Category: Confessions

Confessions, Health and Wellness

The “D” Word

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

The Short Story

The older I get, the more I realize how common hormone-induced depression and anxiety are in women my age. It is something seemingly everyone is affected by, but very few are talking about. While prescription medications are at an all time high and largely working for many people, I found that they were not ideal for me. This is why I continue to be on a quest to treat my mental and emotional health with as many natural solutions as possible.

The Long Story

I have been medically treated for depression exactly three times in my life. Six months after my first daughter was born, I finally sought help for demonic psychosis what was ultimately diagnosed as postpartum depression. I was prescribed Celexa over the phone and took it until Eliott was a year old.

Three years later my second daughter was born. My doctor thought it best to preemptively strike against a recurrence of postpartum depression, and put me on a low dose of Zoloft. I’m guessing it was effective; I never experienced any depression symptoms.

My third child was a very large, very chill, and very sleepy baby boy. Though my husband claims I still had a mild amount of hormonal lows, I was not even close to thinking I was, again, at a point of needing medication, and remember that first year of my son’s life as relatively peaceful.

Then, I got pregnant with my final child, another girl. Long before we even knew her gender, I was becoming that raging version of myself who couldn’t get the house clean enough, couldn’t love any of my offspring even a little bit, and wanted to take out all of my (nonsensical) fear and aggression on the only other adult presence in my life, which was my innocent husband. This time, the diagnosis was “prenatal depression” and I was once again put on a very low dose of Zoloft.

Telling people I was treated for postpartum depression has become easy. In fact, I realize more and more just how common it is. But somehow, admitting I continue to suffer from extreme mood swings related to PMS is a lot harder.

I would guess that the ratio of women suffering like me, to those admitting it in public, is low. And it makes sense. I know I certainly don’t want to be the suburban, stay-at-home, minivan-driving, housekeeper-employing, mother-of-four-planned-children who admits to having full blown breakdowns (even now, a few times a year) for reasons that seem beyond my control. I am a healthy person. I eat well and take care of my body. I am confident and secure in my spiritual faith. My personal relationships, family support, and marriage are unusually good compared to many others.

It’s embarrassing to have the life I have, with all of its relative freedom from basic hardship, and yet have full days of mental and physical debilitation that render me mostly useless, angry, and ashamed.

Depression, Anxiety, and Hormones

What kind of symptoms am I talking about here? Mine have included in a range of severity, the following: anger, rage, uncontrollable desire to have my house or my space suddenly spotless, insecurity, panic attacks complete with what could be described as having a mild heart attack, lack of libido, hot sweats, sugar cravings, lack of appetite and extreme weight loss (also weird because I’m already quite thin), lack of desire to do fun things, inability to laugh at actual funny things, lack of desire to make other people laugh (which is kind of my MO), general negativity, migraines, inability to sleep, exhaustion, general lack of energy, hair-trigger temper, impatience (which is especially weird for me), forgetfulness, inability to focus or to feel like I can get my shit together on an average day, lots of yelling and cursing to get my point across, crying for seemingly valid but actually kind of embarrassing reasons, feelings like no one understands me, feeling like no one is listening to me, feeling like no one can possibly understand how I’m feeling.

While I know this isn’t true for all 40 million adults in the US who are currently being treated for some form of an anxiety disorder, I can say for myself that hormones are the driving cause of all these problems. In the last decade, my very worst symptoms of depression and/or anxiety were most prevalent while I was on birth control, pregnant, nursing, ovulating, or about to start my period. (That’s right, if you do the math, in the last 10 years I’ve had about 600 good days.)

Something had to give.

Treating Depression and Anxiety with Medication

I didn’t really understand the full scope of chemical/hormonal imbalance until I experienced it personally. I admit I was always one of those glass-is-half-full people who looked at depression as a sign of weakness, hidden skeletons, or laziness.

I couldn’t really have been more wrong.

Maybe this is why it is difficult to admit it now affects me.

I’m not one of those people who is against modern medicine as a general rule. I vaccinate my kids, I take Excedrin for headaches, and have been known to pop Benadryl as a sleep aid. Also, I have been in very close communication with my current doctor about the full spectrum of my mental and physical health.

But here’s the thing: I did not like being on antidepressants.

Don’t get me wrong, when things were at the absolute worst, the side-effects of selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors (SSRi’s) were preferable to the lack of control I felt without them, and so I considered the drugs to be a necessary short-term solution. It was truly one of those times when the rewards outweighed the side-effects.

But the list of negative side-effects I experienced while taking an SSRI is long. I had no emotions. I remember watching a class full of high school freshman blatantly disrespect me and each other and experienced exactly zero desire to stop them. (In fact, I remember telling them this, and verbalizing how strange it was that I did not couldn’t even make myself care.) I was devoid of normal human emotional response, something that is typically heightened with pregnancy and childbirth. I would say that I missed having hearty belly laughs and tears when appropriate, but another side-effect of the drugs is that I was aware they were gone and I didn’t care. Some of you will appreciate that I had turned off Dexter after the baby/blood season 4 finale, but was later able to restart and finish out the entire series while I was on Zoloft.

Because nothing bothered me. At all.

I didn’t like the bland taste of food. I know many women who hate antidepressants because of weight gain. I was the opposite. I was never hungry, and when I logically knew it was time to eat, nothing sounded good. I put extra salt on everything and was forever apologizing that dinner tasted so bland. (John thought I was crazy.)

I didn’t like restless leg syndrome nor my sudden inability to fall asleep. This is actually the reason I discovered magnesium supplements and am thankful for that, but being exhausted and not being able to sleep might be the most torturous feeling in the universe.

Why I’m Talking About All This, Now

I cannot even count the number of times I’ve connected with both friends and strangers over these mutual feelings of helplessness and the desire to “feel better” without medication. Most of us are between the ages of 25 and 50. Most of us remember a time when we felt good. And all of us just want to feel good again.

I simply cannot fathom that living like this is a new normal that I’m just supposed to accept. Even if I could live like this, it isn’t fair to my husband and children. I hope other women (especially moms) won’t accept it either.

So this entire post comes across a little abruptly, despite the length, and I realize to some friends and family who regularly follow my blog, much of it might be cause for alarm.

Do not be alarmed.

The truth is, things are good.

I have made some habit changes that are noticeably making a difference in how I feel, day-to-day, and month-to-month. Some are no big deal. Others require a little effort. But all of them are well worth how much better I’m feeling. If you are interested to see what I do, you can read all about it here.

For the Mamas of Little Ones

Truth: It took my body a full two years after pregnancy (because I was nursing?) to start really feeling normal again, and getting there has been a slow but steady process.

Truth: Having small kids at home is exhausting, even with balanced hormones. Daily stress for the mother of young kids is no joke. This is true for stay-at-home moms. This is true for working moms. This is true for single moms. This is true for moms who married Superman.

