Motherhood Confessions: Sometimes Marriage is Scary

Maybe it'd be better to say "Sometimes LOVE is Scary". I think you can have a real, earth-shattering, life-changing love without being married. But, and I'm sorry if this offends anyone, things change when you get married. Shit gets real.

Let me start by saying I have never EVER, even for one minute, had even one ounce of worry that my husband would ever EVER cheat on me. Ever. Can I say it one more time? 

EVER. 

He is the most loyal human being on the planet. He worships me like a queen, physically and, lately, emotionally as well. When we first were introduced by my cousin, he told me, "Ben is a walking Valentine's Day card". All that aside, when I hear about friends or acquaintances or even bloggers I follow who are dealing with infidelity, it makes me sick to my stomach. It's like a punch in the gut - not because it makes me worry for my own marriage, but because I cannot even fathom what they must be going through. And then, it's like a slap in the face, because I realize I should be thanking God, and my husband, every. freaking. day. for the peace of knowing that will never be us.

But I don't spend every day grateful for this peace. I take advantage of it, just like I've taken advantage of my marriage. I think, deep down, everyone can say that at some point, they became complacent in their marriage. It's easier than we'd like to admit. Life gets in the way, jobs, social lives, friends, family, kids [especially kids!]. We take advantage of the fact that our spouse will always be there 'till death do us part. It's normal, I think. Sad, but normal. 

However, I'm quickly learning that part of what makes a truly successful marriage, one that will one day celebrate a 50th wedding anniversary [and do it happily!], is how we react to these little valleys over the years. And that starts, I think, with admitting it's happening. Admission of guilt, fault, whatever you want to call it. Coming to grips with yourself, and your spouse, that you're not giving your marriage 100%. That is scary. And that's not fair to either of you, and you don't want to do it anymore. And then finding ways to fix it, before it's too far broken. 

I'm not pretending I'm a marriage or relationship expert. I'm not pretending my marriage is perfect. It's far from it, in fact. But I'm hoping this will be a gut check for me now, and down the road. I think marriage, like all relationships, go through seasons. I have always been in love with my husband, and always will be. Part of being in love - to me - means figuring out what the other person needs during that season, and being with them. Not "there for them" or whatever people say during a hard time. But really being WITH them during whatever they're going through. Going through it together. Being what they need most from the person closest to them. Figuring out together how to overcome and be stronger on the other side AS A COUPLE.

Being new parents has definitely brought on a new season to our marriage, but I am taking this moment to realize how incredibly grateful I am that my husband loves me enough to prioritize me, and our marriage, above all else. And I only hope that I can bless him with the same peace he has given me. But I'm confident, in the same way that I'm confident it was God who handpicked us for each other, that HE will lead us through to be stronger on the other side, and show us how to be the spouses that each other needs. It's really not anything that I'm going through or that Ben is going through, because we are a couple, a unit, that God has brought together. Stronger together than we could ever hope to be on our own, Amen?

Matthew 19:6 "So they are no longer two, but one. Therefore what God has joined together, let man not separate."

Motherhood Confessions: I am not afraid. I was born to do this.

I read that quote on Momastery this morning and it hit me like a ton of bricks. Supposedly Joan of Arc said it. Who knows if she really did. Who cares. It is, or should be, true for any one of us at some point (and hopefully multiple points) of our lives.

I am not afraid.

I was afraid. I got sick to my stomach and shaky every time I talked about quitting my job. I asked my best friend if perhaps I was making the wrong decision. She told me what I already knew - that only I could decide that. But that if I felt it was the right decision, it would become the right decision. And when I finally did it, I started to realize that I wasn't quitting my job. That's not what this is about. It's about choosing to stay home with my daughter. My precious gift from God who is changing by the minute. It's about accepting the gift my husband is giving me. The opportunity to focus 100% of my time and energy on our child and our home and things that make me happy if I can find the time for them, free of guilt for the fact that I'm no longer contributing financially to our existence. I am not quitting. I am choosing a different path, and I am not afraid of it.

I was born to do this.

I always knew I wanted to be a mother. Always. Even when I saw my own mother screwing up, or when I felt like she wasn't being the kind of mother I saw on television, I loved who she was. I loved what she did for us. I understood, at nine years old, the sacrifices she made to give me and sister a better life. She gave away the life she knew to save us. That is being a mother in the most raw sense. Sacrificing yourself, for your children. And while it's easy to see this decision to stay home as a selfish one, it's a sacrifice for me to care for London. I will be giving up a lifestyle I've gotten very accustomed to - eating out whenever we choose, going out for drinks, shopping, traveling, setting a budget but never adhering to it. I will be losing a part of myself socially and emotionally, through I'll try to find new ways to augment those and other portions of myself in my new life. But I am so happy to do it. Thrilled, in fact. Because I was born to do this. I was born to be a mother. London's mother. And hopefully, someday, someone else's mother, too. But for now, this is what I was born to do.

I am not a talented musician but if I was, I'd find a way to express my thanks for this new chapter in a beautiful song. For my husband, and for God, and for London. Ever since I made the decision to leave my job and stay at home with my girl, it feels like the chains around my body, especially my heart, have been broken and my heart is singing for joy. 

