A Day in the Life

Tag: family

  • Beach Days

    Beach days were always the highlight of summer growing up. Hearing the waves crash against the shore as my feet sunk into the sand. The warm breeze drifting along as the sun beat down from above head. To me, the experience was always relaxing, a way to leave stress behind and let go of any problems of the time. But when you have a baby, you begin to realize how overwhelming something like the beach can be.

    Between packing the car, figuring out time frames, parking, getting through the crowds and finding your “perfect spot” it can be a lot. Let alone keeping track of the people and kids with you plus having refreshments for everyone. But with a little one, say a 4-and-a-half-month-old, that tends to add more to list. Make sure to have bottles, and formula, swimmers, diapers, plenty of wipes, and enough sunblock to coat the neighborhood. Don’t get me wrong, it’s all worth it, but it can tend to be a lot that someone may or may not be ready to handle all at once.

    Recently I went to the beach with my daughter and my parents. We thought we had everything packed, everyone ready on time and at a decent hour, and had prepared ourselves for the crowds. We were partially right. Everything had been packed, but a regular stroller is not the best to take on to the beach so we ended up having to haul a lot more than what we thought we would have to, by hand. We did have everyone ready at a decent time of day, but the heat didn’t care what time was, it was hot no matter what time you tried to leave. And the crowds? Though under control, it’s still a lot of people crammed into one place, even though we chose a more secluded area. My daughter didn’t care about any of that though. She cooed and chortled at the people around her, giggled at the waves crashing in the distance, and squirmed this way and that in my arms trying to watch the birds flying around everywhere.

    She didn’t necessarily like the bathing suit we had on her, or the amount of sunscreen I put on her arms and legs, but having a baby protected from as much sun as I could was well worth the mild struggle with flailing baby limbs. Once she was ready to go, and we found our spot to sit for a while, I was ready to venture with the baby down to the water’s edge. This was her first time in anything aside from her bath, so I wanted to make sure I took things a bit slow. She loved her bath time and has started to enjoy splishing and splashing, but I didn’t want her to get taken out by a wave. In the end I didn’t have much that I had to worry about, once we got the water and I had my ankles in, I waited for the next wave to wash across and lowered my daughter’s chubby little feet down.

    As soon as her toes felt the cold water, her little legs shot up against her body like a frog preparing to jump. I thought she was going to stay that way at first, but she tentatively lowered her feet back once she realized I wasn’t moving away from the water. I guess mom standing in the cold made it less scary. The little waves ebbed and flowed and once she lowered her feet back in the water, she let out a little giggle and wiggled her toes in the sand. Slowly but surely, she dug her feet in up to her ankles and baby talked to the water as it splashed across her legs. She looked this way and that, reaching arms down to try and grab at the sea foam or kick her leg occasionally to splash it back down. Thankfully she was having fun, my back supporting her weight while she did it, not so much. The pain was worth it though, as long as she was having a good time.

    Everything was going great, but in the end, we had to cut our trip short, my dad’s back was starting to bother him from the uneven sand surface, and we still had a long drive home ahead of us, so we started to pack up and get ready to head out. My daughter though, didn’t want to have it, she wanted to stay in the water. As soon as I picked her back up from the waves, she pushed out her little boohoo lip and started crying. Crying made her hot, which made her crankier, and then she was reminded that she was hungry. One walk to the car with beach gear and a very cranky baby, I had her changed into something lighter, loaded into the truck, and feverishly sucking on her bottle. She managed to eat about half of it before she fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. Which was a benefit for her since the ride home ended up being close to two hours due to traffic.

    When I was younger, I never noticed the amount of effort and time that my parents put into beach days, no matter how long or short they were. But now that I am mom, I understand. It may have its labors but to watch your kids enjoy themselves to the point that they don’t want to leave, is all that is needed to feel like you won the day. Not to mention it is adorable to watch them nap immediately after from having so much fun. Next time there will definitely be a few things that I want to change, a different carrier for the baby and our beach supplies, a different bathing suit for my daughter so she doesn’t get to overheated to quickly, and hopefully finding a parking spot that is a bit closer to the beach entrance. The last one is only if we are lucky though, so I won’t always count on it. But I honestly can’t wait for our next beach day trip, The amount of giggles my daughter had from playing in the water made me an extremely happy mama. And I wouldn’t want to trade those moments for anything.

  • Lights Out

    A few weeks ago, my neighborhood was hit by some terrible storms. Thrashing wind, walls of rain, flooding, and power outages raged the town. We were very fortunate to not experience any lives lost, but the surrounding areas were plunged into darkness for days, some areas being out for the better part of a week. All this in the middle of a heat wave. A not so great combo when you have small children and elderly parents all under one roof.

    When the storm hit, we were trying to batten down the hatches around our property to try and ensure nothing went flying into the neighbors houses. In the middle of doing that, the wind hit. Strong enough to try and topple full-grown adults to the ground. Then in a mad rush to finish our tasks, the rain hit. And it didn’t just sweep in quietly, it rushed in. The rain pelted any surface it hit, slamming down in walls of water that made it hard to see two feet in front of you, let alone the neighboring houses. We rushed inside, drenched to the bone and ready to settle in for the long hall. Then we started hearing loud booms across the neighborhood, after one of the booms the lights flickered. Once, twice, and then they were down for the count.

