A Letter to Myself, Revisited.

Six months ago, I wrote a letter to myself. Six months later, I'm going revisit that letter and grade myself on how I am keeping my advice to myself. 

(This feels terrible navel-gazing-ish. More so than usual. But, a few people mentioned they'd like to read an update on that whole parenthood thing and the letter. And so, here I am. Looking at my belly button.)

Spend time with Mike: A-

Well, we spend LOTS and LOTS of time together, since we're so, so blessed to both work outside of the home for only 20 hours a week. (His assistantship is teaching, so he gets to work from home quite a bit.) For the first three months, we spent almost all of our time with Gabe. Now that he has a (fairly) strict 7 pm bedtime and several long naps a day, we have afternoons and evenings to ourselves to hang out, chat, eat popcorn, watch movies, and snuggle. It's wonderful. Of course, we often spend these evenings doing our own thing - me on my computer designing and wasting my time doing important things on the internet while Mike does schoolwork. We've done a good job of not only talking about Gabe during our alone time, but our conversations are always peppered with a good bit of non sequitur gushing about how darn cute he is. We will be talking about foreign policy or religion or crazy customers at Starbucks, and sigh out of nowhere, "Gabe is so freaking cute!" We discuss Gabe's personality and our parenting philosophies. I show him photos I'm editing of Gabe and Mike imitates Gabe's funny movements (lately, shoving his hands in our mouth).  We are a couple that cares about other Important Things, but we are also parents that absolutely, deeply, and unwaveringly adore our son. 

Though we have less time that we spend alone as a couple, Gabe feels like an extension of us (which he totally is, I suppose) and I actually love being all together and don't crave date nights alone (yet!). 

Don’t worry so much: B

During pregnancy, I tended to worry less instead of worry more. I didn't want to be the pregnant lady who went to the hospital twelve times in false labor while nurses rolled their eyes. Even though there is an emphasis on all that can be WRONG (with good reason, it's important to catch the True Bad Things early), I knew that odds were I wasn't going to experience the Bad Things, so I didn't worry. (Except, oh, that time there was the possibility Gabe the Fetus had Down syndrome. Yeah, I worried. A lot.) 

Parenting has been largely the same, but lately, I've felt that annoying sense of worry creep up. Should he be sleeping longer at night? Will breaking him of his swaddling habit be torturous? Is it okay that he's doing X? Not doing Y? Normal parent stuff, I'm sure. But, still, I hate worrying. Down with the worrying! (I've also had to ban myself from reading about sick or dying babies. It's just bad for my soul. Why didn't anyone tell me being a parent was this vulnerable?)

Talk about things other than your baby: B-

Something as monumental and life-changing as becoming a parent obviously changes things. I underestimated (here's where all the moms in the audience nod and a knowing smile spreads across their face) the extent to which I would want to talk about being a parent with others. To process it. To learn about myself and my child and my husband from it. Although I often talk about other, non-Gabe things to Mike and my co-workers, I know I am all Gabe/pregnancy/babies/parenting, all the time for many people. Namely, the Internets. 

(Hi, Internet. I do care about other stuff. I promise I'll talk about it soon. Like, when Gabe is three.)

Learn about things other than your baby: B+

So, we've watched approximately 3 million documentaries since Gabe was born. Or, okay, maybe two dozen. Either way, I'm a learning machine. I still listen to some podcasts, but not nearly the rate I was before, with two hours of driving a day. *shudder*  I'm not really reading as much as I'd like to...or at all, really. Aside from silly parenting magazines and far too many tweets. Let's work on that, self.

Record it all, but don’t spend so much time capturing that you forget to experience it: A

I find myself torn when Gabe is being absolutely adorable (all the time, natch) - I want to soak it all up and remember everything. I want to remember the way his eyelashes stick together and the water beads on his red little cheeks after he gets out of the bath. I want to remember how he giggles excitedly to himself before he starts to eat. I want to remember his little shark wiggle when he latches on. I want to remember the way he looks in his little puffy vest. I want to remember the way it feels when his soft, chubby little fingers wrap around mine. I want to remember how he laughs when I pretend to eat those little fingers.

I want to remember it all. And I get a bit weepy when I start to think about him not being so, well, little. Sometimes, I grab my camera or my phone and snap a photo, hoping that will etch it in my memory forever. Mostly, though, I try to just savor it.

(I know I spend too much time on my iPod while I'm rocking him to sleep; hanging out on my computer while he's playing. I don't want to forget anything and I don't want to regret anything.)

Spend time with you: A-

Yeah. Not so much with the time alone, but I'm definitely spending time doing what I want to do. (Like, this. Hi, blog. I love you.) I've gone out to lunch with friends alone a few times, I'm taking on all kinds of design jobs (new website!), I'm currently completing the Joy Equation, and I've signed up for Indie Business 3.0, which starts next month. These are all about me as a person, not just me as a mother (though, the two are beautifully, inextricably intertwined, of course). 

I'm happy to find that I still am me, despite how much my world has been shaken and I have been changed by the arrival of this tiny little person we call Gabe.

So Many Doors.

Persistence is not about knocking on one door until the dang thing finally opens.

It's about knocking on all of them.

[+]

I have written about my vocational path about eleventy billion other times. Brief history: lots of turmoil and confusion. I've wondered whether a full-time job is slavery, like the homeless man's van claimed. I've announced I wanted to be a freelance graphic designer Then freaked out and worried I couldn't do it. I dreamed of a life where I could balance work and kids. And got mad when that wasn't my reality. I found a decently paying salaried job that I adored and figured I could be flexible with my hopes of working for myself. I felt the need to validate my choices. And, recently, I left that wonderful job to stay-at-home with Gabe and work part-time at Starbucks.

When asked what my future plans were for a post-volunteer questionnaire a few years ago,  I replied:

"I have too many career goals for one lifetime - including freelance graphic designer, independent craft artist, campus minister/exploring social justice with students, teaching computer technology and graphic design at a high school, opening a coffee shop, and being a mother. Only slightly ambitious."

(Eh, I work at a coffee shop now, so I'm going to count that. I wouldn't actually want to run one. What was I thinking?)

