Things bringing me joy this week

My husband stopping me to put his hands on my belly and kiss his baby boy underneath

Hearing my son say “I love you daddy” (seriously, how could this get any better?)

The smell of my favorite spring-time perfume

Getting our tax refund and breathing a gigantic sigh of relief as we head towards maternity leave

Finishing a really fantastic book, knowing that I took the time to do something I really enjoy

Having my eldest little baby curl up in my arms while my youngest taps away in my belly

45 more days until the next phase of our life begins. I can’t wait to love another little boy with the all consuming, life-altering love that I have for Jack.

Things bringing me joy this week

The perfect chocolate croissant and coffee in the early morning.

The pinkish hues popping up everywhere lately.

Talking with my Tootsie and feeling transported back to dorm nights when life was full of carefree happiness and self-reflection.

Rubbing my sleeping son’s chubby little baby toddler feet in the palm of my hand.

Asking Glenn if he would still hold my hand when we’re old and wrinkly and him responding, “I solemnly promise to always hold your hand.”

I’m still working on my “theme” for this year. I haven’t quite found a word (or phrase) that encompasses everything I want to work on, but I’m getting there. Until then, I figure I’ll just bask in the things that bring me joy.

As A Mom: My Body During Pregnancy


A while back a friend and I had a long conversation about our bodies and how our view of them have changed over the years. This discussion sparked a longer thought process as I began to consider how my body, and view of it, has changed since pregnancy. Long overdue considering Jackson is over a year old, but important nonetheless.

My experience is in no way a reflection of anyone else’s experience with their body during or after pregnancy. Not only do women have vastly different pregnancies, but each are colored by personal history, perceptions, and reactions. This is the reason I won’t talk about my tiger stripes (I was already indifferent about my plethora of “doughnut stripes” long before I ever got pregnant), failing to gain weight (ha, no problem there), or the experience of delivering naturally (I ended up getting an emergency cesarean after a glorious epidural.)

Caveats aside, I do believe one of the most obvious and daily experiences during pregnancy was not actually a product of my body itself. Rather, the moment I told people I was pregnant, it almost seemed as though my body became public property. How many women have shared their experiences with a waiter denying them coffee, a coworker commenting on their food choice, or dear lord- their weight? I would assume the vast majority of pregnant women have had at least one experience pregnant that they would never have otherwise.

With Jackson, I barely showed until 7 months in, whereupon a loving and doting coworker told me that I didn’t look fat anymore, I just looked pregnant. Later, after coming back from maternity leave, another coworker was astounded by how “great” I looked, considering how “huge” I got before I left. These, honestly, were hilarious to me- probably for the main fact that these women would never have said something of this nature at any other time. And yes, pregnancy does have a tendency to make someone comically large, so I get it- I really do. Sometimes you can’t help yourself.

Honestly, what was stranger was when someone would comment on something I should or shouldn’t do anymore. I remember how mind-blowingly weird it was when early in my pregnancy I got excited and jumped up and down, only to be told that I shouldn’t be jumping. At seven weeks, my mind has just begun to wrap around the concept that there was something the size of a blueberry nestled inside my body, it couldn’t even fathom how jumping four inches off the ground could threaten its survival. But time and time again I was told I should no longer do the things I had always done without a thought. I went in to pregnancy knowing this would happen later as my belly grew and got in the way; but even in my first trimester I was protected from carrying a case of water, moving a folding table, etc. Having always had a strong body, I was suddenly being told to resist doing things that I had never considered difficult. It was very hard to reconcile this new state with my old body identity.

I know without a doubt that this and any other comment I received while pregnant was made with love and protectiveness, and not only for me but also my unborn child. Of course I made a few playful retorts, but I really did try to take this advice as the ultimate form of compassion. Nevertheless, it is very bewildering when you are suddenly being told how to function when you’ve been functioning fine all along.

In the same vein was the profound realization that I was vulnerable for the first time in my life. Not that it was the first time I was actually vulnerable, but certainly the first time I actually physically felt like I could no longer “go to bat” if a situation required it. I spent months processing this new information. Having always been a tall and fairly large woman, I rarely ever felt nervous about my surroundings. I knew it was unlikely that anyone would ever try to start anything, and if they did- at least I knew I could fight back. More concerning was knowing that if something was ever happening to Glenn that I wouldn’t be able to help. I know that not many people consider this the women’s “role” in the relationship, but I have always felt the need to protect those I love. However, as Jackson grew inside my belly, I knew that his life came first. It wasn’t that my arms were weaker, or I was slower (though that definitely happened too), but rather that I couldn’t place him in danger. He was vulnerable, and thus I was completely vulnerable too.

