'Tis the season...

...to be sneaky. Not really. I need to work on my Santa skills. My son is a smart cookie. As he gets older, he will probably question how Santa has the time to carefully arrange the presents under the tree so that the size of the presents are in descending order and no alike wrapped presents are touching one another. That is, if my son chooses to believe in Santa Claus. I have decided I am just going to wing it. "How?" you ask. I don't know. I'm just going to wing that, too.

...to be crafty. Once again, Pinterest has made an impact on my creativity. I present to you an ornament containing my son's hospital hat and wrist band from the day he was born; carefully preserved in clear glass.

...to be thankful. I celebrated Christmas Eve with family. I celebrated Christmas Day with family. I am celebrating the day after Christmas with family. If it weren't for my little family (Me and Baby K) and my bigger family (everyone else, not limited to blood relation), I do not know where I would be. I am thankful and recognize how very blessed I am. This is one of the choices that I mentioned that I make every day. It is very easy to allow life and every day stress wear you down. It is very easy to focus on the negative so that our complaints are justified. It is very easy to allow others' bad moods affect our own. I have no room in my life for negativity. It won't be sunshine and rainbows every day, but it isn't a bad goal to shoot for. Besides, looking back it appears I don't know how to take the easy way out to begin with. :)

     From my little and big family to yours- Merry Christmas! Happy New Year! And may God bless you as much as he has me.

What's in a name?

     For those of you who read these ramblings of my experiences in motherhood, I have changed the name of my blog to encompass some changes in my life. The new name has a very simple meaning. Let's break it down into two parts, shall we?

     "Single Mom". I assume that my readers are smart. The phrase itself is easy to understand; the life of a single mother is not. Being a single mom is hard work, just like for any parent. This single mom battles frustration, exhaustion, loneliness, financial strain, mom-guilt, etc. But, I embrace the pride that follows a successful day. I relish the hugs and random drool kisses. I wake up every day and make the choice to be strong, courageous, determined, thankful, and positive. That is a lot of choices to make when you are barely awake and your son is performing a ballet of "trust falls" and rail jumps in his crib at 6 a.m. when he should be sleeping. But, oh, that laugh of his. Music. His happy demeanor, thriving development, awesome health, and how he falls into an easy sleep are proof enough to me that I am rocking this mom thing :)

     "Double Shot". I know what you are thinking. Bring me ALL the alcohol!!! But that isn't the case or the meaning here. When I say "double shot" I mean, when I screw up I'm calling mulligan...until I get it right. And if I never get it right then it will be fine the way it is. I am not perfect. I will screw up. I get that. Besides, this mindset helps me battle the pressure of being a single mom and the scrutiny that it entails. And if that doesn't work...well, then line up the shooters and bring on the chocolate milk. Mama had a rough day :)

You know you're a...

I thought this would be a fun list. And I am sure the majority of you will relate. I call it "You know you're a mom/ grown-up when...".

Let's get started, shall we?

You know you're a mom/ grown-up when...

1. You get excited to see a parenting magazine in the mail instead of the latest Cosmo.

2. The only bottle you are willing and able to pass around is full of formula.

3. You used to be able to go for days on just a few hours sleep. Now you need days worth of sleep to make it a few hours.

4. A sloppy, drool kiss from a boy makes your day instead of ruins it.

5. Saturday nights are spent at home playing peek-a-boo instead of going out to meet-a-boo.

6. No matter how much you try to avoid mom hair, you look in a mirror a week later and realize things haven't changed, moved, or been brushed.

7. When you hear a crying baby you run towards it, not away from it.

8. Diaper commercials make you tear up. I do feel pretty, oh, so pretty. (This commercial makes me think of Kendrick when he wakes up in the morning. He grins huge!)

9. and lastly, you feel no shame in going to bed before 9 p.m.

Feel free to add yours to list! I appreciate humor :)

Happy Birthday to Me?

     Well, it finally happened to me. I turned 30 years old yesterday. I tried avoiding it but the universe didn't get my memo. Oh well.

     Looking back on this last year I am amazed, proud, blown away. I thought I would be horribly sad to be leaving my twenties. Does it suck? Yeah. But not too bad.

