And Now For Something Completely Different

It all started with Mr. Money Mustache. 

Last year around the time that Little H joined us, The Mister stumbled upon a website and immediately started obsessing over this very frugal living family. There was an unsettling spring in The Mister's step and gleam in his eye. I have tried, and failed, at many a budget, and the Mister and I come from very, very different families and backgrounds regarding money which means that he and I were constantly at odds because of our mismatched philosophies and upbringings and compensatory habits regarding emotions and pretty sparkly things. In fact, early in our marriage, when he even broached the subject innocuously by saying, "Hey let's talk about money stuff," I would immediately burst into tears.

He encouraged me to read some blog posts. So I read. And read. And read. And read until I was pretty sure my eyes were going to fall out of my head and then all of a sudden the realization of what I wanted our life together to be like (ADVENTURE! FUN! TRAVELING! FOOD! COMMUNITY!) was not achievable on our (my) current plan. And talking! Oh so much talking. My man is a bit of a strong silent type and I think this is the most constant talking over several weeks we have ever done, and most of the conversations started when he walked in the door with, "So I was reading on Mr. Money Mustache..."

I have spent years frustrated by my own duality - wanting to live simply and way beneath our means but having absolutely no skills nor really even a working understanding of what that meant. The Mister would say things to me like, “Well, just don’t spend money.” That just absolutely did not compute, and quite frankly still doesn't. People spend money every day, right? Moms toss around memes that go something like “Heading to Target! See you in $150! LOLZ!” I mean, having Amazon Prime means it’s Christmas EVERY TWO DAYS for goodness’ sake. And THINK OF THE CHILDREN. They need clothesdiaperswipesspecialHonestCo.windowcleanersandoxypodsandsandboxesandwatertablesandlighttablesandsocksandshoesandhairbowsandballetslippersandballettightsandleotardsandbooksandDVDsand...FOOD! Oh don’t even get me started on food. We have been on a lifetime food journey together and we started pretty much where everyone starts...things that are fast and convenient, restaurants that we think are awesome and delicious, eating out whenever we want instead of like when we were kids and only went out for birthdays…

     

The problem was (is?) that maybe because we live in a town of movers and shakers and people with serious scratch that we (I?) became numb to what constitutes as “normal” consumer habits. Or even what the rest of the world lives like. Americans are rich beyond measure pretty much at baseline and we don't see it. I even read Jen Hatmaker’s “7” a few years ago and even though I was horrified by so many truths about how the rest of the world lives, still would buy the odd bit of fast clothes, occasionally looked at my overfull fridge that I just filled from a ridiculously priced trip to the grocery store and then closed it and ordered pizza, and popped in to Starbucks for a chai latte on the regular.

But somehow, amidst the postpartum hormones and something I like to call “Hello Frontal Lobes!” I got it. I started to see what a regular Starbucks habit would cost me now if I wanted to maintain that habit when we retired. And then how long it would take us to retire if I kept up with that habit. And then how long we would have to put off all the TRAVEL! and ADVENTURE! if we constantly got takeout or even dropped cash on brunch instead of squirreling all that fundage away for amazing brunch in say...Paris.

I saw excess everywhere in my house that I just kept cleaning up over and over and over when my little preschool tornado tore through it. Toys and clothes and trinkety decorations and things I had kept that didn’t necessarily have pleasant memories associated with but felt like I had to because they had somehow melded with my identity. Books that were given to us that we would never read and just...stuff. Everywhere. The worst part of the whole thing is that I was all happy to have nested and gotten rid of -I’m serious- 10 trash bags of stuff and here I was staring at MORE STUFF and quite unsure as to how it all ended up in my house/garage/livingroom/CRAFTROOM/closet/BRAIN.

Y’all. The mental clutter that all of this brought was making my inner world hell. Well, that plus hormones plus then the holidays were looming....

Yuck.

Eventually, we saw a way through, and we are now on a path toward sweet simple living and despite my best efforts, are totally kicking ass some days and totally sucking the next and then getting back on track and then having wild adventures. In fact, the mister STILL says to me, "Hey just don't spend money," but now I hear it as, "Hey think really hard about how and why you want to spend this" or I hear myself telling my daughter, "Do you want to get hot chocolate here or do you want to get hot chocolate in Puerto Rico" (if that sounds harsh it's because she is 4 and would drink ONLY chocolate milk with whip cream on top if I let her. She even conned her babysitter into three chocolate milks while I was at work one day.)

There are a lot of parts to this story that we are still writing every day, so if life and love and adventure and creativity is something you're into, then wheeeee let's go!

2nd Time's A Charm

Hey! So, we had another baby! It's taken me awhile to write about this mostly due to sheer sleepiness and no time whatsoever. Seriously. I can't even return my parents' phone calls. However, in the wake of all the fallout regarding opening or revisiting conversations regarding mental health and depression, I'm going to try to put this all down.

In short: I was terrified for 9 months due to the PTSD and postpartum depression I suffered after the birth of our first. Terrified. Therefore, that and the absence of tequila made for a
VERY. LONG. PREGNANCY.

Last October when we decided to have another child, I was all, "YEAH! LET'S DO THIS!" and then two days after seeing the positive pregnancy test, was curled up in the fetal position. I was convinced I was going to die. Actually had to do some MAJOR working through emotionally and spiritually for 9 months about this. It may not make a lot of sense to a lot of people, but it's like...my body chose flight from the very beginning, and even when I was in the hospital I had a hard time getting my body and my brain and my soul convinced that it was go time. For 9 months, my brain told me awful stories over and over again, random events being taken and twisted. Awful stuff. I wanted to get back on my antidepressant but unfortunately that made me feel physically horrible and even more mentally unstable so I dropped that idea pretty quickly. I had to walk, eat fresh and nutritious food, and be real with my mama tribe - trust the community that I had to work to be a part of for 3 years.

Fortunately, I had a completely different social, emotional, and professional framework from which to approach this pregnancy. Love, support, open arms and ears from every which way. There was an outpouring of information and cheering-on from women who had VBAC'd before, and not just women in my generation. In fact, the aunts and friends with college-age children taught me so much about their VBAC experiences. It was beautiful. I still puked nearly every day until discovering the magic of Zantac in the third trimester, and being pregnant, planning a music therapy conference, working part-ish time while chasing a preschooler...it takes a lot out of a person. There are so many things that made it all tolerable - friends stealing my oldest so I could nap or just have time to think my thoughts, or supper sharing (You have corn chips and beans? I have chicken and cheese! Let's make nachos!), and not to mention friends with stashes of Zofran. There were gorgeous mother blessings, and in the week between 40- and 41- weeks, there were innumerable "random" kindnesses. Our elderly neighbors brought us cookies, people called or Emailed to check-in, and sweet ladies texted me not "have you had that baby yet?" but "thinking about you and holding you up in love" type texts. I cried at the abundance of support.