Truth: I am with you. It is difficult to admit that something I outweigh by more than 100 pounds and outsmart by more than 23 years is getting the better of me. Regularly. Times four.

If you are stuck in toddler-land, or colic-land, or the land where sleep simply doesn’t exist for anyone, than hear me say this: I enjoy my children more and more as they get older. Ignoring for a moment the fact that all of my spawn are genetic clones of John and me, I believe these young-years are difficult, largely, because we’re doing things right. And I believe that what I’m doing now, is going to make the teenage years preferable to the toddler years, despite what the majority of the population wants to tell me.

I also believe I deserve to feel good and to be able to offer my family my best.

And so I’m working on it. Healthy habits for myself, healthy communication with my spouse and kids, and now, sharing a few of the things that are working for me with you.

Join the Discussion

Please comment below. Please share this post with those who might need it. Please keep up the dialogue with those who love you. Talking leads to action. If you know me in real life, contact me. I’m wide open.

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Confessions

Hurricane Harvey and My Anniversary

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

Anyone else glued to the Hurricane Harvey coverage?

Despite my current love affair with North Carolina, Texas still holds a pretty big chunk of my history and therefore my heart. I have a lot of friends and family in Houston.

12 years ago today I got married in Salado, TX.

12 years ago yesterday, very dear friends from Baylor got married in Houston, TX, and I was in their wedding. One of those things where promises were made and non-refundable plane tickets purchased long before John and I decided to get married and realize we had a very narrow window in which to make it happen if we wanted both of our brothers to be there.

Of course there was also that whole four-week engagement thing. Whatever.
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You might also remember that 12 years ago tomorrow, Hurricane Katrina hit the Gulf Coast, and everyone was evacuated to Houston.

And I was there. Married for 24 hours, flying home to start work on a Thursday, and not a damn hotel in sight.

So many things make my wedding memorable.

Fast forward to a few years ago when I read Five Days at Memorial and Zeitoun and got a glimpse of Katrina that I had previously somehow missed.

So now, I am glued to this Hurricane Harvey coverage. And you guys, it is bananas.

I checked in on that friend, Nesi, last night, to wish her a happy anniversary and to make sure she’s still alive. In her words, “In typical mom fail mode,” she and her husband Greg left for an anniversary trip to Las Vegas last Thursday. She left her three kids home with a babysitter and plenty of family nearby. You know, when this whole thing was just a storm.

Nesi & Greg heading back into Houston while everyone else heads out. Just kidding. But it might as well be.

We are watching story after story of people trying to leave. And here’s my friend Nesi, trying to get back in. She said that on Saturday night, her nine year old had been repeatedly calling from the downstairs bathroom slash tornado shelter.

*I really need this to turn out okay, because she sent me this picture earlier this morning and it is cracking me up. Only Nesi, in a state of emergency the size of Texas.*

The nineteen year old nursing student babysitter was apparently holding it together like a champion. (Get this girl in an ER, quick.) Nesi’s mom, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law all live within a mile of her house and had been assuring her that everyone was okay.

“That’s fine and all but I needed to put my eyeballs on them.”

Naturally.

Every flight into Houston was canceled. She and Greg were finally able to get a flight into Dallas, where they rented a car. A total of 13 hours later they arrived to this:

Street view of flooding caused by Hurricane Harvey in Houston.

Unlike the rest of the entire female gender (especially those of us with kids), Nesi isn’t much of a crier. She said when they touched down in Dallas the tears flowed. I said from the comfort of my dry couch: “I’m not even there and I’m crying while you type.”

Flooding in Piney Point Village at Buffalo Bayou, by Hurricane Harvey in Houston.
Piney Point Village at Buffalo Bayou, Hurricane Harvey, flooding.

I hope they went ahead and bought the insurance on the rental car. Nesi said they drove as close as they could get and then she got out and ran through the yards.

Hurricane Harvey flooding, Hunter’s Creek and Piney Point, Houston.

For now she says her house is dry, they still have power, and of course, they are all together. Not a lot more romantic than sleeping six people and one toilet to a makeshift tornado shelter.

North Carolina started back to school today. There is an unseasonable chill in the air for an August morning and my girls ran back inside to grab sweatshirts before catching the bus. My biggest worry of the day included the erroneous bus number and the fact that it was completely on time for the first day of school.

As it pulled away I suddenly thought, “I hope that wasn’t the middle school bus.”

But my house isn’t under water and I have a pretty good idea of where all my kids are.

It is the 12 year anniversary of a week that changed many people’s lives forever. Next year, the fourth largest city in the US will have the date etched in their hearts as well. It is probably metaphorically fitting that this day in my history has been made famous for hurricanes.

A dozen years and only about a dozen gray hairs. Thanking God for some very little things right now.

Praying for Houston.

 

Confessions

Eclipse 2017: Path of Totality

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

I successfully ignored the hype. I even announced that I was ignoring the hype. Everyone in Winston-Salem was looking, lining up for, and buying the glasses for $20 a pair, and after hearing about how kids and dogs alike were all going to go blind, I kind of figured we’d just pretend like it wasn’t happening and watch it on TV.

Right?

Then I saw that if you are in the Path of Totality, you can view it with the naked eye for the few minutes that the sun is totally covered.

And my parents live directly in the Path of Totality, on Watts Bar Lake, in Rockwood, TN. And my mom had 5 pairs of glasses and always has food and beer.

Sold.
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We woke up Saturday morning, threw a load of laundry in the machine, and were on the road by noon, arriving possibly in better time than when we drive over for holiday weekends.

And now, Eclipse 2017 is officially over, and my Facebook Live inexperience meant I got to semi-experience it without technology and semi-screw up the permanent memory making. But whatever. That was officially the coolest moment of nature I’ve ever experienced. Listen, I’m not saying that this 2 minutes and 39 seconds trumped all other life experience.

But it was pretty freaking cool.

I sort of hate that technology and social media requires us to document everything through our phones.

But I also sort of love it.

I’m throwing this blog post together really quickly because I’m still moderately on a high from the experience. If you caught my very short first-ever Facebook Live experiment, you can see that we are all kind of geeking out over here. This isn’t even Eclipse induced. Just normal geeking out. What follows is a piece-meal conglomeration of what we were able to capture.

I’m embarrassed, a little, because I hate my voice on camera. But I kind of want my kids to have this forever.

Because like I said, it was pretty freaking cool.

And weird, scary, amazing, exhilarating, adrenaline-rushing, laugh-inducing, awe-inspiring…all of those -ings that every single one of the million people who drove to the Path of Totality can attest to.

It turns out, Eclipse 2017 was not over-hyped. It was exactly that cool.