     During my last year in my twenties I had my little munchkin. My mom was 29 when she had me. It is a pretty awesome way to go out. I was born at 4:46 a.m. on May 29. (I am beginning to think the number 29 may have some significance). At 4:46 on the morning of my birthday, I was feeding my son. Ironic, huh? I finally started chasing my dream of going to college. Which is going great so far! And I am creating a home life that I have always wanted. See why it is so hard to let go of being 29?

     These last thirty years have been fun, exhausting, strengthening, and all together amazing. Looking at Kendrick, I often wonder how I got as far as I did without him. Or anyone in my life for that matter. I know I wouldn't make it now knowing what I have, and would be without.

     So I look forward to these next thirty years. They will be full of love, anticipation, excitement, and probably a fair share of annoyance from Nick! I can say that because he doesn't read these posts. I kid, but seriously.

     Thank you to everyone for the beautiful birthday wishes, your unrelenting support, and begrudgingly admitted love ;)

Awwwww, baby vomit!!

     Once in a while I like to do a recap on where I am in this significant journey we call mommy hood. I was thinking about how much my life has changed, how much my perspective has changed, and how gross babies really are...unless they are yours. Then boogers are cute.

     I gave up on sleep, and doing my hair. Make up on my face is a long lost dream. I had been trying to paint my toes for two weeks. Finally got that done. How bad is it that I felt a huge sense of accomplishment once the paint dried...on my toes, and carpet, and crib skirt? If you knew to look for it, you would see a pink trail from my living room couch into my son's room. So much for that nap.

Here are some more of my favorite things so far:

1. I laugh at throw up. And myself. And me covered in throw up. Because of this I have a burp cloth in every nook and cranny in the house. We were having a snuggle fest about two months back. While laying in the middle of our king-size bed, I was on my back with Kendrick on me tummy to tummy. He likes this because he can drool on my face better. We were playing and laughing, and he burped in my face. We chuckled.
     He then proceeded to throw up all over my chest. I was in a tank top. And I couldn't help but laugh when the most glorious grin spread across his face and he started laughing so hard he was shaking my stomach. So I found myself in a predicament- middle of the bed, on my back covered in throw up, gross baby, and nothing to clean him or me up with.
     I gingerly roll him off of me, let him lay there and laugh. I began the slow, agonizing journey of scooting toward the edge of the bed...on my back. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a laundry basket full of clothes sitting next to my wall. Eureka!! I get close to the edge, stick out my foot, and snag a tank top with my toes. I figured I came this far, why not make it fancy and flip the tank top up to the bed and catch it! Success. I managed to clean up the mess without getting any on the bed. Ninja-mom skills.

2. Silly me! The butter doesn't go in the dishwasher. You do funny things when you are tired. Or beyond tired. Or in a zombie state of sleep deprivation. I am usually sharp. On top of my game. Not so much anymore.
     Nick usually makes the coffee in the morning because he starts work sooner. One morning I was up making a bottle, and being the semi-awesome girlfriend that I am, chose to make the coffee so he could lay in bed a few extra minutes. Got it all together; all that was left was adding the coffee grounds. So naturally I grabbed the formula and started scooping it in. Mmm.
     While cleaning the kitchen, I have put the toaster in the refrigerator and the butter in the dishwasher. Yup. I think Nick looks forward to hearing me start cracking up randomly because he knows he is about to hear something good!

3. Mom brain. There is no cure. But it is a great excuse. Don't really have to explain this one. Mom brain is a convenient thing if you have done something stupid or forgetful and need to displace blame.

4. No matter how crappy a day or week has been, I have my boys and they have me. Sometimes, I even get flowers out of the deal. Kendrick went flower shopping with Grandma B. He waited until they were in the car to pick mine out. And by that I mean, he reached over to the planter on the seat next to him and disembodied some petunias on the trip home :) Luckily, Dad got me roses too because that poor petunia didn't last very long!

Salty Toes and Squishy Dough

Kendrick made Mother's Day presents for his Grandmas. I know it was a while ago, but I am a busy girl. Anyone else find it ironic that I blog about being a mom and yet I am just now getting around to this topic?

I digress.

Look at what my son made!!!!

A salt dough footprint and handmade card!

