Movin’ on up!

We have moved!
Our new site address is notsomodernmommy.com

Hope to see you there!

<3nsmm

Sometimes love just ain’t enough…or If at first you don’t succeed FROG FROG again!!!

When you become a stay at home mom, you find yourself with extra time. Not extra enough to really accomplish anything useful, but enough that you need to find things to occupy your down time.

For example, after Tiny has gone to sleep, and the housework is done, there is nothing better than kicking back and watching some t.v or netflix and just vegging. But if you are like me, and I happen to be like me, then you also need something to occupy your hands.. your brain.. Let’s face it, I am not, nor will I ever be a uni-tasker.. Thus began the quest for a secondary activity.

You can’t very well read while you watch t.v -for obvious reasons. And although eating is an option, the idea of consuming food for the duration of an entire program is way too glutinous for my taste- pardon the pun. Then it hit me, I would pick up crochet again! My friend’s mom had taught me when I was about 10 and although I was a bit rusty, I still mostly remembered what I was doing…

Sure I only knew how to do one or two stitches, and poorly- and sure I spent more time destroying what I did than actually making usaable projects but SO WHAT? I could get better! I could practice every night and make things! I could make potholders and blankets and sweaters and dresses! People would comment on how beautiful they were and ask me “Why, wherever did you get that?” and I would reply in my most modest sounding voice..”oh that old thing? I made it.”

It would be amazing.

So, off I went. Lucky for me I still had a plethora of hooks and yarn from a stash my mom had scored me at a yard sale a couple years ago. I started to work…and voila! I was off and running!

Until I realized that instead of making a long straight row of single crochet stitches, my row looked more like it was doing the mambo. They were uneven and didn’t look at all like I had imagined, but I couldn’t figure out what I was doing wrong?

I did what I do best: I sought out a group of like minded folks- people who were doing this very thing. I found it in the form of the Facebook group “The Crochet Lounge.”

Here was place where people from all over the world, from all different walks of life, came to chat,and commiserate, and show off their projects. Some of them clearly belonged in the Crochet Equivalent of the NBA- and others were newbies just like me. It was a place I could go and get ideas, but also whine and complain about my frustration with a certain project… and there were people there who UNDERSTOOD!

It was, and is.. a big community of like-minded crafters..and it is my new favorite place to be.

One day, while perusing the CL as I will lovingly refer to it from here on out, I inquired about some kind of formal instruction. The response from the populace was pretty much unanimous- Watch Mikey on Youtube. So off I went and discovered 24 glorious “classes” on crochet and proceeded to watch them all.

The first few were kind of easy. The next few made me want to throw my crochet hook out the window.However, being the OCD crafter that I am, I wouldn’t let myself skip any until I got them right..The best example of this was with a technique called the Catherine Wheel. Mikey said it was his favorite stitch and when he showed it to “us” I was immediately smitten. This was the same stitch Mr. Wright and I had seen displayed on the wall at Michael’s. The one we squinched up our eyes at in bewilderment! How did they even get yarn to DOOOO that? Well folks, let me tell you..

The Catherine Wheel is named for a torture tool that Queen Catherine used in the middle ages to torture prisoners, so it is only fitting that this stitch be given that name because as gorgeous as it looks- that thing made me want to pop my own eyeballs out.

Now since most of my readers are not crochet savvy, I will spare you the specifics of this stitch, but suffice to say, Mikey had me doing things to that yarn that had it been a person- would have landed me in jail for a very very long time…The first attempt at this looked somewhat like a cross between a mentally challenged spider’s web and.. well nope that’s what it looked like. I went to bed that night feeling defeated. I was never going to be good at this.

The next morning, while Tiny napped, I decided to try again, I went right back and did everything I did before, but this time I worked carefully to make my stitches even and my counts correct. The difference was amazing! Last night’s tarantula shack looked exactly like the one Mikey did; which to me was pretty darn amazing. Mr. Wright even commented how much better it looked. He was REALLY impressed. I felt like a million bucks! I wanted to make more! I wanted to make all of our clothes, and shoes, and blankets! I was in LOVE! I allowed myself to acknowledge this sudden overwhelming sense of pride and accomplishment! I can crochet!

