Kids put a new spin on running errands.

I only had about a million and two things to do today to get things ready and wrapped up before the babes and I (and Duckie too!) set off for frigid Minnesota territory tomorrow. You could safely tattoo "completely insane" on my forehead at this point - J is staying home so I'm making this 12 hour one-way trip solo. With two toddlers. And a newborn pig. Crazy.

Anyway, before kids I could have accomplished this all in about an hour. Now we were 6 hours into it and still hadnt managed to get our shoes on. Go figure.

We managed to run into Target for one thing..,two cake pops, a caramel macchiato, and a cart full of shit we surely don't need, we finally manage to leave and head to the grocery store to stock up on car snacks. We only buy a billion different type of crackers and too many Lara Bars. Then the kids insist they need new sippy cups. I'm seriously starting to think they have a sippy cup addiction at this point. And I loathe sippy cups. But I agree because I've all ready diverted the potential helium balloons my down by assuring them that Grandpa S really wants to take them to get balloons and we can't take that fun from him. We still have to get the oil changed and a tune up on the car, I need them happy a while longer yet.

I'm pretty sure the car dealership that does maintenance on my car will be talking about my kids for years to come. For some reason my dear H found it hysterical to run up to each man working there are squeal, "Oh, hi, Dada!" while pointing at him so that he couldn't be mistaken that she was indeed talking to him. Their faces turned beet red while they stuttered,  "Uh...uh...I don't think so." And my immediate thought is, "you should flat out be saying no, dumb ass!"

Since they found it necessary to take an hour to change the oil H entertained everyone in the waiting room with her theatrics. "Look at me!" She'd demand, and then proceed to sing a made up song and put on a dance show for them.

Oh, and god forbid someone didn't give her their full attention. She'd walk up until she was uncomfortably in their personal space and say,  "Hey, watch me!"

You'd think after all this they'd have at least partaken in a nap today. But no. We're outside playing in mud and snow (and yes, I can blog while doing that!).

Errands were so much simpler, often cheaper, and less hilarious before kids to say the least,

Having friends who do motherhood differently - that's okay!

I've been asked on more than one occasion, both by those I'm close to and those I am not, how I can have such strong, vocal beliefs in parenting, and yet be friends with people who do things differently than me?

To be honest, I feel like it's kind of a silly question. Though I suppose valid at the end of the day.

I don't have a single friend who shares all of my beliefs in all aspects of life.

That'd be creepy.

And thus, we wouldn't be friends.

To be super honest, most of friends share very few, if any of my parenting beliefs. And that's okay.

I read an article recently where a woman addressed this issue by saying that she surrounds herself by people who, like herself, are also always constantly learning and bettering themselves.

I agree with that.

But I think it's not always the full of it.

I have plenty of friends very set in their ways. Friends whose beliefs deeply contrast mine and they don't wish to learn any more or see things differently or "better" themselves according to my beliefs (my beliefs may totally not be better!).

And that's okay.

Even in parenting.

I have three friends who are also moms who I would say I'm pretty close with. They're each very different and have very different beliefs from me.

One is basically my opposite. Very mainstream. Pro-circumcision, cry it out, spanking. She feeds her kids whatever and thinks organic is nonsense. Her children attend public school and are vaccinated on schedule. She had drugged births.

Another is slightly more AP. Did a lot of baby-wearing, breastfed until the age of two, doesn't believe in spanking ever, but time-outs and yelling occur. Although she co-slept for the first 18 months, she also let her child cry it out at the age of 18 months and plans to send her to private school and vaccinates and is aware of food and buys certain things organic (like milk) but doesn't really mind either way. Her child was born via c-section.

And the third is fairly AP, plans to home school, very food conscious, unvaccinated and intact kids. Breastfed past a year. But she has spanked and is a bit more religious and over-all conservative in her parenting beliefs than I. She birthed both in the hospital and at home.

Maybe these women are constantly learning and evolving. I know they are. I know this because they are amazing people. Incredible women. Kick-ass mothers. But they are also very confident in the choices they have made, even the ones that are stark contrasts from mine. But more than that, these women have something innately in common with each other and myself, that makes it so extremely easy for me to be friends with them. For me to talk and commiserate and turn to them for help.

They love their children.

It's that simple.