Here is how:

Salt Dough Footprint
1/2 cup white flour
1/2 cup salt
1/4 cup warm water

     Preheat oven to 200. Mix flour and salt. Add water. Mix then knead. May need to add a little flour here and there while kneading. You don't want the dough to be sticky...or crumbly. I formed a ball by tossing it from hand to hand, like a ball and mitt. Place dough ball on wax paper on a smooth plate. Place wax paper on the top as well. Flatten into a thick circle. I then made flat, circular motions on the top to give the dough a smooth surface. It makes for a good print! Remove the wax paper from the top only. Grab your munchkin! Kendrick's foot got stuck to the dough the first time so I put flour on his foot before making the impression. He looked at me weird...
     Once you make the impression and are happy with it, put it on a baking sheet and bake for 2 to 3 hours.
     Once it is done, paint it a color of your choosing. I chose a pearled paint so the foot indentations would show up nicely. I sprayed a clear gloss coat to finish it off!

Handmade Card
     I saw this idea on Pinterest and once again in real life. It is simple and fun.
    
     I cut a piece of construction paper in the Grandmas' favorite color. Then I placed drops and squiggles of acrylic paints onto the paper, placed it in a gallon size Ziploc bag, and sealed it shut. I placed the bag in front of Kendrick and let him just play with it to get the paint squished around. Once he was finished doing a phenomenal job, I removed the card and let the paint dry. I flipped it over and wrote a message to them from Kendrick! Voila!! Refrigerator art!

HAPPY FOOTPRINTING!!!!!!

Messy Baby

     I keep a clean house. Or what I consider to be clean. A lived in house shouldn't look like a museum. Mess gives character. Dirt gives me an eye twitch.

     Kendrick recently started solid foods. And I have to admit, making messes is fun. Especially when the mess is on a cute face. It tested my cleaning OCD the first time. I had a washcloth ready to go to catch the food fun.

     The first time he made a raspberry sound with his lips was with a mouthful of carrots. This is when I realized that the color orange looked good on me! The mess and the laughter that followed made me forget about the ready to go washcloth.

     This is his "What are you feeding me?" look. He loves the new experiences, and I love watching his expressions. He knows how to make a face! So far my favorite was his green bean mustache and gummy grin!

You're sucking the fun out of it!

     Whatever happened to letting kids be kids?
   
      I am a competitive person by nature, but when an extra-curricular activity or interest starts feeling like a job, then you are doing it wrong; or teaching it wrong. It's different if a child wants to try out for a sport, band, or school play. Practice, practice, practice! But, constructively criticize instead of picking them apart.

     I say this because just recently I took my nephew to his swim class. It was the third class in the series. I sat next to a mom and her dad. She had a child in the same level of the class as my nephew. During the entire 30 minute class they did nothing but pick apart the efforts of her kid. Apparently after your third class you should have the ability to out swim Michael Phelps, have perfect form, and be able to hold your breath for 5 minutes at a time. So after 30 minutes of picking this child apart, they said "Good job, buddy! It was perfect!" and that was all. They moved on to dinner plans. I roll my eyes.

     First off, unclench. You can't expect that much out of a 9 year old kid after his third class. It's ridiculous. Parents are often the reason a child gives up on something that started out as fun, and new to learn.

     Secondly, don't lie to the kid. What is he learning? They had no problem criticizing him when he was out of earshot, but when it came time to do it constructively they had nothing to say. The lesson doesn't stop when he gets out of the pool.

     And lastly, yes I am judging them. I didn't hide my side eye look from them either. Frankly, I don't care. I'm sure my parenting style will be judged constantly. But I will not be the reason my child gives up on something he was excited about or interested in.

    

And It Begins

My baby is becoming an independent person. I knew it was going to start happening, but I was not prepared for it to be so soon.

Kendrick has been sleeping in his bassinet in our room since he was born. We were obviously aware that this could not be a long term thing. Since the risk of SIDS gets drastically lowered at six months, I figured we could make the full transition then. And it would give me time to mentally prepare. A couple of months ago we started putting him in his crib for naps to get him used to his room, but had yet to put him in there overnight.

He had other plans last night. At 7 p.m. he passed out. It is not unusual. He tends to take a 20 minute nap around that time, then will go down for the night no later than 9:30 p.m. So I put him in his crib for the usual nap time. Five hours later he is still sleeping.