This vulnerability and protectiveness has continued to have a profound effect on how I navigate the world since Jackson was born. While I once was too overprotective, often willing to put myself in harm’s way for others, I’ve become more protective over my child and myself. It’s not surprising that I’m this way for my child, but I’m still surprised by the change towards myself. I guess that makes sense though, right? Now that my well-being directly affects my child, it’s no wonder I consider it a higher priority.

While I often thought of how my body was changing physically during pregnancy, it was how this affected others and my actions that really caused me to pause. This, more than anything, shaped my view of my body during that transitional period.

My 2017 Bucket List

Hello! Happy to see you this new year.

As Adele says, “Hello from the other siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide”

*Ba dum tiss*

Yea, I know I’m about 10 days late to the party. The champagne has long been drank (I know, I drank it), the ball has dropped, and several million people have already failed their New Year resolutions.

That’s where I come in. By pure tardiness alone, I’ve already won over them ALL.

Just joking.

No, I’ve actually been planning my 2017 Bucket List for weeks now. WEEKS you guys. And I keep rewriting it!

Let me back up, lest you get lost.

A long, long time ago (2014), in a galaxy far, far away (my couch), I decided that only one bucket list a lifetime was for losers. Instead, I began a tradition of creating a yearly bucket list of activities I want to experience. This is anything from a breathtaking hike, dancing at a concert, experiencing something (anything!) new, going on a fun trip, etc. While I cross off activities throughout the year, I update my list with a brief note and the date. By the end of the year it kind of functions like a condensed journal. Fun idea, right?

[As a queen of lists, I also have my lifetime bucket list, organized by degree of effort and scale of travel, but we’re going to ignore this one for now because I do not have enough time to delve into that vat of crazy.]

So- 2017! What do we have in store for me?

Truthfully, it’s been a bit hard to really think of items to do this year. Previous years seemed so simple, but I was young and naïve and had a lot more time on my hands. This year, I’ve also really felt the need to include a stronger push for a new subsection, “Be A F*cking Adult”.

That’s why I’ve struggled, I guess. In the past my goals were mainly focused on activities to cross off, fun to be had, and while I certainly want to keep this ridiculously important aspect of my life, I also strongly feel the need to include items I would never have included before. And then it turned into a revolving door of self-reflection and that tedious question, “dear god, is this who I am now? I do not do resolutions!”

Guess what buttercup? I have some d*mned resolutions.

So here we go. I’ve organized it…. because of course I would.

_ Go to a concert (Backstreet Boys) – March
_ MS Walk with Glenn and Jack- April
_ Alzheimer’s Walk with Jeni- October
_ Go on a crazy beautiful hike with Glenn
_ Go on a vacation with Glenn, just the two of us
_ Buy dinner for someone in real need
_ Go to a drive in movie with Glenn
_ Work on a headstand
_ Practice calligraphy
_ Go to a concert with Glenn
_ Seriously, join a damn book club (if you can’t tell, this one has been a previously unfulfilled goal on many other years)
_ Complete the yoga challenge: 10 days of yoga CLASSES (none of this at home bs)
_ Become a constant donor to a charity
_ Enjoy wine and cheese at an outdoor movie with Tootsie
_ Take mom indoor skydiving
_ Go to an indoor trampoline gym

Long-term Goals:
_ Do an outdoor activity with Jackson at least once a weekend
_ Do an outdoor activity with myself at least once a weekend
_ Distance self from constantly checking Facebook (or other media) on my phone. Put it away from the time I get home until after Jackson is in bed
_ Spend more one on one time with Glenn
_ Be more generous. Don’t expect anything in return
_ Try to be more patient with everyone
_ Spend more time with Jackson and less time doing unimportant things

Be A F*cking Adult:
_ Create a living will with Glenn
_ Stop cursing (we really don’t need Jackson saying *sshole)
_ Work on your social skills at work (…and everywhere else)
_ Build up this blog into a legitimate working machine. Not for profit, per se, but as something I can be proud of.
_ Start my 401k (seriously though)
_ Save $1500 in personal savings

As the year goes on I will inevitably add to this list. Usually it’s when I do something cool and add it on so I can check it off again. What can I say, I like being efficient. Nevertheless, at the end of the year I will repost this list with my notes on what I did, what I didn’t do, and how the year went in general. I do really hope to make solid progress on not only the fun activities, but some of the more serious matters as well.

