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
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
After hearing myself say to my son, “No. We don’t put our hand in the dog’s butt.” and posting said statement on Facebook, I was inspired by my friend Amber to figure out a way to help toddlers answer the more difficult questions in life. Often, when saying to Jack, “Don’t lick that!” or “We don’t show our belly button to total strangers, darling.”, he has a very confused expression on his face. So, after way too much time figuring out how to create flowcharts on free online software, I give you: Flowcharts for Toddlers. The following should be helpful for your child when a challenging situation arises. Good luck!
I cry all the time. I’m not depressed. I’m actually a pretty happy person. Life hands me some lemons, but usually it’s all lemonade and smiles around here. Show me a commercial with the perfect soundtrack and a well developed story line and I’ll show you an admiring consumer attempting to hold back the tears. You know that really awkward scene in American Beauty? Where weird guy next door describes the movement of a plastic bag floating around in the wind (pre-Katy Perry, thank you very much) and he starts crying at the beauty of it? I was right there with him. Yes, emo-stoner-guy! Yes! There is beauty in trash! Normal isn’t beautiful! Pain is in beauty and beauty is in PAIN! Continue reading
As I sit here watching my beautiful little angel puff attempting to eat his Disney pasta and peas, I can’t help but reminisce of a specific moment in my life. It was right after my wisdom teeth had been taken out. I was attempting to feed myself some Kraft Mac and Cheese (THE BEST PASTA IN A BOX EVER), but was so discombobulated that I couldn’t find my mouth. It was so frustrating. I was starving and all I wanted more than anything in the world was the delicious, orange, mushy-ness in my pie hole. Instead, I stabbed my cheeks repeatedly with four tiny knives like a drunken idiot. Continue reading
Today is day seven in a row of BABY. During the week, I am a stay-at-home mom, but most weekends, I work. I work for a few reasons. One, we can use the money. Two, I need to get out of this house and away from my angel nugget at least once a week. Jack is my joy. The moment I leave him, I miss him. The second I put him to bed, I want to pick him back up and hold him watch him sleep. When I hear him in the morning, I love walking into his room and seeing his smile as we start our day together. That being said, as most parents know, I NEED A BREAK. Continue reading