Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Where I interview my husband

I just had the most brilliant idea in the world you guys.  I'm going to interview my husband and I'm going to ask him things and HE HAS TO ANSWER THEM.

And he's looking over my shoulder and correcting me so I'm pretty sure one of us isn't going to make it through this interview.  And it's going to be him.

Okay, here goes.

Me:  How pretty am I?

Him:  As pretty as anyone can be after 1/2 a bottle of white wine in a nursing tank top...

Me:  NO I'm serious!  For real, tell me how pretty I am.  Wait that's not a question.  Tell me how pretty I am??

Him:  Welcome to our daily endless loop we seem to have regarding this question... If I give my lovely wife an adequate answer, she only asks it again in a matter of minutes (wine or not).  Honey, you are the most amazingly beautiful (she just called me a pisshead - I don't even think that's a word) human being I've ever met in my life, I'm lucky to have you as my wife and mother of my child(ren)!!!

Me:  Aww, that's sweet baby!  Okay fine I'll keep you.  Next happy are you that you're married to me?

Him:  This is quickly starting to be the most awkward interview ever... or redundant. You are very eloquent at asking the same question multiple ways - see above.

Me:  THAT"S NOT AN ANSWER.  Try again.

Him:  (right now my wife is giggling like a school girl...)  Honey. Honestly, being married to you is very hard work as I have to answer the same question 10067 different ways every day.  Otherwise, you are the best things that's ever happened to me and I look forward to our daily adventures!

Me:  Hard work puts hair on your chest, quit whining.  Okay Next question  *this backspace is killing me*  Okay!  How cool was it when our kid was born?

Him:  (I'm slightly disappointed in the lack of creativity in this line of questioning - this is my first formal appearance on Hitting My Stride and you are all "smell my feet", "how do you feel about me still being able to put my feet behind my head" and "how did you feel during the most emotional event of your life")... The answer: you gave birth to our daughter - a kid is a baby goat... I'm pretty sure we didn't have a baby  goat.  Either way, daughter or kid, the day Sofia Ines was born was one of the most significant milestones of my life.

Me:  Aww that's so sweet baby!  And I don't care what you say, putting my feet behind my head is COOL.  

Okay, what else.  Ummm, how bout some more wine?

*gah, people are going to think I'm a big fat drunky drunk.

Him: (I just had to backspace through Desiree's answer she wrote for me...)  Honey, you have already admitted to those who follow that you enjoy a bit of the sauce from time to time (daily) so I think some more wine is a fabulous idea!

Me:  Guess what, piss on your head.  I don't drink every day.  Funker.

Him:  When's the last day you didn't drink?

Me:  WhatEVER!  I didn't drink yesterday!  I don't think.  Oh Piss!  Yes I did.  Okay, but not the day before that!

Him:  Close, it was last Thursday...  But with a team effort around the house and the Hygeia getting a regular workout it's great that MOM can cut loose after a long day tending to baby... Plus, I love your drunk laugh (more of a snort but I don't think I'm supposed to talk about that)

Me:  Babe, don't tell people I drunk snort.  It's not sexy.

Him:  (HMS followers - welcome to our daily dialogue... NOT WHERE DESIREE INTERVIEWS HER HUSBAND... Apparently I will be asking the questions henceforth).  Q: Outside of Sofia, who has been the most influential person in your life?

Me: Pass

Him: (6 snorts and counting...) This has turned out to be a real "Inside The Bloggers Studio with Desiree Wynn"... Q: Mentioning Wynn, why haven't you changed your last name?

Me:  Pass

Him: and now for number 17 on this weeks Top 40 chart... (how do you recover from a double-pass)? okay, I must regain composure and see this through... Q: How do you feel about being able to put your feet behind your head only 4.5 months after giving birth?

Me:  Well, I have to say it's pretty awesome.  It makes up for when I can't walk ten feet pushing the stroller and then I have to stop because I get a stomach stitch.  Or side stitch.  Or whatever you call it.  I'm weak.  OKAY!  I have to interview you babe!  How lame are we that we're laying in bed drinking wine typing on the computer?

Him:  At least we're interacting.  Any other day it'd be you on the computer reading celebrity gossip and me getting ready for bed. And I must say that your previous answer was BRILLIANT!

Me:  I can't think of any other questions.  I didn't really think this through, sorry about that.  You're cute though.