What’s on your list, fellow resolutioners? Do you usually strive to become better in some way, or are you more like me and just look forward to all the fun you’ll have this year? Do you have a bucket list or five?

As A Mom- Singing

At least once a day, I’ll note how I’ve changed since becoming a mother. It could be anything as simple as letting a friend know that any night out must begin before 7pm, regardless of the activity. Or it can be as big as watching my son and husband roughhouse and feeling more love than I ever knew. Some are big, most are small. But I have found that one interesting result of having Jackson is how I sing.

I’ve never been much of a singer. I grew up surrounded by people with beautiful voices- a cousin who practiced opera, my first boyfriend who was in choir his entire life (to this day), many, many friends, and so forth. And I tried, on several occasions, to follow in these footsteps.

Let me get to the point and say that it never turned out well. I will never forget the look on my sweet first boyfriend’s face as he tried to think of a kind way to tell me the bad news.

So I resigned to singing alone in my car with the windows up and the radio blaring. When I pulled up to a stop light, I would stop so none of the other passengers would be able to see (or worse, hear) me.

As my husband, Glenn has absolutely heard me sing the most- but I have to admit I still feel a ping of embarrassment when I try to hit a note that I have no business trying to hit. He’s a sweetheart though and never mentions it.

But something changed when I became pregnant. All of a sudden, it became absolutely imperative that I find a song for my baby that they would have for the rest of their lives. More than a lullaby, I wanted something that could randomly show up and remind them just how much I love them and how much they mean to their father and I.

We didn’t know at the time whether Jackson would be a boy or a girl, but I knew it was especially important to find the right song for a son. It seems that nowadays, songs about men are generally quite demeaning- either emphasizing the guy being an idiot, or expressing how horrible he is to women. That wouldn’t do for my sweet baby, if he were a boy I wanted him to know just how loved and special he was.

I decided on the Carpenters, “Close to you.”

An odd choice, I imagine, for anyone that didn’t grow up with my mom. But it echoed the sentiment I wanted my son to feel.

Why do birds suddenly appear
Every time you are near?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you

Why do stars fall down from the sky
Every time you walk by?
Just like me, they long to be
Close to you

On the day that you were born the angels got together
And decided to create a dream come true
So they sprinkled moon dust in your hair
Of golden starlight in your eyes of blue

Over my pregnancy, I would practice this song over and over and over. Not only did I hope my little one would hear it and remember it once he was born, but I honestly also hoped to get better at singing it.

I don’t remember the first time I sang it to him after he was born. It seems odd that I don’t, since it had become so important in my mind. It was likely once we got home, though it’s possible I had sung it to him once we got out of the more intensive sections of NICU, where there was a little more privacy. Nevertheless, it’s the song that I still sing almost nightly.

In the year and a half that I’ve been singing to Jack, I can honestly say several things. One, I’ve gotten significantly better at singing it (though I’m no Karen, let me tell you). Two, while babies love listening to you sing in their first year of life, later on it means they’re going to bed and they are no longer as happy to hear it. And third, I know without a doubt that someday he will love hearing it again.

When I reflect back now, I remember how much I would love hearing my mom sing when we were younger. I always thought she sounded beautiful and always wanted to hear her sing more. Never once did I judge her voice, it made me feel safe and loved. And I hope that’s what Jackson feels when he hears me singing.

I will never join a choir, I will never sing loudly in a room full of people (I’m not sure when this would ever happen, but I wouldn’t do it nonetheless), and I still sing in my car with the windows up and the radio blasting.

But I do feel much more comfortable with my voice. It’s not perfect, but it brings my baby comfort (when he’s not screaming that he doesn’t want to go to bed), and that’s more than enough for me.

I’ve already decided what the next baby’s song will be. A little preemptive, but once you know, you know.

Wise men say only fools rush in
But I can’t help falling in love with you
Shall I stay
Would it be a sin
If I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows so surely to the sea
Oh my darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
So take my hand, and take my whole life too
‘Cause I can’t help falling in love with you

Like a river flows so surely to the sea
Oh my darling so it goes
Some things are meant to be
So won’t you please just take my hand, and take my whole life too
‘Cause I can’t help falling in love, in love with you
‘Cause I can’t help falling in love, falling in love,
I keep falling in love with you

Ingrid Michaelson, “Can’t Help Falling In Love”

Finding Time

Before I had kids, I thought I was busy. I know that sounds pompous and haughty, but it’s not meant to be. I feel like every stage in life gets more adultier. More boring yet necessary stuff requires your time and thought, and you get to do less fun stuff. When I got married, I noticed a direct upswing in the amount of work I had to do every night, and when I had Jackson, it tripled.