I am not afraid. I was born to do this. I hope you find what you were born to do. And I hope, when you find it, you are not afraid. Because there is no greater blessing than being who you are, and doing what you were born to do.

"How's She Sleeping" Part Two

I should've posted this months ago, because I know you were all hanging on the edge of your seat waiting to hear how CIO worked for us. But in seriousness, someday we will (God willing) have another child and I'll need to remember that IT. GETS. BETTER.

Mamas of babies who sleep through the night, can I get an "Amen"?

We had two really rough nights. REALLY rough. I asked the pediatrician if there was a limit on how long we should let her cry, and she said no "but it's not like they're gonna cry for three hours straight". Obviously, lady, you don't know my kid! 

Night one: down relatively easy, then the first middle-of-the-night waking she cried. And cried. And cried. FOR THREE HOURS. and I finally cracked because oh my god she's going to explode or something so I went in and nursed her. Bad idea, I know, but what could I do, the pediatrician said she wouldn't cry for three hours and THAT LITTLE MONSTER CRIED FOR THREE HOURS?!? Then back to sleep for the rest of the night. No fucking wonder, she wore herself out, I'm sure. 

Night two: Again, down easy. First waking comes and wouldn't you know it, she did THE SAME THING DAMN THING. three hours. How did we get through it? A free white noise app ("white noise lite") on my iPhone, turned up as loud as it would go, and an alarm set in intervals to check the video monitor. And when it hit three hours (really, when it hit two hours and fiftynine minutes because ohmygod icanttakethisonemoresecond) I nursed her again. 

Night three: blah blah blah, wake up, cry for 45 minutes, then back to sleep. Only 45 minutes, you say?! I KNOW!! God bless America, this mess is working. 

Night four: I don't exactly remember all the fine details, but it went something like goodnight London, see you in the morning ... And then we saw her in the morning!! 

Has London slept every night since then for 12 hours straight? No. Because there's evil demons like teething and colds and traveling and any other excuse you could think of whose sole purpose is to fuck with your kid's sleep and ruin your life. And because she's a tiny human, and tiny humans like to mix it up on you just when you think you've got this parenting thing down because they can't have you getting too cocky. But overall, she's a good nighttime sleeper. And we know when there's something legitimately wrong versus when we need to let her "work it out on her own" (it sounds nicer than cry it out) and reset her little system. 

I'm not going to tell you it works for every baby, but it worked for us. I hate hearing my baby cry as much as the next mama but when it comes down to it, something has to give. I don't judge the parents that co-sleep if it gets them and their baby more sleep, and I appreciate the parents that don't judge us for sleep training. We're all just trying to do the best we can for ourselves and our kids, right? 

Motherhood Confessions: I hate Sunday nights

(It's funny, because I started this post several weeks ago and I never finished it. Never finished, because I was too busy trying to juggle. My life was, and still is a circus. I don't have delusions of grandeur that I'm going to wake up on March 1 and my life will magically be in order, but I do know this: On January 29, I felt my entire body sigh with relief. And while I know not all of my problems will be solved on March 1, it's the first day of a new chapter in my life. A chapter I'm pretty darn excited about.)

Sunday nights are pretty much my least favorite part of the week. Most of you would probably argue that Monday mornings are far worse than Sunday nights, but hear me out.

Sunday night means the house is never as clean as I want it be to start the week, I've never done as many chores or run as many errands or thought of anything to have for dinner for the week. I'm always too tired to be starting a new week. And London is too tired from a busy weekend that I have no choice but to put her to bed on time, when all I'd rather be doing is snuggling on the couch as a family of three and letting her fall asleep nuzzled in between us.

On Sunday nights, I have nothing to look forward to besides the start of the work week. The start of the work week means dropping my precious baby off at school and watching my husband walk the three blocks to his office. In a matter of moments, the two people I love most separate, and I feel like my heart is being ripped into a million pieces with each block I drive from them.

Sunday nights seem to be a culmination of how much I don't have it together. How I thought by now, this many months in, that I would have it under control. That things would be manageable. And instead, I feel so overwhelmed that I hide in the solace of a dark beer and catching up on DVRed shows. Because I treat irresponsibility and chaos with more irresponsibility and chaos.

If you're one of those people who sees Sunday night as an exciting time, a fresh start to a new work week, the end of good times over two days off - how do you do it? How do you find the silver lining? Because I'm sort-of at a loss right now, and the pit in my stomach grows, week over week, to the point that people might start thinking I'm pregnant again.

Meet The New Boss

As of March 1, this is my new boss.
She's a tough client, with somewhat unreasonable deadlines.
But I have a feeling the ROI will be worth it.

London Claire is Seven Months

I thought saying I had a six month old sounded SO OLD, but now that she's seven months, that sounds EVEN OLDER! Like she's not even a baby anymore! Where is the time going? I should probably start planning her first birthday party ... no but seriously.

(disclaimer: I started this post on the 22nd. sorry it's taken me eight days to finish - worst blogger ever)

Age: seven months two days

Height: I don't know - I need to use the tape measure Kelly bought her for Christmas!