I woke up like this.

So when you look through the shades, you can’t see anything at all. The sun itself looks like a glowing orb in the distance. Jury is still out as to whether ours are going to cause permanent eye-damage or not.

Practice run on the Eclipse Shades.

Then I found this little gem of a good advice on the Facebook this morning, when I was actually searching the time I needed to go outside. Thank you Facebook. Because this was exactly as fun as I make it look.

No such thing as too safe.

Though Avery slept through it (and wouldn’t remember it anyway), I’m pretty sure Eliott was planning to experience total darkness on this Huck Finn raft. Unfortunately I was way too worried about their ripe little retinas to let them out of my grasp long enough to get back on their raft.

What you can’t see in this picture is that she was paddling it with a stick.

And finally, what follows are the ridiculous and terrible videos we attempted. I apologize in advance. I know. And if you hate my voice on camera as much as I hate my voice on camera, just skip these. Hindsight, of course, I would not have attempted to actually film the eclipse itself but focused on all of us losing our minds.

I’m actually still giggling because I just can’t even describe it. It was so weird and indescribable. I don’t know. I’m sorry. I’ll stop. Watch or don’t watch. Just please save your criticism for the idiocy of it all. I felt like a little kid and kept forgetting I had to still be a mother to all my kids who, at any moment, might stop and stare directly at the sun.

Like I said. Geeking out.

And still am.

Here, first, is one of Eliott’s videos, covering the twilight stage and also providing commentary.

Then, it all hit at once, and here is Eliott’s unattended camera capturing our first reactions to the total darkness. (What you can’t hear are cheers from around the lake, and the freak-outs of my other two kids and parents a little closer to the house.)

The next two videos are from my phone. It is split into two because as soon as the sun peaked back out I panicked, thinking Carter and Isaiah would both still be staring at the sun and in my haste to be a mom for a minute I accidentally turned the camera off. The time lapse is a fraction of a second, but sadly it serves to break up the best part of the experience, which was the rapid onset of darkness and the rapid reset of light. Also, I didn’t even mention the temperature drop, which was equally dramatic.

Eerie.

Anyway.

Otherwise, that was it.

Roughly four minutes of my life that blew my mind. I didn’t have a profound spiritual awakening, but I was on the verge of tears when it was all over. My heart was racing for about an hour after all of it, and it was hard to shake the overwhelming awe it kind of filled me with.

I asked Eliott, a few hours later, how she wants to remember this. First she said, “It was like night in the middle of the day. It was so weird and cool.” Then I said, “Yes, but, how did it make you feel?”

She had to stop and think about this.

Then she said, “It just went by too fast. I was just freaking out and going crazy. And like, there was so much I wanted to do during the darkness. I wish it would have lasted longer. I wish I could have filled it with a bunch of stuff because it was like night during the day. But that’s how it is. All the best things in life go by super fast and all the worst things take forever.”

So much truth.

Sorry for the raw writing. I typically do a lot more editing and often think through how I want to say things for a bit longer, but I kind of wanted this post to just reflect the immediacy of the moment and its aftermath.

I realize that my rendition will never truly do the experience justice, but I’m glad I didn’t save this one for TV.

*If you noted the lack of outfit changes over the course of about 48 hours, I told you this was very last minute. I didn’t grab a lot of extra clothing.

Confessions

Birthday Freebies Worth Signing-Up For

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

Happy Birthday to Me! (You know I’m not above celebrating myself.)

You know I’m also not above going out of my way to get something free.

Whatever.

You’ve probably seen lists of all the places that offer something free on your birthday. The problem I’ve run into with the “Birthday Freebie” Google search, is that many lists are out of date, and often include tons of places I don’t even have in my town. Or worse, these lists include tons of “freebies” that aren’t fully free, aren’t worth the hassle, or aren’t even good, like an appetizer at a restaurant I don’t even like.

So today, for my birthday, I’m sharing only my favorite birthday freebies. These are the ones that are good or simply convenient enough, to take the trouble to make happen.

One piece of advice I wish I would have given myself before sitting down and signing up for any/all of these is this: If I’d have really thought it through, I would have told each of these places that my birthday was the 15th of all the different months, and spread out the free birthday love over a year.
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I know.

I know.

You have to be able to live with that. And when I hit the month of August, which is notoriously busy with back-to-school everything, not to mention that I still have all four kids at home all day, I would have been absolutely able to live with the little white lie of changing the month of my birthday to avoid the pressure of all those ridiculous expiration dates. (I would say you are also completely justified if your birthday falls in the month of December. You have already gotten the Christmas/Birthday shaft, why not accept some half-birthday attention in June?)

As it is, according to Starbucks my birthday is actually in September, because, Pumpkin Spice, duh. This is the only one I actually thought about.

Listen. Do whatever you want. Just note, none of these places actually check your ID, because what kind of a human lies about his birthday in the absence of alcohol, amiright? You have been warned.

Birthday Freebies in Your Email

*The following freebies will come as a coupon to your email. One downside is that you also start getting a whole bunch of spam email from the same companies throughout the rest of the year. Use your college hotmail address to sign up and then just remember to check it during the month of your said-birthday.

1. Biscuitville Club: free biscuit on your birthday. Any biscuit so go ahead and get the bacon. Expires end of same month.

2. Baskin Robbins: free scoop of ice cream or soft serve and 15% off an ice-cream cake. Send your husband through Peter’s Creek Parkway on his way home from work. Expires 5 days after birthday.

3. Sephora: free cosmetic/product gift during the month of your birthday. Often 2 or 3 different options to choose from. Redeem online or in store by providing your email address. Expires at end of birthday month. *Note: I love this freebie and always redeem in store. They wrap it up really nice and in my experience, have been very chill about the expiration date.

Birthday Freebies For Smartphone Only

*For the following freebies, you must download the company app on your smartphone and keep it current by using it at least once a year.

4. Starbucks: free drink or food of your choice plus 15% off of Starbucks dot com. Any drink or any food, so go ahead and get a triple shot Venti and also go ahead and say your birthday is in whatever month your favorites are featured. I’ve recently switched from the PSL to the Gingerbread when it comes to favorites, so my “September” birthday isn’t even late enough. Expires 2 days after your birthday.

5. Dunkin Donuts: free drink. Any drink. 3 month expiration.

6. Krispy Kreme: free donut of your choice and free small Krispy Kreme coffee. 30 day expiration. Krispy Kreme actually gives away free donuts all the time. Join their email list to be alerted.

7. Moe’s: free burrito for your birthday. This one has actually entered my “not worth the hassle” list because Thruway is a pain. But maybe you love Moe’s. Expires in 2 weeks.

Other Birthday Freebies

*This is the final list of freebies I receive that are not exclusive to email or app. 