Every day for over a year, I would get up at 5 am, get myself and Jack ready, drive an hour and a half to drop him off and make it to work, work for 8 hours, pick him up, hit about an hour and a half to two hours of traffic, cook, and do some variation of dishes, bath time, bed time, and prepping for the next day. This is if I didn’t have any errands to run during the day and doesn’t count the often extra little chores like sweeping/mopping, tidying, etc. that are required throughout the week (my son is a modern day Taz and my home is always one step away from an utter wreck.) Luckily my husband and I have established a good tag team effort, and as of a few months ago, my father has started coming to our home to babysit, thus taking out anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half of commute time a day. Hallelujah.

That being said, there’s really not a lot of free time in my day. There is always after Jack goes to bed, but this time is pretty limited since I should prioritize my sleep as I wake up early. To be completely truthful, this is usually the first thing to go so I can fit more in my day, but I’ve been attempting to be better at it lately.

A few months ago, around the time I began this blog, I realized how much I missed doing things that were “me”. I have since made it a point to try and find ways to carve out time within my day that I can use for things that are important to my wellbeing. One of my work friends wakes up at 4am to complete a workout before her day. She’s crazy impressive. I am not like this. Instead, my moments are sporadic, here and there throughout the day. I’ve noticed that as long as I realize that these things don’t have to be more than short bursts, I’m more willing to put the effort into doing them. And while they do require that effort, they have proven to be so much more beneficial than staring blankly at Facebook for 20 minutes (which I also do daily, no judgement).

Listen to podcasts

As stated earlier, I spend a lot of time commuting. A LOT. And I hate driving. So much. It’s ridiculously boring and if I could, I would definitely buy one of those cars that would drive me everywhere without me having to pay attention. Or I would get a chauffeur.

Not being made of money, I was lucky enough to stumble on the podcasts app on my phone. I know, everyone knows about this- it’s not new. I’m technology inept, so trust me- this was a HUGE deal. Since discovering the wide world of podcasts, my commute to work and back every day has expanded to a time that I really enjoy. I listen to my weird and quirky side with science fiction podcasts, like Lore, Limetown, and The Bright Sessions. I learn things I’d never even think to ask with podcasts like Stuff You Missed in History Class, TED Radio Hour, and This American Life. Hell, I even listen to a podcast specifically made for Gilmore Girls fans (yes, this is a thing. Gilmore Guys. You’re welcome).

There are so many wonderful shows that I can tap into whenever I want. And while not the same quality as a Pulitzer Prize winning novel or some book on ancient Athens currency, it’s sometimes semi educational and almost always interesting in a way that the Kardashians will never be.

Walking/Stairs on Break

This one was definitely not my original idea. You know the friend that wakes up at 4am to work out? Yea, it was hers. She’s been doing it for a long while, and one day as I sat all fat and lazy I asked if I could join her. Thankfully, she said yes and this has absolutely been one of the steps that led me to finally losing baby weight and getting back to a healthy lifestyle. It wasn’t a full workout, just a mere 15 minutes. I figured I can do anything for 15 minutes. I can especially do anything that doesn’t require a change of clothes or driving somewhere.

This mindset has since extended into my night when I started to work on my core strength by slowly working up the time I could plank. When I began, I literally dedicated less than a minute to it. Now it’s up to two and a half minutes, but dude- it’s two and a half freaking minutes. And I don’t even do it every night. For something that takes so little time though, it has had a surprising affect. I feel stronger and my arms have toned a bit, to the point where a friend even noticed after not seeing me for a few weeks. Can’t get better than that.

Dancing in the Living Room

Glenn actually started this one. Sorry, this isn’t a “How I fixed my life in 10 steps” but more like, “How I stumbled upon doing these things and oh, that’s cool- I’ll keep doing it.” So dancing. You know what’s better than dancing alone like a fool to loud, heart pumping music? Doing it with a super handsome guy and an adorable toddler who laughs and interpretive dances with you.