It wasn’t long though before I once again hit a roadblock- this time with a hat I was making for Like Totally. I felt the feelings of inadequacy sink in as I scrolled through post after post of beautifully crafted baby bonnets and shoes, and breathtaking afghans- all of which seemed effortlessly constructed. I looked down at my hat and knew instantly that it was not coming together the way it was supposed to. If I kept going the way I was headed, this hat was going to resemble the flying nun a lot more than goofy ear flaps….So what did I do?

I ripped it out. The crochet term for that is Frogging… I frogged the ^*$(^ right out of that hat- right back to the second row where I knew I had messed it up, and I started again. A few hours later I was right back at the same spot and this time my hat looked like a HAT!

It’s been a little over a month since I started crocheting again and I would be lying if I said I have gotten the hang of it.. I still get frustrated when I make a mistake- I still have to frog at least a row or two…and I still silently cry to myself when I can’t read a pattern- but you know what? I can’t deny that I am learning. I AM better than I was, and the more I practice the better I get!

I know that when I get stuck, I have the folks in CL to help me out, and a Mikey video is just a touch away. Someday I WILL be one of those folks who nonchalantly posts pictures of a California King sized bedspread that I made with 127 different colors. Someday…

But first.. I need to learn this stupid magic loop!

<3NSMM

Making “new” friends

Today I made a new friend.

Well to be honest, we have actually known each other for a while, more than a year, but today was the day I realized just how close we have become.

She’s pretty neat, this friend of mine. She loves the same foods I do, loves music,, and is always down for a dance party right in the middle of a seemingly hectic day. And man can she DANCE!

I am not much of a dancer, but I love to jump around to the music while she claps and flails her arms. It’s hilarious to watch. Her energy is contagious.

Sure we have our differences, like the age gap. I am MUCH older , and sometimes it is frustrating to deal with her.  I try to save her the heartache of bad choices I have made, but she insists on doing it her way. Stubborn girl.

Another thing that makes us different is that we speak different languages. Despite this fact, we have no problem communicating. Babbling along in our native tongues, we nod at one another knowingly.

Like this morning. I went to pick her up for our breakfast date and she had the biggest smile I have ever seen. Talk about a mood booster! We ate breakfast together- she had oatmeal and I drank my coffee. Though she didn’t say it in so many words, I could tell by her face that she was enjoying herself.

She enjoys my company as much as I enjoy hers and I find myself looking forward to hanging out with her.

I don’t worry that she is looking at my clothes, or judging me- She likes me for who I am no matter what I do.

The more we hang out the more her personality reveals itself. She hates to stand still too long unless her favorite show is on. She has some pretty crazy mannerisms. She is not high maintenance at all. She is content to leave the house in her pajamas without doing her hair, in fact she would prefer it. She loves adventure as much as I do.

It’s hard to believe that we haven’t known each other that long because I can’t really remember my life before her.

She has taught me things I never would have learned otherwise, but she has taught me a lot about myself, like how much I need to feel needed, how I need to channel my younger self and sometimes just let the chores go and DANCE DANCE DANCE!

I am so lucky to have her in my life, and I am so excited to continue to get to know her better as we grow together in this friendship.

But most importantly, I am so very blessed to be her mother.

<3NSMM

Entering The Third Trimester or Welcome to “Whale Phase”

There are three phases of pregnancy in my opinion.

The first is “Death Phase”- That is when your body is still sort of in denial about your condition and although you still somewhat resemble a non-descript human, your insides are dealing with an influx of hormones that make pretty much every food item look like dog poo. You feel like you got hit by a bus and you wonder to yourself what you were thinking when you let him “do this to me again.”

But you deal.

You take your medicine, sip your water and try to stand upright for minutes at a time before reaching for the nearest basin. Then one day you wake up and your appetite returns, your energy picks up, and as you pump your fist in victory you proclaim to anyone who will listen.. “That wasn’t so bad!” Then you are on to phase 2- The “Quiet” phase…

The quiet phase is like the eye of a hurricane. If it weren’t for all the destruction and boarded up windows, you wouldn’t really know a storm had passed through! That’s how this phase feels. You are starting to get a little bit of a bump which betrays your condition, but you look around in disbelief that you actually feel pretty good! You have energy and you may even want to put real clothes on- (you may not, and that’s okay too!) I personally wish that somehow the quiet phase could last forever, but alas it doesn’t… and eventually as that teeny little fetus grows and grows, it gives way to my least favorite phase of all….