Sometimes, I feel like I'm a Jill of all trades, master of none. I have so many interests. So many passions. SO many hobbies. I design blogs. I sell things in my Etsy shop. I photograph like crazy. I dream of writing a blog column (for pay! fancy that!). I worry that I need to narrow my focus; that I will never achieve much in any of these areas until I decide just which of my many interests I want to pursue with the dedication I know I posses. I know I will be successful. I know I will be awesome. I know I can do it.

For now, though, I'm not sure exactly what it is. Along with starting The Joy Equation next month, I'm going to continue running like crazy in many directions. I adore sewing. I find my bliss in layout and design. I am elated when I capture an image that portrays beauty. I live for connecting to others through writing. And, so; I will continue to sew. I will continue to design. I will continue to write. And, next week, I have an interview as an assistant wedding photographer. It'd be a huge leap, to be sure, so I don't have my hopes too high. I imagine how much I'd learn. How it might start my own career as a photographer...

I'm getting ahead of myself.

But a girl can dream, right?

2010: A Year in Review.

2010. On one hand, it was a pretty simple year: I found out I was pregnant at the end of 2009, and spent the entire year being pregnant, giving birth, and enjoying our new son. On the other hand, holy wow. It was a crazy year of changes and new beginnings. Like I did last year, I wanted to take some time and look back on one of the best years of my life.

My first post of 2010 was about how much I can't stand winter. It was quite a cheerful post. I set some goals for 2010, although I'm not sure why I said I wanted to run a race, since I knew I was pregnant. That was silly.  I called out lurkers and kept the introduction post as a permanent feature for new readers. We traveled to Ithaca, New York to see our dear friends Tim and Ellen get married. Such fun.  I spent some time thinking about my career this month - talking about how my childhood 'career' was babysitting, how I wanted to work from home, and where my interests intersected with things I could get paid to do.  Not much overlap, apparently. I also confessed that I have about 12 TV shows that I watch regularly. It's a problem. Not blogged about was insane amounts of nausea thanks to little fetus Gabe and telling my boss, parents, and Mike's parents about little fetus Gabe. I also did a ton of research and decided upon the midwives and hospital birthing center that would be a part of Gabe's entrance to the world.

Even though I found out in December that I was with child, I didn't  tell the internets (or most people, actually) until I was 12 weeks pregnant and gushed with some details. Since I knew I was pregnant, I really buckled down on our budgeting and saving, and finished up four months of not buying new clothes and ruminated on what I learned about my own materialism. I also shared how sometimes I struggle with how simply we live. (And still do). I started a Web Publishing class this month, which took a lot of time, but I learned a LOT.  I spent too much time worrying about my pregnancy (and losing the baby) during this month, and was relieved to find out that the baby was healthy at my second midwife appointment. I was still quite nauseated, as is evidenced by the fact that I took exactly one photo in February: a picture of a pregnancy test.

The girls at the high school I worked out found out I was pregnant during a retreat, since I started to show a bit this month. I was still in an awkward place, clothes-wise and sort of hated it. (I'm there again, 4 months post-partum. Yay.) My midwife was unexpectedly laid off and I confessed that Gabe was a pleasant surprise, but not quite at the 'right time.' I wrote about how we told my parents that I was pregnant, and began doing weekly updates on my fetus. I spent a lot of time with insomina and eating sugary cereals (my pregnancy treat of choice), which is always a good time.

Uh, the pregnancy sort of took over my blog this month. I did pregnancy updates for weeks 18, 19, 20, 21, and 22. We had our Big Ultrasound this month, which revealed that the baby in my belly was of the male variety. I was admittedly a bit disappointed, but now I can't imagine not having my sweet little Gabe. More terrifyingly, though, the ultrasound showed a light spot on the baby's heart, which was a soft marker for Down Syndrome. I was sort of scared out of my mind and called my mom sobbing. We had a scary genetic counseling appointment and a follow-up ultrasound, where Down Syndrome was ruled out. In happier news, I had Easter break and it was wonderful.

As my belly got bigger, the comments about it got stranger. I had my first baby shower with work friends and the reality of parenthood also become more real and I fretted about being judged. I met up with four other wonderful bloggers in Indianapolis for a weekend o' food and fun. Oh, what a  wonderful trip it was. My heart soared. I was still pregnant, so, of course, I wrote about it. Specifically, weeks 23 and 24 and weeks 25 and 26. Mike ran a marathon and I watched. It was hard work on my part, and I ended up with a sunburn.

We went to the beach again with Mike's family, which was full of walks and swimming and reading and sunning. Relaxation. Mmm. I can't imagine what next year's trip will be like! I was 27 and 20 weeks pregnant, then 28 and 29 weeks pregnant. This was the month of apartment hunting, which was excruciatingly difficult and why I hardly updated. We finally decided to move out of Cleveland and close to Mike's school (and my parents). We settled on a perfect apartment and absolutely love it here. I took a break from the craziness to read Allie Larkin's fabulous book, Stay.

I told you that I was anxious about childbirth (oh the hours I spent worrying about it!) and especially because I hoped to have a birth naturally. The comments from that post were printed and read, because they seriously gave me courage and calm. Sometimes, this whole blogging thing is sort of amazing. Thank you. I did a few more pregnancy updates, weeks 31, 32, 33, and 34. Mike and I savored our last months of being alone, I answered some questions about the baby and our choices, and I talked about how we wanted to get by with having very little for our baby.

Weeks 35 and 36 were the turning point in my pregnancy, the point at which it became pretty darn uncomfortable. Weeks 37 and 38 were even worse. I wrote a letter to my future baby, telling him how much I loved him. I wrote a letter to my future self, reminding myself not to forget who I was pre-baby. I told you how I stopped using shampoo and went berry-picking with Mike. I waited, mostly patiently, for our baby to make his appearance and actually went into labor the last day of August, which was Mike's 30th birthday.

 

I had a baby on the first day of this month at 2:16 am, which was sort of amazing. His name is Gabriel Christopher and I loved him with all my heart right from the beginning. It was a bit of a roller coaster at first, but it quickly became a little love-fest over here. I wrote Gabe's birth story in three blog posts. I was surprised by how much I was able to blog with a newborn, actually. I did my last bi-weekly pregnancy update two weeks post-partum and spent most of the month sitting on my couch with Gabe, learning how to breastfeed and take care of a tiny, sweet little baby. Oh, and with Photo Booth. I shared a few ways we simplify in order to afford having a baby.

