It has been said on more than one occasion that I am a very “open” person. I don’t think it’s ever been intended as a negative comment. Sometimes, I take it as a compliment. Others say it in a way that is not intended in any way except factual. I just am. I am open. I feel (maybe a little too) comfortable discussing pretty much any topic. I tend to overshare, but to me it isn’t oversharing. It is just being open. Continue reading
First of all, I’d like to apologize for being MIA the past month. We have been moving and are still in the process of…you know…moving. Also, if you haven’t noticed, we are right slam in the middle of the holiday season, so….back off! Seriously though, I’m sorry. Lucky for you, my husband wouldn’t get off my back about blogging so here we are. While much has happened in the past month, I am currently in the mood to enjoy a good therapy post about my baby’s newest milestone. THROWING AN EMBARRASSINGLY, LOUD, OBNOXIOUS, PHYSICALLY HARMFUL FIT IN A PUBLIC PLACE. Continue reading
Today was day one of keeping a newborn and a toddler together. When Jack (20 months) was Braxton’s age (3 months), it was extremely difficult for me to carry him for long periods of time. In fact, I’d say around 3 months is when my back started hurting me daily. A few months later, it went away having built enough muscle to prepare for his next weight gain. I couldn’t really do baby carrying. Continue reading
This weekend was awesome-sauce. There were so many big things. Let’s start with Friday. Continue reading
This is kind of a “Heads up! Things might get boring, soon!” post. Today, I was looking back at my son’s very first day in the world. I don’t even remember him looking so tiny. When I think about holding him, I picture an entirely different person. The Jack I know morphed into himself around six months old. So, I started thinking about other events in my life and wishing I remembered exactly what my thoughts were in that moment. I’ve found a few journals from my childhood that are absolutely fascinating. At the time, I was just writing about my day. Who I played with. Why I am grounded. Who I have a crush on, etc. Now, though, it’s so interesting to read my mindset as a twelve year old. I want to document my life somewhere so that one day, I will have left a record of my existence. Maybe I’ll be able to see the moment I changed perspectives or turned directions on my path. Continue reading
I’ve never liked the term “nursing assistant”. Some places call them PCT (Patient Care Techs). That makes a little more sense. While CNA’s have certainly “assisted” me with wound care, blood draws, and catheterizations, they are so much more than a “nurse’s assistant”. CNA’s are the heart of nursing. CNA’s are really the original nurses. Before medications and paperwork came the old school one-on-one just plain old taking care of sick people. If you want to know what your loved one ate today or whether or not they’re feeling good, ask their CNA. There is no closer a relationship than that of a patient and their regular aid. Continue reading
The first three months of Jack’s life were the worst three of mine. Because I was the one with the boobs and without a job, I had to wake up every 2 hours of my life. I didn’t have postpartum depression. I had postpartum exhaustion. When the nurse left me alone in my hospital room with Jack, I had a total panic attack. I didn’t know how to breastfeed, soothe, or even hold my baby. I didn’t know I was supposed to be changing him (I assumed they were doing that). I didn’t know ANYTHING. In that moment, with my husband passed out on the couch, I felt so alone. It was seriously terrifying. A week later, my mom left and it was just me and Jack, every two hours, non-stop. I remember thinking my life was over. What had we done? This was my life now. It didn’t help that every day from four to seven, Jack would scream. He just screamed his little heart out for no apparent reason. The only thing that calmed him was being swaddled so tight he couldn’t budge and walked around the house briskly. So, when I wasn’t sleeping, I was either nursing or bouncing around the house singing “You Are My Sunshine” in the happiest voice a walking dead person could muster. Continue reading
Just driving by the Hawkinsville Opera House hits me hard with sweet nostalgia. Whether attending events or participating in them, The Opera House provided me with something I will always cherish: a genuine love for the arts. Backstage or stage center, putting on a show was one of the most fulfilling activities of my entire life. Hearing the audience laugh during a funny part of The Music Man or give a standing ovation after a great show gave me (the girl with one line in the entire show) a sincere feeling of accomplishment. Even a small part was important because a town scene could only be perceived as so with multiple bodies. Each one doing its own job. You wipe windows. You hold a basket. You talk to your friend like you’re gossiping. All the pieces came together. The curtains went up and down when they should. The lighting crew knew exactly when Ms. Marion would be walking out. Beautiful sets were built and positioned appropriately. It was a well-oiled machine. Not one person wasn’t important for its success. Continue reading
In the midst of another tragedy, the age old question is recirculating: “Why does God let bad things happen?” If God is real and great and powerful, why does He just sit back and watch as our lives take what seem like meaningless, harsh twists and turns? Why did He let my grandmother get Alzheimer’s? Why did He let my friend get murdered? Why did He allow 9/11? Why did He let a psychopath go through with a mass shooting? Why does He allow a woman carry a baby and then let it be born without a heartbeat? Continue reading
As I am writing this, my little angel dumplin’ is chillin’ in his crib, singing happy songs about how much he loves his mother because of my undying affection for him. He is holding his Momo blankie and thinking of all the fun times he had with me today. Like when he threw that soup can at my head. Or when he picked up a baseball bat and hit me as hard as he could. Or, here is the best part, when he grabbed a glass bowl that I was eating from and hit me directly in the nose and I seriously thought it was broken. His favorite part of the day, I’m sure, is laughing at me as I tried to get him to stay in “the time out corner”. This escape from baby prison game is THE BEST! You know how psychopaths on TV like to smile as they’re about to torture their victims? Well, I think my baby might be a psychopath. This brings me to a quick flashback story. It’s the reason I’m here-in this amazing situation. It’s the reason for my punishment. Continue reading
The Munchkin Nugget 