Tag: Mom

Letting Go of the Mother I Thought I’d Be

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything on here, but there’s been something on my mind a lot lately that I needed to get it out.

So here we go…

Both pre and post getting pregnant, I had a lot of big ideas about the type of mother I wanted to be. The type of mother that society expected me to be.

Breastfeeding – Duh.
Make my own baby food – 100% organic or bust.
Screen time – What’s that?
Yelling at my child – I would never!

Essentially, I was the perfect mom…and then my daughter was born.

After Haddie’s birth, I quickly realized that things don’t always go as planned. That babies are merely tiny humans with their own preferences and volition. This small little 7 lb. 2 oz. creature could break me with the slightest whimper.

As I felt my expectations bending and breaking, I began to feel a since of panic. I was losing the parenting battle and was on the fast track to becoming the worst bad-word imaginable: a bad mom.

Main stream media, fellow mothers, and the general public have a lot of opinions on what type of mother we all should be. The checklist at the top of this post is only a fragment of the pressures that are put on us. When we let the ball drop, even just once, we are letting down a legion of know-it-alls that have somehow become the experts in all things parenting.

The pressure to act perfect, and to be perfect, can seem suffocating and makes us feel like failures. If we could only learn to support one another and cut each other, and ourselves, some slack, maybe we’d actually have a shot at raising decent children that know how to function in their day to day lives.

Unfortunately, there are days when I feel like I’m screwing everything up.

Days when my child has watched more episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse than I care to admit.

Days when she decides that listening to me is useless and that she’d rather scream like a banshee and blow through stores like a small tornado.

While I tried desperately to boil veggies and puree them into baby food gold, my little darling decided that she much preferred the taste of the pre-packaged creations found in your local grocery store.

There’s no answer to any of this. I can’t tell you why certain things work and why they don’t, but at the end of the day, here’s what I’ve learned. It is what it is.

So what if I’ve decided to take a half hour break and let my energetic little girl watch a show so I can catch my breath.

So what if I lost my temper one time last week and raised my voice rather than maintaining the zen-like calm of a monk.

While I’m thrilled that I was able to breastfeed for around 16 months, I still stick to the mantra “Fed is Best.”

What works for me, may not work for you. Learning ourselves and learning our own children is the only way to become a successful parent.

On the days when I find myself sobbing and telling my husband that I feel like the worst mother in the world, he reminds me to look at our daughter.

My happy, playful, funny little girl.

She has no idea that I’ve “messed something up.” She is laughing and smiling all day long. She is learning at a speed that makes my head spin. She has the sweetest nature and adores having the chance to take care of the things and people around her.

I hear her use words like “Please” and “Thank you.” I feel the love exuding from her little body as she wraps her arms around me tight.

No matter how I think I’ve failed, when I look at Hadley, I know I’m doing something right.

I may not be the mother I thought I’d be, and I’m certainly not perfect, but I’m learning to let go of those naive expectations.

I’m an over-protective, work-in-progress, that wants to eliminate the judgment I feel for my own choices and the ones of other people.

Having a child that is loved and cared for is what matters. Whatever path we choose to get there as parents is what works.

So next time you’re feeling down on yourself, please just remember that I think you’re amazing. I don’t care if you co-sleep or use a crib, if you vaccinate or not, if you breast or bottle feed, or if you baby wear or push a stroller.

You are a mother and you are a rock star. End of story.

Aloe Vera Ice Cubes…How Have I Never Thought of This?

Are you feeling the summer burn?

Down here in Florida we have officially entered the dog days of summer. It is hot…like fry an egg on the sidewalk hot. Despite this fact, however, we still find ourselves loading up the car, ordering some Publix subs, and hitting the local beach or pool.

Since we were little, people have drilled the value of sunscreen into our stubborn heads. Yet somehow, we forget to put it on, forget to reapply, or forget that baby oil is still not a valid alternative. We end up burnt.