Whale Phase.

Now, before all you readers who know me IRL pipe in that “you are all belly,” and “You are so not fat!” Let me explain that Whale phase is more of a state of mind, than a true physical condition. This is the part of the pregnancy when you, or in this case, I feel like a beached whale. My stomach gets in the way of everything…It’s like having a basketball in my lap 24 hours a day. Only my basketball moves around! And while the movements used to be soft and popcorny like butterflies, now they more resemble jabs from a tiny, but skilled MMA fighter.

Then there is the issue of clothing. When I was pregnant with Tiny I was fortunate enough not to need maternity clothes, I could just throw on one of those belly bands and wear one of my regular outfits. No moo moos for this mama!

This time, I feel like whale phase came so much sooner, and although I haven’t really NEEDED to get dressed out and go out, I am not entirely confident that my wardrobe will even fit me at this stage of the game.  Not to mention how fun it is to go out in public. I used to laugh at those women on t.v who would walk around with their hands behind their backs seemingly holding themselves up to counter balance their massive fake stomachs. People don’t really walk like that in real life… pfffft……..

Yeah, well maybe they should.

Cause I can tell you right now, every step this preggo takes at this point is an ordeal. Never mind trying to get up from a chair or a couch- that endeavor takes a good minute or so…unless of course Tiny needs me in which case all self preservation goes out the window and I find a way to hurl this massive sea mammal body up and deal with the ensuing pain later. You know, like immediately, wincing and whining that I am so done being pregnant.. Ugggh

Then there is the food thing. You would think that a gigantic creature such as myself would have a huggge appetite, and you would be right! I am always hungry. The only problem is that this gigantic fetus is taking up so much of my insides right now, that my stomach has been reduced to the size of a pea.  This means that  even though I may be super duper starving, after a few bites my stomach feels like I just single-handedly consumed a horse. That’s right folks.. all the sensations of hunger with none of the satisfaction… Awesome…

With just threeish months to go before this little bundle of joy makes his debut, I find myself kind of perplexed about the order of these phases. I mean this is the time when I am supposed to be making preparations for his arrival, pulling out all the newborn paraphernalia, getting his room ready, cleaning the entire house… ( I think they call it nesting?) So who then decided this would be the time to make the mommy, in this case me, feel like an oversized sloth? Would it not make sense to make last trimester a time when I feel super energetic and fit and beautiful and ready to take on the world? Seems kind of backwards to me..But I digress…

I have said this before but it bears repeating: I feel very lucky, if not blessed that I am able to embrace this phase of torture, I mean pregnancy and just lay on the couch or take a nap when I need to. I know there are so many moms out there who have to work AND run households of many children and do not have that luxury. I also feel very blessed to have such a wonderful, helpful, patient husband who picks up the slack when my slothy self comes out. Despite all of these blessings, I am still looking forward to having my body to myself again for at least a few years.. I am looking forward to being the only person in a pair of pants, and eating normal sized meals and walking across a store without feeling like I need to sit down.

T-Minus 3 months and counting….

::pumps fist in the air:: I can SO do this!

NSMM<3

I have my hobbies that I enjoy; I love to crochet, I love writing this crazy blog, and I love to read.

Mr. Wright has his hobbies too. He loves to cook, loves to work in the garden, and he loves to play this video game called World of Warcraft…. Did I say play? He loves to immerse himself in this game called World of Warcraft (affectionately referred to herein from here on out as WOW)

Now because I love Mr. Wright to death, I indulge him in this crazy pastime. There are not many things that he really allows himself to enjoy. I sit and watch while his Dragon Deathknight Seer Mage Chicken runs around the little CGI world doing tasks like killing other CGI creatures and then triumphantly brings them back to yet another creature who then bows and gives them hypothetical “honor” so they can “buy” things.