I am not. It was weird. My baby boy was sleeping soundly in his own room. While I loved that he was sleeping so amazing, I wanted to be selfish, grab him up and bring him into our room. He woke up around 12:30 a.m., got a diaper change, and a bottle. I got snuggles and formula all over me. Not going to lie. I got teary eyed. I had missed him. From the time I got home from work to when he fell asleep, it was only an hour and a half. That is not enough for me to spend with him after being away all day.

So he falls back asleep. I had a choice to make. Bassinet or crib? I gathered him up, got some extra snuggles, and carried my sleeping boy to his crib. While I didn't like it at first, I know it was the right decision. There will be times where I am going to have to let him do his own thing. And while it was just another sleepy night for him it was a pivotal moment for me. Even moms take baby steps.

Although, in four years I am going to be a wreck when he goes to school. A teaching certificate may be in order for me ;)

You Have Poked the Mama Bear

And she is pissed.

A lovely lady in my mom group shared this little morsel of a blog post published on fwtx.com. Fort Worth, Texas: The City's Magazine apparently doesn't care about their reputation. I do not want to generate readership for them by posting a link in my blog, but I also don't want to infringe on publishing rights. So with a big "Screw you Molly Forthright!!" (the author of said blog), here is the link:

http://fwtx.com/blogs/fwvoice/distracting-behavior

If you take the time to read this posted link, awesome! If not, here is a quick recap. The author of the blog, who apparently has zero sensibility, is answering a Q&A concerning a mom who began breastfeeding while in church and the woman behind her was distracted from the sermon. The person that wrote in, who was distracted, wanted to know what the proper etiquette was for distracting behavior in church?

The author proceeds to answer with ICK!! Really? REALLY? Mind you the author is a mom herself. She makes it sound like the mom was walking around with her business hanging out for the world to see. How can somebody be so clueless? Here is some etiquette, reader: How about you stop staring at a woman trying to feed her child? How about you take some responsibility for not listening to the sermon? Don't blame your lack of effort to listen to the Pastor on a woman doing the right thing and taking care of her kid! Is she supposed to let her child starve? And don't even suggest she go to the bathroom. Do you eat your meals while sitting on the toilet? No? I didn't think so.

Successfully breastfeeding a baby is hard work. It takes dedication, determination and a very strong willed woman to overcome the hurdles that some face trying to give their baby the best their is to offer. And now Miss Forthright wants to compare that to clipping nails and eating tuna sandwiches in someone's face. I roll my eyes and curse her stupidity. Thanks for setting us back decades.

Women are pressured enough and side eyed as it is when it comes to the way they choose to feed their baby. I seriously hope the magazine thinks twice before they publish something so condescending.

Good for her. She got people to read her blog. Maybe now she will educate herself about the liberties that mom's have when it comes to feeding their baby in public.

I Am My Mother

The phrase "I will never be like you" is probably the most uttered during adolescent years. I know I have said it. I'm sure you have, too. What is so horrible about being like our parents? If you were blessed, like me, you were given great parents, a loving home, and just enough dysfunction to give you a sense of humor. So why did I say those words? Ignorance. 

There are two things in life that will make you look back on those years full of raging, teenage hormones and make you shake your head: Maturity and having your own child. One or the other will do the trick, but if you experience both you might as well add a head scratch to that shake. 

My 4.5 month old son has a new game and the rules consist of this: he pretends to cry and I have to give him attention and call him a cry baby. The prize is I get to hear his amazing laugh. Until I look away. Then the game starts over. The other day we were playing this very complicated game when I jokingly said, "I will give you something to cry about." I had to catch myself from looking around the room for my mom. That got me thinking of other similarities we have. We cry when we laugh, and we both hate grocery shopping with a passion. We put our families first and there is nothing we wouldn't do for them. 

Being like my mother isn't so bad. Just stop me when I start snorting when I laugh.