    We tried calling the electric company, none too successfully. There was an automated message that said “Thank you for reaching out, we are aware of the power outages and are doing our best to send our team to fix them. Expect the lights to return by the end of the week.” We all looked at one another. My parents and I weren’t overly concerned, we had been through similar things when I was younger. My daughter was with her dad for the day, we had coolers and Ice bags on hand so we could have access to food without opening the freezer or fridge. We had board games, books, battery powered lamps and fans, among other things to keep ourselves cool and occupied. My younger sibling however, hadn’t really been through anything like this before. He started freaking out. Asking what we were going to do, saying we should spam call places to get things fixed, and running around the house trying to find something that could fix our situation.

    We explained that we shouldn’t use our phones unless for emergencies to preserve the battery life, and spam calling places would only end up irritating companies and answering services. They had enough on their hands at the moment and didn’t need spam calls from one family. My dad and I set to going and collecting flashlights and lamps, gathering the board games and such as my mom prepared the coolers. Dad ran to a store that still had power due to a back-up generator and grabbed small bites and drinks for the coolers, and like that we had supplies. My younger sibling, sat on the couch and pouted about our situation. He didn’t understand how we could entertain ourselves or “be able to survive without power”. That gave me a good chuckle. I told him we had supplies, still had running water and hot water since the pilot on the water heater was still going strong, and had books or games to keep ourselves busy. Their response was priceless. “We don’t have games; we don’t have power”. . . Acting like video games were the only games that existed. My parents and I had a good laugh, pulled out Yahtzee and told him to sit down and breathe, that we’d get through it as a family. They were skeptical to say the least.

    It was surprising to see just how dependent on electricity my younger sibling was. They kept trying to ask Alexa what time it was, or asking his phone how to play Yahtzee, instead of using the analog clock or the directions pamphlet to aid them. The rain continued to throttle the neighborhood but in time and with the game going, we lost track of the storm and when it actually had stopped. But once the game was done, we realized so was the rain, for now anyway. My mom and I took that time to do what we usually did in these situations, check on the neighbors. We knew some trees had been downed and the wind had done some damage on surrounding houses so we proceeded with caution, but it was still our duty (or so we told ourselves) to check in with the elderly and any friends nearby. On our walk we were meet with different reactions. Some thankful for the check in and the care of thought, others gave a shrug and said it’s nothing they hadn’t been through before. But what I saw on our walk brought a genuine smile to my face.

    Parents using the break in the weather to get their kids out of the house in any way they could. There were families walking, bike riding, doing the same as my mom and I. Some kids were still craving their video games and TV, others happy to not be so cooped up. Same with the parents. Some seemed to be at their wits end, telling their kids to keep walking to burn energy and time, that the power wasn’t coming on anytime soon and to get used to it, other parents just trying to go with the flow and make their lives as easy as possible given the situation. But despite it all, I saw a community coming together to help support one another. Talk across yards, check in with their elderly neighbors, exchange generators back and forth, so fridges didn’t go to long without running, even having meet ups to BBQ together and have the kids interact with one another. Despite the circumstances, and whether the people truly knew each other or not, I watched as strangers became friends, and friends became closer to family. Interaction was key, and it was enough to help people through the darkness.

    The next day, the power was still out, but we were able to kill some time by going to pick up my daughter, and spending some time with family friends that were lucky enough to have their power back already. We did another round of check ins with neighbors, made sure people were still doing okay. By the time we got back home, we walked back in the door and the lights flickered again, once, twice, and they were back on. Over the course of the next few days, we still kept checking in with some people, just because my block got power back, didn’t mean the whole neighborhood did. Transformers would get surges and go back out again. This went on for a week, but once we were all back in the light, something magical had come out of the dark. The families and neighbors that had been checking in on one another through the ordeal, kept up with it after the fact. Days after the power outages, I saw families that never used to talk to each other, conversing across their yards, kids playing with other children they hadn’t before, parents and kids alike having play dates.

    It seems like people remembered what it was like before video games reigned supreme, and the TV took command of the family. In the last few decades we let electric powered things dictate our lives, but when it comes down to it, we as creatures crave interaction. For my neighborhood, it took a power outage to make us realize that and act on it. It took the loss of power to bring a community back together again. Don’t let it be that way for you. It shouldn’t take the Lights going out for you to care about other people. Heat waves can still cause problems, so can a storm in general. There were many states affected by these storms, floods that claimed hundreds of lives, tornadoes that took down entire cities. In these events technology failed, but humanity didn’t. People helped one another, saved one another, had compassion for each other. Listen, check in, Act. Be the change in communities that you want to see.

  • Growing Pains

    Time is such an odd concept. When I was younger I wanted to grow up as soon as possible so I could do the cool things adults got to do. Get to go out and drive when ever they want, spend money on what you want, when you want to. There can be some days I feel like I did when I was a teenager, lost and wondering how I would handle it all. Other days I wake up remembering I am a 33-year-old woman with bills, a 4-month-old daughter, and bad knees. Life is funny like that, though I had to at least do something right to make it this far.