8. Panera Bread: free pastry. Become a member of the MyPanera Rewards program. 2 month expiration.

9. Kohl’s: $5 YesToYou Reward and $10 YesToYou Reward. These came separately to my email on the same day, and can be used together for a total of $15. I have a Kohl’s charge card (which I use regularly) and I have the Kohl’s app on my phone. Not sure which is tied to which, but both may have to do with the fact that I am a Kohl’s MVC.

Confessions

Father’s Day

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

In the backlog of drafts I’ve written but failed to publish, I now submit, almost a month too late, the article I couldn’t quite finish for Father’s Day. I noted, that weekend, the number of pictures and posts around all forms of social media, celebrating dads. I didn’t join in but I didn’t feel left out. Re-reading this just now actually made me (again) swell with a little bit of pride and maybe a tear in the corner of each eye. I’m changing nothing, so read this as if today was June 18, 2017. 

Normally at this time, I’d be celebrating surviving the first week of summer vacation. You know. That transitional week of kids not knowing what to do with themselves, wanting to eat every time they feel bored, and the spontaneous combustion of every single room in the house if anyone occupies a space for more than 7 minutes.

Add to this the inevitable attitude-whiplash resulting from the unfounded pipe dream that summer vacation from school is somehow equivalent to summer vacation from chores.

It’s okay.

I have finally learned to expect this, and am now fully ready to combat it quickly and usually pretty effectively.

Until John threw his back out.

A week ago Friday, he had plans to drive (solo) to Michigan for a very short 72 hours, to play in his high school alumni soccer game. I was actually looking forward to a weekend of having the bed to myself. *We are weird like that.*
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But he woke up Friday morning with above average lower back pain. After resigning himself to the the accurate prediction that 14 hours in the car would ultimately make all this worse, he canceled the trip at 9 in the morning, and went to work instead.

What he should have done, was nothing.

By the time he came home, his back was so stiff, he went straight to bed.

At 7:30pm, he asked me to send out the Bat Signal and “get someone over here to help me out of bed and down the stairs.”

At this point I was still in a mild state of disbelief. How bad could it really hurt, after all?

I admit I lack empathy. I also admit my processing time here to be a bit slow. I also had a very difficult time, in this moment, summoning words of support and kindness.

After arguing that I thought he might be acting a little dramatically, I finally sent a text to the three biggest neighbors we have and hoped for the best.

I watched my phone. Nobody responded.

And then, all three of them were in my living room at the same time. One had come straight from the restaurant where he was eating, another had jogged from the other side of the neighborhood. (The third used the secret tunnel we have connecting our two houses for just such emergencies.)

It took all three of them to get John hobbling down the stairs and into a chair, where he spent the night.

[clickToTweet tweet=”It is impossible in the year 2017 to get a doctor to prescribe pain meds or muscle relaxers over the phone. ” quote=”Note: it is virtually impossible in the year 2017 to get a doctor to prescribe pain meds or muscle relaxers over the phone. Don’t even waste your time.”]

The next morning, Saturday, after an hour of trying to get a physician on the phone, he declared, “I think you might need to call an ambulance to get me out of this chair and to the hospital. I need medication and I can’t move.”

Again with my inability to empathize, react quickly enough, or find any words of support and kindness.

I was at a loss for all things basically human at that moment.

Dads.

But there I went again with the Bat Signal, and again, three neighbors were nearly immediately in my living room (this time a wife in place of her husband). While the two men very slowly (and weirdly patiently) got John out to the car, I found myself sort of vaguely advising Eliott, “Grab some books for everyone to read at the hospital.”

I’m not sure why this made sense at the time, but thankfully, that last neighbor simply said, “Do you want me to just take all your kids to play at my house?”

To be completely honest, the entire thing came on rather quickly. I kept thinking that this would somehow magically go away if I did nothing.

I wasn’t thinking exactly clearly, but thank God there were more than four families nearby, who were willing to think for me.

My kids mistook the medical emergency for party day, complete with a slip and slide, pizza, and hanging out all day with friends. Someone even remembered to take Avery home for her nap. That night, a group text went out saying: “Love this fantastic neighborhood and all the wonderful people who came together to help out today. Burgers and hotdogs at our house, bring a side.”

And we came. And we ate. And all of this, because my husband threw his back out and left me with four kids and what would become more than a weeklong reminder of how small I am in the face of moving large objects.

The following week did not necessarily go swimmingly.

I did not magically grow a new set of patience, and John did not magically develop a newfound ability to be graciously helpless.

There were fights.

There was whining.

The house was a disaster. The kids were out of sorts because we were out of sorts. And let’s be honest, Daddy was sleeping most of the day on a futon in the middle of the living room.

It was weird.

But phone calls and encouraging texts continued daily. And there was more food. And then there was kinesio tape and borrowed back braces and a few more drugs and a few more hours at the pool with friends. And every day got a little better.*

Last night we attended the annual Father’s Day Rustinburg Ribfest, and John refused to let me help him with his ribs.

The last decade of married life has been a mixture of celebrations for my husband and my own father once a year on Father’s Day. Admittedly, some years I do better than others at planning, finding the perfect gift, or cooking the perfect meal.

This year, I failed three-fold, but thankfully my sister and brother-in-law were both ready to pick up some much needed geographical slack.

This year I am celebrating all of the dads who have repeatedly chucked one (or more) of my kids in the deep end and indulged squeals and demands for more. All of the dads who have opened another juice box or reached that last chicken wing for two eyes barely reaching above the table. All the dads who have instinctively shot out a hand, arm, or leg to catch a falling drink, plate of food, child. All of the dads who take care of my kids from all angles. All of the dads who have now taken care of me from a few more angles.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, this concept of “family” has maintained a fluid definition; it morphs and changes regularly, but in my corner, has not yet ceased to grow.

*Fast forward a month and we returned home from church to find some surprise lawn-maintenance in action, and I was again, overwhelmed by the amount of raw love and goodness that continues to exist even when I complain the entire Earth is going down the crapper.

Confessions, Health and Wellness

That Time We Got Head Lice

Things that Are Hilarious

So one of the reasons (the reason) May was the month from hell was the moment I discovered we had head lice.

It started a couple of weeks earlier, with Eliott and Carter both complaining of itchy heads.

Now. Okay. Duh. We’ve been in elementary school long enough to know that an itchy head always means “Check for lice.” And I have in the past. And I did this time. More than once. And because I had no idea what I was looking for, I didn’t see anything.

Instead, I took to the biggest mom group I belong to on Facebook and posted:

In my defense, several people agreed that Tresseme had been an itch-inducing product for them as well. And several after that recommended Dove and various other brands with tea tree oil in the ingredients. Clearly, this was a discussion of scalp itch caused by a particular product. When one mom sort of self-righteously added, “Check for lice [grimacing face emoji],” I couldn’t even type the appropriate words to convey my annoyance. Instead, I forum-slapped her with the eggplant emoji.

