Showing posts with label me being crazy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label me being crazy. Show all posts

Wednesday, July 13, 2011

Turn that Frown Upside Down.

Today was frustrating.

I may have sworn at my computer more times than I'd like to admit.  (CSS rollover images NOT working on my new site. Despite the fact that I spent hours upon hours trying to make them work. Bleh. ANYWAY.)

I got a headache.

Then I took a second vitamin instead of acetaminophen because I am absentminded. Then I ate a pound of green beans (I have weird eating habits).

If you've had a less-than-awesome day as well and need a little cheering up, I offer you these:

Not only is he a techno baby, he can help but shake his tail feather...




And most every time he wakes up from his nap, it goes a little like this...

And, finally, if you'd like to hear how talkative Gabe is:
Dinner Time. from Ashley Marie on Vimeo.

And now I shall go chase my sweet little baby around the apartment to improve my mood.

(If you don't have a sweet little baby, maybe eat some ice cream instead. Or a giant bowl of Fruit Loops. Or a cupcake. Or a lot of chocolate chips. Or go work out if you're one of those.) (Those: I am jealous of you and wished I worked out when I was sad. You are awesome.)

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

I Once Heard that 'Bullet Points' was Too Violent a Term.

  • I am working insane hours. Like, basically, ALL THE HOURS. I've working like crazy to launch a new website that will rebrand my business, and have lots of wonderful clients that I'm working with, as well. I go to bed too late, ignore my husband and baby too much, and am generally parked in front of my computer all hours of the day. Seriously. I told Mike today that I understood why the teacher from The Freedom Writers got divorced. Not that I'm saving the world or anything. Just working 20/7.
  • As much as I use LeechBlock (love!), I sometimes cheat. As a result, I've had to make a wallpaper for my desktop to remind myself to just STOP IT ALREADY. I've had a few requests to share, so here it is!
  • To use: click on it so it opens in another window. Then right click (or ctrl+click and 'set as desktop background.')
  • I just launched an internationally best-selling author's blog today. She lives in London and just got back from a trip to Italy to meet with historians. Have I mentioned how awesome and interesting my clients are?
  • Have I ever told you that I am stupidly obsessed with The View? I'm not sure if it's the fact that it's on Hulu or if I  actually like it...but I pretty much watch an episode every day while cleaning and cooking dinner. I tell Mike that I watch it to hear current events discussed...like Octomom bringing her 23 children on an airplane.  Yeah.  
  • I am contemplating switching to WordPress. I still think Blogger is AMAZING in terms of what it has to offer, especially for newbies (free > $100 a year). But the plug-ins? I might be in love.
  • I like Harry Potter, but I'm not obsessed. Is there a middle ground? It seems as though everyone is either FANS!!11 HARRY POTTER FOREVERRRR or...hasn't read the books.  I loved the books, but I honestly cannot handle Daniel Ratcliff as Harry. I'll see the movie on DVD. Or at the dollar theater. Are you going to take away my wand now?
  •  I'm sort of tired of being a mom. I mean, not being Gabe's mom, but being a mom amongst other moms; existing in this weird world where everyone has opinions about Really Important Things like parenting and how to feed your child and take care of your child...and talking about it is tiring. Don't get me wrong, it's also reassuring and helpful to know that other people have so been there. But the part that exhausts me is the partisanship (where you belong to a parenting philosophy instead of a political party).  People get defensive when they do things differently than someone else. (I mean, there is clearly Right and Wrong about some things; child abuse = NO), but I feel like I can't ever talk about what my experiences and choices as a mother without a few people popping up to say, "That didn't work for me/That's not how we do it/Let me tell you why you're wrong." See? Tiring.
  • I got two novels from the library today Mockingjay (!!!! - the final in The Hunger Games series; I almost don't want to start it!) and Matched by Ally Condie. They are both 'teen' novels. Mike may have made fun of me. (His books right now? Political philosophy and freaking Ghandi.)
  • I am also reading Tina Fey's Bossypants and I am even MORE in love with her. I told Mike I wished she had a blog, but he said she's too important for that. Psh. And last night as we were laying in bed reading, I kept making him read funny bits from Bossypants (so, basically, ALL OF IT). He said, "Ha! Let me read something to you that Ghandi wrote that is hilarious."

Friday, April 15, 2011

Embracing the For-No-Good-Reason Wallow.