    Not that it has been easy, looking back it hasn’t been easy in the least. Memories of great times alongside the lowest of lows all colliding together to stitch the story that is my life up to this point. There were things I wish that I had the chance to say, ones that I wish I hadn’t said at all, and actions that may have turned out better if I had at least tried. Do I regret it? Some of the times yes, but I wouldn’t change a single one if it meant that it would lead to what I have in my life right now. It may not be much but my daughters bright smile is worth every low point I ever had. I wouldn’t trade that for the world.

    Watching her grow is a blessing, but in and of itself is odd. She is growing so quickly it feels like if I blink I might miss something. I look at her and see my little baby girl, and I know I will always see her that way, but in the same token it’s funny how growth changes. As I said, I look at her, and she seems so small, but when family and friends visit they always say “Look how big she is getting”, and I have to do a double take. She is growing, but to me, she is still tiny. Then I go out shopping for clothes or formula and see other mamas and their babies that are 10+ months and realize my daughter is the size of them if not bigger. Not to mention she is in 3-6 month size clothing even some solely 6 month size, and 6-9 month size shoes. At 4 months old. She really is a big baby, not in a bad way, she is healthy and growing. To be fair she was a little over 8lbs when she was born. Also helps that I am a little above average height for a woman, and her dad is 6ft tall. All in all it’s not surprising that she would be on the bigger side.

    But it still is so odd of a concept to me. In most cases she seems small, and then I see other babies her age and I realize, nope, my daughter dwarfs them. She is already trying to push herself up on to her knees while she is on tummy time (her least favorite parts of the day) and is trying to figure out rolling. It’s so exciting to experience, and it makes me so happy at the amount of effort that she puts in. I can’t wait for her to start moving, I know once she starts she will be a roaming menace that I will have to keep chasing after, but I feel like most parents deal with that back and forth. We want what is best for our kids and to watch them hit milestones, but once they hit that marker we get sad because that milestone is done, and we can’t get that time back.

    As a kid I wanted time to speed up to do all these events and tasks, and now that I’m older I want time to slow. I wish I could press a pause button and keep my daughter at 4 months for as long as possible and savor every second while she is small. She is growing at such a rapid rate that I blink, and a week has flashed by like nothing. We spend most of our lives trying to rush through life, and now I just want it to stop. I want to enjoy everything I can, but there doesn’t seem to be enough time in a day to enjoy as much as I would like to, to have my daughter experience as much as possible before she outgrows it. The real tight rope of time and how we want to spend it.

  • Times Change

    I was born in the early 90s. Growing up we drank from hoses, ran around all day in the summer and curfew was when the streetlights came on. You knew where all your friends were by the bikes piled together on front lawns, and the way to call a friend was calling the house phone and praying a parent wasn’t on it already. There are a lot of moments I miss about those times, they seemed simpler. My parents did what they could to raise two children that never liked to stay in one spot for long. We visit museums, parks and playgrounds, and historical sites, that way we were at least learning while we had our fun. They instilled manners, the need for communication, and how to be as civilized as possible.

    When I was a teenager I went from being the youngest child, to being the middle child. When my younger sibling was born, a lot in the house changed. Change wasn’t a bad thing, but it all was new to me. My mom needed extra help with the baby and I happily obliged, knowing that in the long run I would be helping to raise a life, as well as get some practice in for the children I wanted when I grew up. It ended up being beneficial all around, but as my sibling got older, I started running into some complications. “You never let us get away with that when we were there age.” Became a constant statement from me. I understood that they were the baby of the family, but there were situations that my parents let slide that my older sibling and I would have gotten in trouble for. Talking back all the time, major tantrums, among other things. We would have been placed in time out in a hot minute, but my parents seemed to let it go. When I asked I tended to get the answer “Well times are different now, this is parenting. It may not be what you are used to, but they will be okay”.

    They were right in the long run, mostly, but it still was odd to see everything so different. How emotions and communication were handled, or ignored. How outside play time was exchanged for staying inside all day with video games, TV, and whatever other electronics my sibling could get there hands on. Technology isn’t a bad thing, but I wanted the kid to get some sunshine. My parents did try, don’t get me wrong. They tried instilling a love of nature and respect for the world outside the house, it didn’t seem to take, nor did my younger sibling didn’t care about it. I moved in with my partner when my younger sibling was about 7 years old, went a state away and would visit when I could. But between my and my partners jobs, it became difficult to visit as often as I wanted.

    I would still hear about my sibling and how they were doing, how they were growing into a preteen and all the problems that came with that. Every preteen to teenager can be a handful, but my mom would call me for advice on occasion because even she felt like she was out of her element. “You’ve raised two kids already and went through this, why is this any different?” I would ask, thinking it would be cut and dry like when I was younger. “Well times are different.” She’d answer, oh, that line again. But this part stuck with me “I can’t handle these things the way that I did with you guys, I could be labeled a bad parent.” Wait. . . What? What was wrong with telling your kid that what they did was wrong, putting them in time out or grounding them? How is that being a bad parent? Looking back on my childhood, none of the ways my parents raised us ever came across as being bad. They were teaching us how to be better people, how to be ready for the world outside our little home. But apparently in the 2010s all that translated to being too harsh on your child, or being over reactive. It all made me think about what I would do if/when I became a parent.

