Ch ch ch changes...

If you're a reader, you've noticed that my blog has been private lately for very personal reasons. No, it's not because I have some big announcement about baby #2. As of yet, there is NO  baby #2.

I'm trying to figure out the direction of my blog.  I think I am going to go private, so if you are a reader, please either leave a comment with your email address for me to add, or you can email me jmb 2007 at gmail dot com.

I love writing this blog, and I miss it.  I have so many projects that I've done in the past few weeks that I'd love to share :)

I don't know if I have many readers left out there, honestly.  All my former "friends" from when I started have left to be part of the mommy world...but if you are out there, please leave your info so I can add you to my blog reader list :)

xoxo,
J.

Smash Cake :)

Pondering

I'm trying to figure out the direction of my little blog due to some...issues...lately.  D and Sparky and I are all fine, and no, I didn't go private because I'm pregnant. AF is here in full force.

So...if you want to stick around, I'd love to have you.  If you're a current blog reader, you should be able to see my posts. Let me know...

xoxo,
JB

A Retraction of Sorts

Last Friday, I posted and subsequently un-posted about working moms.  I had been wanting to write a post about working moms for a while, but I just couldn't find the words.  After writing and publishing last Friday, I realized that I still hadn't found the right words.  I wasn't ashamed of what I'd written, but I realized that it wasn't what I wanted to say.

My best, dearest friend, who is a SAHM, texted me regarding the post, and that's what made me think. We started talking back and forth and I realized something: SAHM, working mom, it doesn't matter.  We feel the need to defend what we do, be it working or staying home.  And as my conversation with her went on, I came to that conclusion.  There is no rank or betterness to one way or the other, yet because of the judgement and strong opinions of others, we always feel the need to defend what we do.  When I stayed home with D before going back to work, Sparky would come home and I'd give him a laundry list of what I did around the house that day.  He didn't ask, but I felt the need to PROVE that I had done something, defend my staying at home.

I realize that some of my defensiveness is part of my personality.  Because I constantly feel the need to be the best at everything and feel that everyone is looking to me to be the best, I get defensive when I feel that I may not be doing something exactly right.  I guess, in this case, the "not doing something exactly right" would be staying home with my son.  And who's "right" is that?  I'm not sure it's mine, or D's, or Sparky's.

Stirrup Queens wrote a post this week about everything being "too loud." I could not agree more.  While I love Pinterest and Instagram and Facebook, for women like me who want to be everything to everyone, they are belittling reminders of what I'm not.  I love my Christmas decor until I see what so-and-so made out of empty bottles and epsom salt.  I'm happy with my crockpot dinners until so-and-so reveals that she's eating clean and shopping only organic (with a picture at a farmer's market).  I think D's nursery/outfit/younameit is perfect until so-and-so's son is wearing a personalized Christmas outfit sewn by Coco Chanel herself.  You get the point.  It's not greed or jealousy that I feel, but a feeling that makes me want to crawl back into bed, yet I know that I shouldn't be in bed, I should be crafting a nativity out of popsicle sticks and cotton balls.   I thought that turning 30 meant I wouldn't care what people thought about me; turns out, turning 30 just means that now I care what people think about my son, too.  (if you know me in real life, you're not surprised that I don't let D wear the same thing to school, ever).  I'm not sure men feel this kind of pressure, at least I know Sparky doesn't. Is this just my personality, or do others feel this too?

How do we turn down the volume?

Being a mom--no matter what kind--is hard stuff. Like, the hardest thing I've done in my life.  We all have our little shoulder devils that whisper in our ears and tell us we're not good enough because of (fill in the blank...).  We all feel the need to justify or defend ourselves.  If we stopped looking to other people's "rights" and just found our own, maybe this shoulder devil would go away, or at least become a quiet whisper, not a roaring growl.

Weaning by the numbers

Little D is 9 months today. NINE MONTHS! He is crazy, crawling boy and thinks he can walk, though he cannot.  I told myself that I would breastfeed until he was 9 months, and now that it's here, I'm walking a fine line between weaning and not weaning.

As of last week, I have stopped pumping at work.  As of today, I have no more frozen breastmilk in my freezer. Sad day.  All that means is that I nurse D 3 times a day (AM, 4:00pm, night time) and then he gets 2 bottles when he's at school.  He's boycotting the bottle right now, but that's a post for another time, along with my (his?) food woes.  After our baby-less trip last weekend--4 days away total--I was afraid that my milk was just gone. I could barely pump 2 ounces and I was sad, because even if I weaned D during the day, I at least wanted to nurse him in the morning and before bed.  But as soon as we got home and I started nursing again, my body stepped up and met his needs. Pretty awesome.

Breastfeeding this long is one of my greatest accomplishments, and I think I've done a lot of pretty good things in my life.  We struggled; at 3 weeks I wanted to throw out the boob and in the bottle, but we persevered.  I am so proud of myself, and if you know me at all, you know it takes a lot for me to give myself kuddos or a pat on the boob for anything.  My goal is to nurse him, at least AM and PM, until he turns 1, or until there's a baby #2 that may make nursing him impossible.  While I do miss being able to feed him five times a day on the weekend, I do NOT miss the close, personal relationship with my pump.