My wonderfully VBAC-cheerleading doctor was scheduled to deliver her own baby the same week I was due. This sent me into a bit of a frenzy of doubt and I considered changing doctors. I was talked off that ledge and eventually did need to be transferred to the care of another doctor, but after a lot of talking and crying and journaling and more counsel from wise women, ended up being fine with it. After all, the doctor's job is to generally catch the baby or intervene when necessary and that one person may or may not end up on call when your time comes, so there's really no point in holding on so tightly to the thought of one person making or breaking your experience. I trusted the facility where I would be birthing, trusted my birth team, so I slowly came around to trusting that everything was going to be okay. I had to decide that I would be the one deciding how my experience would go. Mentally I held VBAC-ing at a distance. I wasn't married to the idea, just because I didn't want to be disappointed. I set my expectations bar very, very low for this birth. My goal was to come home healthy, with a healthy baby, without feeling like a prisoner of war. Everything else I could take or leave.

My due date came and went. No baby. Of course. I was not at all expecting anything early to happen. Hopeful? Yes. Dubious? Totally. Since my first was born at 42.5 weeks I just hunkered, stayed away from my phone and Facebook and walked like I had never walked before. I did all the interventions I knew how to. Red Raspberry Leaf tea, Evening Primrose Oil up one side and down the other (you'll know what this means if you're in a crunchy birth community. If not, ask me about it.), sex, everything. My body just was not ready at 40 weeks. Around 40.5 (Monday) I had a nonstress test, and everything looked great but fluid levels were a little iffy, so the doc wanted me to come back on Wednesday to repeat the test. Tuesday I tried castor oil, and while it made me power puke, it did not start off contractions. I went back in on Wednesday morning, where we found out the fluid levels had dropped, and she had me go "straight to L&D." Do not go home, do not pass Go, do not collect $200.

Well.

Since I had eaten a paltry breakfast due to the effects of the previous nights castor oil extravaganza, I instead went to get a turkey sandwich, got adjusted by my chiro, and then went to L&D. I might have a little bit of a problem with authority. I got hooked up and answered all the check-in questions while I waited for the Mr. to show up. He had stayed home to finish up packing and deliver our daughter to the friends watching her for the day. When he arrived, the doctor did as well and placed the foley bulb. She maybe got a little flustered and asked if I had gone home because everything was "behind schedule." She and I were clearly not a match made in heaven, but whatever. She checked to make sure that I was at least a little dilated, and I could feel her fingers on the baby's head.

A foley bulb and low dose pitocin induction is a great option for VBAC mamas. The foley manually dilates the cervix but is kind of awkward - there's the bulb inside and then this long tube and then a bag of saline dangling for counter pressure, and YES it is just about as awkward as you can imagine that whole scenario. Upon reaching 4 cm, the bulb falls out and then the rest of labor should be pretty straightforward. So the doc places the foley bulb and I start getting my fainting aura of slowly not being able to hear. My sweet nurse rushed to put a wet cloth on my forehead and get me some ice. Bless her.

I made it to 4 cm and the bulb fell out and there were high fives all around. And then the doc came in to break my water and realized, right hand checking for dilation and left hand wielding a crochet hook looking device like a wizard wand, that the baby had turned. Transverse. She put the hook down and asked to turn off the pitocin and asked for a sono machine. The Mr. texted my doula who came rushing in from a twin birth to see what was going on. Doc says "c section" and I say, "give me time." Actually, I totally freaked out and ugly cried, and THEN requested some time. During this time I had like, three doulas around me trying to figure out every which way to turn the baby. We were on the spinning babies website, doing inversions, and at one point even had ice and peppermint oil on his head to see if he would turn. Nothing. After about an hour and a half the doc came back in and the nugget was still in the same position, and babies don't come out transverse.

So, we settled in to wait our turn in the OR, chatting and telling jokes. When it was time I walked into the OR, had a long talk with the anesthesiologist so he could keep an eye on my blood pressure, and they hooked up my Spotify "Labor and Birth" playlist. I was nervous, so that means I chatted nonsensically with everyone in the room, and an OR tech kept asking me about my awesome songs that were, in his words, "the perfect playlist - and I'll tell you what. I've heard a lot of these playlists. Yours is the best." Mr. S. had the job of announcing the sex of the baby, and was told to stay at my side the whole time. The surgeons got to work on me and my sweet doula kept a cotton ball of lavender by my nose so I wouldn't have to smell the cauterizing. After a bit, and a whole bunch of digging around in my uterus to get the baby to turn head down (it didn't happen - he came out breech), they said, "Ready dad?" and Mr. S stood up and said, a little choked-up, "We had a boy!"

*we have to pause right here for a minute because I am tearing-up just remembering that moment.*

Everyone in the OR cheered and cried, and I ugly-cried. I was seriously floored, surprised beyond everything, and said something special along the lines of, "I was growing a penis this whole time and had no idea!" Early on I suspected it was a boy, and now looking back I had so much that I was hoping for in this birth but was afraid to hope for, so I talked myself out of things so that I wouldn't eventually be disappointed. Not that we would have been disappointed had we had a girl because SISTERS!, and we have a really great girl name, but I loved the idea of trying something new this time, learning new things.

Here's where things in the OR get really awesome. Little man was taken over to the table to be checked out and Mr. S stayed to hold my hand. Then they brought the babe over to me and laid him on my chest while I was stitched up. As a family we gazed at each other and laughed and touched faces and nuzzled. It was the most amazing thing. I never felt alone or scared, just overwhelming joy and love. Mr. S held baby while I was put on a gurney to be wheeled to recovery and when it was all over, the babe was back on my chest. He nursed like a champ in recovery and we got to face time late with sweet A to let her know she had a little brother.

So yeah, totally different things learned the second time around. The recovery was STILL not a picnic, but my mind and body weren't fried as badly, and I wasn't scared of being a mom. In fact, I turned tearfully to Mr. S one day and said, "I think I've been depressed for four years. And now it's gone." Reminds me of a verse in Isaiah:

"Forget the former things;
do not dwell on the past.
See, I am doing a new thing!
Now it springs up; do you not perceive it?
I am making a way in the wilderness and streams in the wasteland."
43:15-16

Fits perfectly with what we named him - after a famous wilderness philanthropist.

And hey, here's my Labor and Birth Tunes playlist. He was born while "Out of the Woods" by Nickel Creek was playing, followed by "Magic" by Coldplay.

chicken salad one two punch

I just made a chicken salad that made the hubby say, "You've got to write this down. It's so good." 

Unfortunately for you, it's probably going to be the most obnoxious recipe ever in the history of recipes because I threw in a chard stem relish that had been sitting in our fridge for a couple months...but I think there are some adjustments to make that will make it doable. I hadn't made chicken salad in a good while so I kind of went nuts, trying to use up random little bits from our pantry that never get used.

So first, the relish. 