Lorelai: I think what you really need to do today is wallow.
Rory: Wallow?
Lorelai: Oh yeah. Get back in your pajamas, got to bed, eat nothing but gallons of ice cream and tons of pizza. Don't take a shower or shave your legs or put on any kind of makeup at all. And just sit in the dark and watch a really sad movie and have a good long cry and just wallow. You need to wallow.

I am sitting here with some delicious coffee (and plenty of pumpkin spice syrup) on a lovely, quiet Friday morning. The birds are chirping, Gabe is already down for his nap, and Mike is still in bed.

And, yet, despite all this loveliness in my life, I can't help but shake a feeling of melancholy. A vague feeling of sadness or defeat. I'm not sure why that is. I was going to turn my frown upside down with a post about my (many, many) blessings...but I think I need to embrace this glumness and funk.

Perhaps it's because someone signed up for an American Express card using my email, and I keep getting emails about 'Ashley Young's credit card.' WHO IS ASHLEY YOUNG? 

Perhaps it's because I had to deal with customer service robot when calling about said card and email debacle. "What is your American Express card number?" "I don't have one." "You can't find it? Okay, we'll put you on hold while you look for it. You can also hang up and call back when you find it." Cue elevator music. "No! Argh! I said....sigh."

Perhaps it's because I feel like parts of internet sometimes remind me of the cruelty of high school students- people seem to be waiting for someone to fail or act stupid or do something wrong and  then whisper excitedly about the person. At some point, don't we outgrow snark, judgment, and gossip?

Perhaps it's because there are days I just feel like I'm not good enough. Like, who am I to think I can photograph or design? Seriously? Have you seen how many absolutely amazing blog designers and photographers are out there? Not to mention this little blog. There are so many poignant, witty, and talented bloggers - bloggers who make you laugh, or think, or even tear up. What the heck do I think am I doing, trying to blog? I'll never be good enough.

Perhaps it's because I spilled an ounce of breastmilk in my purse at work and now my wallet, purse, and keys are coated in dried milk. Ew. (Pumping mamas? You understand what a travesty even an ounce of spilled milk is, am I right?)

Perhaps it's because for the first time in our marriage, we're not planning on moving after a year and I'm not sure what to do with my ninja packing skills this summer. (See also: probably why I'm on a major minimalism spree. Nothing is safe! I'm talking to you, entire closet.)

Perhaps it's because I have been wanting to bake and mail cookies to some people who are in need of a hug for about a month now and still have yet to buy chocolate chips to make these yummies (I am incapable of keeping a bag of chocolate chips in the kitchen without slowly nibbling away at them. Spoonful of peanut butter with a little handful of chocolate chips? Yes, please.) I am great at thinking of nice things to do, but not so good in the execution. In this case, it's not really the thought that counts. Shall I email someone and say, "Hey! I'm so sorry about your tough time. I wanted to send you cookies but I just can't seem to make the time. Let's say I did."

Perhaps it's because Gabe seems to be hungrier lately and is frustrated with me at bedtime since my flow is slower. I'm not sure what is going on, but I don't like it. Get it together, body.

Perhaps it's because we're doing the 30 Day Shred, and I'm already dreading it today. My death certificate will read: cause of death: level two, day three. I just know it. (Hey, wait. Maybe working out is linked to less milk? Welp. Better stop working out, right? I'll take one for the team.)

Perhaps it's because I burned my finger so badly (due to a act of amazing stupidity in which I forgot that I had just boiled water on the burner and touched the burner) that it's all hard and gross.  Lots of layers of dead skin. Ew. I'd go to the doctor, but, well, our insurance isn't the greatest.

Perhaps it's because I feel bad for even writing about things that are making me blue when I know I have so many wonderful things in my life.

Monday, December 20, 2010

The Letter I Needed to Read.

Note: Breastfeeding is a personal choice and I've hesitated to write much about it because, like my choosing a natural birth and to be vegetarian, it can make people feel attacked and become defensive just by raising the subject. Know that I respect all choices and love you all. I feel deeply for those women who wanted to breastfeed but it didn't work out for them, so I hope that I don't hurt anyone with these words discussing my own experience breastfeeding and my advice to others hoping to breastfeed someday.

Dear Future Breastfeeding Mama,

I'm writing this letter to you because it was the letter I needed to read in those early weeks after my son's birth. Perhaps you are not as naïve as I was, expecting the whole pushing-a-child-out-of-you part to be the end of the physical difficulties of having a child. I found myself in tears, in pain, and frustrated four days after giving birth, unsure if I was doing it 'right.' Everyone told me breastfeeding was easy, painless, unless something was wrong, and natural. I scoured the internet for help and skimmed countless breastfeeding books, hoping to figure out what I was doing wrong, since surely pain was a sign that something was wrong.