I mean just cause I don’t get it doesn’t mean it isn’t fun for him right? So off I went to Wikipedia and Youtube and every other site I could think of that might help me learn more about WOW.

WOW is not a joke. People are totally cereal about this game. You can even pay real American money for items while you play. I am not even kidding! Yesterday, they were having a sale on a “pet” cat that was $7.99… yeah.. as in you give them 8 bucks and they give you a virtual cat. Sounds like a fair deal to me!!!

Another thing is that the people who play this game don’t just play.. .they plaaaaayyyyyy, as in all hours of the night, for hours at a time. They plan their lives around this game.. It’s like the Twilight Zone, only there is no Rod Serling at the end to cue the credits and send you safely back to real life.. and it isn’t over in a half hour either!

or an hour, or two hours.. it’s never over!

I mean, you get to the very last level of the game … and it’s only just begun!!! The end is like, when it begins! How messed up is that?

So where does Mr. Wright fit into this? Yeah, well.. He PLAYS WOW. He knows all the vocabulary and is in- essence fluent in the made-up language of Azeroth, which apparently is the land that all this virtualness takes place in.

There are rules of conduct that I have learned while he plays. The first of which pertains to battle grounds. Battle grounds are little mini-wars which require Mr. Wright to concentrate meticulously while simultaneously mashing his keyboard. I have learned not to talk during battlegrounds unless I want the answer to any question to be 1. Uh huh 2. Oh yeah? or 3. That’s nice. That means that no real discussion takes place during battle grounds. Okay, I can live with that.

The second rule of WOW in our house is that there is a distinct difference between Wow- related research and the actual playing of the game. Therefore, if an hour is spent researching “things about my character” it can not be charged toward the newly imposed 2 hour/night “Wow limit” because “I wasn’t actually playing.” Gotcha.

On some nights this has even been stretched to Wow related Youtube videos.. but I put my foot down on that one.  The poor guy has been sucked in. He would play that game all night and day if he could.

And that’s another thing, WOW has commitments. Like, you are expected to log on every day and do a certain amount of little tasks to get extra coin reward things which you save up toward buying more virtual stuff. There is a time line for this endeavor which resets at O’dark thirty in the morning, but must be completed well before that in case the server goes down.  I mean we aren’t even that proactive about the weather around here! But we need to leave a 4 hour buffer in case the WOW network should crap the bed?!!

But I guess that’s what it “does.” There are thousands of people out there like Mr. Wright who get sucked into this virtual universe and some of them never emerge…

So after a few nights of going to sleep at 5AM and hearing the Wowy music in my dreams, I decided to make some rules of my own. Like- Wow doesn’t happen till everything else is done. That means baby in bed, dinner cleaned up, and homework completed.

And when WOW does happen, it’s for like 2 hours tops…
Some women have husbands who get abducted by sports.. Mine was by little green men….

C’est La Vie…:)

NSMM<3

 

I thought they were called the terrible TWOS? or And I am having another one?!

If you read my blog, (and you probably do, cause it’s awesome..) then you know that I am extremely fond of my little daughter Tiny. Every day as she grows up, I find more things about her to adore. Things like the way she scrunches up her nose when she smiles, or says KAKA (Thank you), when you hand her something, or the way she says “uh oh!” when she purposely drops something on the floor. I find all of these tendencies very endearing.

However, along with all these precious Tinyisms, have come some not so welcomed behaviors.  Behaviors which, I have learned can magically turn me from happy, productive, smiley,Mommy into exasperated, high strung, Hulk Smash Mommy in about 3 minutes.

Before you have kids your wealth of knowledge about them is made up of two main resources: 1. What the experts say (I.E Dr, Google and the endless Bump, Baby Center, What to Expect, and Holy Crap I’m Pregnant articles you read.) and 2. Your friends’ and family’s personal experiences. Naturally, we come to associate certain behaviors with corresponding ages. Maybe it was meant to warn parents of the trouble in the distance. Maybe it’s just a way veteran parents scare new ones as part of a sadistic hazing ritual that somehow helps them heal from the trauma of first time parenthood:

Just wait till she starts walking,…

Enjoy it while you can…

Two is a handful…

Uggh.