NO! First, a tasty little trick I learned at a farmer's market that involves getting a tiny ball jar, filling it with mustard seeds, drowning the seeds in white wine or plain vinegar, and letting it sit for a couple weeks until the mustard seeds get soft. I have quite the addiction to this and love putting it on just about everything. We always have a little jar or two of this stuff on hand, and find ourselves tossing it in whatever needs a little acidic zesty zing - salad dressings, chicken marinades, on crackers with goat cheese, in barbecue dippy, really anything you can think of, try it out. Okay so first, do that.

NOW, the relish. We were introduced to the concept of a cooked "pickle" condiment by The Lee Brothers' Pan-fried whiting with pickled peppers and onions (page 191) and by watching copious amounts of Chopped when we had cable.

Also frustrating? We don't really measure. Everything depends on how much chard you currently have at your disposal. For us in the fall/winter and spring, we grow absurd amounts of chard. According to Tamar Adler in An Everlasting Meal, the French do the opposite of Americans and eat their chard stems, giving the leaves to their chickens, because the colorful stems of the rainbow variety are more nutritionally packed than the leaves *

Inspired, we wanted to come up with creative ways to eat chard stems. Luckily, I'm not really a fan of celery, so we sub it like crazy in places that call for cooked celery.

Chard Stem Relish

Ingredients:

white wine vinegar (this is the base of the pickle)

one garlic clove, minced

mustard seed marinade

honey or agave 

celery seed 

red pepper flakes 

salt & pepper

chard stems, chopped
onion, chopped

Method:

1. Heat up the vinegar, mustard seed marinade, sweetener, celery seed, red pepper flakes, and salt and pepper in a sauce pan on medium heat. You don't really want this stuff to boil, just be like a nice hot bath base.

2. Once the liquid is good and simmery, add the chard stems, onion, and garlic and let it simmer long enough to get the raw crunch out of the stems and onion, but you still want a little bit of crunch. Pack it up in a Ball jar and let it sit in your fridge for a couple weeks.

Pro tip: The Mister would like to add that this stuff is heavenly on bratwurst.

Um, you're going to hate me. We also roasted a chicken (recipe also from the above mentioned Lee Brother's book) the day before making this. So...besides the mustard seed and the chard pickle, roast you a chicken. Or buy a chicken already roasted, or roast some chicken parts.

NOW without further ado:

Christina's Chicken Salad

Ingredients:

1 whole roasted chicken or the equivalent, chopped **

Mr. Stock's chard pickle ***
A couple spoonsful of nutritional yeast
Sesame seeds

Sunflower seeds

Greek yogurt ****

Mayonnaise (don't worry - I didn't make this myself...this time...)

Sweet pickle relish

Black pepper

Method: 

1. Chop chicken, put it in a big bowl

2. Dump everything else on top of the chicken, mix.
3. Garnish with butter lettuce, tomatoes, red onion, and grapes. 

4. Die of happiness

* hopefully you don't toss your chard leaves - that stuff is so versatile...put it in your pot of beans, sauté it with olive oil and vinegar, make it up into a pot of greens like you would with collards, eat it raw in a salad...oh and okay the gnarly leaves that we grow that are eaten by bugs or just weather worn we toss to our chickens.

**If you're using a whole chicken, be sure and save the bones and make your own chicken stock in a crock pot. Easy peasy and saves you money. 

*** Substitute chopped celery, a dash of mustard, and some white wine vinegar

**** I did about half Greek yogurt and half mayo

This recipe is killer on so many levels. I'm in my 3rd trimester of pregnancy and need to pack in as much nutrition as I can into several tiny meals throughout the day because room in my stomach is just getting scarce. I have found that when I don't eat nutritionally dense foods, I'm just starving all day, and between that and having to drink lots of water so I don't get headaches or go crazy...it makes for a maddening daily existence. So, this recipe is extra jammy packed with protein, plus random goodness that is good for my body and baby.

community will save you.

It wasn't until after baby A was born that I found the parents, the anchors, the friends that have gotten me through the last three years. We moved ourselves right in and pursued the hearts and kitchens and sanity of each other and when I think that I've only been friends with some of these people for less than 3 years...it's mind-blowing. 

I was in a dark place after A's birth and community turned the light back on. I know it's rare but our neighborhood has for the most part very similar parenting styles and is full of people who love to laugh, eat and drink together, and watch our kids grow. I was worried that A would have that "only child syndrome" because I was going to stay home with her, but 10 minutes into a playdate you can see what the parents in the heights see every day: our kids are pretty much like siblings. Which in turn means that my kid basically has like 10 siblings. They laugh and fight and cry and taunt each other in ways that only siblings can. I love this, I love watching this, and I hope that 20 years from now our kids will have what I have: a network of friends with WAY too much dirt on each other. 

Community has gotten me through this pregnancy in the most incredible ways, and when pregnant mamas ask me what they need to know, I tell them that they need to start building their village. It can be built after the baby gets here but I think it would have helped to know who was out there and exactly where when the time came for me to reach out and find other families. I find this happens pretty much around 4-6 months with first timers...once you start sleeping a little bit more and feeling like you can be more than just a feeding/cleaning machine that runs on nothing but caffeine and snuggles. 

Last pregnancy I was fairly sure I had to do everything myself, including pull myself up from my bootstraps when I was feeling crappy. This time, when exhaustion or the funk sets in I know there are people I can call to make sure my child doesn't set fire to herself accidentally while I lay on the couch drifting in and out of consciousness. People to eat with when I don't feel like cooking or eating, people to come over and play when one more 3-year-old "I DON'T WANT TO DO THAT" (really? it's just putting on your socks...) threatens to turn me into a quivering mess of defeat.

Community. Get you one. You won't regret it. And if you get into a crappy one, get out of that and find your people. They're out there, and want to love you.

hospitality and contemplation

This past weekend I had the opportunity to first drive down to NB to see my brand new niece and take the fledgling family dinner. I stayed with a dear friend and the next day drove to Austin for a women's conference called IF:Gathering and stayed with Austinites. I had the best time, and was struck over and over again by the hospitality of my friends. Both houses I stayed in, these are folks I have known at least a decade or more, and man. They know how to host a guest. I am so thankful.

I walked away inspired by both women immensely. At the first house, I quizzed her on her morning routine (she gets up at 5am! I wish I had that kind of discipline!) to drink coffee, eat an apple and some peanut butter, watch the news, gather her thoughts. She explained all this while stirring extra salt into her crunchy peanut butter. I have never lived by myself, but from this brief overnight started thinking that even though I don't live by myself now, I can still have routines and order just because that is who I want to be and how I want to live. Kind of like, living independently while living in community, if that makes sense. It is something that is difficult to do while trying to run a house and take care of two other people but I think maybe cultivating some practices that are just my own - ie: doing the dishes because I like a clean slate before starting a project/meal, and not because I am obligated to the other people in my house to do it - will help me retain my me-ness in this season. 