I survived those first few days, and have been exclusively breastfeeding for almost 4 months now. I have a few things I wish I'd known then that I'd like to share with you.

It's probably not going to be easy or painless. I don't tell you this to scare you away or so that you know what you're getting yourself into, but just so that you're not worried that something is wrong when it hurts for the first few weeks. The lactation consultant at the hospital told us that it should be absolutely pain-free. I was in an incredible amount pain (tearing up every time Gabe latched on), and feared that I was doing permanent damage to myself by allowing him to latch incorrectly. We saw a lactation consultant when Gabe was eight days old, and she assured us that we were doing perfectly. Apparently, the pain is normal. But no one told me that. So, I'm telling you: pain is normal. And it's worth getting through. Promise.

On that note, pick out a baby-friendly hospital, if possible. The hospital I gave birth at is striving become one; the nurses were all trained to help with breastfeeding, and the lactation consultants were absolutely fabulous, kind women who helped me immensely. They taught me how to hand express so that my milk came in faster, and worked with me to get the latch right. I also got one free follow-up visit, which did wonders for my self-confidence in my ability to feed Gabe. My hospital played a huge role in getting our breastfeeding off on the right foot.

Get that baby on your boob within an hour of birth and before he's bathed. Room-in with the baby and refuse pacifiers and bottles. Babies are amazing and can find the boob right after birth, even though they can hardly see. Their first latch is what they end up preferring, so make sure it's you.

Get your husband on board. Although Mike was the only husband (or male) in our breastfeeding class, I am SO glad he came. It was good to have a second set of ears learning all that we did. He is our biggest advocate and supporter, and I know I could not have done this without him. He comforted me when I was in tears, helped Gabe latch correctly, and found videos online to help us see how latches should look during those first few difficult days. He is a huge reason why this worked for us.

Remind yourself why you're doing it. Maybe it's for the benefit of the baby, maybe it's for your benefit (an excuse to eat more cookies, perhaps? No judgement.), maybe it's because everyone you know breastfeeds, maybe it's the convenience-factor, or maybe it's because it's free and free is all you can afford. Whatever the reason(s), talk about them with your husband/significant other and think about them when you're struggling. Mentally prepare yourself to know that it might not be easy (and then if it is? A happy surprise!).

Get help early. If you need it, reach out to other moms or a professional lactation consultant. Don't let problems persist for even a week before getting help. Correctly any issues early on will benefit you down the road. So stop being lazy about calling the lactation consultants (now I'm just talking to myself. Pardon me.)
Nipple shields aren't for everyone (well there's a sentence I never expected to be on my blog). In fact, they should only be used in extreme cases. Introducing a shield can make the baby prefer the shield and be unable to eat without it. I was intending to get one (despite my lactation consultant's advice otherwise), due to the Intense Pain of the first few days, but Target was, thankfully, out of them. Your body just needs time to toughen up and get used to a baby. Be patient with yourself and there's no shame in popping some Motrin when needed (like, every six hours for the first two weeks).

Nurse often. It prevents all kinds of icky problems like blocked ducts and mastitis and keeps your supply up. Good things, all around.

Don't give up. Set a goal for yourself, and reevaluate then. I remember thinking just three weeks sounded years away those first few days. But it gets better and better, easier and easier. And from my vantage point? It's almost second nature by now.

Know that you are in charge at the hospital. You. You are your baby's advocate and you call the shots. Don't let anyone boss you around or make you feel like  you don't know how to be a mother. (My friend Manda actually just wrote a fabulous post about this. Check it out. And this summer, my aunt defied the NICU nurses and breastfed her baby despite their insistence that they wouldn't know how much he was eating.) Rebel mamas are cool. Or, you could just be a wimp like me and choose a hospital that you know will support you. :)

If you plan to exclusively breastfeed, don't keep formula in your house for the first few weeks 'just in case.' It will be so tempting, when you're tired and frustrated and in pain, to just mix a bottle for baby. I remember feeling jealous of friends who'd decided not to breastfeed, just because it seemed so much easier than dealing with the pain and struggle of teaching a baby to latch properly (not anymore; I would not enjoy having to deal with mixing and washing bottles). If I'd had formula in my cupboard, Gabe would have gotten some, just to give me a break. Not the end of the world, of course, but if you supplement early with formula, it can really hurt your milk supply, since your supply is rather sensitive in those first few weeks. If you do decide to feed your baby formula, there will be time to run to the store.

