loved her with my entire heart, and would fiercely protect her with my life. We are so happy to have our sweet baby girl. Incidentally, she is a lot like my husband right now! I spent so much time worrying she would be like me, it didn't occur to me that she could be like him! This will likely change as she gets older, and I'm still anticipating rocky teenage years. 

My daughter's middle name is Grace. It's Grace because that's exactly what we will each need. To me, grace means gentle forgiveness and understanding. Grace is room to be human. I will need to give myself grace as a mom, because I will mess up, a lot. She's 8 months old and I already have. She will need to show herself grace as a woman in this world, because it's going to be hard. I've made a commitment to listen to her, to show her kindness, and to be there for her without judgement. I will need her to show me grace, because there are going to be times I fail her miserably. And when the time comes where I yell "Isabelle Grace!" at her when she's in trouble, I'm literally yelling "grace" as a reminder to both of us. 

The Story of a Pastor's Daughter: Forgiving the Church

Pastor's Daughter. That label defined me for most of my life until I moved out of my parents' home, left the church, and actively worked on forming my own identity. 

My relationship with the church has always been a rocky one, full of both love and anger. As a child, my dad pastored small churches. We moved a lot. I was an awkward kid and the transitions were always difficult. When I was 10 years old, we moved to Indiana and my dad accepted a staff position at a church where we would remain at until I was 18. Some of the hardest and best years of my life happened while attending this church. When my parents accepted a new position at a church in Colorado, I stayed in Indiana and went to college, and left the church entirely. My struggles with the church did not stop there, though. 

As a kid, I remember church feeling forced. I tried hard to be good, confessing all my sins at alter calls when I was only a child. My parents didn't raise me to believe I was a sinner, but inside I knew I wasn't feeling the things I was "supposed" to. Once I entered the youth group, I pushed harder. We had a youth pastor who believed in "excellence" as Christians. We were expected to devote our lives and all our free time to the youth group. I signed right up and was on his leadership team. I was always "different" though. I questioned and searched, was loud and dressed different. My parents were supportive of my mild rebellion- as long as I went to church and believed as they did. I was teaching Sunday school, on the Praise Team, a youth group leader, and doing all I could to push my guilt and questions aside. I even chose to attend Chritian school to try and "fix" myself. My self-expression came in my appearance, chopping off my hair and dressing in outrageous clothes. Despite my efforts to be a good Christian girl and conform, I was always leaking out. I went to alter calls and gave my testimony to alleviate my guilt and try to fit- to force my real self to line up with who I needed to be to be sanctified. 

Insecurity grew and grew. Christian school and the youth group became awful for me. It wasn't working. I didn't fit and my heart was breaking. I could not be like the others. I thought I had to be, but I couldn't stop being loud and rebellious, questioning and searching. I was bullied at Christian school and always in trouble. One day, after many days of tears, I couldn't take it anymore. I called my mom from a pay phone during lunch and, between sobs, told her I had to leave. The next week, I moved to public school. A week later, I was active in the school's theater department. It was a haven for insecure, searching, different teenagers. I had a talent for acting, and I found my tribe and was starting to be happy again. 

My relationship with the youth group and my close friends there continued to crumble. I began to thrive. I found others like me in the theater department. My differentness was normal to them. My depression stayed, and would for many years to come until I found therapy. But I was home with them for a time. 

As I did more and more plays at school, my lack of attendance at church was frowned upon by the youth pastor. He confronted my dad, and my dad rose to my defense. Theater was a possible career, and Wednesday night youth group was not. I will always be grateful to my parents for supporting me. I still had to go to church on Sundays, but I quit the praise team and Sunday school. I drove separate as soon as I could. The youth group wasn't a place I wanted to be. I usually sat alone and snuck out of service to go on walks around the neighborhood. 

With college came more struggles, my depression was a major issue. During high school my depression turned into an eating disorder that was still with me. Bad boyfriends played a role as well.  I was in the theater department. My professor said something to my acting class I will never forget: "All of you are hear to pursue a career where you pretend to be someone else. That's not normal. I encourage you all to go to therapy to figure out why you want to do this. You cannot deal with emotions of acting if you don't have your shit together." Well, a year in to the program, it became abundantly clear he was right. I was a mess. I went to the school counseling center and quit acting.