    This year, I did that, I became a mom. On top of that, due to unforeseen circumstances, I had to move back in with my parents. I needed help with the baby, among other things, and was grateful to their welcoming arms. My younger sibling is now 17, almost an adult, and once again, everything was new to me. I had been away for almost 10 years, and in doing so, had to hear second hand about everything. Now being home and being front and center with it all was a whole different ball game. “I would have gotten grounded for that” is a new repeated saying. I thought I had attitude when I was a teenager, but they blow me out of the water. I expected the usual statement. That times are different now, but I didn’t. My mom and dad would give a small smile and say “I know. We are doing what we can.” And it hit me. Years of trying to be ‘good parents’ by the new standards had made them lax in ways that they didn’t want to be. That being afraid of not keeping up with the times would make them a bad parent. But in turn, it made it harder to be the good parent. Trying to be gentler and and following along with new standards had dulled instincts, and made it more difficult to wrangle in a dramatic and overly stimulated teenager.

    As a group we have been working together. I remind my parents of the values that they raised us on, and help them to try and use that with the teachings of now. I work as a buffer between my sibling and them as well, defusing situations for either side. Sometimes I am on my parents side, reminding my sibling how much is done for them and how much they take for granted. Sometimes I am on their side, helping to explain something calmer, or to break down thought processes to my parents. It’s a constant back and forth, but one that we are starting to find common ground for in the process.

    Being on the outside for so long, had given me a different perspective, but also made me think about what I want to do as a mom. Looking at my baby girl, I think about what kind of parent I want to be. I want to be gentle when I can, but stern when it’s needed, I want to instill that my daughter can express herself and her emotions, but that she also needs to communicate those emotions properly. I understand every kid and teenager can catch attitude, and to an extent it will be allowed, but attitude with cruelty will not be tolerated. Likewise, I want my daughter to be independent and have an understanding of the world around her, but I also want her to know that she can come to me for help whenever she needs it. I want to combine the values of now while incorporating some of the teachings and values that I was raised on. It’s like walking a tight rope. I may stumble a few times, even lose my balance, but in the long run I don’t want to lose sight of my goal. To raise my daughter to be the best she can be, and do the best that I can.

  • One Step Forward

    There are many things in life that seem to want to drag me down and keep me there. Tossing my mind and body back and forth, so I don’t know what is up or down at times. But a constant in my life right now, is my daughters smiling face. Every day I wake up to her little coos, look down and see her smile staring back at me. This is usually followed by a little giggle when she realizes I am awake, and what I call her “scheming hands”. She holds and rubs her hands back and forth while hiding her face behind them. It’s mischievous and oh so adorable. Watching and hearing this little routine every morning, gives me the motivation I need to get up and put my feet on the ground. Even on the gray days that make me want to curl up in a ball and go back to sleep.

    Whenever life gets low my friend tells me that all I need to do is be 1% better than I was yesterday, to take a step at a time and keep pushing forward. She tends to be right, but when it feels like your world is falling apart and the walls are closing in, you don’t always want to listen. When the world seems bleak and the sun doesn’t even want to shine, advice can seem like everything else. Heavy. Hanging over your head as if trying to mock you. But my constant? The natural sunshine that seems to flow from my daughter. No matter how sad I feel, or how lost, seeing her face is enough to brighten my day. Even when she is yelling at me in her own way during tummy time, or when she is wailing because I took one minute to long to make her bottle, she still makes me smile. Talking with her and holding her is like an instant boost of serotonin.

    Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to make it seem like she is my only source of happiness, because she isn’t. I have my friends and family, pets and rekindled hobbies that spark joy. But my daughter brings a happiness that isn’t forced or worked at, it comes naturally without any effort. A sense of comfort and pride that comes with being a mother and knowing that I brought her into this world, but she is the thing that makes life worth living. I love watching her learn and discover. The faces she makes when she realizes that her hands are attached to her and that she can control them. Grabbing onto her blankets, toys and my hair, tending to give a good tug and laugh to the latter. The coos and chortles that she makes to her toys as if talking to them. The oohs and ahhs that she gives as she looks at the plants and trees outside. The strength she shows off as she learns to hold the weight of her own head. Moving it all around as she tries to look at the people around her. It all enthralls me and makes life feel a little bit lighter.

    Spending time with her makes the weight of reality melt away, and the heaviness of the world a distant memory. She makes me want to be 1% better each day, because that 1% is enough to make her happy, and to get me through to tomorrow. Taking a step at a time can seem slow and monotonous when all you want to do is sprint, but slow and steady can help you really understand what is happening around you. To soak in the effort that you put out, not rush through it. Some days may seem heavier than others, and some days I may not want to move from the bed. But hearing her wake up in the morning brings a smile to my face. Because seeing those scheming hands, and her face light up when she realizes I am awake, makes everything worth it. If you try to sprint you may miss what goes on around you, and I don’t want to miss a single moment of watching my daughter grow. I will keep taking my small steps one at a time, and keep pushing for that 1%. Because my friend is right, 1% is better than nothing. And one step forward is better than not moving at all.