I am intoxicated by the thought of a morning to myself. A quiet, pre-breakfast snack, tea-filled time of contemplation, journaling, and whatever I want, before the day gets rowdy and hectic. Because oh man. Until about the end of March, life is full to the brim with things that have to get done, and life with a toddler and husband and being pregnant...hectic. rowdy. I just have to start putting myself to bed at 9:30 to make this happen. It's worth a shot.

The second house I stayed at I felt such freedom to find rest and be nourished. This friend moved recently from Dallas back to her house in Austin and I realized that I had never actually stayed at her house in our near decade of friendship because we had always lived close by each other. The first morning there, she made me this bowl of greatness for me that I have to share: 

Quinoa Love Bowl: The only things that are essential here are some quinoa and a fried egg. Everything else is optional, so feel free to riff on it. The original one made by my friend had quinoa, egg, turkey sausage, and avocado. This morning's variation features avocado, tomatoes, and parmesan cheese. Think seasonal and delicious when creating yours. I know that tomatoes aren't in season right now but Whole Foods tricked me into buying local heirloom ones that I thought were ready, but they're not. Still a little too crunchy...and I was too hungry to wilt them in a hot pan before eating. We have some pickled beets in the fridge and right now I'm dreaming of one with pickled beets, goat cheese, and wilted kale. 

Let me know what your favorite morning or evening routines are. I am inherently a person who loathes routine, but lately find myself craving the development of little regular oases...anchors in the storm of life.

It's Time to Begin, Isn't It?

This post today is brought to you by tremendous amounts of ugly crying. 

I am sitting here, overwhelmed, because suddenly I want to write about ALL THE THINGS...there is so much. But I'll just start with today and call it good enough. 

I'm 16 weeks pregnant with our second kiddo, and last week had my first appointment with the doctor who will deliver this baby. Suffice to say I had a really tough time picking a provider. My first daughter's birth was completely wheels-off and crazy and I spent nearly three years cowering in PPD and off-the-charts anxiety. I didn't write a lot because I had a lot to sort through, relationship-wise, mama-wise, and I didn't want to do it publicly. I guess I'm writing to say: It Gets Better.

Birth trauma sucks, and I'm learning from dear friends that you don't even have to have a three day labor that ends in a cesarean birth to be traumatized. The loss of control, blood, modesty, and sometimes even just the startling fact of, "I'm used to things working out, and this might not work out..." is enough to send one's body into a super case of fight-or-flight. And not in a good way.

So...fast forward through rocking my newborn with tears streaming down my face, countless therapy sessions, anxiety attacks, nighttime (ie: INFINITELY WORSE) anxiety attacks, prayers on my face, friends not understanding, thinking I'm crazy, therapy, being terrified of having more babies, antidepressants, and...did I mention therapy? to two days after I found out I am pregnant again: me, curled up in the fetal position, telling the mister that I'm convinced I'm going to die.

Hello, fight-or-flight. Missed you.

Just kidding. Opposite day. More like:
WHAT THE HELL I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEALT WITH.

Surprise.

And you know what? This pregnancy was TOTALLY PLANNED. I went into this all "YEAH! best idea ever! it's going to be great!" thinking that I could just fake it 'til I made it. So, back into therapy I went, for several different areas of life. The journaling and processing started up again, and I began searching for a supportive birth team. I spilled the beans the day that plus sign showed up to my previous doula/current chiropractor. We cried, and then after a few weeks she gave me the names of several providers in the area, and suggested a meeting with the best doula we knew to help get my head straight. After that meeting I scheduled an appointment with the doctor who delivered A and then one with a doctor she recommended.

The one who delivered A was...fine. Charming. Great guy. I mostly went because I was curious how my feelings would be about him, and also because I wanted to get his perspective on VBACs. I'd heard he was one of THE guys in Dallas that champion them. I was disappointed to have him start immediately laying out risks and all the ways in which a VBAC could go wrong, including uterine rupture, which he mentioned at my 6 week postpartum checkup and then I made the mistake of googling it and ended up on the floor in my first panic attack that day. Don't get me wrong, I have climbed way out of the crunchy rabbit hole since my very, very humbling birth with A and I have pretty much ZERO expectations, and a healthy appreciation for modern medicine, so I need to hear that stuff. Throw in a transvaginal sonogram done by a dude and we'll just say I was...turned off.

Since I was a new patient with the new doctor I had to wait to be seen first to do labs (at around 13 weeks is when I did this), then meet with the RN to get a full history taken and THEN meet with the doc (this was last week). I had even managed to get my ex-midwife to give me a copy of my file (that in itself is its own blog post) and brought it. The RN and doc had lots of questions about my birth, wanted to know what my expectations were for this one, and led with the empowering and empathetic understanding I was looking for in doc #1. They said things like, "You will NOT be in labor for 3 days this time." and "You made it to 8cm with no pain meds? You've so got this." and "We're going to be realistic about where your birth is going, don't get me wrong, but we're also not going to put you on a clock and insist on a cesarean and pull the plug early on your efforts." The RN and the doc both effervesced about the nursing staff at the hospital, the doula I chose, and my chiropractor.

When the doc left the room, I exhaled, replaced my paper gown with my clothes, and slowly walked through the hallway to the checkout counter, admiring all the squishy babies on the wall. As I checked out, I felt a prickle behind my eyes that turned into full on bawling by the time I made it to my car. I sat and sobbed like a crazy person...like a full-on Biblical professional wailing woman. I started getting a little concerned it wasn't going to stop but I just kept scrolling through my playlists on Spotify, landing on whatever song struck me as appropriate. Imagine Dragons was first and then Bob Marley. I forget the rest.

It went on for about 20 minutes.

It's been a week, and I can say that whatever that was turned a tiny little light on in my soul. I can repeat, "I am safe," to myself at night when a nightmare wakes me up, and I believe it. I am actually hungry, I laugh more, and I feel like being around people again. I know this is probably coinciding with the second trimester boost, but whatever. That catharsis was way overdue and I know it did my heart some good. I honestly didn't know how sad and anxious I was until it all came pouring out.

Am I sleep deprived? Stressed? Unsure? Yes. I have a three year old and have NO IDEA what I'm doing. She sleeps like an alligator trying to take large prey under on a death roll, and I'm either starving or have to pee 24/7. But this little light...it's started shining through the cracks.

I'm dancing again, trusting, hoping again.

Phew. It gets better.

Perfectionism in Parenting

I've been thinking a lot about perfectionism, how it came to have a huge hold on some areas of my life, and how it messes with my parenting, in good ways and bad. 

If you want to talk family systems, mine's pretty non-traditional. Modern, if you will. But 30 years ago. Whatever. My parents were older when they had me, which means they were the product of a very strong and determined set of parents. I am the only child of my parents but have half-siblings all over the place, the next youngest of which is 11 years older than me. Unless you count my cousin who is really like my brother and he's like 9 years older than me but didn't really grow up in my house.