Whatever the case may be, the fact of the matter is, not all kids are alike, in fact, judging by my friends’ children, who are all relatively the same age as Tiny and are walking, still teething, talking, potty training (!!!!) I would venture to say no two kids are alike! Where am I going with this folks?

My 14 month old has hit the terrible twos.

Tiny likes the things she likes. She likes to get her way. She likes attention, and when she doesn’t get the things that she wants immediately.. she turns into a Tiny Veruca Salt. (If you don’t know the reference, I feel sorry for your meaningless childhood.) My child doesn’t scream, or cry.. oh no no folks. She growls. And it isn’t a quiet rumbly growl. She sounds the way I fear indigestion would sound if one were ever inside a stomach to hear it. Her guttural yelling is punctuated by jumping up and down making faces that look like a cross between constipation and a death stare.

Now I know what you well meaning parents are thinking.. Silly NSMM the way to fix this behavior, sorry- to SHAPE this behavior is to simply ignore it. Eventually she will see that it isn’t going to get her what she wants and she will stop.

Yeah, ok. You try listening to that shrieking growl for more than 5 minutes and I assure you you will be singing a different tune.

My husband told me about military training where they actually play babies crying in the ears of soldiers to simulate torture.. Please.. get this kid’s “voice” on a tape and fly it out to some detainment camps, I am willing to bet those terrorists will be singing like canaries in no time! (reminds myself to look into that later.)

But seriously, I think the worst part about this is that Tiny is slowly learning how to manipulate me: Mommy, and I don’t like that. I pride myself on being a pretty competitive person and I don’t like to lose. So while part of me wants to SHAPE Tiny’s behavior, part of me just doesn’t want her to beat me!

Yet, despite my extensive research and interviews of other victims, err parents.. It seems like this is just a phase I am going to have to deal with. I have tried a few things that work.. occasionally.

Sometimes distracting her with a toy works. Sometimes she throws said toy at your head.

Sometimes reminding her of her “quiet” voice, causes her to quickly lower her volume. Sometimes it causes her to growl louder and angrier.

I have learned that the only thing “normal” about being a parent to an almost toddler, is that nothing is normal. Tiny changes every single day, from the foods she will eat, to the toys she is interested in, to how snugly she is. The little girl I put to bed at night is never the girl who wakes up the next morning. That is how quickly she is growing.

Being pregnant, and exhausted with a mini teenager is tough, but it won’t last forever. Before I know it, the baby will be here, Tiny will be walking and talking and who knows what else! I guess maybe that’s why it goes so fast..just long enough to add some extra gray hairs, but short enough to make you miss it when it’s gone. Sure I don’t “miss it” now, but I am certain that someday, when Tiny is in this place in life, wrestling with a little boy or girl who wants something, I will have the chance to chuckle at my grown daughter’s momentary misfortune, knowing what a handful she was at that same age. Yet on the inside, I know I will secretly be missing the time when she was that small.

NSMM<3

Shippin’ Up to Boston- Part 2

When last you left me, I was a few days into what would prove to be one of the most challenging and enlightening months of my young life. I had no idea how hard it was going to be, and looking back now, it is hard to believe I made it through relatively unscathed!

If you recall, (or if you are just tuning in,) I am very fortunate to have a husband who shares, if not sometimes bares the load of child rearing. Having someone who can change a particularly rancid diaper when the very thought of it causes you to run for the bathroom is very convenient, and as this mom would learn, easily taken for granted.

When I first conceived of this trip it SEEMED like a great idea! Mr. Wright would be away with the Army at LDAC, and I would travel home to Boston, with Tiny. We would stay with my best friend, and my mom and we would do all the Boston things I missed so much, visit the people I missed.. it would be glorious…Then, as if that wasn’t wonderful enough, Mr. Wright would join us there for another 10 days of relaxing, and sightseeing, and visiting. It was gonna be AWESOME….

As the wise person would have warned me, it wasn’t  a week before I missed my home, and my dog, and of course my husband.

Here we were, Tiny and me, in Boston- with no Mr. Wright/Daddy. He was 3000 miles away (might as well have been  a light year away) with no contact for the next 30 days. That meant every diaper change, every meal, every nightmare, every boo boo.. ok ok you get the idea- was on me. Which at first blush didn’t seem like such a big deal…

I mean Mr. Wright goes off every day to school and I watch her right? How hard is one little month going to be?