  • Losing Sleep

    When I got pregnant with my daughter I was warned that I should get what sleep I can, while I can. Other moms and my doctors kept repeating the same thing. That once the baby came, 8 hours a night would be a fond memory. I knew they were right, but I didn’t realize how right they were. As the months of pregnancy went on, I began to feel really run down. Napped as often as I could, got what sleep I could at night but still felt like it wasn’t enough. I felt sluggish and run down. I thought that would be the worst of it. Once the baby came those naps and full nights of sleep were a distant memory.

    Between feedings, diaper changes, tummy time, more feedings, stretches, and doctor’s appointments, sleep came in scraps. The first few weeks, I was lucky if I got three hours of sleep a night. The baby was cluster feeding and I could only manage to get sleep in 15-20 minute intervals. During the day I felt like I was walking around in a constant haze, my mind constantly working on over drive while my body wanted to crumple into a ball and hibernate for a month straight. My partner helped me where he could, tidying the house, nighttime bottle feedings, watching the baby as I grabbed a shower or tried to catch a nap. But even with that, it didn’t feel like enough. My body was healing, it still is, but without the proper rest, it felt like I just couldn’t keep up with anything.

    Here I am three months later and there are times it still feels that way. She is a full formula baby since I couldn’t produce enough to keep up with her appetite at all. This helps quite a bit because I can make bottles up a head of time and heat them as needed, this is also a setback at times because I can’t pick her up and feed her instantly like she wants. Thankfully the baby’s sleep schedule has increased, so she manages to get 4-5 hour intervals, which should mean that I could do the same right? I wish. Despite having more time that she is sleeping, I find my mind doesn’t like turning off. It constantly runs with the amount of events that happened during the day, what has to happen tomorrow, her appointments and milestones, it all floods at once as soon as my head hits the pillow. If it isn’t those thoughts, it’s if the baby is okay. When she is out cold, she is almost completely silent, her body barely shifting as she snoozes. She gets so quiet that I find myself reaching out to feel if her chest is rising and falling. Once I feel that she is moving, I am able to relax and nod off myself, only to wake up two hours later to repeat the process.

    I know some of this is happening do to the anxiety of her being my first full term, some of it comes from not wanting to be a bad mom, and the last of it comes from fear of the unknown. Life is crazy and constantly shifting, pulling the rug out from under your feet when you already have uneven footing. I cherish my daughter and every amount of time that I share with her. I wouldn’t give it up for the world. But outside pressures also overlay with that time. Finding a new job that can help me balance home life and work life, trying to get set routines for myself and for my daughter, trying to take care of my body and give it time to heal while also being active with the baby to help her grow. A lot of times it seems tasks are constantly trying to combat each other. All this seems to chip away at you, mind, body, and soul. It pops up the most at bedtime.

    This is one of the many things that I have to learn to balance, to adapt and move forward. To grow as my daughter grows, and try to do so in as healthy of a manner as I can. For now, I will do what I can, get what sleep I can and try my best to push the anxiety thoughts to the side. To allow myself to rest, to sleep as my daughter sleeps. I’ll use what tips and tricks I have learned along the way and use my time to the best of my ability, both during the day and night. It may be goodbye to sleep for now, but it won’t always be that way. As she grows I will be able to sleep again. It may not be anytime soon, but that’s okay. I will take the sleep I get and save my energy for what is needed that day, and save the rest for the next. It may be small shifts, but something is better than nothing. And some sleep is better than not at all.

  • Memory Struggle

    I have had problems with memory for years. Sometimes I can remember something down to the smallest detail, and it stays with me forever. Then there are the memories that fade as soon as they are created, locked away for what seems like eternity without any dust being disturbed. It got irritating to me, to remember something so vividly from childhood that didn’t actually matter or have any tangible significance. Yet not be able to recall the name that was just told to me 5 times in the same amount of time, or remember the important conversation that I had two days ago that I need to reflect upon.

    As time went on, and I got older, the frustration grew. I did whatever I could to try and make memories stick, to be able to train my brain to log and keep all the information. But what are you to do when you don’t have a camera? It seemed like nothing was working. No matter how hard I tried to memorize faces, names, moments in time that I wanted to cherish. It seemed fruitless, my brain only retaining what it wanted to. Then one day I had been gifted an ornament for Christmas. It was given to me as we put the tree up and started decorating. A crystal humming bird from my grandmother, It was beautiful. Instead of putting it on the tree right away, I carried it around, holding it like I would lose it forever if I placed it down for a second. By the end of the night I finally relinquished it to the tree and marveled at how it sparkled in the lights. The memory never left me, nor that ornament. I can think back on the day with fondness at any time, but when I hold the ornament, I relive the moment vividly, and it makes me smile.