Yeah.

So basically, I grew up in a house of adults, with everyone having way more grown up expectations of me. I love my family and the people who were around me as I learned about the world. My siblings are incredibly accomplished and inspiring individuals - musicians, graphic artists, neuropsychologists, actress/gardner/divas - and ALL ALSO completely taken with perfectionism in personal and professional pursuits.

Add to that starting classical music training at a pretty early age. I showed an interest in piano at 3, learning via Suzuki method, and played recreationally until high school ended. I played in college, but only because I was enrolled in piano class, and by then my piano romance had waned quite a bit. I also played clarinet since about sixth grade like every good little band dork. I was even pretty good, and therefore thrust (jumped?) into the competitive world of UIL every year. Even though competitive musicianship quickly lost its luster in college, I continued studying music and eventually becoming a music therapist, where I've learned to be flexible in music but it allows me to be creative both musically and in the therapeutic relationship. In that vein, I totally am a perfectionist in several ways, including:

1) I am research and evidence obsessed. Look. I know music therapy can be a weird thing that people don't get - that people can think is fluffy and made up and "pseudoscience." Thanks to my graduate degree and research skills I have learned where to go for reliable information and from where I'm standing, and I tell people this every day at work, it's a great time to be a music therapist. There are neuroscientists doing incredible work that we as music therapists, with our small sample sizes and anecdotal data (due mostly to the individualized nature of music therapy), wouldn't be able to do. There are two different kinds of music therapists - the super woo woo music of the spheres kind, and the hard numbers "show me the research!" kind. I'm somewhere in the middle. I see magic happen every time I go to work, and then I get to the library and work to figure out why I see the physical and emotional reactions that I do, in order to better serve my next client.

2) If I don't know how to play a song perfectly, I probably won't play it. This ties in more with being diligent about meeting my patients where they are than anything. If I'm bumbling through a song, I totally lose my street cred with the patient (especially because I now work with adults) and the session becomes more about me...and blegh. I hate that feeling. But sometimes you walk into a person's room and they say, "Play me the Ave Maria," and you try it and it sucks. And you promise to learn it for next time. The population I work with is particular about their music, which means I have to sing and play a lot to learn and continually update my repertoire.

So in the parenting realm lately I've noticed that A has been completely freaking out over little things. I get it, she's about to be three, she has Opinions and Emotions and all that, but I started looking at what I was doing that could maybe be contributing to her outbursts. During a particularly nasty one, it hit me. I am on her to do everything right all the time. I do it when I teach guitar lessons, when I tried my hand at teaching my niece piano (she now plays violin - go figure), when we're eating dinner, putting on clothes, everything. I sheepishly realized that I had constructed this toothpick fortress of controlling all the things and making my child behave that she was flipping out. Honestly, I would too.

So, I've backed off. Quit being so picky or insisting that she do the right thing every. single. time., shushing the young piano player in me that insists that "PERFECT practice makes perfect." I had to find an outlet though, a time during which I COULD let that perfectionist inside me run free. So, I started playing piano again. And for those 30 minutes whenever I can grab them, it has a place to go that isn't interfering with my relationships or my professional life. It feels OH so good, and helps me let go in the other areas of my life that needed loosening up.

About to get a little cray cray up in here

I got a job! Or rather, a job got me. I wasn't even looking and got a phone call from a hospital wanting a music therapist for their adult cancer patients. I'm thrilled, excited, and so, so nervous! The best part is that the schedule fits in beautifully with the rhythm of our little family and I'll be home most days of the week with my nugget...who referred to herself as "the nugget" the other day, and has started saying things like, "actually..." and "I don't believe you!"

This weekend I hung out in San Antonio with family to get a few things in order. My grandmother is getting up there in age and everyone is scrambling to support each other, so my sister and I went to help out just the two of us. Our visit was a HUGE success - we had time to hang out with abuela, our mom, her dad, our brother, aunt and uncle, and best of all, spent 10 hours in the car together! We haven't been able to bond like that in quite some time. It was awesome. I missed being at home with my little family but not having to chase a husband and toddler meant that I could be fully present to the situation that presented itself and really get to dig in. 

As we were leaving this morning I was reminded of Ghandi's encouragement to "be the change you wish to see in the world," and it dawned on me in my groggy half-awakeness that sometimes that means to just show up. BE there. And then watch some crazy profound magic happen.

Happy weekend!

Too Fast Too Furious

A guaranteed way to get a mom to punch you (or at least strongly consider it) is to say something along the lines of "Enjoy this time - it goes by so quickly." While I've found early childhood to be downright exhausting and exhilarating and I heard that line over and over and over and over, it wasn't any help whatsoever. It didn't make time slow down or go faster or make me NOT wish that the 2am wakings would end. 

For whatever reason, maybe the PPD, maybe leaving my job and feeling weird about it, maybe feeling the need to somehow stay plugged in to music therapy and eventually "get back into it" I did, however, find myself looking for every opportunity to get A to sleep faster or more efficiently so that I could have time to go do whatever I wanted to. That little taste of pseudo-freedom was so intoxicating that while rocking her to sleep I would think, "Now would be a great time to just crash out in the rocking chair with her. Okay well...but there's all this other stuff I need to do, (insert dishes-research-writing-musicking-facebooking(VOMIT)-laundry-cleaning-sweeping-mopping-catchingupwithpeople-phonecalls-sewing-cooking-never-ending)" and I would justify to myself that I am so talented and my brain needs to keep working or I have a master's degree and was I really cut out for this SAHM thing and should she do a mother's day out and on and on and on...

...and then one day she moved from her crib to a mattress on the floor and she didn't want to be rocked any more, and it broke me to pieces. I am in fact tearing up as I type this. Not saying I didn't EVER not fall asleep with her in my arms, I just really honestly thought that it WOULD last. I didn't have any previous experience to know how abruptly it would end.

I recently completed a worksheet from this book that had the statement, "Imagine yourself at the end of your life looking back...what do you regret?" or something like that. Now, we all know the people who are like, "I live life with no regrets!" and for the most part I have to call bullshit. If you're going through life skipping through KNOWING that every decision you make is absolutely the best one for you right then, then you've stopped learning. I have the feeling that the rest of us are consistently saying to ourselves, "oops. That sucked. I'll try better next time." To my surprise I found myself journaling that I would probably wish that I had been kinder to some people, and that I would have reveled in the gloriousness that was the present moment a little bit more. Would have enjoyed the gifts that I was given to the fullest.

Kinda like the song by The Weepies - "Please Speak Well of Me" which I have included for your open-weeping pleasure:

The part that always gets me is -

Looking back now
I only wish I had been kinder
Did I ever know love, did I ever know love?
And could I have been blinder?