 A lot of time was spent in therapy dealing with my anger at the church for my struggles and those of my parents, bad relationships with boys, and trying to reconcile my feelings of abandonment from God. 

 As I went through therapy and searched other religions, I hated entering a church. I was still plagued by my own messy feelings. I did a lot of work to forgive. Eventually, I didn't feel the need to beg forgiveness for my true self at an alter. It was me that needed to do the forgiving. I had to release my own demons. I forgave the church, the youth pastor, the Christian school, my parents. I found my freedom and God within myself. 

My freedom came from the realization that I did not have to have labels. As I searched other religions, I realized it was more of the same things I was trying to leave in the Christian church. Every group had their own rules and books and names for God. I realized I did not believe in the Bible as the only word of God. That was incredibly freeing. I allowed myself to recognize God in things outside of the church, outside of any religion. I claimed my own rules, my own names for God, my own thoughts. I decided there was a reason it all felt forced to me. It didn't have to be. God accepts me without conditions, and no one religion has the answers for me. The answers are within me and waiting for me in life. I stopped trying to make myself fit an idea of God. God was there the whole time, in the people and experiences of my daily life. 

At I write this, I'm sitting in the parking lot of the church I attended from 10-18 years old. My parents are in town and wanted to visit. I drove seperate, not because I am trying to skip service but because I now have a baby girl, and she fell asleep on the way here. So I get to sit here with my memories. But it's okay. We are both dressed nice. Instead of insisting on knee high boots at pink hair as my sixteen year old self did, we are dressed to respect the customs of this tribe. It's not my tribe. There are people here who still care about me, and this is important to my parents. I can enter here without judging others or feeling judged. My dad is a pastor, and I'm his daughter, but I'm not defined by this fact. 

World Breastfeeding Month: A Happy Story

Today makes the start of world breastfeeding month!! I know that not everyone is able to breastfeed their babies, so I feel very fortunate to have been able to breastfeed my sweet baby girl for 8 months, and still going strong!

Starting out in the hospital was not so easy. I knew that breastfeeding is a learned skill for mom and baby, and what's natural is not always EASY.  I had read the books and taken the classes, but was still scared it wouldn't work out. I knew I wanted to breastfeed. I've read so many stories of mamas struggling, and my heart goes out to them. Many of the breastfeeding forums are filled with mamas looking for support, which is wonderful and EXACTLY what those forums are for. I've also been scared shitless by these forums and articles I read obsessively during my pregnancy and the early breastfeeding days! I  just knew that a crying baby, bleeding nipples, sleepless nights, days spent with my boobs out, painful bites, and clogged ducts loomed in my gloomy breastfeeding future!

This has compelled my to write a happy breastfeeding story.

I was so scared about breastfeeding in the beginning. Many people had told me how they had tried and for various reasons were not able to breastfeed, or that it had been a hard journey for them. Again, this is a real struggle for a lot of women and my heart goes out to them. Starting out, I knew more people who had little success than I did people who had great success. I also didn't have many moms in my life who had a positive breastfeeding experience, even if they were able to breastfeed for a year or longer. It is a task and a sacrifice for many. The Lactation Consultant who taught my class was also not so awesome. A mom I know referred to LC's as "breastfeeding nazis" who will make you feel awful if you "aren't trying hard enough." I was set up for success, right?  Wrong.

In the hospital after my daughter was born, it was tricky but I was determined. Pretty much every nurse who kindly tried to help me get a proper latch and help my sleepy newborn stay awake long enough for a feeding had different advice and tricks. At one point I believed I had to continually hold  my boob up for my daughter while she was nursing. My boobs were smooshed, my nipples messed with, and everyone saw me topless! I sent visitors out of the room as I cried through trying to feed my fussy girl who was only hours old. She would not stay latched and would fall asleep minutes into feedings (if she woke up for them). The resident old man pediatrician told me to thump my one day old baby on the foot nice and hard to wake her up for feedings. He said "don't worry, she will cry for a minute than calm right down when you start nursing." Well, not knowing any better, I tried this. As you can imagine, it was a disaster. We both cried and she didn't eat. Finally, we kicked everyone out and had a nice long visit with the Lactation Consultant. She was so patient, very encouraging, gave me lots of positive feedback, and my daughter and I got it figured out. She assured me that everything that had happened was normal. And it was! My baby and I learned together. And the Lactation Consultant made sure that pediatrician never told another mom to thump her baby's foot!