    From that point on I began to use physical objects to help me hold memory. I would pour my thoughts and feeling into those objects, feeling like I would leave little pieces of time locked away inside them. Doing so I could touch objects throughout my home and experience a walk down memory lane for anything I wanted. As happy as it made me to be able to do it, it also had a lot of problems. As time goes on a house can get cluttered, items can break, and moving makes it hard to take everything with you. Items need to be let go. But when I pick them up, I feel the memories and relive them one by one, making it harder to let go of the item. A fear set in, what if I get rid of the item and the memory goes with it. I won’t be able to access it or enjoy it anymore. I didn’t want to become a pack rat, and I wanted to be able to make room for new. Something had to be done.

    There are still some objects that I will never relinquish, ones that I can never bring myself to get rid of. A key, a special stone, a butterfly charm, a ring. These objects bring many memories, not just one. There are other senses that can be associated with them, but the physical object brings back so many thoughts and feelings that I would rather have the object to touch to be able to sort through them all. I want to be able to access these on demand, so I can continue to learn from the memories, not just think on them fondly.

    Despite the anxiety of letting objects go, I manage to do so over and over. You know what I found? I may not have been able to access the memory on demand anymore, but it still existed. I could still recall them with a little conversational coaxing, or by a smell or song. It wasn’t actually storing memories in the objects, I just focused so intently and associated a memory with something, and it would be locked in. Now as I raise my daughter and watch her grow, I know I’m going to want to remember things as much as possible. Anytime I’m in a moment that I know I will want to remember, I use me senses. What do I hear as this moment is happening, what do I smell? The rock song on the radio or the smell of my partners’ cologne anchor in. What do I see in the little eyes staring back at me, how do I feel smiling down at her? My reflection in her green blue eyes smiles back with warmth and a light that radiates through my soul. Its these little associations that will help me remember what I want to. It may not always be when I want to remember it, and may drift in and out, but those associations will help bring it back again. That song, the cologne, feeling that warmth in my chest, seeing that spark of happiness reflecting, all can be a positive trigger to bring back precious moments.

    For now that is enough, to be able to retain what I can without being afraid to let go of objects and keep pushing forward. To work with my brain and do what I can for my memory. Each step I take may be difficult, and it may not always work. But I feel that I will at least be able to hold on to more than I used to. To me that is worth it, for my daughter, so I can recall her younger times when she is older, and for myself, so I can relive my life in the future.

  • Mother’s Day

    When I was a kid and well into my teenage years, Mother’s Day was always a labor of love. Emphasis on the labor part, though that wasn’t a bad thing. Every year we would wake up at dawn, get ourselves dressed and ready to go and then make our way down into the city. With a quick stop at a convenience store for a small breakfast thrown in. We’d find parking amongst the large crowds, gather our water bottles and whatever else we would need, and make our way to check in. The only thing my mom wanted to do every year was the Breast Cancer Walk. It was her way of spending time with us, getting out for fresh air and exercise, and giving back to the community.

    Every year we did this, like clock work, for nearly 13 years. It wasn’t about the merch you could get, or the free Wawa tent you could get snacks from after the walk was over, it was about enjoying the time we had with our mom. By the end of the long trek, our belly’s full and legs like jelly, we’d head back to the house and all take a well deserved nap. My dad would wake us up well before my mom would have her alarm set for, and we’d pile in the car to go to her favorite gardening stop and pick her out some flowers. Then we’d stop at the grocery store and get ingredients for whatever we were making her that night. It tended to be something that my dad would hear her say “You know what we haven’t had in a while?” over the course of the month. We’d get back in time to get the groceries away, and place the plants in an obvious spot as mom’s alarm was waking her up. She’d come out smiling, and we would present our gifts, then all make dinner as a family and settle down for the day. Our fun yearly routine.

    Over the years, though we still saw it as fun, it became harder to manage. My older brother would be unable to get out of work, I would have to barter with my college professors to be able to skip the day with minimal repercussion, and over time, my mom’s knees began to not be able to make the full trek. We had to retire the tradition fully when I moved to the next state over, and work made it impossible to get off. Didn’t help that my older brother moved across country and my younger sibling didn’t like taking the long walk at all. We all made it up to mom in our own ways. Surprise visits on days off, or making a point to send her some of her favorite plants, even going as far as sending a special order of her favorite chocolate covered strawberries. We all managed in our own ways, and mom always appreciated it.

    As I got older, I always made a point to call my mom on Mother’s Day, and my mom would always wish me one back. I was a “Fur Mom” as she put it, because my dog was more like my and my partners’ child than a family pet. That’s the way it went for a handful of years, until 2 and a half years ago when I got pregnant. I was excited to be a mom, my partner equally excited to be a father. But due to unfortunate circumstance, it wasn’t meant to be. When I lost our first daughter, I was devastated, and there is a part of me that will carry that loss with me for the rest of my life. I know it, and don’t regret it. I’d rather hold onto that small piece of heartache then lose the memory of her existence. The first Mother’s Day after the loss, I was given off from work, my boss saying that she didn’t want me too overwhelmed since our tragedy a few months prior. I had greatly appreciated the sentiment. The second year I thought I would be better, I had planned to work. Prepared myself mentally the whole week beforehand, but when I woke up that morning and my mother-in-law called to wish me a happy Mother’s Day, I physically got ill. My body and brain had betrayed me, and I was told to stay home. Thankfully my coworkers were understanding and didn’t mind covering the shift.