For days following these burns we barely survive while doing the following things:

Taking ice cold showers

Walking around saying “Ouch” at every step

Peeling and itching like a mad man

Claiming that we’ll never go into the sun again (until next weekend)

And finally, slathering ourselves in aloe vera

Ahh, aloe vera. A delectable nectar bestowed upon us by the plant gods. A frequent user of the stuff since childhood, you can imagine my surprise when I realized I’d been missing out on a pretty incredible summer life hack all this time. Frozen aloe vera cubes! Continue reading “Aloe Vera Ice Cubes…How Have I Never Thought of This?”

Roasted Stuffed Pepper Casserole

So the plan for dinner tonight was stuffed peppers. Then I remembered my sweet husband is not a huge fan of them…crap. Luckily for me, however, he is a big fan of mixing random ingredients together in one pan and then smothering them with cheese. I started concocting and came up with my own version of a stuffed pepper casserole.

blog2

Inspired by my deep adoration for roasted red peppers (I mean really, is there anything better?) I started to mentally piece together this dish. The result was quite fabulous. The husband and child were quite pleased and are looking forward to leftovers for lunch tomorrow. This feels like a total mom win!

Interested in this cheesy, red pepper goodness? Check out the recipe below!

Continue reading “Roasted Stuffed Pepper Casserole”

12 Months, 52 Weeks, 365 Days

blog2

Today is a day that I’ve been anxiously awaiting and dreading all at the same time. Today is the day that our little girl turns one! While watching her grow, learn and change has become the greatest thrill in my life, it breaks my heart to see her moving further and further away from that little baby we brought into the world a year ago. It really does happen in the blink of an eye. Thankfully, however, all sadness is erased when I realize how extraordinary that daughter of ours really is.

I know all parents think their child is perfect and wonderful and brilliant, but I swear Haddie is spectacular. She has the brightest smile and sweetest personality. She is incredibly smart and amazes me day to day with the things she’s capable of.

blog1

While I was pregnant, I can remember thinking – what if I don’t like this kid? Yes, that’s a terrible thing to even consider and I should have known better, but it was a serious concern. Everyone tells you what you’re supposed to feel, and I had an overwhelming fear that something would be missing. From the moment she came into the world, high pitched screams and all, I knew there was nothing to worry about. Within seconds of seeing that gorgeous face, gravity had shifted. Everything before that moment was the gone with the past and this incredible creature was all that mattered for the future.

Hadley Sutton, you are my life, my love, and my unwavering happiness. I vow to do everything in my power to protect your dreams and give you the most beautiful life possible. Things will not always be easy. There will be scrapes and bruises, bullies, and break-ups, but I will use every ounce of my strength to build you up and help you through…kissing away your tears and reminding you of the possibilities. I want you to live the life that brings you joy, and I promise to always be your biggest fan and cheerleader.

blog3

Each day, you remind your daddy and I just how blessed we really are. You truly are our miracle.

Happy First Birthday, Haddie Girl.

Infertility Awareness Week

For so many of us women, we start to dream about our fairy tale lives at a very young age. There will be Prince Charming, a beautiful wedding, and the arrival of a gorgeous, bouncing baby girl or boy to make our family whole. Unfortunately for a large majority of us, that sweet little baby will not come easy.

The National Institutes of Health has discovered that 1 in 6 couples will struggle with infertility. If you have never dealt with the uncertainty and heartbreak that comes with this disease, I will tell you this…There are simply no words to describe it. Whether you have dealt with miscarriage, stillbirth, or simply the inability to conceive, there is no way to explain to someone how you feel. In honor of Resolve.Org’s National Infertility Awareness Week, I offer this post as an ode to all of my fellow warriors in this journey.

You are all beautiful, courageous men and women. I stand beside you and rejoice in your strength. For those of you who have achieved your dreams of a little one after a long and strenuous journey, I have so much gratitude and joy. If you haven’t yet found your happily ever after, I offer you sweet dreams, lots of luck, and more baby dust that you can imagine.

Our little girl is truly a miracle that I never thought possible. All of the cards were stacked up against us, but yet here you are. Our lives are so much brighter and more fulfilled because of you, little Hadley. I thank God for you every day.