We have had our bumps along the road. I had a major dip in supply after getting my period back only 12 post partum. I was in tears and knew our breast feeding journey was over just 3 months in. It wasn't. I called the Lacation Consultant (whose number is in my phone) and my OB nurse. With work and patience, my supply increased without having to supplement. I've had painful sores on my nipple and blood when I pumped. Those have healed as well. Now, my daughter is a squirmy 8 month old,  has 4 teeth and is eating solids regularly, so more changes. But we are working through them. Overall, we have a wonderful breastfeeding relationship and I want to continue breastfeeding! I'm in love with it.

I have many pregnant and newly married friends right now who are in the same boat as I was: scared of breastfeeding and full of sad and scary stories from other mommies who have had a hard time of it. I told my friend that I fear a dip in my supply or problems breastfeeding because I love it so much. She said she had never heard anyone say that they actually LIKE, let alone LOVE breastfeeding their babies. And I get it, it's a challenge and a sacrifice and many moms are counting down the months until their milestone stop date. I'm not in that boat but I sympathize for them and don't judge them. Breastfeeding is different for everyone.

My OB nurse had some wise words for her when  I expressed my concerns one day. She said we are not in a culture of breastfeeding. Our society is not set up to feed babies on-demand rather than on schedules. You don't see women openly breastfeeding everywhere, women are expected to nurse in secret most often. This is not a breastfeeding-positive society. Many women go into breastfeeding with fear and believe, or are told ,it's the end of the road for them when problems arise. In our body-shaming culture, there are women who aren't comfortable with their own bodies or the level of intimacy of breastfeeding. Mainstream parenting often involves sleep training, early introduction of solids (before 6 months), schedules, and fear of spoiling a baby by holding them - all  of which work to diminish a mom's milk supply.  

Our culture shames mothers for not breastfeeding or shames them for not breastfeeding by the right rules.

Not every mom may love breastfeeding the way I do. When I believe in something, I become passionate about it, I become an advocate. That's just how I am. I'm lucky enough to have had a very positive breastfeeding journey so far, and I decided to say a big screw you to society's beliefs about how I should be raising my baby. We do what we love and what makes us happy. Even though I get a bitten nipple every now and then, I've had to pump full time, and I still get up with my baby 2-4 times a night, I believe in what I'm doing and I've chosen to embrace it. I've also chosen to support other mamas. I'm that creepy woman giving a wink or a thumbs up to the mama nursing in public (if I'm not outright walking over to her and thanking her). A lot of moms have appreciated this, and we've had an awesome dialog about breastfeeding. Other moms, as you can imagine, think I'm a creeper. Whatevs, you never know who may need a little support now and then.

What I've learned is: Get support. Don't quit on a bad day. Embrace the struggles. Our babies and our bodies are human and there will be hard times. Support others.

And as long as you are feeding your baby, no matter how you end up feeding your baby, you are doing a good job.

I believe in breastfeeding and I advocate for it.
But even more so, I advocate FEEDING ALL THE BABIES!!

Kelly Mom
La Leche League

Social Media: My Distracting Frenemey

SOCIAL MEDIA

Enough said, right? What else could a piece about distractions be about these days? The phone that is attached to me all the time. If my phone is in another room - ANXIETY!

Since becoming a parent, Facebook has been my Frenemy! I entered the world of babywearing, and then  found the babywearing Facebook groups, and then the babywearing off-topic groups, natural parenting groups, crunchy mom groups, breastfeeding groups...you see the trend. My sweet Facebook learned quickly what I was reading, and the recommended pages poured in! Suddenly my news feed, which was once just friends (people I actually know in real life), became full of babywearing selfies, useful information, crunchy mommy drama, and articles galore! I knew I had "liked" too many natural parenting pages when "Full Circle Placenta" (how to use your placenta in so many ways) came around. I looked at my own wall and I had become that obnoxious mommy who only posts about mommy things and my baby.

Now, I have learned A LOT from these groups and I think I am a better mom because of social media. There's so much wonderful information out there! I have also started writing again because of some of the pages I have found, specifically some very inspiring bloggers. With social media, communities and knowledge can so easily be found and shared with others. Don't get me wrong, I think this is GREAT thing. The problem is learning to navigate the information and balance my time.