Hindsight.

In my defense, again, I was under some serious pedicure-induced relaxation, and thought I could start a new Internet revolution by which the supremely arbitrary and far under-utilized eggplant emoji would become, for me, a symbol to represent my inability to politely express a “Nobody asked you,” or maybe, “Nobody likes you,” or simply, “Can you even read?”

You know. The kinds of things I could also never say to my students, but sure wouldn’t have minded a real life actual eggplant to smack them over the head with whenever one of many inane comments escaped through their little pie holes.

The most inside of inside jokes, if you will, until some magical moment when I would Instagram-slap one on The Fat Jewish and he would make it go viral.

For good measure, I went ahead and eggplant emoji’ed a few more posts, some friends, some strangers. I fired off my own self-righteous text informing John of my genius plan. His response led me to Urban Dictionary.

Turns out, the eggplant emoji has already been taken.

Meanwhile, in itchy-head land, my oldest daughter finally pinpointed the problem when, in the middle of the living room, she stuck a lone finger up to her scalp, scratched a few times, and then put her fingernail up to my face and announced, “Mommy. Every time I scratch my head I find one of these little bugs.”

Somebody go ahead and kill me with an eggplant right now.

Photo of single louse: brace yourself, the first time is difficult.

A few facts about head lice:

  1. Lice are tiny. Lice are supremely tiny.
  2. Lice are almost translucent in color.
  3. Lice do not like the light, so when you shine a big bright light over the affected head, they are most likely crawling out of its glare.
Lice Removal Step 1: Frantically Phone an Experienced Friend

When it comes to lice, there is strength in numbers and absolute misery loves company.

I immediately sent a frantic text to a dear friend, in search of the phone number of a woman who had done a head lice presentation at a MOMS group I once attended. Instead of forwarding me contact info, she immediately called saying she just got rid of lice in her house and she would be over after dinner. In the meantime, she urged me to run to Ulta and buy this:

This kit is $30 (well spent) at Ulta, but click the picture above for a cheaper price through Amazon and karmically prevent yourself from ever having to use it.

Can I just take yet another side tangent here to dwell for a moment on the kind of friendships that result in a lice combing party on your back porch on a Friday night after dinner?

Rare friendships, people.

Really rare friendships.

Amidst what might have otherwise been one of the more traumatizing events of my adult life, a voice of calm descended upon my house. This friend (we will call her Jessica) came armed with an extra nit-comb, disposable hair bands, a magnifying glass, and that no-nonsense attitude of experience that put me at ease. She then went through each kid’s head and pointed out what I had missed the first time. She also assured me that all of my reactions were completely normal and it would get better very soon.

It turns out, two out of four children had a mild to moderate infestation. One was virtually clear of all bugs and nits, but we shaved his head anyway. The fourth I cannot remember, but remained 100% clear after treatment that first night.

How To Identify Lice In Your Kid’s Hair

  • Look for the little eggs (called nits) not the bugs themselves.
  • Lice nits are the size of a pinhead and located directly on the hair usually a quarter of an inch away from the scalp.
  • Lice nits are sort of translucent. On dark hair they appear white. On a white napkin they appear pinkish, brownish, burnt orange-ish, or see through.
  • Lice nits are typically most abundant along the part, behind the ears, and along the back of the hairline.
  • Lice nits are very sticky, so if you find one and try to pick it out, odds are you will not be successful with your fingers alone.

That is pretty much it, honestly. If you have nits, you have bugs. If eggplant lady would have said “Check for lice eggs,” I would have been fine. If you can see physical bugs (say, the size of a sesame seed like the one Eliott thrust upon me) you’ve probably let the lice live there a lot longer than you ever wanted to. Go ahead and wear that Mother Of The Year crown with pride. In fact, you can borrow mine.

Lice Removal Step Two:
Pour Yourself a Big Glass of [Insert Beverage of Choice Here]

You are about to do more laundry than you have in an entire year, but instead of cursing the work, you could, like me, drink-up and take this as a much-needed kick in the pants to get started on that semi-annual deep clean. I’m talking all bedding down to the mattress, all towels, all coats, jackets, backpacks, and anything else made from cloth that could have come in contact with your child’s head.

Also, prepare yourself for tears as all the Lovie’s get quarantined in sealed plastic bags for an unknown amount of time. (We were probably over-cautious but we left all the stuffed animals and anything that could not be washed sealed in the attic until we had gone an entire week of finding nothing on the affected heads.)

Then, I went through all the drawers in all the bathrooms and threw away all our brushes and hair ties. Not that you need any more visuals, but I actually found dead bugs in the white plastic containers that hold the girls’ brushes in their drawer. While I am unsure of how we contracted lice in the first place, I am positive one child spread it to her sister through the close contact (and sharing) of hair brushes. My kids also frequently use my hairbrush.

I boiled our wide toothed combs (for good measure) and hung on to them so we had something for tangles in the upcoming week of lice treatment. I continued to boil combs and plastic hair clips every other night or so until we were completely lice free. I did not continue to change the sheets every night, but I did change the pillow cases frequently.

Like I said, drink up. It is a lot of work.

Lice Removal Step Three: Avoiding Shaved Heads

Eliott and Isaiah were blessed with their mama’s thick locks, and Eliott’s hair is also rather long. Carter and Avery both have much thinner, finer, and lighter hair. I’m not sure at this point who was easiest. All of it was a big huge pain.

Section hair and comb in various directions with The Terminator.

The Fairy Tales Lice Survival Kit happens to be an all natural treatment. Not that I was against using chemicals if need be, I simply got this because my friend said it worked. The key ingredients are essential oils, namely: tea tree oil (melaleuca), rosemary oil, citronella, cinnamon, and peppermint oil. I actually had tea tree, rosemary, and peppermint oils on hand anyway, so I proceeded to diffuse them, and also made a room and pillow spray out of them, which doubled as a hair treatment when my Fairy Tales ran out. The kit contains a mousse conditioning treatment, a daily leave-in conditioner spray, a fine-toothed nit-comb called “The Terminator,” and one plastic hair clip. Do yourself a favor and go buy 10 more plastic hair clips.

That first night on the porch we went through the following steps with each kid.

  1. Dampen hair with water.
  2. Divide hair into 4 or 6 sections.
  3. Massage mousse thoroughly into each section and clip in a bun. This is the stuff that will break down the nit glue and allow you to comb out the eggs that are stuck to the hair shafts.
  4. Wait 20 minutes.
  5. Spray one section of hair with the conditioning spray. Use The Terminator to comb through the section slowly, wiping the comb on a paper towel after each pass. Here, it might be important to be warned that what comes out of the comb on that first night might make you add a Xanax to that bubbly you just poured. That said, this was by far the very worst of it and I promise that you too will develop the Zen of my friend “Jessica” once the entire process is over. I got there. Eventually.
  6. Be sure to comb each section of hair in several different directions then re-clip the finished section to get it out of the way and move on to another section. Repeat steps 5 & 6 until you’ve combed through all the hair.
  7. Rinse (but do not shampoo) hair.