Frozen: A Temptress Extraordinaire

Frozen

I did something terrible yesterday; something that there’s just no coming back from. I watched Frozen…twice…in a four hour period. I bow my head in shame.

You see this damn movie has been out for almost three years now, and despite the constant flutter of songs, quotes, and merchandise, I’d managed to escape its grasp. No two ways about it, this movie pissed me off. Who did these little Elsa and Anna idiots think they were? Being compared to the Disney greats like Belle and Ariel; it’s blasphemy I say. So strictly out of principle, I stood my ground and vowed never to see it. In fact, one of the first parental decisions I made upon finding out we were having a girl is that she would never fall victim to this godforsaken movie’s wicked claws.

I’d seen what was happening around me. There was a never-ending flow of Frozen themed birthday parties and Halloween costumes. The toy aisles were overrun with strangely misshapen snowmen and reindeer. And don’t even get me started on the song…I was convinced my ears would bleed the next time someone uttered those three little words (I won’t even write them..there will be no sing-along happening here!)

But alas, it seemed as though the odds were stacking up against me. When my friend Katie (a fellow Anti-Frozen team member) called to say she’d watched it, I realized there was a chance I may be the last person on Earth who was missing out on some extraordinary secret. So I did it…I set up the DVR and recorded the stupid movie.

I told myself that I wasn’t doing it or me. After all, I’m a mature adult that is capable of not watching some silly, little Disney movie. I was simply being a kind and responsible mother. How would it look if my poor child showed up somewhere and was completely out of the loop? At ten months old, that would clearly be devastating to her social standing.

So during playtime today, I put it on…just as background noise, you know? Very quickly I realized that my young child had no interest in watching this thing. Thank goodness…she wasn’t getting sucked in. I had dodged a bullet. Except what did that character just say? Where were they going? How’d the damn snowman get there again? Suddenly it was nap time and I graciously hit stop on the DVR, turning instead to some high-quality adult television.

But wait…what was that nagging? I began to realize I was anxious to continue watching. I mean, I had to find out if she chose Kristoff or Hans, right!?! So I did it. I finished the stupid movie and then, within a couple of hours, I’d restarted it for a second viewing.

So there you have it, folks. My life is officially over and I am just another weak-minded statistic. I don’t know how I fell so far, so fast, but the answer is yes: I want to build a damned snowman!

Now leave me to my Frozen-filled misery…it’s about time for me to watch it again.

An Afternoon Snooze

moments

Yesterday afternoon, my daughter let me rock her to sleep. You’re probably sitting there thinking, good for you…what’s the big deal? The big deal is that she hasn’t done this in months! When she was first born, and for many months after, she loved to be rocked and cuddled like most babies at that age do. I remember long, blissful naps on the couch where I lie cuddling her and looking down at her sweet, little face. Despite the ache in my neck, and the cramp in my legs from holding an awkward position for quite some time, I didn’t dare move a muscle. There was no scenario that would cause me to disrupt her slumber and ruin such a precious moment.

Then she got big (or, at least, she thinks she is!) And in recent months, she’s decided that she no longer wants to be rocked. During the fussy period before she falls to sleep, all we can do is lay her down. Forget the cuddling, the cooing, the rubbing of her back…the best thing to do is just lay her down and let her do her thing. How quickly they stop needing us for certain things.

And then yesterday happened. She’s been in a funny mood the past few days where, despite being completely exhausted, she refuses to take a nap. It’s frustrating periods of fighting with her to go to sleep, only to realize that somehow your child suddenly has the upper hand. After several rounds of this delightful game, I decided to try out the rocking chair (masochist that I am.) Within a few short rocks I realized that, miraculously, it was working! She was getting sleepier and had started snuggling into me. In a few moments ,she was out, and there I sat once again cuddling my sleeping babe. It was perfection.

I have to wonder if we’ll have any more moments like that. It may seem so simple, but it’s something I miss more than words. I can’t believe my little girl is already almost a year old. She’s changed so much and is learning something new every day. People talk about how quickly time will go by, but I never realized just how serious they were. Lesson learned. It’s easy to get wrapped up in cleaning the house, cooking the meals, doing our jobs. But we’ll never get these little moments back with our kids. So hold them tight and take advantage of every opportunity you have to just sit quietly and curl up with your babies. Just like people always say…they’re only little once!