Him:  Now you all know how we met... 3 glasses of wine and I was getting felt up by Dr. Snorty with loose hands who thought I was cute!!!  What do you think HMS readers would want to know about your husband? The man behind this brave, outspoken woman?

Me:  FIRST OF ALL, you WANTED me to feel you up.  I could see it in your eyes.  Second of all, BABE!  One of these days, I'm going to get this all printed out for the baby!  She can't know that we made out on the first date!  PiSS!!1!  Sofia, never you mind all this...

Him:  I am a man. You are an attractive woman.  1 + 1 = 2... That's not news to anyone here including our daughter!  I am now being informed that my beloved is bored with me and must watch Russian Dolls... Is that a porno?

Me:  BABE!  Gah!  I don't watch porn.  Gross!  Okay, so I have to rethink this interview thing and  would just delete this whole thing but that's practically against the law in blogworld so it's going up!  Thanks for hanging out with me and typing on my blog.  Maybe now you'll write your take on the birth story LIKE I'VE BEEN ASKING YOU.  Just sayin.

Him:  Do you have Tourette's? "Piss on their faces", "Just sayin' ",  "Oh Piss", "Funker", "Pisshead"...  I'm not positive but I think there are people or narcotics that can help with that! Thank you HMS readers for having me and if the foul-mouthed host invites me back I think I'd enjoy getting more time with you!

Me:  You love this mouth.  Night babe.

Him:  Night.

Tuesday, August 30, 2011

Hey guess what?

I shouldn't post while drinking wine.  And it took me like twenty backspaces to type that correctly.  I should get an award.

Also, I don't drink that much.  Thanks to pregnancy and breastfeeding, half a glass of wine gets me all Buzz Lightyear - and I only have that half a glass when the baby is long asleep so calm your nerves.  And I'm getting sick of backspacing and I'm about to just type this without doing it.  But then you couldn't read this post.  Okay, so I'll backspace.


Member how I can't keep my mouth shut?  You member, 'member?


WE'RE MOVING!  *god, this backspace is getting on my nerves*


We don't know where we're moving to! *eff it, no more backspace*

Okay, lemme 'splain.

Shortly after we had the baby, Drew and I talked about how the traveling thing sucked and how neither of us wanted him missing the baby's life.  So, we took a deep breath and he made it known that he was looking. But he said I can't talk about it so I have to be all Paris Hilton Nicole Ritchie with it.
And I know it was Paris Hilton who said it to Nicole Ritchie 
but I am NEVER EVER Paris Hilton.

So thank the baby Jesus, pretty much the second he put his name out there, they started calling. I guess that's what happens when you're all super smart with big-time degrees in BioMedicalAerospaceMechanicalCivilChemicalComputerElectrical Engineering and you're published and all that.  When I get a job, they're like we'll pay you 8 dollars an hour and your desk is outside.  Deal with it.  When he gets a job, they're like how much can we pay you?  Here's our company jet.  

I'm just kidding.  There's no jet involved.  I don't think.

ANYWAY, there are four contenders and we're hoping to know something within the next couple of weeks.  And in preparation, we're packing the house and putting it on the market.  Because none of these contenders are in Dallas.

We have to leave my beloved house.  I love my house so much but it's all good because you know why?  We're going to get a new house!  A house I can do stuff to!  I can paint and stain and DIY and it's going to be great!  It's going to be an amazing adventure and can you imagine all the stuff I'm going to get to blog about!?  It's about to get LIVELY up in here!

*I just google image'd 'lively' and it came up with pictures of Blake Lively and orgies.  I'm not posting either of those pictures.  You're welcome.*

Okay, that's my news and I'm not sure if any of this made sense but stay tuned because once I can talk I'm about to talk takl tlkatl talk talk tlaktj altk tlalk

That's what happens when I don't backspace.

Friday, August 26, 2011

Teeth are overrated

You see this kid?  This beautiful happy angelic doll baby?  My doll baby is teething and she is miserable right now and I want to yank out my own teeth and give them to her, no matter that she'll look like Giuliana Rancic.

I love her and I love her show but
girlfriend got some HORSE TEETH.