Truly, purely, selflessly and unconditionally, they love their children.

They have each done what they believed best at that moment for their children and it has been out of love.

I deeply respect and love these women. I admire their courageous choices and beautiful strength.

And how in the world could you not be friends with someone different when they so purely love their children, and at the end of the day, that's all that you yourself are doing, too?

F*** naps!

I loathe naps. Despise them. Abhor them. There are not enough words in the English language to adequately describe how much I hate naps.

I’ve never had “good sleepers.” I think for the most part I accepted that pretty gracefully. I’ve acknowledged and accepted that it may be many, many years before I am able to get four (yes, you read that right, four) solid hours of sleep.

But by golly, would it kill my kids to nap for an hour!? And for it to be relatively painless for said nap to occur?

H hasn’t really napped since, well, before B was born. She, like B, fought sleep from birth. I just rolled with it. She needs a nap, she just doesn’t do it. Occasionally she’ll crash in the car, or while I have her lying in bed when I’m putting B to sleep. But rarely. When she was under 18 months I could hold her or nurse her or wear her and that would help a lot. Then she decided that was no good too.

B had the same feelings, but kind of gave up the “you can hold me and nurse me to nap” around 14 months.

But dear God those children need to nap. And Momma needs 1 hour to herself. I feel like that’s not asking for much. Especially the weeks when J is not here. Those weeks when there are no naps are brutal.

I sometimes get envious when I hear of people having friends or family who routinely baby sit their kids. I’m like, “Omfg, you get a break!?” And it seems surreal and amazing. Because I adore my kids. They’re the greatest things in my life, yadda yadda yadda. But sometimes I just want to be a human, too, ya know?

My little sister on rare occasions watches them, and I’m eternally grateful for that but she’s a busy college kid, so her availability is limited, which I understand.

But dear lord. If they’d just nap, and easily, it wouldn’t be such a big deal. On the days they do finally nap, I’m so freaking exhausted from finally helping them get to sleep that I’m too exhausted to enjoy those 30-45 minutes to myself (because they rarely nap longer than that unless in the car).

Today is took Miss H 1.5 hours to fall asleep. I typically ask her to lie in her bed while I put B to sleep, in hopes she’ll pass out too. She finally did. B succumbed 30 minutes later. This was after a morning full of playing with one of their good friends whom I was sitting for, then spending over an hour outside in the snow, followed by lunch. I didn’t put them down ridiculously early or anything. It was 1pm and they were rubbing their eyes and getting to the yawning phases. We read stories and had cuddles and then it all went to hell with lots of screaming and crying. Because, you know, sleep is torture. Lying down with them is like lighting them on fire. Or you would think so with the way they react.

To be fair, not all days are like that. There are occasions that they pass out quickly. They are few and far between, but they happen.

I even laugh when lots of toddler sleep resources say toddlers fall asleep within 5-10 minutes. And I always feel like 30-40 minutes is a good day or night.

Oh, well. This is me very ungracefully dealing with their inability to nap.

And really, I would even say, okay, hey, no naps. Everyone stay awake and have a bloody party if that’s what you want. Except they’re unbearable. They are in full-on melt down mode when they don’t nap. So it’s a lose-lose situation. Do I want to hear them whine and cry in the afternoon or in the evening?

Have I mentioned lately that I extremely dislike naps?

"My husband made me..."

One of the few things that makes my blood boil just as much if not more than hearing women talk about their husbands "letting" them do things, as well as their husbands "babysitting," is listening to women talk about what their husbands "make" them do, especially in regards to their children.

While at a local children's play space the other day, a woman, after observing me first breastfeed B and then H, came up and casually started conversation to me. She mentioned that she would have loved to have breastfed her son past a year, but her husband made her stop.

That kind of shit infuriates me. I'm sure my eyeballs were bugged out of my head and I could have caught flies in my gaped mouth. Okay, not really, because I like to think I do a pretty good job of disguising my immediate bafflement.

Though sadly, this isn't the first time I've heard statements like this. Things like, "My husband wouldn't let me breastfeed," "My husband made me do cry it out with our son," "My husband believes in spanking and makes those decisions," "My husband made me circumcise our son (so they'd match, no doubt!)," "My husband made me put our daughter into public school," etc., etc.