I bid a fond farewell to the whiny pump noise...and as a parting gift, here are some numbers...

• 80--days I pumped at work (since August only)
• 4800--minutes I spent pumping at work (since August only)
• 120--disposable pump wipes I used
• 3--boxes of breastmilk storage bags now gone
• 160--ounces of milk I once had in my freezer
• 2--ounces of milk I ended up pumping once D started eating more solids
• 6--bottles of Fenugreek I've gone through since February
• 8--times D has bitten me since he's gotten teeth (a relatively low number considering he's had teeth for a while now)
• 4--ounces of milk/formula D is drinking at each feeding, when he decides he wants the bottle
• 4--airport bathrooms in different cities in which I have pumped
• 3--states I have pumped in 
• 2--times I've had to take out multiple bags of breastmilk to go through TSA security
• 1--time I was asked "ma'am, what is in that bag" referring to my pump
• 1--wedding dinner I've had to leave to pump 
• 0--number of times I regret schlepping my pump EVERYWHERE 

A post I've been writing in my head for some time about working moms v. SAHMs is imminent, once I get the clarity of mind to write all of the thoughts down that are crammed in my head. 

Happy Thanksgiving :)

Are we here again already?

2 posts in one day...wow.

I took a pregnancy test yesterday.  Not that we were trying last month, but I thought maybe, just maybe, Right Ovary had been her overachieving self and we would get lucky pregnant and then I could say, "and we weren't even trying!" as I rub my large belly and smirk disdainfully at those who saying having a baby is easy and, "just relax."

Ha.
Ha.

That damn pee stick was as white as white could be.  Almost like it was laughing in my face.  Looking at pee sticks now is quite different than it was when we first started trying. Now I'm either juggling a baby on my hip or preventing said baby from falling on his face while pulling himself up on my bathroom stool as I squint and re-arrange and hold the pee stick into the light.  (hey--you know you do this too...if I look just right will I see the beginning of a pink line?).  And I think that baby makes the stark white pee stick bearable, at least for now.  That little bundle of crawling, screeching, talking, drooling craziness is what keeps me sane but also what makes me yearn to be pregnant again.

A couple of weeks ago I was talking to my BFF (she has a 6 mo daughter).  I was telling her that I was logically ready for #2--I'm 30, I'm ready to not be pregnant forever, my career is at a point where I could stay home--but that I wasn't emotionally ready.  Then something clicked last week: I'm ready.  In my heart, I know that I could give #2 the love it deserves and still love D more and more every day.

The other night I had a dream THREE TIMES that I was pregnant.  Then Sparky emailed me and told me he had been doing some thinking and was ready to grow our family.  THEN a girl who had borrowed my maternity dresses brought them back to me at work.  This is all in the same day people! I mean, it was like a veritable burning bush of signs.

So, I guess we are officially trying.  But with the cheap OPKs, not the really good Mercedes of OPKs, yet. For some reason the cheap tests take the pressure off so seeing a white prego pee stick doesn't hurt quite as much.  I seem to be ovulating, though with only one tube, I know our monthly chances aren't as good as they could be.  I'm nervous, excited, ready, and not ready all at the same time.  True to form, I've already picked out a new pregnancy announcement.  I love focusing on things like that; I think it's just a coping mechanism I have.

One of my hs BFFs is pregnant with her third, and BFF with the 6 mo is also ready to be prego again, and my wonderful SIL (with the 1 year old) told me today that she and BIL are ready to give my neice a sibling as well.  So maybe 2014 will bring a baby boom.

Right now, I feel calm about all of this. Give me two months of stark white pee sticks and I may need some X.anax.

D's first Halloween!

My niece's nickname is Tinkerbell...so that inspired me to dress D as Peter Pan for Halloween.  That, and the fact that Sparky's nickname has always been Peter Pan, the boy who never wants to grow up :)

Trying to get D to smile is almost as difficult as changing his diaper or his clothes.  He's a very contemplative boy (lol)

Peter Pan, mom and dad, and a whole lotta teething drool

no, those leaves are NOT growing out of his head or a part of his costume

E trying to steal D's candy already

"What, you're telling us we can't eat this stuff? What's the point then?!"
(we had some sleepy cousins at this point)

Wave of Light

Today is pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day.  Two years ago, (on Halloween), we conceived our first child.  I remember taking the positive test at 4 in the morning.  I remember the sheer excitement.  I remember a few weeks later, blood gushing out and calling my husband and our doctor frantically, hoping for the best but knowing in my heart that the worst was happening.

If you want, you can read Malachi's story here.  There's no way I can recount it again; the thought still brings tears to my eyes.

For 7 weeks, we loved our little Malachi.  I know now his purpose was to reveal my f-ed up uterus and ultimately, he did pave the way for Daniel to bless our lives.  But I still remember him.  I'm not sure if I'll ever forget my first baby.  And on this day, all women who have lost babies are in my prayers.