Ditching My Husband with the Toddler to Take a Long Shower

Poor Glenn knows this well. When I feel like I need some alone time, he’s kind enough to distract the little dude long enough for me to bolt to our bathroom, shut the door, and ignore the screams of my darling son calling for me on the other side. Pretty smelling scrubs and lotions help the sound barrier. Joking aside, bless this man because I know I take extra-long showers when it’s been one of those days.

Once upon a time, when Jackson was still a glimmer in our eyes and I had my spa style bathtub, I would spend an hour or two lounging in the hot water, candles and all. With an upgrade in children, an upgrade in home, and no more tub- this looks a bit different. But I’m the indulgent type, and while the candles and reading while submerged are no more, I certainly turn up the music and use all the smell goods I can get my hands on.

Writing Here

Since starting this space to just write and have a place solely reserved for the little things that make me happy, I really feel like I’ve been rediscovering (and just discovering) what interests me. Not all of it is important, most of it is just fleeting moments, but it gives me a space to just be. Like the zen you find at the top of a mountain while watching the sun set, just a hell of a lot more superficial. That’s cool though, I already have a lot of incredibly deep and intense other aspects of my life. Like podcasts and body scrub, my quiet time typing and looking at pretty things can just be what it is. And if, along the way, I find a little peace in my day, then I’ve accomplished my goal.

I’m still a far cry away from having the typical set of hobbies that I once used to encompass, but I’m getting there.

PS: In the time it took me to type this up, I helped Glenn fold a load of laundry and put Jackson back to bed after he woke up. Even my breaks require breaks.

PSS: Now it’s 11:30. Maybe I’ll sleep more tomorrow night.

Quiet Time: Introversion

Wow the past few days have flown by. Even though everything we’ve done since the weekend has been completely amazing, I am feeling so worn out and it’s only Tuesday. I am seriously craving some quiet time.

Over the past few years I’ve been seeing more coverage on introverts. Maybe it’s just because I finally put a term to my personality and being aware of that made me more aware in general, or perhaps it’s just a subject getting more press time. I first noticed it after reading the book Quiet, and have since seen references throughout the articles, blogs, and oddly enough- memes.

A coworker sent this to me as a joke but only in the “nailed it” kinda of way

All in all it seems like there are two major courses that these media forms take on the subject. The first is the perpetuating of the stereotype “I really just want to be alone,” and the other is the rally cry “introverts are just as awesome as extroverts” (the latter of these is why I wasn’t a huge fan of Quiet). I get both- we really do like our quiet time. Also mainstream society, at least in the US, really does push the extrovert tendencies (and the bold personality). But introverts are pretty awesome- we’re not going to waste 2 hours of your day in some bull**** meeting. These are the facts and this is what we need to do. You’re welcome.

Of course, we’re not all one in the same. I love being around one or two people that I know well: less and I’m lonely, more and after a few hours I need a nap. I wear earplugs to do any kind of work that needs focus (side note: how can people concentrate when they have music on, especially with singing?! It boggles my mind). I have an incredibly hard time talking about a subject that doesn’t interest me or don’t feel like I can contribute to. I’m sure there have been dozens of times that I’ve come across as rude simply because I drew a complete blank when trying to make small talk with a stranger. Just white space and the hum of silence…

Sorry stranger- it’s not you, it’s definitely me.

So I’m glad that introverts are getting more press time- if they actually are that is. If not, carry on nonetheless.

Have you seen more coverage about introversion in the past few years? Do you identify at all with some of the introvert characteristics, or do you think it’s all kind of ridiculous since no one can be all or nothing? Do you like to hide in your office? Also- does not being able to listen to music while you work actually an introversion thing? I mostly just included it because it involves people singing and my brain can’t process both the information coming through my ears and that coming from my eyes.


Stepping aside from this rambling word slew, I still have two posts from this weekend that I’m still brewing on. They were particularly awesome events and I want to give it a worthy post, so I really don’t want to rush it just to get it out there, but they are coming. And I’m kind of proud of one in particular so you should definitely check back in a few days.

Lean in

I recently became aware of the MyIntent project, a foundation created to promote conversations and community through jewelry inscribed with the wearer’s “intent”. The words range greatly (compassion, why, freedom, purpose, etc.), much like the people wearing them, but all mean something significant to the wearer.

One piece had the words “lean in” written across its surface. These words caught my attention and haven’t let go.

I have a habit of shying away from things that scare me. This is especially true with my writing. Ever since I graduated in 2011 and began my career (as an editor of all things), I have become increasingly fearful that my writing is not adequate enough. As a result, I’ve written less and less in both my personal and profession life.