    That day I still called my mom like I did every year, talked to her for a good two hours, but by the end of the conversation I was still in tears. My best friend came over after she was finished her shift, made sure I could hold down food and water, got me outside for a while for some fresh air, and did whatever she could to get my mind into a better place. I appreciate her hard work and effort, and to this day love her so much for what she has done for me. This year brought much brighter prospects and a much more stable frame of mind. There have still been many things going on, chaos of a baby and work schedules, trying to balance life amongst it all. But this year I was able to get a taste of why my mom had smiled every Mother’s Day for so long.

    I had been able to visit my parents around Mother’s Day, so we made the best of what we had. Upon waking to my daughters happy Coo’s and gentle smiles I already felt like I had won the day, achieved all that I could have wanted. Seeing her laying in her little bed, my heart had felt full. Once the rest of the house was awake it got even better. I got sweet baby cuddles and a small nap time with her resting on my chest. My mom got play time with her granddaughter, and then we all headed outside for some air. My dad watched the baby for a while so my mom and I could do some planting in the garden. We enjoyed getting our hands dirty as we talked and planted, time seemed like it stood still for us to enjoy what we could. After our time playing in the dirt, we all enjoyed playing with the baby in the shade of the backyard, taking turns showing her the trees and flowers. Falling in love with the sounds she made to the birds, and her feisty little arm swings at the petals floating on the breeze. Dinner was a family favorite of mixed seafood and roasted corn, no phones allowed. Just good conversation, good food, and a bottle of formula for the baby.

    The day as a whole was simple and sweet. Not something overly complex or planned out to specific time frames, events happened as they happened. Over all, it was comforting, joyous, and plain fun. When I was young, Mother’s Day meant I was going to be tired, but my mom would be happy. As I got older it seemed another day that I had to work during, then for a while it became a day of pain. Now, looking at my mom and my daughter’s smiling faces, it feels warm. In the future, I may not always get to enjoy it to the fullest, and I know it won’t always be perfect, and some years it may just be chaos. But now I know why my mom always did what she did. It was never about the event or how much money was used, it was about the time spent together and thought that went into what we did. Most moms get flowers on Mother’s Day, but she would get her favorites, in ways that she could add them to her garden to look at them every year they bloomed.

    Now I can experience that too, because every year I visit the house, I can see the plants she and I planted together this year and look back fondly on the memories we shared. My daughter may not remember the day given her age, but she will remember her love of nature and through our stories understand how it all started. Given my own journey, I know that my daughter may not always be a ray of sunshine, and will have highs and lows depending on what happens as she grows. If I could wish one thing for her though, it would be that she gets to enjoy her time with her grandmothers, her mom and one day be able to look down at her own children with the same amount of joy that I have when I look down at her.

  • Alone Time

    Navigating through motherhood is a major learning experience, one that has constant ups and downs. One of the hardest is understanding alone time. My daughter is 2 months old. Still very much a baby, so of course I want to hold, cuddle, and love her constantly. Unfortunately I know that I can’t do that as much as I want to. We don’t want to make her dependent on us, and not be able to be placed down. Finding the balance though, is one of the most difficult tasks I have tried to figure out.

    When my daughter cries, she cries hard. Heart-wrenching wails that can be heard from one side of the house all the way to the other. There’s never a doubt that her little lungs aren’t strong. That being said, whenever she cries like that, I instantly want to scoop her up in my arms and comfort her. Cuddle her little face and body until the crying stops. Sometimes she cries because she is hungry or needs a diaper change like any other child. Sometimes she does it because she specifically WANTS to be held, which I don’t want to deny her either. At the same time, I also know that she needs to learn how to self soothe. To have the alone time to calm herself down, because that is also something that babies need to learn.

    Finding that balance of it all, has to be one of the hardest things I have ever had to deal with. How are you supposed to know when it is or isn’t okay to scoop them up? How am I supposed to just stand there doing minor housework while my child is screaming her head off? I check her diaper often and make sure she is eating when she is hungry, but what about the times that she is crying when none of that is the issue? People tell me “You have to let her cry, she’ll cry herself to sleep,” but what about the times that she doesn’t? What am I supposed to do then?

    My partner and I have different approaches to the situations, but sometimes it seems like they are clashing. He goes the route of letting her cry it out, and can follow through with that fully. Be able to put her down in her chair and talk with her but also refrain from doting on her every whim. Check the necessities, but still maintain a sense of alone time and distance. Whereas I struggle with that. I let her have alone time in her chair but still find myself interacting with her, talking with her, playing with her little hands and feet. It keeps her happy and smiling, she doesn’t overly fuss and will still hang out in her chair long enough for me to be able to get small tasks done. But it feels like that those little interactions make it so it’s difficult for my partner to put her down fully. She instantly cries and wants to be picked back up, or to be interacted with. Am I the problem? It genuinely feels like I am at times.