I Will Practice What I Preach

I have always been a dreamer. I like to stretch my imagination. Not to sound pompous, but I was blessed with a brain. I had goals and plans for my life. After high school, I was going to go to college. I didn't. I had no idea what I wanted to be when I "grew up" and it became a decade long excuse, among others.  I don't know what happened, but I got off track. Or did I? Maybe the concrete road to success was too smooth for me. Maybe,  I am more of a pot hole, bumpy road kind of gal. It seems that way.

I know how I got to where I am. Loud, fast and without regret.

But my son has changed me. I am patient, calm, and inspired. I want him to experience a great life. I want him to LIVE his life, and follow his dreams. But, how can I teach him that if I am not doing it myself? I don't want him to look at me one day and in response to something life changing or significant say, "Well, you didn't so why do I?"

I was curled up with him the other day, and he was just looking at me with his big, beautiful eyes and they were filled with trust and wonder...and eye boogers. So I gave him a bath and the whole time he was smiling and laughing, I was thinking of ways I could make my life better. For him.

The next day I dropped all the excuses, apprehension, and reservations I had and began the process of getting enrolled in college courses. So now I am a mom, an employee, a "housewife", and a student. Not a single person on this planet can look at me and say I am not trying.

I feel rejuvenated. And I have my son to thank for that. He is not even 5 months old and he has already inspired me so much.

I think the increase in posts I have written was my first clue!

It takes a village...

...or a Facebook group.

I wrote a post and made a joke about how Pinterest may end up raising my child. (Which reminds me that I must check my Pinterest.) At the time I didn't realize how social media or the internet would become such an integral part of my life when it came to raising my son. And not in the WebMD, obsessed way. In the "I have friends online that know what they are talking about" way.

I have always believed the old adage "It takes a village to raise a child". I am lucky enough that I have family and friends that watch Kendrick while his Dad and I are at work. It makes me sad that I miss some new funny thing that he does, but it makes me happy that they get to experience him growing into a fun, little person. But, I digress.

When I was pregnant, I often visited a website for moms and moms-to-be and had the pleasure of making internet mommy friends. Even though they started out as perfect strangers, they helped me keep my sanity, gave me sound advice,  made me laugh, and continue to give me amazing support. I felt like I was part of the Cool Moms Club long before Kendrick got here. We built friendships and eventually a Facebook group, that I will be the first to admit, I am addicted to. I've said it before. It's like match.com for pregnant chicks. Although we are all way past that stage. I love that I have these girls in my life. My online support group for sleep deprived moms!

So my point is this. I received some sound advice to never be afraid to ask for help. If you need it, seek it out. No one knows everything. And if you think you do, you don't know squat. Becoming a mom will teach you that. I was gearing up for taking on any and every challenge of mommyhood. Even though Nick was there to help, I had to learn how to ask for it. So I realize this now. It really does take a village.

My village just happens to be half digital.

So this is where I am...

I have had a few months to reflect back on, and frankly, I am surprised. Things I was ready for I haven't experienced, and have dealt with things I wasn't expecting. And I never thought I would second guess myself so much. But, I am happily bumbling my way through it all. And it has been interesting.

So, from my experience so far, these are things I would like to share.

1. Sleepless nights aren't as horrible as they sound.  Yes, the next day sucks, but you get through it. Whether having a baby was planned or not, you will do anything and everything for them. And if that means walking the halls, singing, bouncing, rocking, and feeling the disappointment of having to start over because he woke up when you put him down... then so be it. We were all helpless at one point in our lives, and thankfully we had someone get us through it. At least that is what I tell myself when sleep deprivation comes lurking.

2. Your inner beast will awaken, and she will be fierce. I knew I was going to be a mama bear, but I never realized how primal I would feel. I feel like I am walking around constantly "armed and ready" even though I know that my son is okay and safe. I fear for the person that wrongly crosses my path.

3. I know it's love because I'm paranoid. I look at my son and along with the positive emotions I get, I get what some would consider negative emotions. Such as, paranoia, protectiveness, and sometimes possessive. Those emotions would undoubtedly ruin any other type of relationship. But when it comes to my son, I feel those "negative" things because I LOVE him.