Okay so the whole song gets me every time. 

I have no idea what they're actually talking about in this song - maybe a romantic relationship or whatever but I tend to find little bits of songs and know they were meant just for me. I mean, if I could fall in love with my unborn kid and be brought to tears because of a Ke$ha song, anything is possible.

So yeah. The other night I was watching How I Met Your Mother and Alyson Hannigan took me apart with the most beautiful scene in the world. (fast forward to 14:32) I said out loud to the hubs, "Oh my word someone gets it. And just said it out loud. Oh my God." And then I cried. Apparently a whole lot of other mamas did the same thing. I don't still feel like that, but I remember clearly thinking just that several times in the first year. The shock of having something so beautiful and vulnerable completely dependent upon you is downright frightening, and it was moving to be validated like that. Even though it was through a tv show.

The world indeed moves on and the days are long and the years are short, but all I can do right now is snuggle up and snooze with my daughter in the middle of the day. I have no control over the decisions I made in the past, but I can bliss-out in the sweetness of the present, to do better next time. And then give myself grace. And you know what? Today she wouldn't nap, and because she had requested being wrapped up in a blanket a couple days ago I asked, "Do you want me to wrap you up?" She quit screaming right there and said, "YES!" and so I swaddled her up and started bouncing and shushing her like when she was itty bitty. And she passed out. So maybe those little moments don't ever go away. I just want to pay closer attention.

Food for the Kiddos

I just got back from a MOPS meeting where we had a presenter on the importance of nutrition, and it reminded me of an Email that I recently sent to my sister-in-law and cousin about little miss A's pretty amazing eating habits. My kid eats like a rock star. Mr. S. and I made the decision early on that growing an appreciation for food in our daughter is super important to us and we took specific steps accordingly. Anyway, what follows is the Email I sent.

--------------

Hey Loves,

I wanted to tell you how awesome it was to have you notice what a good eater A is. It is something I really wanted to focus on and have her be a diverse eater. I am so proud of her and it made me feel so good to have someone notice. I wanted to send y'all resources and thoughts that have been helpful to us when tackling food and approaches and such.

First up is 'Super Baby Food' by Ruth Yaron. It has tons of great healthy recipes and foundational principles of child nutrition. I get into ruts and this book is my go-to for new ideas and reminders of why we are doing this. It's a huge book, and so useful. Don't read the whole thing and get all overwhelmed - I have found it much more manageable to get in there and read just the developmental level appropriate for whatever stage A is in. There are SBF kits you can get including ice cube trays to make it all easier - just look them up on Amazon. I used to think the mini prep baby food maker things were dumb but if I could have something that would steam AND purée my food with the push of a button? Maybe I will get one for kid #2. The author of the next book talks about using these things and as far as I am concerned, whatever makes it easier is totally worth it. I stay home and I have the time, but something more convenient would be worth it.

Next is 'French Kids Eat Everything' by Karen le Billon. I am not a French-culture worshipper or anything and was hesitant to read this because I hate parenting books that make you feel bad about what you're doing wrong. I ended up really liking this book because it read more like an anthropology book. It did a lot of comparing of the subtleties of Western and European food culture and Mr. S and I had a lot of conversations about what kind of food culture we wanted to create within our family. It raised a bunch of questions of our own personal eating habits and where those come from, and there were some things we wanted to tweak - especially me because I come from a cultural heritage of, "hungry? Eat! Sad? Eat! Bored? Eat!" It has good recipes at the end, which the whole family has enjoyed. This is the book where we got our no snacking rule - that's a lot of why A eats the way she does - home girl is hungry :)

Another good resource is Weelicious.com but it's more of a supplement to the above books.

More things we think about are local availability and seasonality, where our food is coming from (what we wanted to buy organic or not - EWG.com has a clean and dirty list that we try and shop by. There is also emerging research on how pesticides and GMO foods effect children that I can track down and send if you want) and also what A sees us eat. Food in season just straight up tastes better. We hate eating tomatoes in December because they come from far away and are mealy and gross - I wouldn't expect A to be passionate about food that doesn't taste good. Some books and videos that have guided our food philosophy include Food, Inc. (there is a whole chapter in this film about a child who contracted E-coli and died after eating a fast food burger on a road trip. It is incredibly informative) and anything by Michael Pollan. In terms of watching us eat, we make sure to eat meals together as often as possible. We sometimes eat breakfast all together, and A and I sit down and eat together for lunch (if we're not out and if we are we have packed a lunch or are sitting at a restaurant), and we always always eat dinner together. Babies are little imitators and it almost goes without saying that if they see their parents eating food, then they'll get curious and want to eat. Also, if we have hangups or things we won't eat, we can't expect our kids to have diverse tastes. I have started tackling the things I tend to avoid (fish), and adding different foods (leeks or kohkrabi or fennel) to our menus. Being a part of vegetable co-op has helped with all the above.

Out of sheer laziness I didn't want to make or buy separate meals for her so would start her on purées of stuff we were already eating, having her food be simpler versions of ours but also simplifying our food to make it more accessible. If the developmental stage called for starting her on bananas and avocados, we would have bananas and avocados more in our meals, and so on, as her choices broadened.

Mr. S has a couple things to add. First, we skipped baby food meat altogether, and just waited until she had almost if not all of her teeth to introduce it. I am pretty sure she ate salmon before any other kind of meat because it was so soft. She also may have gnawed on a pork rib before actually eating the meat. Keep in mind that the addition of meat makes their poop more like real person poop. I therefore put it off as long as possible and we had actual conversations as to whether we wanted to wait until she was pooping in a toilet before making her an omnivore. We learned that for a kid to go from not liking to liking a food it takes something like 15 to 20 tries. I can't remember if the above books talk about it, but I do know that the French book suggests offering the foods a bunch of different ways to keep 'em guessing. We tried a bunch of different textures of the same things - making different consistencies of the same food (cauliflower steamed or in a puree) as well as adding different flavors (cauliflower with fennel in a puree). Something we have run into recently is getting her to eat her vegetables first if there is also, say chicken and noodles (her passion) on her plate. This has translated to eating more in courses (another French trick) - there is a squash and spinach soup we love to lead with - and making sure that the most important things make it onto her plate first. Mr. S is also really good at keeping things light at the dinner table, making eating exciting and fun.

We also talk all the time about not using food as a reward, and not bribing her with, say, dessert, to get her to eat anything. We want her to have a healthy and exuberant appreciation for food with no guilt attached and there are so many facets to consider and discuss. I don't remember where I read it - maybe in 'Unconditional Parenting' - but at some point we have to accept that our kids are their own person and there's no amount of cajoling, controlling, or forcing of food that is going to intrinsically motivate a child to love new foods. As they get older the best thing we can do is provide them with healthy and diverse food and introduce it in encouraging ways and the rest is up to the kid.