What’s in a Name?

had

You know what I think is funny? The way people react when I tell them my daughter’s name. Now don’t get me wrong, I understand that her name might be slightly unconventional, but in a world full of North West’s and Spurgeon’s, I really didn’t think Hadley Sutton was that strange.

And yet somehow, whenever people hear her unique moniker for the first time they tend to look at us like we have three heads. We get questions like:

How did you come up with a name like that?
That’s kind of different isn’t it?

And my favorite…

So that must be a family name, right?

Because apparently, my husband and I would only choose a name so ridiculous because we have some sort of familial attachment to it. And of course, there’s always the people who simply respond, “Huh?” I guess they think it’s so weird we must have been mistaken when we spoke it. Now I’m not saying that the people who ask these questions are trying to be outright rude or hurtful, but we need to consider how statements and questions like these might come across.

Choosing a name is not an easy task. I reached a point in my pregnancy where I legitimately thought we’d just wait until she turned 18 and let her choose for herself. She could have just been kid or girl until then! What a daunting undertaking it is to determine what a person will be called for the rest of their life. The name on their report cards, driver’s license, and job applications. A person’s name is often the very first thing that we learn about them…the very first impression we have. As parents, we want to make it a good one.

Hadley’s name is inspired from a few different sources. When Ryan and I first started watching the show Parenthood, we fell in love with the name Haddie…somehow though it sounded too much like a nickname to make it official, though. When I read a book about Ernest Hemingway’s first wife, Hadley Richardson, I fell in love. After mentioning the name to Ryan, we thought on it for awhile before finally deciding it was perfect. After seeing Sutton a few different places, we both felt like it was such a uniquely, beautiful name.

When I hear the name Hadley Sutton, I think of elegance. It feels like such a strong, feminine name that will stand the test of time. To our ears, our daughter’s name is something beautiful.

While we might not always agree with the names that people choose, goodness knows I’ve heard some doozies, we should try to remember that a mom and dad worked hard to choose that name. A lot of painstaking thought and emotion went into the decision and who are we to pass judgment? And if we feel like we there’s no way around being slightly judgmental…maybe let’s not do it to their faces?

That Whole Giving Birth Thing – Part 2

When we arrived at the hospital and made our way to the special OB Emergency Room where they hide the crazed labor-ridden women, I was informed that I was still sitting tight at 2cm…maybe 2 1/8, if I was lucky. That was impossible! I’d been contracting for hours at this point! The nurse told me that with such little progression, my midwife would more than likely not want to admit me. She must have seen the terror on my face because she suggested that we walk laps around the hospital courtyard to get things moving.

So we walked. And walked. And walked. I’m not kidding you when I say that my sweet husband and I did laps for almost 3 HOURS straight. Only stopping for periodic breaks when the nurse would check me, tell me I was still not progressing, and then send us out to walk some more. Finally, around 3am, after one final check, she gave us the glorious news that I’d made it to 3. She called my midwife and begged her to admit me. The midwife said yes! We picked up my bags and I waltzed (waddled) my butt up to labor and delivery!

After calling our parents to tell them we’d been admitted, I started trying to live out the zen birth I’d been dreaming of. I fully intended to deliver our little girl sans medicine. First things first…into the tub I went. I had put in a special request for a delivery room with one of the big fancy whirlpool tubs. As soon as the nurse had checked me out, I started pushing to get into the tub. She filled it up, helped me undress and assisted in lowering me into the water. I leaned my head back, turned on the jets and felt my labor pains melt away. That is until the aforementioned nurse came back in and started freaking out that my monitor was off. She made me leave my super relaxed position and told me I had to sit a certain way. On my knees, hunched over with my arm hovering out of the water…not exactly the experience I was looking for. Out of the tub, I went.