4. Some women feel that instant bond. Others don't. I didn't. We all hear stories of that moment when the baby is placed on a mother's chest and they feel an instant bond and a glow. I felt none of that. I felt relief first. Relief of the process being over. And I remember thinking "I'm not pregnant anymore". I felt elation and recognition. There was love there of course. He was the son I had been waiting to meet. Lastly, I felt disappointed that I didn't feel that bond some women so fondly speak of. Day one and I already felt like a bad mom. My time spent in the hospital, I searched for it. Through the daze of adrenaline and exhaustion, I knew it was there. It wasn't until a week after he was home that it clicked for me. After greedily eating a meal in my lap, he dozed off into a milk coma, with a sleepy smile. And I cried. I knew it wasn't hormones. This was what I was looking for. That moment when everything I had in my lap nestled in my heart. And it has been growing unabound ever since.

5. My heart is no longer my own. It's true when they say that having a child is choosing to have your heart walk around outside your body. I was on the phone, catching up with my sister, and she asked me what I had been up to. Nothing. Work and taking care of baby are all I do. She jokingly said "I want to know your heart and soul". Without hesitation I said "Well, my soul is laying next to me drinking a bottle". And it was true. I looked down at his handsome face and saw myself. A formula covered, drooling version of myself!

6. Stretch marks are something to be worn. I used to worry about body image, and when I got pregnant I knew I was in for an anatomical revamp. Now I don't mind. My stretch marks are battle scars. Stripes of courage, and badges of honor. I wear them with pride because the reason I got them is worth more than anything I could imagine.

7. My life has been consumed by everything baby. And not in the sense of diaper changes and bottles. He is always at the forefront of my mind. I smile when I pull into the driveway when I have been at work all day. I check on him sleeping and hope he is having sweet baby dreams. I force myself to only text my babysitter once to see how he is doing, because I could easily blow up their phone all day. Some may say I'm obsessed. But how could I not be? Being a mom to him is amazing.

8. There will be no need to hire a clown for birthday parties. I am said clown. It's amazing the ridiculous antics I have been reduced to just to hear him laugh and see his smile. My lack of dancing skills and face contortions are apparently funny to my son.

I could actually go on and on, but I will stop here. After all, it's only been almost 4 months. There will be lots more to talk about!!

I saw the sign...

*somehow this ended up on my other blog. Weird. I have since had my baby! :)

So if you know me or have been following my posts, you know that I am expecting my first child. I am 18 weeks along to be exact. About two weeks ago, we received the news that I was a carrier of Cystic Fibrosis, and another devastatingly scary genetic disease. Not gonna lie. I cried for days when I got the news. Apparently pregnancy is supposed to be stress free. I didn't get that memo.
     So in order to put our minds at ease, my boyfriend/ father of my child had the same genetic blood test done to see if he was a carrier as well. According to my doctor, 1 in 28 caucasians carry the gene. That covers both of us. Awesome.
     After a long two weeks of waiting for his results, I received the news and very excitedly passed it along that his results were negative. The baby is safe. So that morning...
    
     I got ready for work, thinking the whole time that my BF was my wild card and that his genetic makeup saved our baby from the possibility of leading a much tougher life than what this world will probably already give her, or him. (We don't know which yet!)
     For years, I wondered why I didn't have a child yet. I wanted it so badly. I had even been married at one point and I thought for sure a baby and a husband were part of my grand scheme.
     This thought process led me to believe even more strongly that I was meant to have a baby with Nick. What if someone I had been with in the past had been a carrier and we got pregnant? Would my child have been stricken with such a life altering disease? How would things have been different? That is why Nick is my wild card. And regardless of the hurdles we come across, we make it over together. And if we don't, we always seem to gravitate back together.
     After all this thinking and getting ready for work, I hopped into my car. And that is when my day turned into a scene, or scenes, from the movie "Bruce Almighty".
     I turned the key in the ignition, thanked my car for starting, and my ears were greeted with the chorus of Pat Benatar's "We Belong". I smiled.
     I got back to thinking of our baby and the disease and difficulty "she" was spared from. I thought of the possibilities of "her" life, and I vowed to make it amazing. As I did that, I drove by a church with a digital sign that read "He has shown merciful love".

     Had I not been paying attention, I would have missed these little affirmations. Needless to say, my faith has been restored in everything positive, pure, and good.

     A huge thanks to everyone that sent up prayers, offered support, and did some major positive thinking. I feel like I could take on the world right now :)