HAHAHAHAHAH…. yeah…..

I was doing okay until day 3, when Tiny refused to sleep due to what was first thought to be separation anxiety, but after her ear turned bright red and she started to pantomime being on the phone most of the day, it was discovered to be an ear infection- a bad one.

The next thing I underestimated was how much schlepping would be involved with this visit.  Every time we changed sleeping quarters or went on an extended visit, along with Tiny I had to bring ( and most of the time carry:)

the pack and play, extra clothes, a bathing suit, sunscreen, a portable high chair, extra diapers, a stroller, the car seat, and whatever else she or I needed for that particular activity. Add to that a pregnant mama and a 5 day heatwave and you have one unhappy camper!

Tiny was also in rare form during the trip. She missed her daddy, she missed her bed, and her room and morphed into something of a crabby little creature over the course of our trip. I can’t honestly blame her though..Living on a couch and our of suitcases gets old really fast. It is nice to have a few days of not keeping house, but after week 4 I was ready to get home and mop my floors, do our laundry and be domestic again! I fantasized about kneeling on my hands and knees scrubbing my kitchen floor. I had a dream about de-scumming the shower! I was so excited to get away from my mundane little Army wife life, and I found myself longing for the most mundane things of all!

Not to mention how much I missed Mr. Wright. Sure the letters helped, but nothing could prepare me for how much I would long for his company. Deployments are one thing, but 28 days without contact was almost unbearable.

Luckily, earlier in this process I realized that if I was this miserable surely other spouses must be in the same boat as me? I created a group for others like me, and voila! I had an instant community of other women to commiserate with. Over the course of the month, several ladies joined, and then left as their spouses returned home.It was a great place to let off steam about the folks who just didn’t get it, “30 days IS a long time!!” We joked about our “cadets” and talked incessantly about our lives and families and what we wanted to do when “the boys came home” We even created a group to stay in touch after the training was over!

Like all things, the month did end and Mr. Wright returned and then flew to Boston to be with us. We spent the next ten days in vacation mode, staying with friends, family, and in a few hotels:P We visited people we missed last time, and got to take in a few cool sights!

It was a really great visit, one that left me wanting more but also made me realize where I really belong: with my husband and my daughter in Georgia.

At the end of ten days it was time to go home, and looking back (don’t tell those haters) it really did fly by… Before I knew it I was sitting next to Mr. Wright on a plane, Tiny nestled in his lap as we lifted off for home. I remember being kind of sad because I knew I would miss everyone, but something inside me had changed from the last visit:

The last time the plane lifted off from Boston, I cried like a baby because I was homesick… This time, I breathed a small sigh of contentment, because I was going home…

<3NSMM

And then there were two… or Shippin’ up to Boston (part 1)

I did not think flying with Tiny by myself would be easy…

In fact, in the weeks leading up to the trip that would take us all the way up the East coast back to my hometown, I agonized over how hard that very task would be. I had never gotten Tiny to sit still in my lap for more than 3 minutes, how would I keep her there for 3 hours?

My friends who had flown with infants assured me it really wouldn’t be that bad.

Provided that I packed enough diapers- because gravity really kicks in up there…

And so long as I made sure to have her drink something upon take-off so her little ears didn’t pop…

So long as I did those two things I would be fine, she would probably sleep the whole way…

The only problem with this positive thinking, was that it didn’t take into account all the stuff that had to happen before we even took off:

Things like making sure Tiny had everything she would need for the next 5 weeks. (This involved borrowing items from helpful folks back home in Boston,) making sure that the diaper bag (aka Tiny’s carry on) was stocked with snacks and toys and blankies and anything she could possibly need while I was trapped with her 30,000 feet in the air.

Once that was done, it was time to actually go to the airport. This wasn’t that difficult to start as Mr. Wright was there to carry the extra bags and watch Tiny while I used the ladies room for the 11th time.. but once we said our goodbyes it was like the twilight zone…It was just me and Tiny.. for the next month…me and this itty bitty baby who totally depended on me for everything. No more tagging her Daddy to bail me out, no more sleeping in.. this was it.