I don't care what parents choose for their kids (aside from circumcision, because that's a direct violation of their human rights, but moving on), but the constant "My husband made..." drives me insane. Dear God. We're not living in the Victorian ages. Women and children are not property. Men don't get to make those types of decisions on their own. That's why children have two parents. Parents are equals, partners.

Parents are supposed to discuss these things. They are supposed to come to agreements or at the very least, compromises. Although I can't imagine J wanting to do something with our children, me being adamantly opposed, and us still doing it. Or vice versa. It just wouldn't happen. My Momma Bear instincts are way too strong. It is my job to protect my kids from all things, even if it turned out to be a poorly informed papa.

Fortunately, J and I see eye to eye on pretty much everything. And the things we didn't/don't, we've discussed until we were blue in the face and both feel comfortable with our decision.

When I got pregnant with H I told him straight up I would be breastfeeding, my child would never know what formula or a bottle was, and it was non-negotiable. He didn't feel strongly either way, his friends' wives had breastfed, his sister's had bottle fed, so it was a toss up. But he did his research and was the one who brought up natural duration breastfeeding first.

We both agreed that our children would never sleep with us. As soon as our first was here we just as quickly both agreed that they would. J was a bit hesitant because he was afraid of suffocation, but as soon as he realized how much easier it was on me, he was all for it.

We don't 100% agree on "discipline." I don't believe in punishment. Pretty much at all. J knows this is where I've come around to stand. And he still has a "Hispanic mentality" as he puts it. Where punishment is necessary and you're a bad parent if you don't. Of course, he's barely so much as been stern with our children, let alone punished them. And when the topic is brought up under what situations he'd punish them it tends to go something like this: "Well, not now of course. They're too young. But when H is like 8. If she were to do something wrong. Well, I'd have to talk to her about what she did wrong. Because that'd be out of character for her to directly disobey us, especially at that age most likely. So we'd need to get to the root of the problem and address what's going on. Maybe she has a need being unmet or something. Maybe we didn't set a clear boundary or establish a firm rule. So we'd need to help her with that."

Yep. That's it. So although he says he believes in "punishment" and will even make comments like, "Oh, if it were me I'd have probably smacked them" we both know it isn't true. Even remotely.

But seriously, if he'd said something in the beginning like, "No, I don't want you to breastfeed," or "You have to give her bottles," I'd probably have laughed and told him he was crazy. And I also know that once he understood my reasons and why it was important to me, as well as the all around benefits, he'd have agreed.

Or if he'd insisted H sleep in a crib I probably would have said, "Sure thing. But you get to get up with her a million times at night and bring her to me to nurse because I'm not getting out of bed. And there is no way you're allowing her to cry herself to sleep." And that probably would have fixed that right then.

I just don't understand how in the world women can give up all control and allow their husbands make all the decisions, especially when it's simply proven that they don't have the same maternal instincts that we do.

That's not to say that fathers shouldn't have a voice. They should! An equal say at that, even.

But when it comes to something that a mother feels strongly about, the father just doesn't get to decide. And vice versa, for that matter.

It's all about communication. If a papa says "You must let baby cry it out" you have to figure out why. Is it because he wants his marital bed back? Because he thinks you'll be less exhausted? He thinks it's simply what you are supposed to do? And then it's Momma's job to make him understand why that is not okay for baby. (Or if you both believe in cry it out, then to each their own).

It just infuriates me when I hear women say that they were forced to do something with their children that completely goes against their maternal instincts, all because their husbands demanded it. And most often it seems to be a power thing. The husband needs to exert power over the wife, the children.

It's sad. It's sick. And seriously, women need to grow a spine and stand up for themselves and their children all ready.

I'm sure a lot of people don't/won't agree with me. And that's okay.

But goodness, this is the 21st century all ready. We cannot afford to be anything less than equal with our spouses.

Letting children eat when, what, and how much they want.

I was asked recently by a fellow momma about food.

You know, all those food worries most mom's have. How do I know he's eating enough? What if he doesn't like what I cook for dinner - should I cook separate meals? Etc. Etc.

Since I'm a foodie anyway, I figured I'd address that on here. I know I've touched on it here and there, but never actually written a whole post just dedicated to food and infants/toddlers/kids.

Let me begin this by stating that I know nothing about formula-feeding or bottle-feeding. So I simply cannot speak about those as I have zero knowledge.