My precious is teething, which means she's been crying and fussy and drooly and gassy and generally not herself.  I'm not exaggerating when I say she's a yoga zen baby - she really is, I've been blessed beyond belief.  But this teething business is straight-up heartbreaking.  I was Googling teething remedies and how about Dr. Sears is all 'sorry for ya sucka!  Betcha liked all that sleeping through the night business!  HaHA bitch, it's OVAH now!!'  I'm a tree-hugging hippie but me and Dr. Sears are about to go round and around (those are my fighting words.  I know you're scared, right?)

I've already ordered my hippie-approved teething necklace and I'm hoping it does the trick because I can't stand her little red-rimmed eyes from lack of sleep, her little runny nose, the cough from the drool going down her little throat and the general yucky feeling.  I wish I could just take it all away.

What's the point of teeth anyway?  Solid foods are overrated.  All I see are nothing but choking hazards - what's the point?

Breastmilk fo' life!!

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

I'm blushing

Hi!  It's me!  Remember me?  I sure hope so, but I totally understand if you don't.  I'm Desiree and this is my blog.  Thanks for stopping by and if you've been here a while, waiting on me, looking at your watch tapping your foot wondering when the eff I'm going to show up, DOOD, I apologize.  It's just that I've got this kid, you see, and she refuses to nap during the daytime.  Although by nap I'm pretty sure you knew that I meant daytime, otherwise I would have said sleep, thereby referencing the nightime, which she does quite well.  Except, at night, I want to sleep too.  If you're keeping score, daytime - baby tending, nightime - sleeping, Desiree - no blogging.  However, it doesn't all suck because I got to go to lunch with Kesha today and I wore makeup and everything!  I should have taken a picture because that sure as hell doesn't happen very often.  The makeup thing, not the picture thing.  I take pictures way more often than I put on makeup.

Right, but this isn't a post about makeup, although I looked quite put together if I do say so myself.

No, this is another installment of I Have The Best ReaderFriends Ever!

Gethsemane (who shall henceforth be GG because that's quite a lot to type when you've had wine) sent me the most awesome email one day many many months ago.  She was so sweet and nice and kind and I was so touched that she spent time reading my blog and even took time out of her life to contact me.  Ever since then, she checks in with me, I check in with her and she's the coolest.  The other day, a package arrived in the mail from her and she'd gotten a gift for the baby, but also stuff for me!  How cool is that!
The polishes are the OPI Texas Collection and I just spent a 
ridiculous amount of time on this blog to find the names of the polishes
and instead got drawn in by the pretty pretty fingernails.

I am so happy to report that this lotion is ah-mah-zing!  It doesn't feel greasy or heavy or anything!  I painted my toes with the pink polish and while I haven't used the face mask yet I'm sure it will be fabulous!  And did I mention that she's a college student?  College students by definition are broke as f*ck (I'm a mom now, I'm trying to curse less.  But I'm just so good at it...) so it means that much more that she took her few college-student dollars and got us a gift! Thank you so much GG!

..............I just got drawn in to another nail blog.  Who knew that there were *that many* nail blogs out there?  Where was I?  Who am I?  What was I doing?  Why is my wine glass empty? 

Anyway, I also want to give a shout-out to Rania.  She started commenting, I started responding, we started emailing and soon it got to the point where I was trying to screw up my nerve to ask her out (not like that, gah) because she lived in Dallas.  Thankfully, she was down with it and we met at a Panera for lunch one day.  

Driving up there, I was all kinds of nervous because you never know how these things can go.  They might like your blog but not the person and I was really hoping she'd like the person because I was in that stay-at-home-mom-lonely-place and really wanted another mom to talk to.  She was waiting by the door when I walked in, I took one look at her and blurted out "Well my goodness, you're GORGEOUS!"  Then I started sputtering:  Not that I was hoping you weren't.  Or that I was hoping you were, like we couldn't be friends if you weren't pretty or something - I'm not that kind of person, I don't do that.  I was just saying you're really pretty.  Oh God, I'm sorry, I ramble and say dumb things when I'm nervous.  Sorry, let me shut up.  Never mind me, sorry.  Okay, let's just get in line.  