This is silly. Not only was I distancing myself from something I truly enjoyed, I was also distancing myself from the very practice that could help me become better. Like an ostrich burying its head in the sand (which is not a real thing, thanks Wiki!)

Just over a week ago, I clicked on an article which discussed how one might enter a technical writing position, a career move I’ve entertained for a few years but haven’t actually taken the steps to engage. After a few paragraphs, I began to get that familiar antsy feeling in my chest- fearing that I wasn’t good enough- and I moved to close out the window. But just as I was about to, I leaned forward instead. Instead of succumbing to my irrational fear, I just accepted it as a fear and continued on. And, surprise surprise, by the end of the article I felt more than confident that this was something I could do with some preparation and training.

Then I leaned in some more. If I was going to take this new path, I would have to take a few other steps.

Voila*, this blog was born. This may never go past myself, my husband, and a few friends (it may not even get to my friends), but it is one step I’m taking to take control of my fear and one more step in practicing my skill. It will definitely not be perfect, and I will definitely make mistakes, but I’m just going to lean in and accept all that comes as a result.


*Italic means a fancy and much exaggerated French accent, obviously

Finding your passions (again)

I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been an all or nothing person. I’m either completely in to something, or I can’t make myself interested. This is something that’s proven a challenge from time to time.

Until I find that something.

Then the heavens open up and the stars align and I am IN MY ZONE. During these seemingly magical moments, I feel a complete peace within myself.

Reading and I are old friends. We have been synonymous with one another since I first put sentences together. Journaling gives me a profound sense of recording my past, and in a way allows me to revisit it at any time. Over my early twenties, kayaking, cooking, and travelling all became an innate part of my identity.

Then I became a mother and suddenly I didn’t have the time for these things anymore.

(Let me pause with the obvious disclaimer that my little boy is much more important than whatever I’ve given up. Because, for lack of a better term, duh.)

It was interesting going through that first year not quite understanding who I was anymore. For so long, so many of these activities shaped who I perceived myself to be: how I spent my time, how I defined myself. I had gone through this slightly when I got married, when I spent more time with my husband and less by myself. But there is a big difference between watching a show together after work and being a full time parent.

In the past year I have read approximately one book and started three others before losing interest because they weren’t worth my limited spare time. Cooking is less of a relaxing pace and more of a race to get dinner on the table before bedtime. While I have travelled, it is far different to go on vacation with an infant than when you can decide to go to Las Vegas and be out the door within an hour. I haven’t even touched my kayak.

I have been able to get creative in several of my friends’ and families’ celebrations, and I pinterested the crap out of Jackson’s first birthday. But these projects were much less a daily (or even biweekly) relaxing time and more of a rush to finish while Glenn took care of Jack. It’s not the same when you’re feeling guilty for spending time on something frivolous when you could be spending time with your child.

That’s the other thing. While everyone says that you need to take time for yourself, it’s awfully hard to do it when your baby wants to spend time with you. (And, of course, laundry. We can’t forget laundry.) So, as a result, you do less.

And that’s where I am, I guess. I suppose I just haven’t decided what is so important to me that I take that precious time to enjoy it for myself. Frankly, I know that I also waste a lot of my day doing things that occupy my time but don’t bring me much joy. While an easy target, Facebook certainly is a good mind suck.

I still miss that all-encompassing passion. The will to stay up all night, losing yourself in a story where you forget who you are and take on the life of the main character. The moments when you can forget all your responsibilities (even the ones you love dearly), even for just an hour or two, and completely focus on something that thrills you.

I wonder if this is something we regain in time, when our babies come to rely on us less. Or is this a rite of passage? Do we lose that ability to completely separate ourselves forever, even if just for a short period?

I don’t think so.

Why you are here

Hell, I don’t know. Maybe you got here through a web search, maybe I linked it somewhere, or maybe you’re a friend or family member I made come and read. I’m very persuasive. You know who you are, but who am I?

I’m a new mother who’s just out of the first year of parenting. Yes, the nights of sleeping only 3 hours total, blown out diapers, and constant breastfeeding. So much time for introspection on how life has completely changed and what that means for you as a person. Not.

That’s why I’m here. Because that sweet, gorgeous little boy of mine is definitely my reason for living- but while I’m living, it’s nice to be a little self aware as well.

So this is a mommy blog, but not one focused on children. This is a reminder to remember me every now and then.

You know, whenever I find time in my day.