I know a whole lot about breastfeeding though. And obviously, it's as brand new babes that many mommas start fretting about if their kiddos are eating enough.

Call me dumb, but I never worried about that with either of my babes. To be honest, I didn't know it was something that people worried about. I just figured my body knew how to make milk for these two kids, it would. It never crossed my mind to worry if it was "enough" or not.

And I realize now, it was for good reason that I did not worry.

Your body is making enough!

Only in the most rare of cases is your body truly not making enough milk for your babe. Do not base your milk production on how much you can pump. It means nothing. Your baby is more effective, and your body responds to your baby and makes milk while he's latched. It does not respond to a pump. And that's because although milk production is obviously a physical thing, it is also a hugely emotional and psychological thing as well.

And all baby's are different. My first easily nursed every two hours, if not more often, and for a minimum of 25 minutes, though 45+ minutes was the norm. For real. It was exhausting and tiresome and sweet and beautiful. I'm thankful she was first, because I couldn't really do anything but nurse her all day for quite awhile. But that's okay. Her needs were met.

My second, however, was a completely different story. He easily went 3-5 hours between nursing and rarely nursed for more than 15 minutes at a time. Now as a toddler it's a different story, but as an infant, it was easy peasy.

Breastfeeding was easy. I knew my children would notify me when hungry, and they'd let me know when they were full. I never once questioned as to whether they were getting enough or getting too much. Breastfeeding on demand is the norm, it's what mother nature says to do, and you simply go along with your baby's needs.

And then there was solid food. Oh, the solid foods! We didn't start solids until around the 6 month mark per the APA's recommendation. Baby's gut is not ready to handle food properly before then. We chose to do baby lead solids as "food before one is just for fun" and I'd read a lot of research showing that babies who eat only the foods they put into their mouths, regardless as to size or texture, were significantly less likely to choke as opposed to infants fed purees. Now, I'm not saying no one should feed their infant purees. It's a completely legit option. I just had/have a lot of paranoia about choking. But realizing my children were less likely to choke if they self-fed made me feel better.

And with baby lead solids the prep is easy. You feed them whatever you're eating. Chicken and green beans? I'd cut up the chicken into strips so they'd be easy to hold, give them some whole green beans, and voila! That was it. Super easy. If they actually swallowed anything, great. But totally not necessary. At this point it was all about experimenting with flavors and textures because babies need no other source of nutrition before age one other than breast milk or formula.

Then of course, there is that "magic age" when suddenly you realize your baby is consuming less breast milk or formula and start to freak that frak out because little Jimmy is only eating a piece of toast and half of a yogurt cup and surely he's going to starve to death.

Well, he's not.

I don't agree with force feeding children. At all. Or coercing them to eat x amount. Or telling them they can't get up or can't do y until x is eaten.

And for good reason.

There are only a million and two studies out there that show that children who are "forced/coerced/sweet talked/whatever" into eating more than they want to during meals/snacks are being taught that they do not know how to regulate their own eating habits. They are being told, often from a very young age, that although their body says that they are not hungry (or that they are) they are wrong and should not listen to their body because Mom or Grandma or whoever knows their body better than themselves. And, well, we all know that's bull. No one knows someones body better than the owner of said body. But by coercing children to "take just one more bite" you are telling your child that they don't know when they are hungry or not. And research says that these people are the ones who tend to overeat in life and stress/emotional eat. And no one wants that for their kid!

And to make it even more daunting, kids who are coerced into eating more than they'd like are at a much higher risk of suffering from heart disease, type II diabetes, and obesity.

And to think, once upon a time "the Clean Plate Club" was something we thought was a good thing.

So what do you do if little Jimmy just doesn't want to eat and you're worried he's not eating enough?

Stop worrying!

I know, I know. Easier said than done. I go in spurts where I worry about my bird eaters, and I know better. But that's just natural, I think. One week they will seem absolutely insatiable. They next week it's a miracle if they take more than three bites in one day. But I trusted them to know when they were hungry and when they were full as infants, why would that suddenly change now? That makes no logical sense.

I offer them three full meals a day. And snacks. Pretty much all day long. If they eat, they eat. If they don't, they don't. We don't make a big deal about it. They know there is always food available to them.