I swear that's how it went.  Thank God, Rania was way smoother/cooler/more polished than I was and just laughed and dismissed my ridiculousness.  With my initial awkwardness out of the way, we sat down for lunch and ended up spending three hours there!  Don't you love it when that happens!  We totally hit it off and I'm so happy she agreed to have lunch with me and I'm even happier that she decided to stay after I totally embarrassed myself.  We even went to lunch again and got a picture this time!
For once, the crap picture isn't my fault, although
I'm bummed that I didn't make the server take more shots but
she seemed a bit *challenged* by my camera.  Whatevs.
Isn't her son the cutest!
How cute are these dresses she got for the baby!
I'm a bad mommy, I didn't iron them before I took the picture.
Shoes too!  I can't wait till Sofia is big enough to fit into them!

You guys.  For real seriously.  This is real talk right here.  I'm so seriously blessed that you come to see me.  I'm so blessed that you invest your precious time in my life and that you allow me to do the same.  This is real what we have here and I want y'all to know that I'm grateful.  For serious.  And this isn't even the wine talking, I'm serious. 

You're so pretty.....

You guys are awesome and I just want you to know that I will never call you names like I see on other blogs.  Who ARE these people that they think their shit don't stink and they can be on their blogs all what's up losers?  You bitches better read my shit and all that.  Whenever I see a blog like that, I get all bowed up and I'm all yo, you don't know me like that.  I ain't ya bitch.  Do they not know that people have lives and if they're coming to read your shit you need to not be calling them bitches and losers and whatnot?  

Okay, let me stop before I start linking to blogs and calling people out and getting in trouble.  That's what happens when I drink too much - I start fights because you looked at my friend all stank n shit.

Anyway, my point is I'll never call y'all losers or bitches or whatever else.  You guys cried with me when I lost my babies.  You congratulated me when I successfully gave birth.  You let me word vomit and you keep coming back and for that you're awesome.

You're NOT losers and you're NOT bitches and I'll ALWAYS have your back.  Just remember, I'm kind of scrawny with a Mom Ass and no muscles and a big mouth so I'm not sure I'm much of an asset.

At any rate, I wanted to say thanks to my girls and thanks to YOU for sticking around this piece and hanging out with me and for being my Down-Ass Chicks.

I'm not sure where I went with all of this - probably because of the wine and I'm just going to be all kinds of reckless and hit publish without proofreading or anything!  Here goes...

Monday, August 15, 2011

Wanna see my house?

The pros do house tours, I wanna be a pro, thenceforth ergo heretofore I should do a house tour, right?  So, by request, here ya go!
House tour from Desiree on Vimeo.

My husband is so weird.

This was my first time doing this and I have much respect for the pros because it's actually harder than it looks.  Towards the end, the baby started bustin up and got me all distracted.  At any rate, it was a fun little way to take up some time during the day.  If you can't watch the video, here are some pictures for ya.
This is how we had it before, standing at the front door
Old sofa placement
Sunroom when it was Drew's office
Sunroom when it was my sewing room
Dining room
hall bath
Old sitting room - I liked it so much better this way.
Dumb real estate agents.
our bedroom - the pack n play is packed because
my baby sleeps in her crib now. *sniff*
kitchen - more detail here
breakfast nook with my weird husband
It's my most favorite room in the house
We spend the majority of our time here
The backyard just after it was landscaped last year.
It still looks good but not quite *this* good but I 
couldn't find any recent pictures.
That's our little house!

Friday, August 12, 2011

Ignoring the elephant

I am the worst secret-keeper in the history of the universe.  My only hope for keeping a secret is to pray I get super busy and forget I have a secret to keep.  Otherwise, I am a straight-up blabbermouth.  I have virtually no filter.  If you've been around here for a while, you know that it's pretty much brain-to-keyboard.  All Desiree, all the time.
So much is happening right now and I can't talk about it yet.  Stupid stalking internet.  I wish I could just blab my heart out and ask you guys for your opinions and get recommendations and all that stuff but I have to keep my stupid lips stupid zipped.  So stupid.

Instead, I'm going to do some updates by request. 

Update #1:  The baby monitor.  I was so pissed when I talked to Stacie and she said that you didn't need a piece of plywood for the baby monitor.  If you have no clue what I'm talking about, go here.  If you don't feel like clicking and reading, no worries.  I talked about my baby monitor and how pissed I was that you had to put a piece of plywood down and we didn't know that until we'd opened the box and were ready to assemble it.  So I went back to the manual and there it was!
I don't have MS Paint to make cool drawings on my pictures.
Sorry bout that.