    At the same time, if I put her down and she wails while I am doing a task, people have told me that I am being negligent or ignoring her. Which I don’t want that to be the case either. I love my daughter and don’t want her to feel like she is being ignored. Nor do I want other people to think I am being a bad mother, but I also don’t know the way to balance what I have to do with what I want to do, or what people tell me to do. It’s all so overwhelming and no matter what I do I feel like I’m falling short. I do think to myself about what that one mom told me “mind your own motherhood” and I try to let that apply when I am interacting with other mothers and taking advice with a grain of salt. But as time went on it became difficult to not let it feel like it all stacked up against me.

    I’ve recently been able to get some alone time in for myself. But even then I feel like I’m not letting myself enjoy or fully use it. My partner is taking care of her on his days off from work, so I can get some tasks done, but it seems she won’t settle for him or sleep well. She won’t let him put her down even for a second, and it feels like that is a reflection on me and how I have been taking care of her while he is working. I find myself checking in constantly when I’m supposed to be working on things or taking time to breathe. That in itself probably isn’t the best, seeing as I’m not even giving myself the alone time that is needed. That being said, I know I need to do better. I need to do better for myself, so I can do better by our daughter. I have to learn to not give in to every little cry, that yes she is a baby and needs attention and social interaction, but that she also needs to be able to play and coo on her own at times to.

    Its hard, almost feels impossible at times, but for the betterment of the both of us, I know I have to try harder. Do better to find the balance of togetherness and alone time. Be able to let her cry and self soothe, while still letting her know that we are here. Interacting and cuddling with her, but also make it so she can be set down for a time and not immediately freak out. Will finding that balance be an easy task? From what I have experienced so far, no it will not. But I know for our shared wellbeing, it will be worth it.

  • The Bonds That Matter

    When you bring a child into the world, there are many different things that you will go through. From getting used to the child and their own quirks, finding a rhythm and balance of routines, to trying to regain your own sense of self. One of the things I found to be the hardest though, is keeping and managing the relationships with the people around me. It’s something you wouldn’t think you have to have a full grasp on, but it’s quintessential in the learning curve. The term “It takes a village to raise a child” is very true, especially if you want to keep a firm grasp on reality. But it means nothing unless you truly have a village at your back. To be able to have that, you have to find the balance of interacting with the ones you love and respect.

    When you are sleep-deprived, baby brained, and hating the way you feel and look, the last thing you want to do is interact with anyone outside your immediate household. Speaking from experience there. Many times people would want to visit, to see us and interact with our daughter, and many times I just wanted to skip out. I was tired. My brain felt like walking in a constant fog, and sometimes it still does. I hated the way that I felt in my own skin, and I didn’t like the thought of having to put on “real clothes” and entertain people, when I’d much rather sit in bed and cuddle my daughter. But to deny her family and our friends from being able to interact with her, could also cause some major backlash that I wasn’t fully prepared for.

    I constantly felt ragged and run down, but felt guilty for saying “No” or turning people away. Family members have the right to see the baby, as do friends. I just didn’t feel like keeping up appearances. People will tell you “you’re new parents, it doesn’t matter what you look like, we just want to see you” but my partner and I still felt the need to run around and tidy up the house before people came over. Or at least felt the need to apologize for the state of the house or ourselves as soon as someone walked in the door. More often then not there were only a few dishes in the sink, or laundry half folded on the table. Minor things that most people would look over and not care about. Most of the time people were only stopping by for a few minutes, just to say “hello, how are you? The baby is beautiful” and then head on their way. But sadly it all just felt like one more chore to add to the list. As time went on, I wanted to deal with it less and less. But in doing so, it also added more weight and strain to our already heavy shoulders.

    There were a few people in particular that I found it easier to interact with. My and my partners parents being some, because they had dealt with kids and parenting already, so they knew the ins and outs, and we were able to get things done while they were interacting with our daughter. Errands could be run, chores could get handled, this was also time that we could use to take a moment and breathe. My best friend was another that allowed this. My home was my rock, my stable place, and She was another that allowed me to feel stable. Without her there were times I would have mentally and physically lost my marbles.

    These people are the ones that made me realize what “it takes a village” actually meant. They were the people that truly had your back and could help you manage the weight of being a new parent. They didn’t care about mess, or what you wore, they just wanted you happy and healthy. These were the relationships that didn’t take strain or fussing, and it was a relief to have them. That’s not to say that they didn’t take work still, because they did. They still do. It takes checking in, and vocalizing feelings and intent. But these are also the relationships that don’t make you feel guilty for saying “No”. They take it in stride and say “okay, maybe next time” and move on, because they know you are tired, and running yourself thin. They know your brain and don’t want to add on to the fog of it.

    These bonds don’t add extra weight to your life, they try to carry it with you. Likewise, they don’t criticize for what you haven’t done, but offer to help get it done, or give you the time to do it. They are your village, the ones that have your backs and want to watch you thrive, not just placate society standards and move on. These are also the people that know and understand you are overwhelmed with new and learning things every day, so they check in first instead of waiting for you to reach out. They are the ones that love, and they should be cherished at all costs. Because there will come a time when all seems run down and bleak, like you can’t keep your head above water, and these people will be the ones plunging into the waters to bring you up for air. They will be your life raft. They are the bonds that matter.