Finally, be kind to yourself. Although 90% of babies are born at full term, your baby might be born early, and then all your plans for nursing might be adjusted if the NICU gets involved. Know that you will love and adore your little baby, no matter how you feed him. And he will love and adore you right back.

Much love. You'll be a great mom. 
Xoxoxo.
Ashley

Saturday, March 20, 2010

Feeling Hot. Or Not.

There is nothing I'd rather spend my Saturday evening doing than trying on clothes under fluorescent lights in Target while listening to various children scream or cry around the store. Especially when I'm pale and splotchy and flabby. You know how flattering fluorescent lights can be. A treat, really. I'm considering installing them in front of every mirror in my house.

Pregnancy hasn't been very bothersome so far - sure, the random nausea and hanging out with the toilet gets old, and, yes, I could probably do without the pain in *ahem* certain places, but honestly? It's not enough to make me want to do this again.

In the past week, though, my belly has grown to a point that makes about 80% of my wardrobe unwearable. Maybe that's dramatic. Whatever. On Thursday morning, I tried a dozen shirts on before settling on a plain brown American Apparel t-shirt with an open cardigan. Empire waist shirts? Make my belly look HUGE (something I'm not quite ready for as I still haven't told most of the teachers at school. I still have issues with thinking I'll have a miscarriage. Which are issues to talk about another time. Or not at all,  really, since it's depressing.) Don't even talk to me about button up blouses. I think our days are over for a few months.

My body is basically that of a curvy 12-year-old. I am small. As in, I didn't weigh enough to give blood until now. As in, XS petite bottoms and XXS petite tops in the women's non-junior's section. My chest has always been small, too. Everyone else in college was going to Victoria's Secret and coming back exclaiming, "I'm a C! What!? I've been wearing an A!!!" I went and they told me I was a 32A. (Which? Totally not. I tried one on and couldn't move or breathe. Basically a booby corset. AWFUL.) It's not that I don't have thighs, or hips, or a belly - oh, I do. Complete with cellulite and flab. Woo! I am just small.

I have enough trouble finding clothes that don't make me look like a teeny bopper without adding a Buddha belly in the mix. I bought a BeBand - which means I can wear my regular pants unbuttoned. But it gets old having to manuver that on and off my pants when I'm peeing approximately 32 thousand times a day. I have a few maternity shirts that my mom has snagged from Target clearance racks - but those leave enough fabric in the belly for a family of three. I have a pair of Gap maternity pants that I got at a consignment sale - and I LOVE them and their elastic band - but they're two sizes too big. And I can't bring myself to spend much money on clothes that I'll only wear less than five months!

I just feel sloppy all the time. I'm either pulling up my unbuttoned pants or wearing just a t-shirt to work or wearing jeans two sizes too big. Look up "hot mess" - you'll find a familiar face. I remember reading that when you're pregnant - you'll be willing to spend $50 for a plain old shirt if if makes you feel better about yourself. I balked.

But, I nearly bought an ugly pair of $30 khakis today at Target just because they sort of fit. Sort of.

And don't get me started on the boob situation. It's just a mess. Sure, it's fun to be bigger for once - but I have no idea what size I am. I bought a  bra a cup bigger a month ago, but I've already grown out of it. I measured and plugged in the info online and it told me I'm a size I couldn't find at Target. I also need to buy a bigger sports bra, but can't bring myself to buy one since I have two practically new ones I bought right before I got pregnant. Have I mentioned? I'm cheap. Possibly the root of these problems.

It was a failure of a maternity clothes day. I didn't have a Gap Family & Friends discount - so an hour spent researching and filling my basket was fruitless. Target's maternity selection was pathetic. I ended up only getting a $4 shirt at Target and as I checked out, talked myself into buying a vitaminWater as a treat for my clothing failures. Walking out to my car, I opened it up eagerly to find that it was completely frozen.

So I came home, shook the bottle like crazy, and drank ice-laced vitaminWater while I purchased far too many bras from Victoria's Secret in my Official New Internet-Calculated Size. At least if I have a bra that fits me, I'll feel halfway human, right? Next up: getting a gift certificate to a place that sells petite maternity clothes. Does that place even exist?

(Yes, I realize in the Grand Scheme of Things, feeling crappy about the way I look and not finding a bra at Target is unimportant. I realize I should be happy my baby is healthy. Be happy I am pregnant. I realize this, so please understand that I just need a space to let down my hair and scream into my pillow.)