Most people tend to be grazers by nature, as are most children. It's hard to expect them to eat three solid meals a day when that might not really be how I myself eat.

I'll have a smoothie for breakfast. An hour or two later I might eat an egg or some fruit. Two hours later maybe some chicken. Two hours later perhaps some veggies and fruit. And maybe some meat and veggies come dinner time. None of that, other than dinner, is usually a "real meal." But I also eat All. The. Time. And my kids eat similarly.

I do not believe in making more than one meal, and yet at the same time I do believe in allowing children to eat what they want, when they want.

Since the only meal I consider a real meal around here is primarily dinner, I only "make" one meal. For breakfast it's not as big of a deal. I might have a smoothie while B has an egg and H eats cereal. No big. I'll make them up plates for lunch, and they'll typically graze from them for hours, not actually sit down and eat it all at once. And then dinner.

We'll take dinner last night. I made smothered pork chops, brussel sprouts, and almond bread. H only ate brussel sprouts and almond bread. B only ate pork chops and almond bread. Cool. Their choice. They were fed, happy, ate what they wanted and moved on when they were done. No arguments or battles or "one more bites." They had what I made, and still got to choose what to eat. And I didn't worry about the quantity.

Food is one area where it is all quality over quantity. I mean, if my kids were eating heaps of brownies and granola bars and pop tarts and canned fruit in corn syrup and gummies...yeah, I'd be worried. Sure, the quantity might be great enough where someone wouldn't worry too much because it's "enough" but it's not the fuel the body needs. But if all they eat is a handful of blueberries, a few bites of chicken, a few carrot sticks and a banana all day, I'd be totally okay with that even though the quantity is small. Because it's the kind of nutrition the body needs.

So the key to allowing your children to choose what they eat is by providing healthy options. If there aren't Twinkies and snickers and Oreos around to choose from, then they can never be options.

And the awesome thing is, when kids are allowed to choose their own foods, and have a healthy food foundation, they tend to choose healthy foods. We can make cookies, and my babes will happily eat two or three, but then they're done. Ready for raspberries. They like sweets, but since they're not a completely rare occurrence, nor are they the every day norm, they don't feel the need to gorge on them nor do they believe they are an every day food. But in full disclosure, though I've never tried it before, they probably could eat an entire bag of Oreos if given the opportunity (they just like the creme center, not the whole cookie).

So yes, food and infants/toddler/children can be daunting. I mean, here is this whole person that you are responsible for. You don't want them to starve on your watch! So I understand the trepidation.

Just remember that they won't. No infant or child will allow themselves to starve. And if given the option, they won't over eat either. They will eat when they are hungry, what they're hungry for, and how much they are hungry for. Just trust them!

A perfect, ordinary day.

Yesterday, in all of its simplicity and beauty, was one of the closest to perfection a day can be.

Weekends are, hands down, my favorite days. Simply because those are the 2 or 3 full days that the four of us get to spend together, uninterrupted, unhinged, without worry or means, with no other obligations. We get to choose if that time is spent with other people or doing other things. It's our time as a little family.

Sunday proved to be a lazy morning of biscuits and gravy, too many loads of laundry, cutting out pieces of fabric to B's comforter, building blocks, playing "kitchen," and spending hours talking to the three people I cherish most in this world.

It was indeed, nothing extraordinary.

We then ventured down to the baby fair a few blocks from our house. Go figure, now that we're done having babies and have discovered all the resources exhibited there, this is the first year we've heard of it.

But the kids had a blast listening to Dr. Seuss books being read, jumping in the bounce house, playing games, blowing bubbles and coloring. Later, after we'd left I asked Miss H what her favorite part was, to which she replied, "Oh, just S (her bff's mom)."

It was decided, upon leaving, that J would venture home to feed Duckie and get the car, while the babes and I carried on to the park, before meeting up with him to eat at a local restaurant.

During our walk in frigid temperatures, but lots of sunshine and no wind, H and I talked about how cracks are created in the sidewalks and why shadows can't be seen in the shade. We found different letters of the alphabet in signs, and played, "Stop and Go" while Momma learned to let her baby girl be the free range kid she wants her to be.