Gabe turned one month old and I video blogged with him three times. Yeah. I'm obsessed. I asked for hair advice, baked some apple rosemary scones, and hiked with Gabe. I turned 26 this month with a delightfully low-key day - I saw my midwife for my 6-week post-partum checkup, went to Trader Joes, and visited with a college friend. Mostly, I spent time feeling like a mom and learning how to take care of my little peanut.

For the first time since starting my blog, I didn't participate in NaBloPoMo. I didn't think it'd be a wise move with a two-month-old. I showed you how to make cheesy tortilla soup and Gabe proved himself a smiley little two-month-old. I also shared some corners of our apartment and talked about our choice to cloth diaper Gabe. The big change of the month was my decision to leave my job at the high school and take a part-time job at Starbucks. We're now penny-pinching in a major way, but I can't imagine working five days a week with such a long commute. I am lucky. Poor, but so lucky.

After about a month of working at Starbucks, I reflected on some of the best and worst parts of working part-time and being a working mom. Gabe continued to woo you all with his little smiles in his three month post. I confronted some criticisms about my choices and wrote a letter to wannabe breastfeeding moms. Gabe had a wonderful first Christmas and we have been drowning in snow.  I'l tell you about it all soon.

I fell in love with a little guy named Gabe in 2010 and am excited to discover what 2011 holds for my little family.

On Not Fitting In & Reverb-ness.

"Are you a stay-at-home mom?"
"Um, sort of. Not exactly. I work part-time."
"Oh, how great! If I had it to do all over again, I'd do it that way."

I am sort of a working mom, sort of a stay-at-home mom. I don't fit into either group entirely, but I get the best (and worst) of both worlds.
 

I wanted to write about my experience in returning to work, but had to wait since I hadn't told you about my change of plans. It's such a different experience to leave one job and start another during maternity leave than to simply return to your job. It's not a matter of getting back into the swing of things or  experiencing a surreal feeling of being unfamiliar with a familiar place, it's more a matter of  no one having any idea that you recently had a baby and have been snuggling with it at home for 10 weeks. It's getting used to an a new job while worrying about pumping in my car during breaks and learning how to do entirely things like steam milk and work a drive thru while being away from my baby for the first time. (Tangentially: Ugh. Why is 'drive thru' spelled that way? Pet peeve.)

My first day at Starbucks was almost 4 weeks ago, so I've had some time to adjust to my new job and new schedule.

Woo!

• I usually work 3 mornings a week, 20 hours a week. I'm done by noon most days. AWESOME.
• I get adult interaction and am seen as something other than Gabe's mom.
• Having somewhere to be forces me to look presentable. (Sad, but true. I also love not having to wear office clothes. Truly, a win-win.)
• FREE STARBUCKS. Period.
• I earn some money. Not a TON, but it's still nice (and completely necessary in our case) to contribute.
• Coming home at the end of the day. Gabe is always adorable, but when I come home after working six hours? It's like I've never seen him so cute and sweet and just can't get enough of him. I think a few hours apart renews my sense of appreciation and I'm absolutely smitten for him.
• I still have LOTS of time with Gabe and get to see him learn and grow and develop before my very eyes. 
• Mike gets time alone with Gabe, which gives Mike so much confidence as a father and Gabe is absolutely in love with him. 
• I am not tempted to spend lots of money on things I don't really need at places like Target, because I always remind myself that this awesome set-up is dependent on our ability to live simply.
• I can nurse normally most days of the week, and don't have to pump at work (just before) unless I'm there for more than six hours. Great for convenience and bonding with le bebe. (And since nursing is super important to me, this was actually a huge factor in deciding not to work full-time. I know tons of women are able to do it, but those women are not as lazy as me. Truth.)
• Text messages during work with photos like:

Yikes.

• Pumping is more work than nursing, and I have to pump at least once on the days I work. For the first few weeks, I squeezed pumping into a 10-minute break (in my car in the parking lot with a nursing cover on. FUN TIMES.), but lately, I just pump before work (or, if I procrastinate, on the way to work, which I do no recommend) and hope it doesn't affect my supply. Still, it's not fun.
• The paychecks. Oh, the paychecks.
• Getting out of bed before Gabe wakes up. Mornings are my favorite time of day with him. He's just so sweet and cuddly and happy. 
• I still have to go out in the cold and wear clothes other than yoga pants and slippers.
• Waking up early...it's more the going to bed early that gets me.
• Worrying that I'll miss any of Gabe's firsts...I am only gone 20 hours a week, but I'd feel awful if my mom was the first to see him roll over or crawl or feel his first tooth. 

So far, I am absolutely thrilled with our decision. I don't feel as stressed about work as I did in these posts, and I'm pretty sure that's because the 40+ hour work week doesn't lead to happy things. But that's beside the point.

I'm still quite broke but completely happy.

And that's sort of freeing.

. . . . . . . . .

In completely random, other news, I'm reflecting on 2010 by participating in Reverb10 by video blogging each day. You can find my videos here each day. The first video is about the one word that describes my year and one word that will describe next year. Follow along, if you like!

Things I've Learned from Seven Weeks of Motherhood.

I owe my happiness, sanity, and the ability to take showers to a Mr. Hair Dryer. Amen.

My heart is more vulnerable than I ever thought it could be, because it's now outside of me and in this little boy.

Sleep triumphs most all else, including diaper changes. I've learned to time it so that I don't change his diaper all night, resulting in much more sleep for me because he eats while he's still drowsy and falls back asleep after ten minutes of eating. Victory!

My body will never be the same.

Carters and BabyGap make the most adorable baby clothes. Thank you, family, for all the hand-me-downs!

Forget a maternity wardrobe, where is the nursing wardrobe?! Someone needs to get on that market – shirts with more room in the bust and that can quickly expose the boobies for baby. Half of my old shirts no longer button, and many of those that do fit are too short thanks to the nursing boobs. (What's that? I shouldn't have bought all my clothes from the junior's section? Hush, you.) If the shirt doesn't make it easy to access Gabe's lunch, it's just not getting worn.

The Roller Coaster of New Motherhood.

Four-and-half days isn't a long time.

But I feel like I've known this boy forever.

