Ahh. My baby just turned 6 months old. Before we do the whole, “Time slow down!” and, “Stay little forever!” thing, I have to push pause. This is about me.
What?! About you? You have a baby now – how can you be so selfish?
Chill, ya’ll. I’m allowed to have this.
Continue reading “Celebrating the Mother in Motherhood”
I am good at breastfeeding. It is easy for me. It is my favorite part about motherhood. I have become a die hard lactivist. August 1st starts World Breastfeeding Week and I am pumped (pun intended). Everywhere I look I see articles and research and pics – oh my! Breastfeeding fascinates me.
When I was pregnant, breastfeeding was the topic I was most anxious about. We were so prepared for the birth of our girl but despite a breastfeeding class, I did not feel even slightly ready once baby got here. I’d seen my sister nurse a few times but that was pretty much the extent of my knowledge. Continue reading “Bottles, Breasts, and Babies”
Birth is such a messy, hard, glorious miracle. There are no words that can capture the pain and joy experienced. Each birth is unpredictable and unique. No birth is greater than another.
It’s been four months and I’m not over her birth. I don’t expect to be over it in 4 more months, 4 years or by the time she has kids. It is the single greatest thing I have ever done.
Continue reading “Kensington’s Birth Story”
This week was better for two reasons. The first being that I no longer pump (cue the hallelujah chorus – I’ll get to this subject soon). The second reason is we found a nanny. Not only did we find a nanny, but we found a great one.
When I discovered it was nearly impossible to balance my at home full time job and take care of Kensington, I reluctantly went searching for help. We decided against out of home child care for many reasons but one of the most prominent being that Kensie won’t take a bottle. She needed to be close to me for feedings.
I wrestled with the process for the longest time. I badly wanted to make it work but my marketing job is too demanding. I was trying to please her and keep my head above water professionally, and both my parenting and workload were suffering. Continue reading “Since I Can’t Be a SAHM”
I grew up in a house with parents kissing each other in the kitchen and tickling each other on the couch. Gross, right? Wrong. The gross part is after one of us four girls asked them to get a room, my dad said firmly (every. single. time.), “If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be here.”
Yes, “That’s what she said” jokes fly at family dinners and we may have watched one or two movies we shouldn’t have when we were younger, but nothing beats your own dad reminding you that it wasn’t a stork that dropped you off. Continue reading “My Dad’s Not-So-Subtle Reminder”