All that to say there are for sure times that I grab the Amy's mac n cheese. It took me a long time to work through all the questions I had of our own eating habits at the same time trying to stay on top of steaming, pureeing and organizing bags of frozen baby food but it has been all kinds of worth it.

Let me know if you have any questions or need advice on anything - we all know I am bossy as all get out and love telling people what to do ;)

------

So...there you go.  Food is crazy important - I believe it's the foundation on which everything else in life (physically at least) is built. Immunity, mental health, behavior, all of that. If you have any questions, or have any recipes or things you have done to get your kiddos to eat, let me know.

It Takes A Village

I have blogged before about having to seek out your own village once you become a mama. I am fortunate enough to have one, quite literally, in my own back yard. And this past weekend, most were ACTUALLY in my back yard! Kyle smoked two briskets, grilled some chicken, and we sauteed some veggies, and everyone either brought sides, beer, or wine (and sometimes all three!)

We had new and old faces, new and old babies, lots of great food and wonderful conversation! I only snapped a few pictures as I was busy running around but we had THE best time ever. I am so thankful to have these people as my support system and am honored to be part of theirs. 

Do you have a village out there to help support you through whatever it is you're going through? I'd love to hear about it!

weekend away

I love surprises. 

I love getting them and springing them on people. 

I love thinking of just the right thing for just the right time in a person's life to surprise them with.

This past Friday I told my hubs that we had dinner reservations, and he had to get home at 6:30. He came in rather frazzled at 6:45 and off we went just 30 miles away to McKinney. When we pulled up to a big, old, victorian-style house that said "B&B" out front, he got suspicious.  "Uhhh...what are we doing?" 

"SPENDING THE NIGHT SURPRISE!"

I had called my mom the week before to babysit our sweet nugget while I kidnapped my hubs for a night, finding a B&B in a nearby small town. He has been working crazy long hours for the past month, to the point that we hadn't really been seeing each other and it was all kinds of time to reconnect and do what we love to do - explore, eat great food, and wander a new place.

So Friday night after his shock wore off we headed to the town square where we wandered in and out of antique shops and listened to local musicians. As it got closer to dinnertime, we checked out the McKinney Wine Merchant, as our dinner reservations were at Gregory's Bistro, which was BYOB. Y'all. The food was completely amazing. We had mussels to start - lemon, jalepeno mussels. K ordered the sirloin, and I ordered scallops. Both came with white truffle mashed potatoes, and I had some grilled asparagus on the side. Bliss, people. Gregory is legit - he was born in France and has been cooking like crazy his whole life. I am glad he ended up in Texas, because he is a genius, and our food was absolutely incredible. Afterward, we went around the corner for some gelato and then headed back to the B&B. 

The next morning, since we are parents now and cannot physically sleep in, we hopped in the hot tub on our porch before breakfast, which I'm pretty sure is the best way to start any morning, ever. Our hosts fed us pecan waffles and fruit and then we were off to the Franconia Brewery. The tour was really informative (to me, at least - the hubs has been known to brew some beers). I learned a lot about what it means to sustainably brew, and I have a lot of respect for what Franconia is doing: adhering to the German brewing purity laws, not bottling until they can work out a system of reusing their bottles like they do in Europe, and in general putting out some tasty beverages. We sat with a lovely English couple, making jokes in the warm early afternoon sun, then made our way home.

We had a fabulous, much needed relaxing weekend. Hopefully this will be a new tradition for us, exploring the small towns around Texas.

Lent Week 2

I am the worst at keeping track of time. Ask anyone who knows me. The worst. I attribute my perpetual lateness to my being Latina, and my disregard for time and space? Well, I don't know. Personality and spontaneity. 

 

Hence, we're in the second week of lent and I totally blew the first week of fasting which was supposed to be food. The point of the fasts is to not just give something up and then not think about it but it's to do something in place of that given up thing, pray, meditate, journal, whatever. I have a bad tendency to skip meals because I get so wrapped up in the chaos of the day, feeding everyone else around me, that I have to actually work to NOT skip a meal because if I do that then I'll end up being super gluttonous at the next meal. So, I didn't want to fast a meal so much because, well, that part is easy. It's the remembering to do the other stuff instead that gets tricky.

 

I've done a lot of thinking about eating habits that I want to change, though, and I have landed on three: emotional, thoughtless, and over eating. Again with the Mexican heritage...sad? eat. tired? eat. happy? EAT! These three things I think are all wrapped up together for me. If I don't take the time to think about what I'm going to eat I'll eat whatever is nearby (I might have polished off some sausage last week when the hubs wasn't here even though I was supposed to be doing a raw vegan cleanse...) in a fit of hunger and poor planning. I don't know how to quantify that exactly, but it has been on my mind. Oh and the thoughtless eating part. I guess that's the part that I want to carry through these weeks of Lent. There are so many people in the world that have no idea where there next meal is going to come from that it embarrasses me to not put more thought into how and why I eat. 

I've wanted to be primarily vegan/vegetarian (pescatarian I think, to be exact), for so many years and though I've made great strides toward that goal, I have a tendency to make excuses. Especially if nobody is watching. So that's what I'm going to do 'til Easter - not make excuses, stick to vegetarianism. 

And then I'll eat some lamb for Easter.

Just kidding.

Maybe.

This is the start of the second week, where I'll be fasting TV and movies. This one honestly isn't too hard for me. We have a DVR and I know I can wait on the Bachelor, How I Met Your Mother, and whatever else might be coming on. I'm not really that into TV in the first place...or movies for that matter...but it's kind of like keeping cookies and crackers or ice cream in my house. If it's here, I'll indulge. If not, then it's not a big deal. I watch TV or a movie with my hubs to spend time with him because that's what he likes to do to unwind when he gets home, but I would rather be doing anything else. This'll be a good excuse to get my 30 minutes of guitar in ;)

fighting the blahs

and, in other news I started reading several things as of late - I cannot get enough bookage at the moment. I'm quite in the middle of ALL of following:

This book...wow...makes you look at your closet in a whole new way.

got the above book because it was mentioned in "7" - hoping to start a weekly Shabbat. Me and the hubs have been talking about it for years. It should've been one of my resolutions.

It is because of this book and then checking out this blog right here that I have hereby resolutely and definitively decided to have a sunnier outlook on life and quit taking myself so seriously. Yes, even if I've been barfed on 4 times, yes, even if I'm blue on the edges from the weirdness of motherhood. I really am blessed, and it's high time I start acting like it. Even if I have to fake it 'til I make it.

End of October Garden Update

Here's an update on my awesome garden - seriously, I can't believe how everything's sprouting!

 I didn't take a picture of this whole plant but it is HUGE. I think it's small pickling cucumbers - can't wait to get these things all canned up and delicious :)

We are rolling in bell peppers - ever since the weather changed the peppers have been going absolutely nuts.