Our first fun adventure came when we needed to travel through airport secuirty. While balancing the suitcase with one foot, the diaper bag, and Tiny, I had to somehow fold up the stroller- one handed…. I have done some really challenging things in my day and folding up a stroller with one hand is definitely on that list. After folding it up, I was instructed to shove the entire thing into the x-ray machine… no easy task with two hands but with one… it was nearly impossible!

Once that ordeal was done, and my shoes were back on and the baby food was deemed safe, we were ready to walk to the gate. We got there just as they were calling our boarding group and just in time for me to fold up the stroller again… Awesome…

We got on the plane and into our seat…it looked like the hardest part was over! We settled in for a nice relaxing flight..

And for the most part it was! Tiny did really well, and we were lucky enough to have a nice lady sitting next to us who offered to be an extra set of hands which was so helpful…

Just as my friends had warned, Tiny went through about 7 diapers over the course of the flight, and her ears popped every time the darn plane descended, but for the most part it really wasn’t that bad.

Would I fly with an infant by myself again? Probably not, but it could have been a lot worse…

Once we arrived in Boston, it became self evident just how different things were here now.

My best friend picked us up at the airport and so began the month long period of doing it all by myself…  It is a good thing morning sickness was almost over because I was on my own…

So began a month of being a single parent….

*To be Continued…..

NSMM<3

Mommies Have (Unrealistic) Expectations

Yesterday, Tiny turned 1.

Like most moms, I started planning Tiny’s first birthday shortly after her first breath.

The perfect little outfit, the smash cake, the guest list, the decorations. My pinterest was full of cool themes and ideas for how to make her first birthday absolutely amazing. It seems like birthday parties in general have come a lot farther since I was a little girl! It isn’t just clowns and magic shows anymore- now they have pony rides, and tea parties and just about anything you can think of!

So I pinned away, different cakes I wanted to try to bake, outfits I might try to learn how to sew by the time the big day came, place cards for guests- the whole works. I mean you only turn 1 once right?

As the day drew closer, the decision was made that because most of my family is back in Boston, we would have a big party there when we traveled home in July, and just a little party with close family here in Savannah.

But that was okay! I could still make her little gluten-free smash cake! She could still wear a cute little dress! Grandma and Grandpa could still come and take part in Tiny’s special day!

The first problem was the tropical storm. It hit Jacksonville, which meant no Grandma and Grandpa but that was okay, we would miss them but we all agreed it was better for them to be safe. My good friend Crunchy Nurse would still come with her little boy and that would be wonderful. We would have our little party..however little it would be…

The weather was awful. Tiny was cranky. She wanted no part of her frilly white dress and honestly, with the weather what it was, she looked kind of silly. I stripped her down to her diaper and put her in her high chair with some watermelon. That’s what she wanted. To be naked and eat watermelon.

We never did get around to baking her a gluten-free smash cake. Between my sickness and having all of the kids here, we just never made time. We settled for a regular gluteny one and rationalized that maybe her problem wasn’t gluten but had just been the formula that didn’t agree with her. A few hours later Mr. Wright would regret that decision.

There were no throngs of small children to wade through like I had envisioned. No group of mommy friends with their clingy toddlers all trying to open the birthday girl’s presents. None of the usual birthday chaos. Which truthfully turned out to be blessing because the way I was feeling, I was lucky to be able to entertain Crunchy Mom and son.

When it came time for presents, they weren’t even all wrapped, not that the baby cared. Her eyes lit up with every gift and stayed that way for about 30 seconds before she swept her hand across the tray indicating she was ready for the next one. When the last present was opened and Tiny rubbed her little eyes, Mr. Wright took her upstairs to bathe and we sent her off to sleep. For her I am sure the day was perfect. For me? It just wasn’t what I envisioned.

It wasn’t a bad day at all. It just wasn’t the three ring circus I’d planned. It was like some little (irrational) part of me expected this day to feel so different than all the others, because this day wasn’t just my daughter’s birthday it was also the day I became a mom. It was the day I pushed a fully developed human infant out of a hole in my body after being in pain for over 24 hours… It was the day my life changed forever…

And maybe some small part of me, albeit selfish.. wanted that to be recognized too. Maybe I wanted balloons in the house and music and chaos to celebrate MY day. Perhaps that was why I was so disappointed.