We spend most of our days laughing at his pooping noises, cooing over how cute he is, kissing his little cheeks, and constantly saying, "I just can't believe how much I love him." It's amazing that we are suddenly this little family and our days revolve around learning how to take care of this tiny baby. It's not all mushy love fest, though. Figuring out how to nurse him without my nipples falling off or my chest exploding (I look ridiculous, like a comic book woman - it's funny how I thought I'd be able to sleep on my stomach after giving birth. Ha.) has been an adventure, with some tears along the way.

Sometimes, I feel like I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm probably doing it all wrong. I worry about his breathing, about whether he's jaundice, about his body temperature, and anything else ridiculous I can possibly find to feel inadequate about. 

Other times, I feel confident in what I am doing. I feel like I am learning my son - how to take care of him, what he needs, and how to make him happy. I remind myself that loving him and trying my best is all I can do right now.

Each day is a roller coaster with a wide range of emotions - and having my body physically recover from birth only adds the excitement. I think underestimated that the healing process after birth would be physically difficult. I knew, of course, that things would change and my body would be experiencing a trauma - but I guess I expected I'd feel normal a few days later. I'm definitely getting there, though.  Every day, I can do a little more and feel a little less pain. (And on a completely vain note, my stomach is surprisingly not freaky looking at all! When I first got to the hospital, my labor nurse commented that I had no stretch marks. Then, after birth, she told me I have "great muscle tone." So, I may not be getting the hang of nursing so easily, but at least my body knows how to heal, right?)

Aside from now having a sweet little angel baby boy in my life now, seeing Mike as a father has been amazing. I knew he'd be a good father, but I get so weepy when I tell him how amazing he is. He takes care of me, is so protective of Gabe, and is completely in love with him. He loves to spend time just cuddling with Gabe, which melts my heart. I love these two so much.

A bit blurry, but it was Gabe's first (sponge!) bath. Complete with hooded towel.

Anxiety, Committment, and Childbirth, Oh My!

I remember the first time I really understood how babies are born. It involved a conversation between my aunts about being cut verses tearing down there. I was shocked and a bit scared to hear the discussion, let alone wrap my mind around the fact that I am a woman. I may have to go through this some day. Being all of ten-years-old, I quickly brushed it off. My aunts did it. My mom did it. Plenty of women gave birth. When the time came, I would, too. Simple.

Most girls and women I know who haven't given birth - including myself - cringe when talking about it. Cringe with fear of the unknown. Cringe with fear of the Worst Pain Ever. Cringe with fear of wondering, "Could I do that?"

I always assumed that when my time came, I would face childbirth with confidence and calm. I would feel prepared and ready. I would know I could do it. I would accept the intense pain because such joy and goodness would come from it.

Well, friends, I'll be 'full term' in a month and I am far from confident or calm. It's a bit of a roller coaster - one minute, I know I can do it; the next, I'm doubting my ability to handle pain. One minute, I am excited to experience childbirth and see our baby's first breath; the next, I am terrified as to how exactly this baby will fit out that little space. One minute, I'm teary-eyed and watching a birthing video as the parents see their baby for the first time; the next, I'm grimacing as I look into the mother's eyes as she experiences pain worse than she's ever imagined. One minute, I'm reminding myself of my strength and perseverance; the next, I'm reminding myself I thought I was going to die running a 10K last July. One minute, anxiety and worry about all of this seems normal and natural; the next, I feel like a crazy person for worrying daily and dreaming nightly about giving birth. (Mostly dreams where I'm done and tweet to the world something like, "I DID IT!!! It WASN'T that bad!" Yes, I tweet in my dreams.)

It's not that I haven't been preparing mentally and physically - Mike and I are taking Bradley childbirth classes, I am doing yoga and other exercises daily to prepare my body to give birth, I am making sure not to gain excessive weight, I am practicing relaxing, Mike is practicing massages on me, and we're both reading books to educate ourselves on the process of labor and birth.

Maybe it's the added pressure to do this all-natural. Uh, that's right. Somewhere in the past six months I decided to try and avoid pain medication during labor and birth.

I know birth choices are a touchy topic, but I want to discuss this because I think it’s a part of my Big, Bad Birth Anxiety. So, let me stop right here and say that a) I don't think pain medication is bad at ALL and good LORD, it's especially not bad during childbirth, b) this birth may or may not go according to plan and I recognize that, c) even declaring this on my blog gives me hives because, What if I let myself down?

At first, I felt the pressure from my family - my mom and most of her six sisters have given birth naturally, with rave reviews about natural childbirth. "Well, that's nice," I always thought, "But we'll see."

I am preparing for natural, with a wiiiide open mind for whatever this childbirth and labor will be like. I'm holding myself to the ideal, while trying not to be overly rigid with my hopes for myself. I know me. I know that I hate "declaring" anything about myself because I don't enjoy being judged or judging myself based on my ability to fulfill my expectations for myself.  Declaring a commitment to something  means failure is a possibility.

(I didn't call myself a vegetarian for a looong time because I don't like committment. I don't like meat, but I really don't like declaring myself something. What if I change my mind? Turns out I'll most likely never change my mind about being a vegetarian and declaring myself one just makes it easier for other people to understand my eating choices.)

So, I'm considering my desire for natural childbirth a casual commitment of sorts. I'm reading every birth-sans-drugs story I can get my hands on (Dooce's and Arwen's were both fabulously interesting, by the way) to help with the anxiety. Telling myself that real people do this and that I most likely won't die of pain.

Most likely, anyway. And I might even come out on the other side saying things like it was a spiritual, sublime, uplifting experience. Or, it might just hurt like hell.

Friday Odds and Ends.

• I have my first baby shower after work today. I’m a bit excited, but also weirdly nervous that no one will show up since I’ve been working here less than a year. WHAT IF NO ONE LIKES ME? Besides that weird anxiety, being the center of attention is an odd thing for me. I sort of enjoy it (and absolutely appreciate the kindness of my coworkers to throw me a shower), but it’s also find it pretty uncomfortable to have people focus on ME. I’m not explaining myself very well, but I’m sure I’m not alone in the awkwardness that comes with lots of attention. (I hope I don’t sound ungrateful, because I’d hate to come off that way. I am thankful that people care about me and want to celebrate this baby.)

• Today is the senior’s last day of school and I’m surprised at how sad I feel about it. I can’t say enough how much I adore my job and the women I work with – both my coworkers and the students. I can only say that I am insanely lucky to enjoy what I do so very much.