Anyway, when we got to this part in the manual, the cursing started and we went to Lowe's to get some plywood.  Then we tried to put it in the crib, where it didn't fit because my measurements were off.  Then Drew had to cut the corners to make it fit.  Then I had to get more velcro to attach the crib skirt to the plywood so you couldn't see it.  Then I cursed more when I found out I probably didn't need the plywood after all.
You probably don't even need this.

So that's the monitor situation.  It's definitely worth it but I'm still mad that we went through all that.

Update #2:  The cloth diapers.  It's totally second-nature now.  To get caught up with this one, it's here.  Basically, I'm a tree-hugging hippie and I want to save the earth and not put 2 tons worth of trash in a landfill.  Plus, between cloth diapering and breastfeeding I'm saving us roughly $1600 for the baby's first year.  That's about $130 a month!  When I found that out, I turned to Drew and held out my hand saying, "Where's my check, yo?"  I still haven't seen it.

But the diapers are really great.  Still no stains, still no stink and we've had some atomic shits!  Straight-up puddles in the diaper and only a teeny leak!  I'm not even mad at that because that teeny leak would have been an up to the shoulders blowout in a disposable.  It's nothing more than one more load of laundry and with the spit-up and drool, you're already doing a ton of laundry anyway.  I'm still doing disposables at night just because I have them, but I did have her in cloth one night because she fell asleep before I could change her and I just went with it.  She slept from 7p-3a in her cloth so I'm sure we'll be fine when the disposables run out.

18 seems to be a good number to have too.  It seems like I always have some in the drawer, some in the dirties bag and some hanging out to dry.  I never run out and if I did, well, I'd just throw a load in the laundry.  NBD.  

However, this is only because of the diaper sprayer.  I still don't do the dunk and swish.  Without the diaper sprayer, this would be a different conversation.  I don't want to think about life without a diaper sprayer.

Update #3:  My kid's name.
I noticed it first with my dog's name.  Once we decided on Maya, it became a dog's name in my mind.  Permanently.  Whenever I heard someone with a kid named Maya, inevitably I thought "That's a dog's name."  I can't help it.

Now, whenever I see 'Sophia' I think it's spelled wrong and it looks funny to me.  In my mind I hear 'Sopa-hee-a.'  I can't help it.

And don't get me started on her middle name!  If you speak Spanish, you can join me in shaking your head at why this is so difficult.  Her name is spelled Spanish-ly (that's a technical term) because 'Ph' doesn't exist in Spanish.  Photo --> foto  telephone --> telefono (and yes, there's supposed to be an accent mark over the second 'e' but I'm too lazy to switch my keyboard so just use your imagination.)  Hence, Sofia.  But I still get it spelled the other way.  It doesn't make me mad though - I just scratch my head and wonder why you want to keep spelling it wrong.

Her middle name is Ines, pronounced ee-NESS.  But I totally didn't factor in the fact that she was born in Texas.  Try as I might, I still get eye-NEZZ, said with full Texas twang.  

I still love her name - it's perfect and I couldn't imagine her with any other name.  But I do feel kind of guilty because my poor kid is probably going to grow up saying Hi I'm Sofiawithaneff.  
Look what I figured out how to do!
Thank you baby!

If there are other things that you've been wondering about and always wanted to know, or if I said I'd talk about something and I never ended up doing it, just let me know.  You can say what about that one time when you said you were going to talk about that one thing that happened in that one place?  And then I'll talk about it - provided I know what the hell you're talking about.  

*I'm* kind of confused right now.

With that, I'm out.  It's wine time y'all!

Tuesday, August 9, 2011


Being a mom is not difficult.  It does not take an advanced degree to change a diaper.  You do not need to be fluent in five different languages to hold a baby on your chest or over your shoulder and say 'shhh.'  Once the kinks are ironed out, breastfeeding is pretty straightforward.  But, um, you guys?

Being a mom is hard.

You don't get a break - ever.  When they say it's a 24-7 job, that's not an exaggeration.  There is no job on the planet that is 24-7.  Every job gets some time off somewhere, sometime EXCEPT being a mom.  I am still completely and totally lovesick over my daughter, but sometimes I need to do something else other than take care of her.  

I felt guilty.  I felt like I was pussing out because I was at the breaking point at only four months in. I felt like I should be stronger because being a mother is not difficult.  Yet, there I was, Woman On The Verge.