We are planning a much bigger birthday celebration for Tiny later this summer when there will be all those things I wished for this time around. My whole family will be there, and she will have a real cake, and kids to play with and music. The whole package!

But looking back to yesterday, I realize that all the really special things: Looking into my baby’s eyes and seeing a “child” for the first time, the look on my husband’s face when all six of his children gather around the table to celebrate, the look on Tiny’s little face when she opened her first gifts by herself…Those things can’t be replicated. I can have ten parties in ten different places, but the fact is Tiny is one year old.

My baby girl is growing up:)

NSMM<3

Not So Modern Mommy times two?!!!!

I would like to think I am starting to get the hang of this mommy thing.

Tiny is growing wonderfully (at last!!) She is hitting milestones like standing on her own and playing peekaboo and I have managed not to lock her in the car with the keys in it or go out to do errands without a diaper in the bag. (Although I did forget the wipes once, and that wasn’t pretty)  I think, now safely just over a week away from Tiny’s first birthday I haven’t done half-bad!

Of course I do not for one second profess to be an expert on all things infant. I still can’t figure out how to get Tiny to keep her bib on long enough to eat an entire meal or how to put her to sleep without her wailing away in bed despite how exhausted she is. I still struggle with entertaining and nurturing her while keeping up with cooking, cleaning, laundry and all the other fun Mommy things I do. Nevertheless, overall, I am pretty proud of myself. I have just about gotten into a groove! Until recently when I started to feel really tired…..

and moody…..

and kind of queasy…

but I wasn’t worried. I was breastfeeding after all! There was no way I could have ovulated.. I wasn’t even worried… I only took that stupid test to put my mind at ease….and just like I knew it would be it was…

POSITIVE.

wait what? Must have been false. I took another one..

POSITIVE… and this wasn’t the “turn the test all different ways” and “hold it in the sun to see if the light hits it just right…” this was like pee on stick and hello plus sign!

Mr. Wright looked at me and offered me his congratulations. I just sat on the toilet and wished it would flush and pull me inside of it.

It wasn’t that I wasn’t happy.. I mean I was and I AM! But holy cow- I am just getting to know the person I already made! And now I am already crafting another one?

What happened to all the pretty new clothes I rewarded myself with when I lost the baby weight? What about the new routine I had gotten into that didn’t consist of making pit stops to puke? What about all the fun plans I had for me and my little girl to spoil her rotten and let her be little?

I processed all of that while still sitting in the bathroom.

I googled all these crazy things like “ideal spacing for children” and “when is too soon for a sibling?” I thought about myself, driving through town with two car seats, and a double stroller, twice the cloth diapers to wash and two little people needing my attention in tandem! It was too much!

I finally calmed down a little.. ( after speaking to a very good friend who talked me off the ledge, thank you Mystika) and I realized that this was my new reality. I wasn’t going to change this situation even if I could…This was happening. I was gulp.. having another baby.

Me, the girl who not even two years ago could easily spend $200 a month on shoes, was pregnant with my second child, and like it or not that second child was coming in 9 months and counting.

Believe it or not, once I came to terms with the concreteness of the situation, it was much easier to handle.

I soon learned that this baby is due in early December and so far all looks well! I am finally starting to get excited about the idea of another little newborn in the house, and beginning to focus on the things I want to do differently this time.

I want this baby to have a baby book, because Tiny didn’t. I want to nurse a lot longer this time.

Another thing that will be great this time around, is that this savvy mama had the foresight to register for mostly unisex items for Tiny’s arrival. That means that whether we have a little girl or boy, we already have 90% of the preparation done.

The fun part? Getting to hone in on those few key items we missed last time. This time I can go hog wild on Etsy and have custom made blankets and clothes and goodness knows what else!

Another bonus? I know pretty much what to expect! I will be so ready when this little one arrives! Well, I will be more ready than I was last time.. I will…

sigh…

This is going to take some getting used to yet…..

to be continued………

<3NSMM