• Yesterday was my three-year anniversary of graduating from college and it still seems like yesterday. I know people say that a lot – but high school seems like forever ago to me, while my time in college still very much influences and informs who I am. It was such a time of dynamic growth and change and learning and independence. And, also, way too much fun. As I get further and further from that time, it honestly scares me a bit to lose the consciousness of it. But I know the future holds even more adventures and periods of vibrant growth, and I look forward to that – I need those times.

• Decisions have been stressing me out lately. Like, an unbelievable amount. We’re deciding which city to live in (near my work or Mike’s school – they are about an hour apart), whether I should work part- or full-time, health insurance issues, childcare choices, and other general money stresses. Being pregnant only exacerbates the anxiety, hormonally-speaking (it obviously also adds the practical factor of, you know, adding an ENTIRE PERSON to our family). I could go on and on about these stresses, but suffice it say, countless spreadsheets and possible budgets have been made. I like to plan things into oblivion and then just go with my gut in the end. It usually works. But tends to be a rather stressful process.

• I don’t often remember my dreams, even now when pregnancy is supposedly a time of weird, vivid dreaming. Last night, though, I had a dream that my friend was getting beat up outside of my house. I was torn – should I go help her and risk getting hurt myself or hide so as to keep my baby safe? I chose to hide and was wracked with guilt that I abandoned my friend. Even when I woke up at 4:30am, I felt terrible for choosing to protect the baby. I’m sure there is some deeper meaning I could extract from this – that I am becoming a mother, and as such, I will have something in my life that is worth protecting above almost all else, no matter how difficult that might be. Mostly, though, it just really freaked me out and made me feel like the Worst Friend Ever.

• My belly has officially gotten big enough so that I can spill something and not see it when I look down. In other news: I’ll be walking around looking like a slob for the next four months.

• No matter what happens with our decisions, I will be a working mom next year. A WORKING MOM. (Or, a mom who works outside of the home, if you want to be precise about it, since all moms work.) I can’t say I’ve ever imagined myself a working mom. I never really imagined myself a MOM, though, so I guess I don’t do a lot of imagining. (I never really thought about getting married until Mike and I started dating. Needless to say, I didn’t have a wedding planned out since childhood. It was easier that way, actually.) So, yeah. Just, a working mom. WOAH.

It's Complicated. Or, Maybe I'm Just Paranoid.

“If only she could control her children. They are wild.”

“He’s so undisciplined. And you know why? His mother is never home.”

“She never leaves her kids, so they are attached to her and don’t deal well with others.”

With raised eyebrows and hushed tones.

Judgment. So much judgment.

I knew that parenthood would make me vulnerable to others’ suppositions and opinions about my abilities as a parent, but I didn’t realize it would start so soon. Parents, particularly mothers, are judged by the product of their parenting – their children. There is a bit of truth in this, of course, but who wants to feel as though they are constantly being scrutinized and evaluated?

Of course I am afraid I won’t be good enough. Of course I am afraid of screwing up. Of course I am afraid of making the wrong decision. Do I need others watching and waiting for me to falter, nodding knowingly to each other, “Well, you know, she was always a bit too sensitive/lenient/picky/strict/insert-inadequacy-here.”? No. I am anxious and paranoid enough for myself, thank you. I know my shortcomings and know I’m imperfect. Chances are, I will yell at my kid in public once or twice. I will lose my patience. He will run around a crowded restaurant one day, or at least scream loudly enough to elicit stares of judgment. And guess what? I have no control over whether he’ll cry on an airplane. I wish I did – no one wants to be on an airplane with a crying baby.

I’ve only dealt with this a bit as a pregnant woman –there are judgments from others when I drink my coffee, eat Brie (it’s the unpasteurized cheese you can’t eat!), enjoy a sip of wine, or take a Tylenol for the pounding headaches I used to get as a result of crazy hormones. I’ve been asked if I’ve taken my vitamin and why I am so pale. I get badgered about being a vegetarian while pregnant. It’s sort of odd, to have people pay attention to what I’m doing with my body. Suddenly people have opinions about what I should and shouldn’t be doing. No one used to notice what I ate, drank, or did (aside from my favorite: “Are you getting enough protein?”) before they knew I was pregnant.

Next, there will be decisions about labor, birth, vaccines, circumcision, sleeping, and feeding. Each side of every decision is so weighted. Everyone has an opinion. Some people rave about attachment parenting, others decry it. Some moms tell me not to be a hero, get an epidural; others tell me I can do it without, that it’s better without. Some say babies should sleep in a co-sleeper; others say get the baby in its own room as soon as possible.

Here’s the thing – I want to hear all the opinions, get advice, and learn about others’ experiences - I just take it all to heart. I have a tendency to care too much what others think of me and my decisions, so this doesn’t bode well for suddenly being thrust into a position where people are prone to judge you. Maybe I am over-thinking things. Maybe those around me will be supportive and kind and trust my decisions. Maybe I will have confidence in my decisions and won’t care if others raise their eyebrows behind my back.

As a bystander, though, it doesn’t appear to be the case. Both online and offline, judgment about other women abounds. It saddens me, because the media is already pretty tough on women. Unrealistic expectations are hoisted upon us– we should look gorgeous all the time, lose baby weight immediately, and be able to juggle it all. If we don’t, our husbands might leave us and our kids will be irrevocably harmed. The least we can do is support each other, ladies. We’re all doing our best.

"SO!? What is it?!"

Whenever a friend or family member has a baby girl, I am jealous. Even if I'm not pregnant, or even thinking about it, I'm jealous. I assume that everyone hopes for a girl when they are pregnant.

I want a daughter. I want my daughter to have sisters. Girls are sweet, cute, wear pretty dresses, have long hair, and are all about cuddling. Girls grow up and stay in touch with their family.

These (very possibly ridiculous and wrong) assumptions are admittedly biased since I am one of four girls and my mom is one of seven girls - we each have one brother. We are much closer with my mom's family than my dad's - even though both families live in the same city. I loved having sisters. I loved having lots of aunts. I loved being around so many women - they talk, they laugh, they cry, they experience emotions fully and without shame. (They also tend to gossip and judge more, but that's another story.)