After that first night of treatment you may or may not need to ever use the mousse again. John and I set aside 30 minutes each night to go through the girls’ hair with just the conditioning spray and The Terminator after their baths each night. We pledged to do this until we had gone a solid week without finding anything.

Father of the year, right here.

I will admit here that the epidemic lasted 2 full weeks for us. While Eliott’s thick hair took the longest to comb through, nit removal was much more effective than on Carter’s very thin hair. I eventually started cutting out individual hairs with baby fingernail scissors every time I found a nit. Because in the two weeks of combing, we would have nights of finding nothing followed by nights of finding just one or two nits, or just one small bug. It was discouraging, but it ceased to be gross.

[clickToTweet tweet=”When all other lice-removal methods seemed to be taking too long, I broke out my Chi hair straightener.” quote=”When all other lice-removal methods seemed to be taking too long, I broke out my Chi hair straightener. I figured it couldn’t hurt to burn the lice and the eggs. This was successful in more ways than one. “]

Because here’s the magical thing about getting lice. Now that we’ve had it, I realize that it just isn’t that big of a deal. Honestly, like a virus, I believe it is truly most contagious before you know you’ve got it. Once you begin treatment, it is under control. I never had a single bug or single egg in my very long hair. I know because my dreamy-lover-husband checked me every night. Avery never had a single bug or a single egg after the very first night. Honestly, the time factor infinitely outweighed the ick-factor.

Husband of the year, right here.

For several years, I dreaded lice like I might dread leprosy if I was visiting the poorest streets of India. And for that matter, I think most of polite society mildly treats the threat of lice as though it is leprosy. Socially speaking, it is one of those things you don’t really want to talk about until it is over. But knowledge and experience, in this instance, made the experience worth it for me.

Like my friend Jessica, I do feel like I could help someone else now that I’ve done it. I also feel like the next time I hear about it, I don’t need to freak out and keep my kids home from school. And if you are wondering how the girls reacted, well, to them it was nothing. I did inform the school that we had been treating the girls over the weekend, and they were sent to the office first thing Monday morning to be checked by the nurse, who declared them to have “some of the cleanest scalps” she had ever seen.

What I didn’t know was that there had been more than one outbreak of lice in the school over the last two years and both my kids had been taken with their class to do group head checks in the gym on more than one occasion. These kids treat it like a fire drill. Because of this, Eliott was perfectly aware that she was the only kid in her 4th grade class who had not had lice yet, and she actually seemed a little relieved to finally be part of the club.

And it is an exclusive club indeed.

 

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

Confessions

Stop Microwaving Your Coffee

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

It’s two-o’clock and I open the microwave to nuke the lunch I’m finally sitting down to eat, and there’s my half-full coffee mug, already cold again.

Admit it. I’m not the only one with this problem.

The month of May in the year 2017, has been the month from hell. You can read just a snippet about it here.

But today (hello June!) I’m going to focus on the positive.

Because they say gratitude is good for the soul.

Behold: The Best Coffee Tumbler Ever

*I need to admit that this is not a sponsored post, though I think I get a kickback from Amazon if you click the link and order this tumbler.

This is actually another WonderBra post. When a product/company exercises a modicum of customer service at just the right time, they are going to get some free publicity from me.

May was an easy month to be nice to me.

Sometime last Fall, I left my favorite coffee tumbler in a store.

John got me a new one for Christmas.

A new sub-par coffee mug. Sub-par because it did not have a wide enough opening to fit a straw. This is a hard thing to find today unless you want to drink your coffee out of one of those clear plastic monstrosities clearly meant Kool-Aid or buy a Yeti, which I refuse to do for obvious reasons: a). the ungodly price, and b). I’m not a hunter and don’t wish to be mistaken for one.

(I’m not anti-hunting in the same way I’m not anti-Nascar; I’m not sure I need to explain the reasons for my disassociation with either.)

I originally ordered this tumbler by searching for “coffee tumbler with straw.” Here’s why I like drinking my coffee through a straw: it minimizes spillage, protects my teeth (I tell myself), and allows me to drink in the car without taking my eyes off the road. Also, once I’m done with my coffee for the morning, I tend to refill the same mug with water and find I drink a lot more when I’m drinking through a straw.

Life-hack: drinking through a straw helps with increasing daily water intake.

I ordered this fantastic mug in pink. It fits my straw. It fits my cup holder in the car. It fits in the palm of my hand. And, it fit my budget. Heat-retention was, in fact, a side benefit. No lie, if you are trying to break the habit of microwaving your coffee, this mug sat in my car for four hours one morning and when I returned, my coffee was still piping hot.

As fate would have it, my son knocked this fantastic mug off the table one afternoon and broke the plastic lid. I thought about some hot glue, some super glue, some gorilla glue, but in the end I went with tape.

John loves my ghetto solutions to $20 problems, you know he does. He was immediately ready to order me a completely new mug.

Instead, he emailed the company first to ask if we could simply buy a replacement lid.

They wrote back with something like: Apologies. We don’t have just lids for sale. (You moron.)

I told him, if you want to get something done, you have to make your request public, via Facebook.

And I was right.

Boroux immediately (and for free) shipped us just a brand new lid.

I love this mug.

I officially love this company.

And the month of May is over. (I’m still not ready to talk about it.)

Treat yourself.

 

Confessions

What’s For Dinner?

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

When it comes to meal planning, this mama used to claim she never did it. But I do. And though I’ve been hesitant to admit I have a system, the truth is, I care to make to make healthy, kid-friendly, but easy meals on a rotation that makes sense. Because my kitchen is the one room I spend the most time in. I don’t want it to be a source of stress.

“What’s for dinner?”

“I’m so tired of everything we make.”

“I need a few more healthy but quick meals that my kids will like to add to our dinner rotation.”

At least one stay at home mom is right now dreading the thought of preparing yet another meal that we just ate last week.

I know this is true.

Yes, I admit I get in dinner ruts. I do. But not very often, and especially not when I just chill out about cooking and do what I know works. Part of what I love about my approach to super cheap grocery budgeting, is that on the whole, grocery stores and the seasons choose my meals for me. I buy whatever meat is on sale (and often further discounted to sell quick) and whatever produce is cheapest, which usually means it is in season.

(This is another reason I love summer. ALL the produce is the best, the cheapest, and abundant.)