I have also been a less attentive wife and mom because of social media. The problem comes when social media becomes an obsession, when so much time is spent drinking in endless streams of accessible information that we become dependent on that stream. A pause in my life, and I reach for my phone. What am I missing during that pause? Have I lost the ability to just be still for a moment with my thoughts? Life is happening while I am busy being distracted.

Ironically, it was Facebook that led me to the book Hands Free Mama: A Guide to Putting Down the Phone, Burning the To-Do List, and Letting Go of Perfection. Admittedly, I am one chapter in after  2 weeks. The book is broken down in to sections that can be read weekly with a "Weekly Intention." I was disappointed to discover this (I LOVE my quick fixes, and I'm accustomed to fast information!). The first "Weekly Intention" was limiting time with your device. My goal was to not use social media from the time I got home from work until bed time. I got BETTER and more aware about my phone time in the evening in the last two weeks. Since I don't like to do things that I am bad at (and I see not succeeded as failing), I haven't picked up the book again. But, it's TIME. When I realized that I was checking Facebook at stoplights, I knew there was a problem.

So, NEW GOALS (because we can ALWAYS start over)
 

• No social media from the time I get home from work until the next morning. Evening and nights are family time (ya know, to put to work all that helpful stuff I read and share...)
• No phone while in the car

Sounds easy enough, right? Well, now you all know my goals, it has to happen.


Hands Free Pledge

I'm becoming Hands-Free
I want to make memories, not to-do lists.
I want to feel the squeeze of my child's arm, not the pressure of overcommitment.
I want to get lost in conversation with the people I love, not consumed by a sea of unimportant emails.
I want to be overwhelmed by the sunsets that give me hope, not by overloaded agendas that steal my joy.
I want the noise of my life to be a mixture of laughter and
gratitude, not the intrusive buzz of cell phones and text messages.
I'm letting go of distraction, disconnection, and perfection
to live a life that simply, so very simply, consists of what
really matters.
I'm becoming Hands Free.

Rachel Macy Stafford, Hands Free Mama

I Am Still a Navy Reservist's Wife

We are a Navy Reserve family- in the middle of Indiana. My husband goes to a base to work with his unit one weekend a month. Two weeks a year he leaves for training. He's a First Class (MM1) and generally has leadership in his unit, so he's actively more involved in the military than his actual time on base. He deploys for a year about every 4 years, and may be called upon in the event of disaster. Last year his orders were unexpectedly cancelled a week before he was supposed to deploy for one year. When that happened, after many difficult months of deployment prep, I was so angry. I was more than angry, I was pissed and felt betrayed. This was very confusing to many people who saw this as a blessing. And in some ways, it was. We did not have to endure a difficult separation. However, we had planned our lives around that deployment. We had adjusted our careers and finances, as well as our relationship and daily life, to gear up for the difficult separation that was to finally bring us a future we wanted. Our orders were cancelled, and we found out we were going to have a baby. Finding out we were pregnant was amazing news. In 24 hours, everything changed. 

I put the Navy out of my mind and threw myself in to the pregnancy. I stopped writing my Navy blog about deployment. I stopped writing completely- despite my husband urging me to continue. I couldn't handle it, I didn't want to. My husband had to leave his job and take a job as an exterminator to make a bit more money to support us. I had to continue working instead of staying home after the birth of our daughter. We were both angry. That's just a part of what was effected. A year and a half later, this change is still effecting us daily. I am still angry at the Navy for how the whole situation was handled. 

My husband is currently gone for his 2 weeks of yearly training (called AT). It's his first AT since the cancelled deployment. I'm reminded again that I am a Navy Reservist's wife. While he works with the military daily and goes on base once a month, my life continues as normal for the most part. This is the big difference between Reserve and Active Duty- at least for us. I have immense respect for all military families, and I'm in awe of Active Duty soldiers and sailors and their families. My relationship with the military usually looks much different than theirs. 

I am married to a man in the military, serving our country. I am proud of him and the work he does. Whether I like it all the time or not, I am connected to the Navy and the Navy gets to make decisions about our lives, about my life. That's part of the deal, that's how this works. In serving the government, sometimes individuals get screwed over. Because it's not about us, it's about the work that the military is tasked to do. Someone has to do it. 