I even work at an all-girls high school. I choose to work with teenage girls on a daily basis. And I love it.

We had our first real ultrasound on Tuesday - the first one was simply for dating and to prove to me that there was, in fact, a little blob inside of me with a flickering heartbeat. (An aside: it's also our only ultrasound unless something needs monitoring. I guess I thought there were, like, monthly ultrasounds. Not so much unless you're having a high risk pregnancy. Apparently, the less ultrasounds the better because it's probably not the best thing in the world for Bebe. It's just as well, since the appointment took an hour and a half and was quite jabby at my poor belly.)

Where was I? Oh yes, going to the ultrasound appointment .

I'd read that the prep includes drinking 32 ounces of water the hour before the ultrasound - even though I hadn't been told that when I made my appointment. I wasn't sure whether to down ridiculous amounts of water in case I was supposed to, or if that would just make the prodding at my bladder area even more torturous. I read that if I didn't drink lots of liquid, I'd have to reschedule my appointment. I decided on drinking a lot of tea and water, which was absolutely torturous. (Even the ultrasound technician could tell how full my bladder was. Embarrassing much?)

Within the first minute or two of prodding, the ultrasound technician asked if we wanted to know. "Um, sure," I replied calmly. She turned the screen towards us and I swear it looked exactly like the cover of Nevermind.

"Can you tell?" she asked.

I hesitated, "Uh...boy?"

"Yep. You're looking at penis. That's a boy if I ever saw one. I never say 100%, but I think you can paint the room blue."

It took a few minutes to settle in as she continued prodding and taking photos of one squirmy little baby, and I'm embarrassed to admit that my heart sank just a wee little bit.

The ultrasound technician left the room to show a doctor the photos after she told me the due date was moved exactly to Mike's birthday, that everything looks perfect, and that the baby weighs nine ounces. I sat next to Mike, and gave him a pouty face.

"A boy can't wear cute little tights and leggings," I whined.

"Sure he can," Mike squeezed my hand, "He'll be like Robin Hood."

Later that day, I went for a long walk to enjoy the beautiful day. I don't think it was a coincidence that every single child I saw was a boy - from the six-month-old strapped to his mom's chest, to the adorable one-year-old standing on his front porch with his "Italia" onesie, to the four-year-old riding a tricycle with his mom, to the eight-year-old riding his bike with a plastic bag from CVS filled with a bottle of Coke and a bag of Cheetos - I saw cute little boys everywhere.

I know little boys are just as awesome as little girls - they are sweet and cuddly. My cousins always tell my aunt how pretty she is, and then say something hilarious like, "Whenever I toot, I run out of the room." See? Funny and sweet.  I see Jimaie with her adorable boys and want to be that kind of mom - fun and silly with my son. He can be a protective older brother and he will be the kind of boy who will be caring, sweet, and gentle even as gets older. 

"So?? WHAT IS IT?!?" A really healthy baby. :)

Ashley Starts Budgeting | Struggling with Living Simply.

Here’s the bottom line: I’m pretty good with money, I’ve just never made much.

We don’t follow a strict budget – instead, we’ve casually kept an eye on our spending. We spend modestly on groceries, restaurants, and trips to Target each month and manage to save a smidgen here and there.

I’d like to We need to save drastic amount of money, so we will start paying closer attention to just where our money goes this year. Starting now. Using a very simple budgeting sheet, I’ve determined how much we can save a month and still have enough money left over to pay our bills and buy food, and enjoy a tiny bit of “fun” money. In coming posts, I’ll discuss the details of the plan and how things are going; but today, I’m struggling. I'm struggling with living simply and still not having enough saved. I'm struggling with living simply and comparing my life to others.

Motivational Blogs, A Venn Diagram, and Taking Risks.

Sometimes I try to read those motivational, inspirational blogs that encourage you to find an alternate path in life. A different way of making a living, defining your drive, and discovering yourself. You know the kids of blogs I’m talking about. They usually break up their posts like articles - titling each section with big, bold fonts, want you to sign up for their newsletters, and are selling some sort of downloadable e-book in their sidebar. They always use a certain jargon and lingo that sounds a bit like a televangelist.

I visit them from time to time, and after eying them suspiciously, I feel all inspired and go-getter-y. Yeah! I think, I’m going to take charge of my destiny and do what I love. Screw conventional society!

I recently stumbled across one with an exercise that sounded particularly intriguing and helpful. Find the intersection of what you love to do and what you can get paid for. Do that.

Well, that sounds good. Being happy is great. Alternative lifestyles? Awesome. Booyah! After some thinking, though, I realize that intersection would look something like this:

Well, then.

Not quite as simple and clear-cut as I'd hoped it would be.

In all honesty, I still dream of working for myself, but it's difficult pursuing opportunities in freelance work and creating new goodies to keep my Etsy shop fresh while holding down a fairly demanding full-time job. I am pursuing my graphic design goals - I'm taking two more classes this semester. Typography (!!!) and Web Publishing - HTML and CSS. I wonder sometimes if I should be taking more drastic, swift steps towards my dreams. Should I risk it all? Should I leap with both feet without looking?

I see other do those sorts of things and feel a tinge of wistfulness. I want it all, but I also have to face the realities of my current life situation.

I think I can have it all...will have it all. Eventually. I need to be patient with myself and allow my dreams to unfold at their own pace.

Perhaps you've noticed this quote over in my sidebar. When I feel like I'm left behind when everyone else is off doing exciting, dream-fulfilling things - I try and remind myself that my time will come; it's not a competition. Be patient, I'm getting there.

Never compare your journey with someone else’s. It’s a marathon with no finish line. Someone else may start out faster than you, may seem to progress more quickly than you, but every runner has his own pace. Your journey is your journey, not a competition. You will never “arrive”. No one ever does.
- Cheryl Jacobs Nicolai

And in January, We're Gettin' Married.

Heck yes, table 10!

When I heard he was getting married in January. In New York. In upstate New York, I was a bit less than enthusiastic.

A wedding in the dead cold of winter? I pretty much want to hibernate and wear sweatpants all winter long - let alone drive over five hours through snow to wear a dress in more snow.

January? Really? Hmm. Well, then.