I walked around my room, bounced on a birthing ball and huffed essential oils like a feen. Around 10am, the midwife came in and discovered that I was still hanging out around 3cm. She decided it was time to break my water and speed things up. After breaking my water (a lovely experience, by the way…blech!) she made me get into a warm shower. She looked defeated and didn’t seem to have much faith in my dilating capabilities. Before walking out, she warned us that we were in for the long haul.

As I waited for them to get the shower ready, I felt a sudden shift in my contractions. They’d gone from bearable to a ton of bricks hitting me over and over every two seconds. They got me into the shower and my poor hubby practically had to hold me up. In a matter of minutes, I felt compelled to sit down and found myself hanging out in a hospital shower in the fetal position. For the first time since contractions started, I began to cry.

The nurse told me that I may want to reconsider the epidural. If I couldn’t handle the pain I was currently in, there was no way I’d make it through the rest of labor. And per that nurse, I still had a LONG way to go. My resolved weakened and I frantically begged for the anesthesiologist.

They prepped me for the epidural and had to keep reminding me to sit still. The contractions were coming constantly, and were hitting harder and harder each time. I saw the nurse and anesthesiologist give each other a funny look. Once the drugs were pumping, I heard one say to the other, “I think you better check her, I think she might be in transition.” The nurse leaned me back, checked me out and looked up with a shocked expression. I’d gone from 3 to 9 1/2 in less than an hour…about ten minutes later I was pushing.

In the beginning of my pushes, my midwife gave me the impression that I had no idea what I was doing. At one point, she even said, “I think you’re forgetting what we’re trying to do here.” Well that just pissed me off. I put on the most intense focus face I’ve ever had in my life and pushed like a champ.

I pushed for a little less than an hour, and have never felt more empowered than I did in those moments. My body felt strong, and I knew that I was completely capable. When they asked me to take breaks between contractions, it almost pained me. I felt like I was going against what my body so naturally wanted to do. Out of nowhere, I felt an excitement taking over the room. The nurses were breaking down my bed and the midwife was suiting up for the big “catch.” I gave one big push, and from the look of unequivocal love on my husband’s face, I knew our sweet Hadley was here. The midwife lifted that tiny body up and placed her on my chest. I felt like a woman possessed. I bawled like a baby and showered my daughter’s face with kisses. She was perfection.

When I think back to my birthing experience, there’s a lot of things I could say. But if you were to give me a one word allowance to describe my feelings about labor and delivery, there’s only one that seems to fit. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I’m one of those annoying women…my experience was beautiful.

The Gross Side of Being a Mother

So a few days ago, my husband came home from work and took control of our little one so I could run up to the store. I dashed out of the house following a full day of baby loving, went to the store, and was back home just in time for Haddie’s bath. As I sat there cooing at my precious girl in the tub, pondering how I could have been blessed with such a cutie, Ryan grabbed the side of my shirt and goes, “Um Kristen…what is this?” Glancing down at the stain in question, I instantly realize that I’d been wandering around our local Publix with baby poop down the side of my shirt. It’s official; I’ve been initiated into the mom club.

At a different time in my life, I probably would have been repulsed by this. There would have been a serious possibility of gagging and dry heaves, but with my brand new set of mom goggles, I simply threw my head back and laughed. What’s even stranger than the lack of disgust for my fecal-stained shirt? The fact that when I finished cracking up, I stared down at my child and decided I loved her even more.

You see, in that moment, I think I realized just how much my life has changed. My sweet, little girl has become my entire life, and even though there are some rough, disgusting moments, there is nothing that can change the way I feel about her. My disdain for bodily fluids is a thing of the past (where my child is concerned, at least), and my severely weak gag reflex has found its inner strength.

Still so happy, even when she's sick! — Still so happy, even when she’s sick!

This past week, our little one has been sick with her first cold (poor babe!) and this new found strength has certainly been put to the test. There has been an abundance of snot and saliva, mostly found in my hair as of late, and yet somehow I still find myself loving her more and more. You should see me busting out my NoseFrida to suck her little boogers out with a smile on my face each time. I’m pretty sure I could give Super Woman a run for her money!

How about you guys, anybody have any gross mom stories they’d like to share?