Y2K AND THREENAGERS

Y’all remember Y2K?  If you don’t, congratulations, you are incredibly and luckily young.  I was in 7th grade when I was first warned.  My science teacher, an older gentleman, made it very clear that we were to be prepared.  The computers.  ALL THE COMPUTERS.  Like….Errrrrwhere….were going to shut down.  For some reason, this meant the world was pretty much going to stop working.  Because the computers…um…I don’t know….didn’t know what year it was or something.  Like I said, I was in 7th grade.   Continue reading

Letters To Jack: Letter Two

Oh Jack,

This week has just been the worst.  One day (if you decide to have children), you will drop your kid off at daycare or school for the first time and you will discover what real solid pain feels like.

Today was your fourth day.  The first two days I let you go just for a few hours to get used to it.  Yesterday, I left you for ten hours. TEN.  For ten hours I left you with total strangers.  A little boy pushed you down and scratched your beautiful face and stole your toy.  Your teacher handed me a piece of paper explaining your injuries.  She said you did nothing.  You just cried.  I purposely did not ask which little tot caused harm to my perfect child because I knew that you might one day become friends with him, and that one day you might want him to come over and play, and you might even grow up to be best friends-and I would hate his little toddler guts for the rest of my life. Continue reading

Thirty Years of Lessons

Guess what, guys?!  I’m THIIIIRRRTTTTYYYY!  Holy cow.  That’s insane.  It’s not old, but I’ve been in my twenties for so long….about ten years now.  It’s weird, you know?  I’m not old enough to know if birthdays will really affect me the way they do some people, but I really don’t think they will.  Working with the elderly, I’ve learned that getting old really isn’t about the number, it’s about your quality of life.  I’ve seen a very old fifty year old and a very young eighty year old.  All that being said, this week, I bought a bag of lemons to drink lemon water every day.  On my birthday wish list are: Running shoes, Fitbit, and skin care products, so obviously somewhere in my mind I’m fighting the aging process.  I just hope I’m a young older person for as long as possible.  While thirty isn’t old, it has certainly been long enough to learn a few life lessons.  Through the years, I’ve grown a bit wiser.  I’ve learned a lot, and have a lot left to learn, but here are thirty things I’ve learned in each year of my three decades: Continue reading

How I Found Solidarity At Barnes And Noble

I feel lame that so many of my stories start with “Today, at Barnes and Noble”.  What an exciting life I lead.  Other than the park, it’s the only free place to hang out with my kid who constantly reminds me that he wants to go somewhere by walking to the door and demanding, “bye bye!”  There are always interactions there.  A grown up to talk to is my favorite part, but I also like observing everyone’s parenting styles.

A few days ago, Jack and I had to leave early because he wouldn’t stop trying to take another little boy’s juice.  It got to the point where I had no choice, but to leave.  The woman said politely, “He must be thirsty,” which I self-consciously took as “Do you not give your baby beverages?”  I swore to the woman that my child had plenty of fluids that day, and went into obnoxious details about how her son’s cup looked like Jack’s old cup and yada yada yada please-don’t-think-I-severely-dehydrate-my-kid jargon.  The annoying part of all of this is that she was just trying to keep things light-hearted while my little beast was violently trying to rob her.  Still, I couldn’t help but take her comment way too personally.  Of course this woman doesn’t think my child is dying of thirst.  Of course he’s just in a “I want that cup or I will cut you” kind of mood.  All two year olds go through that horrendous phase where they don’t understand that every object on earth is not their personal property.  Why then, do I feel the need to explain myself or the behavior of my toddler?  All anyone has to do is look at him and know that he’s doing what he’s doing because he’s a tiny human-and tiny humans are selfish. Continue reading

Birthdays Aren’t Just About You

In case you missed the 291 photos I posted to Facebook of Jack’s 2nd birthday party, I’ll give you a little recap.  Jack turned two, and we had a Chugga Chugga TWO TWO party for him.  I know.  SO LAME.  My twenty two year old self is hardcore eye-rolling right now, but she also doesn’t have a beautiful munchkin nugget whose birth must be celebrated by the masses.  When deciding which theme to choose, I laid out options for Jack.  We were going to have a Ball Party or a Choo Choo Party or a SHOES Party.  In Jack’s very long two years, these are the things he holds most dear.  So, I put a ball, a shoe, and a choo choo on the floor in front of him and asked which one he wanted as his party theme.  I’ve already given away his decision.  He picked up the train and to Amazon Prime we went. Continue reading

Journal: 11/2/15

Jackson Braxton Milk

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

Parenthood: When You Think Your Life Is Over

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

God Never Said Life Would Be Easy

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

When Toddlers Attack

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