Holding on to my anger at the military anger isn't serving me, or changing anything. Being pissed will not change what the military does, or did. 

My husband is gone right now, and he sees our 8 month old when we Face Time at night. When we Face Time, my husband is wearing one of his brown cotton undershirts that he wears with his green camouflage uniform. He wears those shirts at home every night. Seeing him wear that shirt through a screen when he's gone is somehow very different, it reminds me of what that shirt means. That brown shirt means he wears a uniform. It means he's serving our country. It means one day soon we could be facing a deployment again. The sooner I let go of my anger, and reconnect to the fact that we are a military family, the easier all that will be to accept. 

My Navy Blog / Deployment Prep Information

From One New Mom to Another: Trust Yourself, Not Your Fear

I have so many friends getting ready to have their first baby, or who had a baby shortly after I did. This has really got me thinking about motherhood and parenting, especially as they talk to me about their fears and concerns, the same way I talked to my girl friends not that long ago. Here's what I want to share with them and other new moms as I am still learning to be a mom and all the newborn stuff is still fresh in my head. 





Becoming a parent is terrifying. There's so much unknown and we feel so unequipped. How will labor go? Will my baby be healthy? Can I handle it if my baby isn't healthy? What if the baby cries all the time? Can I do this??


There are 3 things that did NOT help me:


One - Other People. You know what I mean, "those people." Many other people feel it is necessary to tell you all the terrible things that can happen: horrific pregnancies, traumatic labors, difficulty breast feeding, screaming infants, unruly toddlers. Some of this is well-meaning. Other parents want you to be prepared for what they weren't prepared for, they want you to know how hard it can actually be. And that makes sense. But I believe this kind of advice should come from close friends and family who know you and and know if you actually need to hear it. People who can say "bad things happen sometimes, and it's okay if it's hard." The last thing I needed when I was pregnant was people I barely knew telling me how awful things were for them, or terrible things that happened to someone they knew. Dear Strangers,  I know those things were hard for you. But all you are doing is scaring this shit out of new parents. Please stop.


Two - Our Culture. In a culture of consumerism, companies are geared up to scare you in to buying boat loads of baby shit. Have you seen some of this stuff lately? If you do not buy these expensive products, the worst may happen and you may be unprepared. You could have a crying baby and no $500 swing! You could have a hungry baby and no baby-food warmer! And you clearly need a special hat to put on your baby in the bath tub to make sure that water does not get in the baby's eyes when bathing him. When registering for our baby, I argued up and down in the middle of one of the big-name baby stores that I needed a special rubber ducky to tell me if the baby's bath water is too hot. If I check the water for myself, I may scold my child - what an awful parent I would be!! (I do have said duck, and it's my daughter's favorite  bath toy. It does not actually work or help me tell how hot the water is). Some of these gadgets are helpful for a time. Our oscillating chair was amazing, because the truth is, sometimes I need to sleep, eat, and shower. So it was convenient those worked for a small amount of time. And I spent about $15 at a consignment store and my baby didn't know the difference.


Three- The Majority of Parenting Books. Writers make a lot of money off of convincing you to listen to them and not your instincts. Baby-book authors have the answers. If you don't listen to their answers, you are a bad parent. Many say baby is to be trained. Crying, not sleeping, erratic schedules, and nursing around the clock are all hard to deal with, and these books tell you how make it stop. What I found is most of these books made me feel bad about myself and made both me and my baby very stressed. Many of these books do more harm than good. She cried, I cried, and we were both happier when I stopped reading those damn books on how to train us in to being happy. 


So, the question is - how can being a parent be LESS TERRIFYING? 

I'm not telling you there is a secret to making having a new baby not scary. It is scary and it can be very hard. There is a little person coming in to your world (from out of your small vagina) and everything is going to change. Even your vagina is going to be different.


Here's the things that helped me and that I am still learning:


But the best advice I have ever, and will ever, receive is this: TRUST YOURSELF.

Your body knows how to give birth. This doesn't mean there can't or won't be complications, but the more you trust yourself and become you and your baby's advocate, the less scary those things can be. Listen to your doctor or midwife. Trust them and work WITH them, not for them. You are a mother preparing to give birth, not a patient with a medical condition. I've seen so many women shamed and scared by their OB/Gyns! This is NOT normal or okay! Did I have a hospital birth with medical interventions? Yes. And I likely will again. You can birth without fear any way that works for you and your baby.