Weight: 18lbs 4oz as of yesterday

Hair: no real change, but starting to show some curls around her face. it's finally grown in enough so she doesn't have bald patches or baby hairs everywhere, which means the pigtails are back

Eyes: no change here either - just as gorgeous as ever

Favorite outfit: I am loving her little pink sweatsuit from Gap. She's wearing mostly 6-9 month clothes now, so sad to pack away all her 3-6 month stuff and the 6 month clothes she barely wore! but the good news is, now that she's wearing some 9 month clothes, she FINALLY got to wear her osh kosh b'gosh overalls I bought her before she was born. they were on super clearance at Buy Buy Baby and they're the exact same ones I had as a baby - I've been counting down the days until these fit!

Sleep: we pushed up bedtime in an attempt to get her to sleep later. I wouldn't say we've seen consistent improvement yet, but there have been a few nights she's slept 7:30-6:15 and a few that she's woken up around 5, ate, and went back to sleep until 8:15. those mornings are my favorite! naps are still a struggle, but as soon as she gets in the car, she's out - she can't resist the "road massage" as ryan calls it

Eating: she loves food! especially "grown-up" food. bread, english muffins, crackers, nilla wafers, greek yogurt, scrambled eggs, all sorts of fruits and veggies. she really loves baked apples from school. what's so great about her "school food" is that they prepare everything in-house with no added salt and sugar so she can have a lot of food while she is at daycare. she normally takes 3x 7oz bottles, some juice (all natural prune juice mixed with water - we had a serious bout with constipation a few weeks ago!) and three "meals" of food while she's there. plus nursing for a long time when she first wakes up and 2x in the evening.

Illness: nothing in the past month, minus the serious constipation I mentioned earlier (which was fixed by feeding her nothing but prunes and prune juice for like three days straight) and I almost clipped her finger off with the baby nail clippers. now that's a daddy job. she got both parts of her flu shot and I'm really hoping we're able to get through the winter without any serious illness

Development: we decided that she is officially "talking" and wrote down her first words in her baby book. "Hi Dada" and she know also says "mama" and "nono", and mimics the intonation of "I love you". she gives kisses and hi-5s. still no teeth, fine by me!

Movement: she loves to walk while holding our fingers. still not crawling, though I think she did go forward once at daycare. Just starting to pull up! I am beginning to think she will walk before she crawls, she loves to stand and play with stand-up toys at school (need to get one for home, stat!) and she can go from sitting to crawling position, but not the other way around (which makes her crazy, she does ab crunches all the time on her changing table, trying to sit up)

Favorite toy: tough to say - she alternates what she's "in to". but she loves books, especially hard ones that she can chew and play with. she likes bath time a lot. we have started letting her watch little snippets of kids shows here and there (sesame street, little einsteins) and play with a fisher price app on my phone to keep her occupied, which I feel sort-of guilty about but it's not like we're using the TV to babysit her constantly.
Funniest habit: She has discovered her voice and she loves to screech as loud as she possibly can. Especially in our room, with the vaulted ceilings. And especially at 7am. So cute, though, seriously. Also, she loves to feed herself, but her dexterity is not quite where it needs to be, so she gets the food to her mouth and then starts chewing on nothing. It's really funny.

Best moment of last week: Aside from her saying mama, she pulled herself up for the first time on my shoulders, and then again in the car on the steering wheel. I see a lot of bruises in our future! Also, we got to attend the NC State / Carolina game, totally on a whim, and she was a champ. The Wolfpack are undefeated while London is in attendance!

Recipe: Baked Gnocch' & Cheese

You know what's so annoying? When a recipe has the ingredients listed not-at-all in the order they're using. I'm constantly having to scroll up and down on my phone to see quantities and make sure I didn't miss anything .. and you know I normally miss at least one ingredient somehow. Once I accidentally added red bell pepper to a dish instead of crushed red pepper. But whatever, it works.

So we had some company Friday night and with the craziness of work, I had absolutely nothing planned for dinner. Somehow, this got thrown together. So rich, but so delicious. Perfect iced-in sort of meal (yeah, we had an "ice storm", what of it?)

I sort-of used this as a guide. And forgot to take any pictures before we devoured it, so photo credit goes to CookingStoned.TV. Wow, really? That's the name? Eh, makes sense.

Ingredients

• 1 lb gnocchi
• 2 tbsp butter
• 1/2 tsp garlic powder
• 1 tbsp flour
• 3/4 cup buttermilk
• 1 tsp Dijon mustard
• 1/4 cup shredded cheddar
• 1/4 cup shredded mozzarella
• Grated Parmesan

Directions

1. Preheat oven to 375
2. Add gnocchi to pot of boiling water and boil for two minutes, then drain
3. Meanwhile, melt butter in a small sauce pan over medium low heat
4. While whisking constantly, add garlic powder, then flour, then buttermilk, then cheeses in small handfuls until completely melted
5. Spread cooked gnocchi in a small, lightly greased baking dish (I used 8x8)
6. Cover with cheese mixture
7. Top with Parmesan
8. Bake for 25 minutes