At the park H played on monkey bars and obstacle courses. She spun until she was so dizzy she couldn't stand. B finally awoke from his snugly spot in the Ergo, nestled close to my heart, and fought the desire to play against staying put warm in the Ergo. Finally, his need to run about won out and he was off, chasing some blonde toddler who squealed every time B roared (he currently responds to "Dinosaur B...").

When J finally texted to say he was on his way to eat, the kids and I walked over to meet him, watching police cars and fire trucks rush out from their respective stations, much to the littles delight.

We'd planned on dining on Ethiopian cuisine, but as they were not yet open we ventured off for some local Thai where we ate too much curry and drank too much tea and the kids were so well-behaved I was fairly certain they were pod people.

Nothing extraordinary happened, and yet it was perfect. Or the closest thing to it. Just a simple day with the simple people I adore.

A perfect, ordinary day.

Honey, honey, this one's sappy

It's super hokey, I know, but anytime I hear a song remotely "romantic" I melt a little. And I always think of J.

I tend to roll my eyes at romantic movies and books. Even the songs, to be honest. I pish posh lovey dovey things and believe most of it is always over the top.

I think people are too sappy.

Unless it's my own life.

Then I'm still caught up in the whirlwind of crazy love.

It's funny, because I was always stone-hearted and against love. And then there was J.

And our whole relationship has been a series of love songs.

For real.

We sing.

All. The. Time.

To each other. To our kids.

It's ridiculous.

Neither one of us has a musically inclined bone in our body.

And yet "Honey, Honey," will come on and there I am belting it out or he joins in with "I Want You to Want Me."

And of course, during these moments I'm always wondering how I ended up here. With him. Because it's fairy tale perfect and I know fairy tales aren't real.

Everyone told us the "honeymoon" phase would pass quickly. The passion would die out. We'd conform into a monotonous, tiresome routine. If it didn't happen on it's own, it'd definitely happen after we had children.

And yet somehow it hasn't.

Somehow my heart still races when he brushes my arm. I get butterflies when we kiss. We always kiss before we leave. We kiss before bedtime. We're still passionate and dedicated and have conversations until the wee morning like we did pre-marriage. We cuddle and hold hands and are always on the look out for fun and/or "weird" things to do like Home Shows and whiskey tasting and everything in between.

It's crazy and strange and beautiful how much you can love another human being (that isn't your offspring).

It gives my cynical child-self a lot of hope in the human race.

Love still exists during this dreary age of gold diggers and users. Of over-sexualization, and completely disorientated views that love and lust are interchangeable.

Mayhap some would say I'm just too young. Too naive. I've not been married long enough.

Maybe it's true.

But I don't believe that for a solitary second.

When you know, you just know.

I said J was the only guy I could ever marry long before we had any romantic relationship going on. Something in my bones, my heart, just told me. It was him.

And it was.

It is.

No matter what gets thrown at us. No matter how many years roll by or how many children we have.

He'll always be the one that makes me feel as helpless as a school girl, as strong as an Amazonian, and as loved as a Goddess.

And every time I hear a love song, a sappy song, I think of him. And us. And our beautiful family.

It's a daily reminder of how freaking unbelievably gorgeous this world is and the awesomeness that two people in love can create and be.



Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey
Honey honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey
I'd heard about you before
I wanted to know some more
And now I know what they mean, you're a love machine
Oh, you make me dizzy

Honey honey, let me feel it, ah-hah, honey honey
Honey honey, don't conceal it, ah-hah, honey honey
The way that you kiss goodnight
(The way that you kiss me goodnight)
The way that you hold me tight
(The way that you're holding me tight)
I feel like I wanna sing when you do your thing

I don't wanna hurt you, baby, I don't wanna see you cry
So stay on the ground, girl, you better not get too high
But I'm gonna stick to you, boy, you'll never get rid of me
There's no other place in this world where I rather would be

Honey honey, touch me, baby, ah-hah, honey honey
Honey honey, hold me, baby, ah-hah, honey honey
You look like a movie star
(You look like a movie star)
But I know just who you are
(I know just who you are)
And, honey, to say the least, you're a dog-gone beast

So stay on the ground, girl, you better not get too high
There's no other place in this world where I rather would be

Honey honey, how you thrill me, ah-hah, honey honey
Honey honey, nearly kill me, ah-hah, honey honey
I heard about you before
I wanted to know some more
And now I know what they mean, you're a love machine