Your body was made to feed a baby. Listen to yourself and listen to your baby. And, when there's trouble, there's people that can help you. Breast feeding is natural, but it's a learned skill for you and your baby. And our bodies are human and there can be complications. Many of these can be worked through. Some can't, and that's okay. Know when you need help or other ways to feed your baby. Don't shame yourself. Don't let others scare you out of doing what you feel is best for you and your baby, either.

You know what your baby needs. I've found most books tell you that you don't. There are many books out there that teach that your baby needs trained, that she doesn't know what she needs, and she is trying to control you and this has to be stopped.  Don't be afraid that she will be spoiled, that she will never sleep through the night, that she will be over fed. Do not be afraid to trust your baby and do not be afraid to trust yourself. You and your baby are fully allowed to need and listen to each other. The thing that helped me most was remembering that my baby is a person, my baby is talking to me, and I am my baby's whole world. And that's okay and right and good. 

When you are tired and scared or have questions, use your resources. Do your research and be prepared. I've read several excellent and helpful books. They all started with "here's what we did, take what you want and what works for you." If they don't have that gist, throw them out! I tried the books and listening to other people, and we were unhappy. When you are tired and at your wits end, or you feel like you need some guidance starting out, there are books and people that can help. There are resources that are encouraging and offer gentle suggestions rather than answers and rules. Ask friends, read the books that help (not scare), then throw everything out and do what you need to do. 

Each parent and baby are different. And just because so-and-so has raised so many babies and this worked great for them, well it doesn't have to work for you! I won't be offended if you throw out what I am telling you!  If it feels wrong in your bones, look for the right thing and do what feels right. 

First, do no harm. Then, do the best you can.




Here's some resources that helped (and are still helping) me: 

Babywearing International
kellymom: Breast Feeding and Pumping Advice and Support
Psychology Today: Dangers of Cry-it-Out Sleep Training
Aha! Parenting: Newborns
La Leche League International

I Will Never Get This Moment Back

In making a goal to live more presently and be more connected, I'm making a goal not only to shut off devices for periodic times, but to shut off my mind.

I sit in the dark nursing my little one to sleep. It's the only time that we get to snuggle. She is constantly on the go, rarely sitting still long enough to breast feed during the day. When she does, her hands are in my hair, on my face, pulling at my clothes, and she is turning her head at every sound.
At night, she is all mine. She is snuggled against me in the dark and we sit and rock as she drifts off to sleep.
But I'm not fully present. My mind is elsewhere more I would like to admit.
My mind starts to wander, then race.
When I can lay her down, I need to pack lunches, shower, get things ready for work tomorrow, talk to my husband, write. I am thinking about the day, about tomorrow, about last week and next week, about conversations I need to have, things I need to accomplish.
She does not know this. She lays on my lap and sleeps. I like to think it's one of her favorite times of the day. It's my favorite time with her.  And I look down at her and realize I am missing it.
I stare at my little one. I feel the length of her body across my lap. When did she get so big? How much longer will I be able to hold her like this?
Her eyes flutter. She takes a deep breath and turns her head. She's asleep and content. I know that she could lay in my arms and sleep perfectly still for hours.
My heart is torn. I want to stay longer. I need to stay longer.
My mind has been on to other things already.
I am now the one on the go.
Distractions pulling at me, taking away my attention, turning my head.
I stop and stare at her. Tears roll down my cheeks and I try to keep them from reaching her.
Every day I wish that I could be home with her and not at work.
Now I am home with her, holding her, and I have been thinking about so many things other than being there with her.
I shut off my mind, take some deep breaths, and stare at her in the dark a while longer.
Everything else will wait.
I will never get this moment back.

Shame and Grace: You're Doing a Good Job

There are 5 pairs of nail clippers in our house,
I have lost 4 of them.
My husband has hidden the fifth pair to keep for himself. 
He will not let me use them. 
I have used other people's nail clippers. 
Tonight, I trimmed my toenails with the baby's tiny nail clippers.

I make my husband's lunch every night. 
I always put a note in for him. 
Yesterday, I found out that on several occasions, 
I have accidentally fed my husband wax paper. 
I did not get the "cheese separating paper" off the cheese when I made his sandwich - multiple times. 