It ended up being the most rejuvenating weekend imaginable. A weekend filled with delightfully warm(er) weather, laughter, dancing (oh! the dancing!), good food, and wonderful people. The kind of people who warm your soul with their sincerity, kindness, and a bubbling sort of love. It also reaffirmed for the 50 bajilionth time that nearly everyone who graduates from Dayton is down-to-earth and fabulous in an indescribable way.

I tickled a one-year-old and witnessed his first swimming pool experience, I took too many photos, I ate the most amazing Italian food, I enjoyed being with countless vegetarians ("When two vegetarians get married, it's the most exciting thing ever, because they're all, 'Yes! We're going to have entire meal consist of foods we can actually eat!'"), and I basked in the embrace of a weekend brimming with love.

There is something special about weddings - aside from all the stress over the silly little details (colors! flowers! center pieces!), the delight of the bride and groom in their new marriage, the reminders about what marriage is all about during the ceremony, and the presence of so many family and friends always seems to inspire my commitment to be a better wife to Mike. (It didn't hurt that Mike was playing guitar during the wedding and his musical abilities would make anyone want to be a better wife to him. Seriously.)

Weddings are magical.

Especially in January. (The four day weekend? May have helped.)

(A sucker for all things wedding? Check out the slideshow from the wedding. And be prepared for the song to make you want to get married in January, too.)

I Always Liked Claudia. So Exotic.

“I heard you like babysitting. Kids…and stuff.”

On Saturday morning, I got a call from a guy who left a nervous, rambling message asking if we could meet. He’d gotten my name and number from my aunt and uncle, and was hoping I could babysit his five-year-old son.

Cue flashbacks to my years from age 12 until age 22. I didn’t have a fast food job in high school, I babysat. And I even quit a college job so I could babysit regularly.

As a 10-year-old, my best friend and I combed the streets of her suburban allotment, knocking on doors and handing out fliers advertising our services as “Mother’s Helpers”. I can only imagine how difficult it was for those moms to contain amused smiles as they answered the door to the two tiniest 10-year-olds that ever did exist, pitching themselves in squeaky little voices.

As an 11-year-old, I founded my very own preschool in my basement. Every week, I’d scour over preschool lesson plans and spend hours planning the preschool for six (paying!) neighborhood children.

As a 13-year-old, I again showed my marketing panache by stuffing mailboxes in our neighborhood with fliers offering my babysitting services. “I’m the oldest of 5 children!” the ad exclaimed. I probably charged about $4 an hour. And loved every minute of it.

I blame The Babysitter’s Club for all this entrepreneurialism.

Honestly, though, babysitting is one of the BEST jobs ever. Play with the kids, feed them some delicious food like peanut butter and jelly or mac and cheese, throw them to bed, and have the house all to yourself. Free food, cable (I totally snuck some MTV when I was in high school), and plenty of homework time.

My best job to date was a summer nanny job for a family while I was in college– we went on four vacations where I saw beautiful parts of the country, fell in love with six delightful children, and learned to water ski. The paychecks were just a bonus.

There is something so utterly cozy about family life –and babysitting always gave me a glimpse of that.

Last night, I met with the family. The five-year-old proudly showed me his toy crossbow and nunchucks. He showed me how he can use his computer. He showed me how he can jump from the window to the couch. His parents showed me the igloo they spent three hours carefully constructing in their backyard.

“You can put your boots on and go look at it!” his mom said excitedly.

Which just confirms my suspicion – we have kids because we want an excuse to play again. We want to buy an igloo kit “for our son” and take our kids to the awesome children’s museum.

People just tend to look at you suspiciously when you go in to Chuck E. Cheese without kids.

Whiny Wendy. Negative Nancy. Complaining Caitlin.

Winter has shoved open the door, barged into my life, and firmly planted its feet – refusing to budge.

Ah, winter.

I definitely struggle during this time of year to stay happy and cheerful. The darkness, the frigid temperatures, the bulky layers, the salt-encrusted cars and shoes, the inability to run, the black, dirty snow in the streets, and the general uncomfortableness and inconvenience of the season quickly outstays its welcome and I become a terribly Negative Nancy.

Cleveland winters are difficult. And make me whiny. No one likes a whiny Ashley.

Sure, there are pretty things about winter - the thick blanket of snow that perpetually covers everything, the bare trees with their arms stretching out to the blue (okay, gray) sky, and the fact that I get to wear clothes that conveniently mask my little belly. Plus, I always feel like a little kid again when I plod through snow-covered sidewalks in my awesome winter boots (On our way to pick up Chinese a few blocks away. Yum.).

But in a way only I can, I find a way to be eternally grouchy about the weather during these months.

“Oh! I just love the snow!” my coworker exclaims sweetly.

“Yeah, I just hope they’ll plow the streets for my drive home,” I grump back.

I even took myself by surprise; and when others start to notice my negativity, I think we have a problem.

I'm not saying I will ever really love winter, I'm not saying it isn't slightly difficult and depressing, but I am saying that I can't handle two or three more months of myself being this negative. Two or three more months of scaring (impressing?) the people around with just how negative I can be.

You know that whole cliche, "You can change others, you can only change yourself" or, "You can't change others act, you can only change how you react"? Substitute "winter" for "others" and I might just have a way to battle the negativity. (I'm also considering a few sessions in a tanning bed to enjoy some sunshine. Stop judging me, you. You don't know.)

How the heck do you cope with winter? (I haven't ruled out moving somewhere slightly warmer. Though Hawaii is a bit too far away from my family for my taste.)

2009 : Oh, What a Year.

I tend to look ahead far more often than I look back, so I took some time today to look at 2009 and all that it has brought me (and Mike!). It has been a year of change and blessings, but also some minor freaking out. Blogging is wonderful for many reasons, but being able to look back is one of my favorites. Tomorrow I'll work on some resolutions (using this guide), but today? I'm just counting my blessings. You are one of them, you know.

I started off the year gushing about how happy I am that my family is awesome and lives close to me (what else is new?) Then one cold January night, in hopes I'd start my freelance design business, I bought my beloved MacBook and Adobe Creative Suite CS4. And I got my first freelance design project that month, designing a research poster for a graduate student at Harvard. I also quit Twitter that month, talked about how easy composting is, kicked off my 101 in 1001 list, and found our president's children quite adorable. We also visited our good friend Tim in Ithaca in the dead cold of winter in a place that is colder than Cleveland.