It started with dog hair (doesn't it always?)  It was piling up again and the kitchen floor was embarrassingly dirty and something in me snapped.  I hadn't been out of the house in days.  I'd been taking care of the baby nonstop.  My hair was dirty and my scalp was itchy.  I didn't have deodorant on.  My tank top was stained with spit-up and had a hole in it.  My nursing bras have gotten too big and they looked sloppy.  The baby was crying because I think she's teething.  I had plugged ducts in my right breast that hurt like hell.  I felt like a madwoman and there was Drew, outside in the sunshine, doing yardwork and tending to the garden.  I resented him and I knew it was unreasonable, because God knows I refuse to mow a lawn and I'm NOT an outdoorsy person.  But in that moment I would have traded places with him just to get out of the house.  After about three hours, I stomped outside, all terse and crazy.

"How much longer are you going to be."
"Not much longer, why?"
"I NEED to mop the floor and vaccuum and I NEED you to take the baby."  (cue crazy eyes, don't say anything but 'okay' or I will cut you)
"Okay." (good man)

He came inside and took care of the baby while I mopped, vacuumed and straightened the house and I thought that would take care of the crazies, but it didn't.  I still felt itchy and desperate.  I went to bed, only to toss and turn and of course get up at two in the morning to take care of the baby.

Yesterday, I was no better.  I had to get out.  I had to get away.  I needed to leave the house for something, anything.  I strapped the baby in her carseat and left to fax some papers to the insurance company (another reason I wanted to stab somebody.  Why is flex spending such a pain in the ass?  It's OUR money, we shouldn't have to jump through so many mother-effin hoops to get OUR money!)

I faxed the papers but the thought of going home was too much to bear.  I'd walked out without telling Drew where I was going, so of course he called and wanted to know where I was.  I let loose with all kinds of unintelligible sentence fragments that I'm sure had him ready to send the White Coat people for me.

You know, this is hard on me too!
I haven't left the house!
Cleaning the house is not a break!
I just need relief!
I can't!
Four seconds after I'm done cleaning you give her to me!
I just can't!

No, I'm not coming home.  I'm going to drive until I don't want to scream anymore.

Poor Drew.  I'm sure he didn't even know what hit him.  I hung up the phone and got on the freeway.  I was a mess.  I was crying and I didn't know where I was going.  I was still in my holey, stained tank top with my ill-fitting nursing bra and some pajama pants that were two sizes too big.  Thank god the baby was sound asleep in the back - I didn't want her to see me like this.  I called my best friend and he talked me off the ledge.  He has a daughter several months older than Sofia so he knew where my head was, having seen his wife in the same place.  We talked until I was calm and I found myself about 20 miles away from home, in Lewisville.  I used to live in the area and I pulled into the parking lot of the nearby mall with the intent of just walking around since I didn't need to drive anymore.

Before I walked in, I called a girlfriend of mine who lived in the area with her family.  We met when she was pregnant with her first child 12 (!) years ago and we've been friends ever since.  She has two kids now and we don't see each other or speak that often but this day I called her and she answered.  The fact that she was pulling into the mall parking lot at that same moment was nothing short of Divine Intervention.  I was in crisis and needed a friend and she was there.

I met her at the JC Penney just as she was walking in.  I tried my hardest to keep it together, but when I saw her sweet face and those understanding mommy eyes, I was gone.  Without a word, she grabbed me in a hug and let me cry on her shoulder.  I wasn't all crazy boo-hooing or anything, but I couldn't stop the tears.  She just rubbed my back and said "I know"  over and over again.

After just a couple of minutes, I pulled myself together and apologized for being such a nutbag.  She was like "are you kidding me?  You're a mom and I get it.  You're fine.  Why don't we walk around a bit?"

We went to the food court and had smoothies, talking about mom stuff.  All I want in the world is to wash my hair!  Yes, I know!  And you just want to sit and read a book sometimes! Yes!  And it's not that you don't love being a mom!  Exactly!  I just need to do something else sometimes!  I know!  You just need a break to yourself!  Yes!  And cleaning or grocery shopping is not a break!  I know!

It was exactly what I needed.  We walked around some more, I bought myself some properly-fitting clothes, I got an outfit for the baby, she bought an outfit for the baby and with each step I felt myself returning to center.  I was able to breathe again.  I felt validated and no longer guilty.