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We are mostly milk-free in our house, which rarely affects dinner, but we especially limit dairy products with our son, which means he doesn’t always get sour cream and cheese as toppings. I admit that I do cook with milk (for mashed potatoes or boxed mac and cheese) and butter, so if you need vegan friendly meals, you will have to alter some of these yourself.

Otherwise, generally speaking, my kid eats everything, so sorry if the following list includes a whole bunch of foods your kids won’t touch. It turns out, good dinner time habits eventually create pretty good eaters. It didn’t happen overnight, but it did happen. Finally, though we are not strictly Paleo, we are pretty good about sticking to a low carb and low sugar lifestyle.

So here’s how my dinner planning list works. Pick one main dish out of the first column, up to three sides from the middle column, and if you want, up to one side from the right column.

meal planning

I’m being perfectly honest when I say it just isn’t that hard. Many of these meals can be prepared in advance (or doubled for another meal a week later), and most utilize the very few spices, rubs, dressings, or sauces I already have in my fridge and pantry.

I’m not a foodie.

But I’m not a bad cook either.

You’re welcome.

Meals Based on Price and Seasonal Freshness

Meat (choose 1)

Sides (up to 3)

Optional Side (choose 1)
– Chicken Breasts
baked or grilled, wet sauce or dry rub-

– Dark Meat Chicken on the Bone
baked or grilled, wet sauce or dry rub

– Steak

– Hamburgers– Beef Roast, Stew Meat, Meatballs
crock pot with enough stuff to create its own gravy-

– Pork Chops
baked or grilled

– Pork Ribs or Roast
crock pot or covered in oven

– Ham
oven baked, slow-cooker, or grill (ham steak)

– Fish (any)
oven baked, pan fried, grilled

 – raw: green salad, cut up veggies w/ranch (cucumbers, broccoli, peppers, carrots), pickles, sauerkraut, green or black olives, coleslaw, chopped salad, Dana’s cold pea salad w/bacon, riced cauliflower tabouli, cucumber salad

– oven or grill: roasted root veggies, sweet potatoes, zucchini, summer squash, asparagus, baked beets

– stovetop or microwave: peas, green beans, lima beans, collard greens, black-eyed peas, corn, snow peas, pea-pods

– from the garden: okra, sugar snap peas, sliced tomato w/basil, cantaloupe, cucumbers/pickles, summer squash

 – potatoes: roasted red potatoes, baked potatoes, mashed potatoes with gravy, potato salad

– grains: quinoa, brown or white rice, rice pilaf, wild rice, Spanish rice, grits,

– pasta: egg noodles with butter, hidden veggie pasta with butter and parmesan, macaroni and cheese, pasta sides from a box

– bread: garlic bread, sourdough bread, rolls, toasted buns, homemade crusty bread

[clickToTweet tweet=”“I need a few more healthy but quick meals that my kids will like to add to our dinner rotation.” https://wp.me/p8oN62-11I” quote=”“I need a few more healthy but quick meals that my kids will like to add to our dinner rotation.”” theme=”style5″]

Then, here is a list of my favorite “One Pot Wonders.” This means that with a little prep on the front end, you can deal with minimal cleanup on the back end. These are my go-tos for nights where I won’t be home until late, we have a babysitter coming, or I just know I don’t want to be in the kitchen prepping dinner at 5 o’clock.

One Pot Wonders

Meal

Ingredients
Beans and Rice
stovetop or crock pot		 Kidney or black beans, smoked or kielbasa sausage, chili powder, salt, pepper

Optional: chopped onions and garlic, chopped kale or spinach, other spices

serve with: white rice, shredded cheese, sour cream
Chicken Tacos
crock pot		 boneless skinless chicken breasts, pack of taco seasoning, salsa, corn (frozen or canned), beans (pinto, black, or cannellini)

serve with: soft tortillas, hard tacos, or tortilla chips, shredded cheese, sour cream
White Chicken Chili
crock pot		 any deboned chicken (whole roaster, white meat, dark meat), white chili beans (great northern or cannellini), sautéed onions and garlic (blend with a can of beans to thicken chili base), chicken stock, canned coconut milk, cumin, coriander, onion powder, chili powder, salt, and pepper

serve with: tortilla chips, avocado, cilantro, shredded cheese, sour cream
Classic Red Chili
crock pot		 ground beef and/or sausage, chili beans (any), sautéed onions and garlic, packet of chili seasoning, canned diced tomatoes, tomato paste

serve with: crackers, corn bread, tortilla chips, shredded cheese, sour cream

Finally, I’m going to add my very quick (non organized) list of kid-friendly go-to meals. Because, let’s be real. We all eat these from time to time. I try to limit these, however, to only once a week, and usually do it on a night where I just really didn’t make a plan for dinner.

Kid Friendly and Quick, but not necessarily Healthy Dinner Ideas:

  • Spaghetti
  • Fish Sticks
  • Chicken Nuggets
  • Tacos, Enchiladas, Nachos, Soft Tacos
  • Ravioli, Tortellini, or any other frozen pasta from a bag.
  • Soup and Sandwiches
  • Breakfast for dinner
Avery, Carter, Confessions, Eliott

Easter Shenanigans

When I was a kid, Easter morning was almost as good as Christmas. We all had a (small) basket filled with candy–my dad’s favorites–Mars minis, M&M’s, old fashioned jelly beans, and malted milk balls in the shape of Easter eggs. (Never had a Peep in my life. Didn’t even know what they were until I had kids. Same goes for Cadbury Cream eggs, which I knew about from the commercials but just assumed they must be gross.)

The Easter Bunny hid our baskets of candy and always one toy, something crafty or educational, and seemingly far cooler than whatever we got for Christmas. One year I got a beading loom. Another year it was rocket making kits. Another year (2nd grade, the year I spent my Spring Break in the ICU for a life threatening asthma attack) we all got Walkman’s and various Contemporary Christian tapes. No lie, that was when I first fell in love with Carman, and I can’t say I regret his serenading me through that hospital stay one little bit.

Amazingly enough, my parents the Easter Bunny was pretty good about not repeating hiding spots of the baskets through the years. It probably helped that we lived in a new house for most of my life on about a three year cycle, but even so, the usual spots (dryer, dishwasher, refrigerator, microwave, top of a grandfather clock) were rarely, if ever, repeated, though we always went to them immediately suspecting the Easter Bunny wasn’t terribly clever. I want to say we all found our baskets fairly quickly, with the exception of the year that they were all under our own beds. I’m sure there were some tears for the last person to find his or hers, especially if that person was my sister Laura. She’s number three, which makes her the most irrationally sensitive anyway, but combine that with the fact that she was also a middle child and uncharacteristically competitive for a Paulus, and if her basket’s spot was a toughy, well, I’m sure there were tears.