This is the crazy mix of greens I threw down in the garden, which sprouted like three days later. I have no idea what they're going to turn into but it's kinda awesome that way!

Independence

"Moving on is a simple thing. What it leaves behind is hard." - Dave Mustaine

After lots of careful deliberation, some therapy, and a round of Zoloft, 

I've decided to be a stay at home mom with Adeline :) There of course is more to the story but I'm still working on processing it and how I want to say about how my family got to this decision.

Mostly it's because she's irresistible...

Happy (early) Fourth!

the good kind of grief

It's finally happened - I've become That Girl Who Works With Dying Kids. I went to dinner with high school friends the other night, several of whom are studying to become doctors and they were talking about maybe losing patients every once in awhile and how hard it would be and when they turned and looked at me I saw different versions of it on everyone's face. Not pity so much but that scrunched up nose how-can-you-do-what-you-do-I-could-never-do-that-I-cry-at-the-drop-of-a-hat type face. 

I'm not even going to lie, I'm pretty much a grief junkie. I got involved with a grief camp almost five (FIVE?!) years ago, a camp for kids who have experienced the death of a loved one. Every time I tell people that it's awesome and fun, they look at me like I'm crazy. Then a couple years ago I started volunteering for another grief organization, which focuses on the families who have experienced the death of a child. The biggest difference is that the first is a week-long camp for just kids, and the second is a family camp that has weekend getaways and one-day events throughout the year. I am fascinated by everyone's story, by everyone's journey of grief.

I think I've mentioned before that the reason I became a music therapist is because music helped me get through some really rough times. My mom was going on 5+ years of being sick from what we now know as multiple chemical sensitivities, my parents announced their divorce, my grandfather was diagnosed with and then quickly died from pancreatic cancer, and my friend Casey jumped off a bridge right around the same time. Honestly, music saved my life. I can look back on that period of my life and realize that I was in shock...I would go from school to San Antonio to see my grandfather and fall asleep on the couch as soon as we got to my grandmother's house. Music is what kept me alive, kept me breathing, saved me. Well, music and God. And some well placed family and friends. 

Everyone experiences grief differently and deals with it differently. I was an angry lady for a good part of high school and college and chose to distract myself with friends and going out. Heck, I even joined MATH CLUB to get out of my house and we know how much I love math. I look back on that time and realize that I was totally getting crashed up on the shore over and over again but slowly I got stronger and was able to pull myself up, then turn around and start pulling others out of the water. That's partially why I do what I do - I know that if I can go through what I did and make it out alive, then I can help others. It is so important that people who have been through or are going through a heavy experience do whatever it takes to express that. Yelling at the sky, journaling, punching a pillow, dancing, swimming, drawing, pounding on a piano or a drum, whatever it is, that stuff cannot be held in, it will destroy you.  

Don't get me wrong - I don't have this superhero complex and think I can save everyone from what they're going through. That's not my job. My job is to just be there to help and hopefully bring some fun, smiles, and reflection to a beautiful life.

Watch Out

Oh and hey I forgot to mention that I started Weight Watchers last week and lost 3 pounds! Let's hope I can stick to this sucker when I go back to work - I've got a bridesmaid's dress and hopefully Costa Rica to keep me motivated!

6 week postpartum checkup: back in the saddle again

I went to my shiny new OB/GYN for my 6 week checkup/annual exam...these things being annual I am deciding whether or not having such a delightful experience this close to my birthday is a good idea. He checked out his handiwork (scar), we chatted about Adeline's labor and delivery, discussed birth control and future pregnancies. Maybe it was because I hadn't had breakfast yet...still getting the hang of timing with a new baby...right now it takes us about an hour and a half to two hours to go from sleeping to out the door. Think that sounds like a long time? I have to shower, get totally dressed and ready, check her diaper bag to make sure everything is together, wake her up, change, feed, change again, put on appropriate going out clothes and THEN we can leave. Phew! For someone who is historically TERRIBLE at forethought, it's quite an exercise. By the time we're all ready to go, I'm ready for a nap.

Like I was saying, maybe it was because I hadn't had breakfast yet, but after all the discussion and the pelvic exam and all that, I was kind of...I don't know...sad? weebed out at the prospect of future babies? make that scared out of my mind of all the complications? overwhelmed because I would like at least one more kid of our own, and would also like to adopt...all of it was too much. Plus I had to focus on my breathing to keep from passing out.  Then add to that the fact that I ran into my midwife yesterday at the gas station...is anyone surprised that I came home, ate lunch, fed the kid and then ended up a weepy mess on the floor by her crib? Sigh.

Recognizing that I needed to do some creative interventions on myself and go back and process Adeline's dramatic entry into the world, I headed off to Hobby Lobby to get some crafting supplies. Thanks to Claire leaving a book on earring making I grabbed some wire and beads and plan to make some jewelry, and then attack a drawing pad with some pastels and colored pencils and whatever else strikes my fancy.

new year new year new year!

I have never been a numbers person. Unfortunately for my SAT scores, I quit at math pretty much in the 4th grade and never really progressed. That landed me squarely in a pre-cal class taught by a coach while all my super smart friends were taking mystical math classes by a cool, genius professor-type high school teacher. 

Whatever. 

My teacher let us out of class to get breakfast tacos. 

"If you get caught it's your ass, but if not, bring me two carne guisada."

I am, however, friends with a lovely lady who has a quirk involving odd numbers. When making copies, there's 3 copies made. Not 2, not 4, but 3. That makes next year, 2011, in prime position to be awesome. 2010 for me was pretty much summed up by a whole lot of transformational growth, amazing miracles, and a whole lot of vomit. I am ready for what next year will bring.

Now that Christmas is over, it's time again to start thinking about New Year's resolutions! My favorite time of year! I had originally planned to do a triathlon, but these last few weeks of recovery (did I really have major surgery?! I can still hardly wrap my mind around it.) have taught me to treat my body gently. I also am ready to get serious about things I dabble in: veggies (the growing and eating) and yoga.

While prego I felt so gross that I ate whatever sounded good, meaty or not. I'm ready to veer back toward the veggies. Abdominal surgery, while ending in a wonderous, beautiful life, has made me appreciate all the things that those muscles do. Breathing, laughing, coughing, laying comfortably in bed, walking, talking, everything pretty much. Rehabilitating those muscles that have been stretched to their limit in order to accommodate a growing life has included a whole lot of rest and an acute awareness of how central they are to my whole body's function. I mean hey, they don't call it "core" for nothing. So yeah. I am going to commit to some regular yoga to focus my brain and to heal my body.

Overall I think the theme of this next year is turning out to be devotion. Devoting myself to spending the time every day to become a better musician, a thoughtful friend, a focused and fun momma and wife, to pray, to handwrite notes, that sort of thing.

Anyone else out there working on their resolutions? Don't bah-humbug these things, friends. We all have things we want to tweak in our lives. Why not set after a goal that is attainable and meaningful?