I committed to spending money on Etsy or locally instead of at Target this month, and encouraged others to join me (and they awesomely did). Mike and I video blogged together for the first time, which was ridiculously fun. Actually, I video blogged twice that month, apparently. Lord help us all. I reflected on the frustrations of growing old as I saw through Mike's grandmothers and visited one of them for the last time. I got a new passport and promised to travel more in 2009 than I did in 2008. I talked about why I want to have kids, and finished up my FAQ series with questions mostly about Mike and marriage.

The month started with a very important discussion about eyebrows. Then, I declared no more Made in China purchases, and promptly failed the next day. I continued anguishing over my career direction (and have subsequently decided this angst will be a permanent fixture in my life). I designed my first blog header for someone else and took college students to a conference in Washington D.C. I also traveled to El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico that month - which was happily warmer than Ohio. I saw some adorable singing children there (and some less adorable military guys with HUGE guns.) (This was also the beginning of Googlers being disappointed that "Mexican Cuties" pointed them to a video of children singing about Jesus.) Oh, and a random guy hit on me in Target, which is exciting for a married woman.

The sewing obsession took full force this month and I created the pattern for the hobo bags for my Etsy shop. I also made some amazing peanut butter filled chocolate cupcakes topped with chocolate ganache icing and declared myself officially in love with peanut butter and chocolate. (And also: this cookbook.) I showed you my favorite fabric, how to make a cooking product work with curly hair, and ran away from the internets in need of a break. (I tend to get overwhelmed, in case you missed that.)

That blog break didn't last too long. I pondered what success means, and began the Great Job Search of '09. I got an interview and a job offer right away, but didn't know if I should take it. So, I asked you guys. I went with my gut and turned down a job during a recession (without having another job offer. Because I am crazy.) The day I turned down the job, I jetted off to El Paso, Texas and Juarez, Mexico for a week. This time, to take students on a trip to learn about the border. It. Was. Amazing.

A week-long trip to the beach was a fabulous opportunity to catch up on relaxation and get an awful sunburn (I still shuder when I think about it.) I got a second interview and a job offer at two schools. I confessed I wear cheap clothes and that I'm scared of committment. I continued training for the 10K, went to a Switchfoot concert, and my cousin's fabulous wedding. (The second of three weddings that month.) I also shared a story of my bathing suit top coming off in Hawaii. The month ended with my wonderful friend Katie getting married (and running a 5K that morning.Booyah!)

In a nutshell, July 2009 was possibly one of the BEST months of my life. It started out with getting my nose pierced, then running a 10K (third in my age group!), and moving to a duplex in a fun neighborhood. (With great recycling services!) We tried an amazingly delicious restaurant, I bought a Canon Rebel with my Etsy profits, and we planned the Great Road Trip of 09. Words cannot suffice to explain this road trip. Surreal. It was an amazing way to see the country and so wonderful to experience with Mike. I'm really glad I decided to blog about it, because looking back is fun (and makes me a bit wistful, but all good trips do that, right?) We danced to Beyonce in the car while driving to Iowa City, ate at amazing restaurants in Omaha and Denver, camped around Colorado for a few days (where an ant bit my butt at 2am), then drove over to (the insanely! gorgeous!) Zion National Park in Utah before heading to Las Vegas for a day. Vegas was a lot to take in. We stayed in Los Angeles for a few days and I explained how a trip to North Caroline morphed into a cross-country road trip from Ohio to LA. It was in LA I met some of the coolest people (eh, bloggers) ever and fell in love with In-n-Out animal-style fries. We ended the trip by hiking in the Grand Canyon and traveling through New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, and St. Louis. Oh, how I loved this month.

I started my new job this month, which I was pretty nervous about. It was a great beginning though and I fell in love with the girls right away. We took a quick trip to Chicago for our second anniversary and a Phish concert before the school year started. Many of you commiserated with me about looking younger than we are, and I experienced my first week of high school for the second time in my life.

Labor Day came and went and summer ended this month. It was sad. About a month after I started my job, I crumbled under the stress, writing several posts basically saying: "Help! How do I get it all done! Must clean, exercise, commute, work, blog, craft, ahhhh. Collapse onto floor and do nothing." I shared about Mike's birthday present and our trip to Ann Arbor. I also started taking another graphic design class. We talked about how couples fight. Get over it. Mike and I don't have a TV, and I told everyone about it. Most of you thought it was cool, a few of you probably think I'm crazy. It's cool. I probably am. My nose piercing was driving me cra-azy this month, but I stuck with it. (Might have been that whole crazy part?) The newest member of my family was born near the end of the month, and I got to visit her when she was only 12-hours-old.

I whined a little more about searching desperately for that illusive work-life balance, we found mice in our house, I took my sisters on a fabulous photo shoot (wherein I felt like a total photographer, it was a happy feeling), and I gave away Sharpies for my 25th birthday. I went on a retreat with high school girls from work on my birthday (in a ridiculously gorgeous park). I got tons of chocolate and cookbooks for my birthday. I also began a four-month commitment to only buying second-hand clothing. I dressed up as Hermione for Halloween and Mike took the GRE at the end of the month and rocked it. Hard.

Since I was participating in NaBloPoMo, I had time share a LOT about myself. Like how I explored my creativity in the form of lots of new products for my Etsy shop, cried at work, met a man who stole my heart, and that food is my splurge item (and won $100 from Alice.com for it. You know I spent it on food, there, right?). I decided I still liked being near my family and did another photo shoot. I found out what is really in non-dairy creamer and vowed to never touch it again. I mused about religion and shared a few recipes. I was overwhelmed again (see a theme here?) and went down to Georgia with my school to protest the teaching of torture. While I was gone, a few of my favorites guest blogged here, including my sister (!), Tam, Amy, and Dana. Mike learned Falling Slowly for me over Thanksgiving break and the two of us video blogged for the second time together.

December has been a nice, quiet month - as tends to happen when we have two weeks off work to merely laze about and eat fudge. It's delightful, really. The most exciting thing was getting a new domain and spinning on the off ramp of a highway. Just thrilling. I mused some more about careers and passion and had a really great day filled with coffee and cousins. I set some goals I failed to keep and did a bit of shopping. Lots of baking and sister-time, too. And a dance party on Christmas Day. Which I haven't told you about yet, but OH I so will.