I will not admit how many days in a row I have chosen sleep over a shower. 
Let's just say I should buy stock in dry shampoo. 

Sometimes, I look at other moms at the park or library or wherever and wonder how on earth they do it. How are they so fit? I haven't really worked out since before I was pregnant (so, over a year...). How do they look so put together? Are they using a better dry shampoo?  I'm also usually jealous that they don't have to work and have time to do lovely things like go to the gym or the pumpkin patch in the middle of the week. I once overheard a mom talking to another mom about how she gets up at 4am every day to make lunches, train for a marathon, and clean a bathroom if she has "extra time." I was too busy being concerned for her mental health to feel bad about myself that time. 

Women are so quick to compare themselves to other women. It's a sad product of our culture, and one in which women always lose.  I feel mothers can be WORSE about this. I compare myself to other moms, and I judge other moms. I also assume that I am being judged. We are quick to "mother-shame" ourselves and others. I see so much of this in the "crunchy mom" community and I find myself falling in to that trap often. It's difficult to remember that EVERYONE'S situation is different. But that's just it. Everyone's situation is different. When I see a mom standing there drinking her latte while her child has a meltdown, I assume she is being ridiculous. Maybe she has consoled her child through 15 meltdowns that day, and for her sanity, she just needs to drink a latte and wait THIS tantrum out. I know that when my child is having a melt down, I would love if it if someone handed me a latte and said "it's okay, you really are doing a good job." 

And THIS is my situation, and I'm doing the best I can. 
I go days without showering because that extra 15 minutes of sleep is needed for me in order to be able to spend another night up consoling a fussy 8 month old. 
I feed my husband wax paper sometimes. 
But I make his lunch, and he's said my notes make his whole day better,
even if they come with an oddly chewy sandwich. 
I have no good reason for loosing all the nail clippers. 
I loose things, and that's just who I am. 
I'm doing a good job most of the time. 

9 Steps to Being the Best Person Ever with a Grossly Perfect Family

We've all seen the articles - and I read them ALL the time. "7 Steps to Simplify Your Life," "5 Days to an Organized Home," "12 Ways to Live Better Today," and  "2 Easy Steps to Get Your Colicky Baby Who Nurses All Night and Sleeps In Your Bed to Sleep Independently Without Ever Waking Up At Night Again, Ever." Oh, they are so appealing and all sound so easy - then I feel like an expert. I read those and think "Yes! I can do this! It's so easy! My life will be better in 9 EASY STEPS!!" 

For me, one reason these articles are so appealing is the need for instant gratification. I do not have TIME to follow more than a few steps. I'm too busy/stressed/TIRED to handle more than that. So please, Mommy Gurus, give it to me in a few digestible chunks and I can feel like Super Mommy. I can tell all my friends my magical secrets I read online. Until it all falls apart. Because none of it is that simple or that fixable, at least not for me. I even had difficulty with "How To De-Seed a Pomegranate in Under 2 Minutes." Twenty minutes later, pomegranate was everywhere and my kitchen looked like a murder scene. 

The other reason the "simple steps to being a better mom/wife/person" articles are appealing to me is that I have NEVER been more challenged as a person since having a baby. PLEASE tell me how I can make this easier in a few steps! In one moment, I feel like an Amazing Woman. I have the ability and endurance to spend all night soothing a crying baby who wants no one but me, and then I can get up and go to work in the morning. In the next moment, I feel like a Controlling Bitch Queen as my husband and I have yet another fight about Baby Led Weaning as my 7 month old hacks up a chunk of banana and I refuse to do it any differently. By 10pm the baby is finally in bed and I collapse on the couch and bury myself in Facebook (to read more helpful articles and look at all my friends happy little families) because I simply cannot handle another person needing me. Then, the baby wakes up and we start again.

After (another) particularly challenging week this week, I finally picked up the book Hands Free Mama: A Guide to Putting Down the Phone, Burning the To-Do List, and Letting Go of Perfection to Grasp What Really Matters by Rachel Macy Stafford. It's been sitting on the end table for a couple of months now, so I figure it's time to give it a shot. It seems like a challenge, but it's just one simple book to give me some useful tools and POOF!, I can be and do better...WRONG... Much to my dismay, this book is intended to take ONE YEAR to work through with WEEKLY INTENTIONS. What?? I cannot be the Master of "Letting go and burning to-do lists and blah blah blah" in just the amount of time it takes me to read this book? I have things about myself and my life to work on DAILY? 