Eliott has the same problem in our house.

So I have to admit, I have largely done Easter the same way with my own kids for the last decade. One exception is that my kids don’t have baskets, but big plastic Easter buckets which I found for a quarter on clearance and had the wherewithal to buy 4, even though I probably only had 2 kids at the time. Also, I tend to skip the damn Easter grass because, obviously. And I’m sure there were a few very young years where baskets were hiding in plain sight on the couch. Admittedly, the toy surprises have never been purchased from a Childcraft catalogue, but usually my kids act like the day is as good or better than Christmas.

Step 1: Gather Your Stuff

Our Easter Bunny is cheap. The candy selection is limited to whatever is free (or mostly free) at the drug stores in the weeks leading up to Easter (which always includes Cadbury Eggs, for the win) and there are usually extras in the cabinet for weeks because the best deals always require buying multiple bags.

Add to this Easter parties at school and one or two Easter egg hunts around town, and we’ve basically got Halloween #2 on our hands.

Why has every holiday on Earth been injected with steroids?

I don’t know what got into me this year, but I drank the Pinterest Kool-aid, and despite a whirlwind Spring Break (with absolutely no extra time to myself) I managed to pull off a completely new Easter tradition that I fear just might stick.

I did scavenger hunts, you guys.

Four of them.

Preschool Clues
Ten Year Old Clues
Fill in the blank and find your next clue.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I started with the plastic eggs, and figured I needed to keep things color coded or my genius children would very quickly be fighting. It turns out we had enough pink, yellow, orange, and purple to give each kid 10 clues.

I started with Eliott, and a very lofty goal of Easter limericks.

Within half an hour, things were quickly going about this well:

I bet you thought that was easy,
Then give your brain a little squeasy.
Because the next treat is hidden
In a place that’s sometimes forbidden,
Think of snacks that are not sweet, but ____________.

John made some serious bets that she would not be able to solve most (if any) of them. (The answer for the above if you still haven’t got it is “cheesy,” and the egg was hidden in a box of Cheese-Its, and this clue took her almost 20 minutes. Not exaggerating.)

I abandoned project Eliott for a few minutes and decided to gank clues for Carter’s eggs from someone else, via Pinterest. What I found was this very cute and pretty simple Free Printable Christ-Centered Easter Morning Scavenger Hunt Cards.

Let’s just say the juxtaposition of the Jesus-clues to the Easter-Bunny-up-late-with-an-entire-bottle-of-champaign-clues was maybe a bit of a mixed message. And I’m not sure the right kid got the Jesus-clues, in the end.

But whatever. There’s always next year.

Everyone is *clearly* so happy.

Easter morning was fun. Isaiah’s clues were just pictures, telling him where to find his next egg, and he even solved some of Eliott’s riddles because, obviously.

Avery’s eggs were just hidden in various places downstairs without clues, and she didn’t find any of them. In hindsight, it would have been smarter to just scatter them around the carpet, all in the same place. Again, whatever. Isaiah found her 10th egg on Monday and I rewarded him by letting him eat the candy inside.

Easter. The gift that keeps on giving.

If you want to read (and try to solve) all my limericks, click here.

Confessions

Mom-Friends

This post may contain affiliate links. Read my full disclosure here.

As many of you have noticed, I’m doing quite a bit of maintenance on this website/blog. Last week included condensing my thirty-two categories down to just a handful. This week I’m digging through three pages of drafts and deciding which to trash.

You guys. 

I write a lot.

A stupid amount.

But what I’m finding are several unpublished posts just sitting in this “Drafts” folder that actually deserved to be published. So that’s what I’m giving you today. The following was originally composed on January 10, 2015. Note: Avery would have been barely 6 months old.
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This week, a friend of mine posted the following on Facebook. I’m leaving it entirely un-edited because the raw version of the sentiment comes out in spurts and with haste. Please overlook any auto-correct errors and grammatically incorrect but necessary emphasis functions. We all know Facebook is about one notch above a text-message when it comes to the English language.


Understandably, the post received a ridiculous number of comments, most of which affirmed that these feelings are seemingly universal among young moms. Young, not referring to age, but the number of years she’s been in the business of motherhood.

Like every other job, it seems that with experience comes security, and if we are lucky, one or two friendships with people at work. Those of you who have been following this blog since its inception know that I also experienced an immediate sense of loneliness and isolation when I decided to give up my profession and stay home to raise my kids.

Almost five years and two more children later, I wish I was saying that I’m over it. I wish I was saying that I figured it out and I have it down and I’m winning the motherhood race every single day.

I have a pretty good feeling that there are many women (and even some men) in my social circles who look at me and assume that I have it all together. After all, showing up at church anywhere, even once a month, wearing make-up, with all my children bathed and dressed, does give the illusion of mild togetherness.

It didn’t escape the notice of one seasoned mother last Sunday however, that I sat down in class and immediately cursed at John under my breath. When she touched my hand at the end of the lesson, I burst into tears.

I know for a fact that my hormones are wreaking havoc with my mental and emotional stability right now. But like any functioning alcoholic could tell you, identifying the problem isn’t really the issue. As a species that biologically craves order and stability, I’m going to just say that feeling out of control is, for me, the most difficult feeling in the world. And I think every woman over the age of 22 would support me when I say that sometimes, we are simply at the mercy of our hormones.

Everything peaked on Wednesday of this week, and then came crashing down in a blubbering, slobbering, and more-than-audible seventeen minute cry. It doesn’t really matter what triggered it specifically, but in my desperation I reached out in a text message to my very first ever mom-friend. She and I met at Gold’s Gym in Burlington, when our first borns weren’t even 6 months old.

It was my first summer break as a working mother, and even then, like today, I was using my $10 a month gym membership to buy an hour or two of free childcare. I was, at the time, unknowingly suffering from pretty severe postpartum depression, and in my hormonal fog I could never appreciate the beauty of those first very awkward steps of what would become one of my most treasured relationships.

Brought together by a mutual female-adult-sized hole in our psyche’s, this woman and I would become for the next two years a regular date-night babysitting trade, summer mornings of coffee, goldfish, and a kiddie pool in the back yard, an extra plate at dinner when one of our husbands was working late. Even after she moved and then I moved, twice, we were long-distance support through two more nearly simultaneous pregnancies, and for me, a fourth baby.

Here is the text message I sent that day:

How many of us have someone (other than our husbands) to whom we can actually say “I hate this baby” and know it will be met with complete understanding and not an ounce of judgement nor advice. How many of us have someone whose first reaction to such a text includes, not a “hang in there,” or a “this too shall pass” comment, but rather a reminder that the big picture is overrated and then a confirmation of the desire to punch everyone who has ever told us to treasure this time because it all goes by too quickly.

I fear not nearly enough.