After a few hours, I returned home and Drew took the baby while I took a nap.  It was the first time that I didn't sleep with one eye or ear open and it felt so good.  After I woke up, I ate a sandwich he'd made me and took a long hot shower.  When I got out, we talked.  I told him that I'm not always able to give warning signs when I'm going down, that I needed him to be observant too, and step in before I disappear down the rabbit hole.  I told him that sometimes cries for help don't come in neat packages and I needed him to read the situation and realize that danger is brewing.  It got heated at times because he thought I was blaming him or expecting him to read my mind but we made it through.

I love being a mom and I'm more than grateful that I get to stay home and raise my child.  But I'm still human and I need to recharge my batteries just like anyone else.  We're not meant to do any one thing non-stop for any period of time, not even mothering.  When your tank is empty and you're burnt out, you're no longer effective and sometimes you need an outside force to step in and relieve you when you're so entrenched you can't do it yourself.

If I hadn't talked to my best friend and if my mommyangel friend hadn't answered my call, I would probably have been in Kansas by now, which I guess wouldn't be so bad.  At least I had sense enough to point the car north because eventually I would have ended up at my parents house.  Can you imagine if I would have driven south?  I'd be at the border by now, crossing over and selling gum in the street with my baby on my back - that's how much of a mess I was. 

But I'm so much better today.  I'm clean, I'm rested and I'm ready to mother once again.  I'm back in the game.  However, the only reason I'm standing is because of my support:  my husband, my best friend, and my mommyangel.  Mothering is no joke and there is no way on Earth you can do it alone.  No matter where it comes from, you have to have help, whether it's an encouraging word from a fellow mom or someone you trust to take your baby for just a few hours while you figure out how to breathe again.

So you can remember why you do it.
Rolling from Desiree on Vimeo.

She learned how to roll over when I was at my parent's house last month 
and now she's a pro!
Any day now she's gonna go back to tummy, I see it in her eyes!

Friday, August 5, 2011

They giveth, and they taketh away

I'm talking about my boobs.  It's only fitting because it's World Breastfeeding Week, where women all over the world celebrate their boobies.  Me, I can't stop looking at my baby's chunky thighs and her roly-poly arms and say Way to go, ME!  *I* did that!
Such a skinny little mouse
Look at them THICK thighs!

I'm so thankful that I'm able to breastfeed and that with a couple of lactation consultant visits, we got the kinks ironed out.  It's the most common misconception, that breastfeeding is easy.  It's most definitely not and I know I wouldn't have been able to make it through without help and support.

Besides, breastfeeding giveth!

Thanks to my boobies, I got a serious case of the skinnies.  I'm thinner now than I was before I got pregnant.  I haven't been this skinny in years and it's ah-mah-zing!  Yesterday I put on a pair of shorts that were baggy and that's not acceptable.  I already have a pathetic wardrobe - it's way worse when your pathetic wardrobe hangs off of you.  That's when you know you need an intervention.  Or a shopping spree.  So I ditched those shorts and went in search of my Holy Grail Jeans.  We all have them - that one pair you can't get rid of because you just KNOW you'll fit into them.  One day.

Yesterday was that day, y'all!  I pulled them out, blew the dust off of them and slid them right on!  No pulling, tugging, swearing, nothing!  It was beautiful and I kissed Sofia for a good five minutes and danced around and sang and looked like a fool.  A fool in skinny jeans!
They even make my non-existent ass look good!

Because oh yes, breastfeeding taketh away.

I stopped teaching yoga when I was about six months pregnant.  I also stopped going at that time.  I stopped doing everything that required any extra movement beyond going to the bathroom.  I haven't stepped foot in a yoga studio since and I feel it and look it.  I may be skinny but I have zero muscle tone.  ZERO.  And you know what's nothing but a big ol' muscle?


I have lost my ass.  It's gone.  There's nothing back there but flab.  I wish I could wear my Holy Grail Jeans all day every day because when I take them off, what little ass I have stays in the jeans and it's so very sad.  It's so flat and flabby and depressing.  I used to have the cutest, perkiest little booty and it's all gone now.  I have a Mom Ass.
The saddest part is where the bottom of my ass just fades into the tops of my legs.
These are not Holy Grail Jeans.

Remember when I said I was looking for my abs?  Yeah, add my ass to the list.


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