In the big picture, this makes sense. Of course this is the case. If I really want to change things about myself and my life, I have to do the work, every day. I have to be intentional, notice my behaviors, and make an effort to change my outlook. This is not my "quick fix" that I love, and that always fails me in the long run. This is not a little check list of things I can mark off and say "look what I did!" Nope, changing is a daily effort and I am going to mess up A LOT and start over even more. By no means am I saying that I am an awful person and I need to do an overhaul of my entire life. I am a generally happy person. But, being a mom has brought out the best and the worst in me. And I want to be a kind, present, attentive and supportive mom, wife, and person. I am already those things, but not as much or as often as I want to be. Too often I am distracted, stressed, tired, controlling, and obsessive. I refuse to accept that this is simply "being a mom." For me, I want it to be and "adjustment period" and "learning process." I want the experiences of motherhood, marriage, and work to smooth out my rough edges and make me in to a softer, kinder, more whole person. I'm happy to report that I am already struggling with this week's "Weekly Intention" and I am trying again today. 

Finding Beauty in the Mess

I'm starting a new blog. I'm writing again for the first time in over a year. I'm not sure what is going to come out of me, and that's always freaking awesome place to start (this is when a "sarcasm font" would be handy). But, seeing as the purpose of this blog is VULNERABILITY, I can promise messiness. (The original title of this blog post was "Hello, I'm Scared of This Blog"). I'm going to write brave, and I'm going to write kind. 

My last blog was titled "Reservation for One" and chronicled the difficulty of deployment prep as a Navy Reservist couple. 5 days before my husband was supposed to leave for Afghanistan, his orders were cancelled. Our world was left in pieces. We had also been struggling with trying to have a baby, and the day before our orders were cancelled, we found out we were pregnant. Everything we knew to be true was shattered. My husband not deploying was not the blessing our friends and family believed it to be. Our finances and lives had been arranged around this deployment, as well as my husband's military career. He had to find a new job and a new means of dealing with the finances the deployment was supposed to take care of. The blessing was our daughter, Isabelle. I was incredibly grateful to not have to deal with a pregnancy without my husband, and I'm so glad he was there for her birth. She has been the light in our lives. 

This blog is titled "Our Messy Life" because MESSY is what life has been for my husband and I since we have been together (to be fair, our lives were hardly neat and tidy BEFORE that!). Starting this blog was prompted by a particularly shitty week where I had to hear and deal with a lot of things that I didn't want to. That has been pretty much the state of things since becoming a parent (or since getting married, or since becoming an adult, or since college...or since I was five..). Marriage, life, finances, family, parenting...it's all a giant, difficult, beautiful, exciting, scary, fun, messy mess. But, from what I can tell, we aren't the only ones with a messy life. Blogging forces me to DEAL WITH things, and EXPLORE the fun and not so fun parts of being an adult in this life. And maybe some of you are dealing with the same things too. I'm going to take a wild guess and say you are.

I'm also beginning a journey - letting go of perfection. I'm working my way through the book Hands Free Mama: A Guide to Putting Down the Phone, Burning the To-Do Lists, and Letting Go of Perfection. This book is supposed to take 1 year to complete with weekly challenges. Sounds like fun, huh? Really, I NEED to learn to be PRESENT AND CONNECTED. For me, this not only means letting go of lists, perfection and technology, but also obsessive and self-centered thinking. Oh, and control. In case you didn't know this, "control freaks" (as I have been called more than once) are terrified of anything that may lead them to LOSE CONTROL. Why on earth would anyone WANT that??? Being connected and present, and letting go of control, can lead to amazing and wonderful discoveries. Life is happening in the mess. There are moments that I have missed, and moments I don't want to miss. I'm hoping to let go of what I don't need in order to find what I do need. 

So welcome - I'm going to share my life as a mom, a wife, and my journey away from perfection and into connectedness. I'm going to share our parenting choices, experiences, daily life, and maybe even some delicious brownie recipes (but since I suck at baking, you might want to skip those posts). Who knows. I can promise, it will be full of MESS and HONESTY and BEAUTY and HOPE.