It's a Beautiful Life

Every eight years or so, my husband and I put massive amounts of pressure on ourselves.  I don't think we mean to, it just happens.
For example, let's flashback to August 2005.  We were as happy as humming birds dancing around a warm flower.  On July 30th, we said our wedding vows at a small chapel in the mountains of Gatlinburg, Tennessee and then spent our honeymoon in a log cabin.  While driving back to Indiana, we realized we had nowhere to live and I had no job.
That's okay, why sweat the small stuff, right?
During that eight hour drive, we sang a ridiculous amount of Third Eye Blind, ate too much fudge and found out that someone accepted our offer on a house and I received a teaching job at a middle school.
There was still some bad news.  We couldn't close on the house for a month which meant we had no home for a month. No offense to our parents, but we didn't want to shack up with them for our first month of marriage.
No problem.
We had connections to someone that rented us an apartment for a month.  Not a luxurious apartment by any means, but nonetheless, an apartment.
Phew.
Now, let's fast forward a bit.
August 2013.
Here we go again.
Right around the middle of August, we sold our house.  We'd had it on the market on and off for five years and finally, we sold it.  So exciting!
Well, except for the fact that I was nine months pregnant, just finished a beautiful nursery for our baby, and my husband and I decided we would definitely stay put in this house for a year.  You see, it took us removing our house from the market for someone to show interest in it.  Go figure.
We decided to accept their offer and look for somewhere to live.  I mean, it took us five years to sell it.
Why would we pass up the chance?
Not a solid plan.
An adventurous one.
Two weeks later, I gave birth to our beautiful son.  We were too distracted to think about packing and finding another house.  Luckily, the buyers couldn't close for a while so we stayed in our house for another six weeks.
But those six weeks went fast.  Way too fast.
At the end of the six weeks, we took about two days to pack up our belongings, mostly into trash bags, and moved in with my parents.
That's right.  I'd love to tell my 23 year old self, "Oh, by the way, in a little over eight years, you're going to move back in with your parents.  Also you have a baby."  Ha!
Our plan was to live with my parents until we found a house.  But we weren't finding any houses we liked so let's throw another wrench into our plans!
My husband interviewed for a job in Chicago and was a final candidate for it!
So then, our new plan was to wait until he heard about the job.
Funny, the business world seems to move quickly until they make a decision that hugely affects your life.
They took their sweet time deciding.
We were going on two months of living with my parents before they offered him the job.
Okay, now we had direction.  Problem solved!
We found an apartment in Chicago and moved our furniture in two weeks later.  I thoroughly hope our furniture and other belongings enjoyed their stay, because they were only there a week.
Something funny happened to us when we had a child.  We stopped thinking about ourselves all the time. Our strong desire to leave the place we were raised started to fade away.  We had to think about a little drooling, pooping, smiling, bouncing baby boy instead of ourselves.
And we couldn't leave our friends and families.
Our friends are having babies, our families adore our little one, and believe it or not 23 year old self, I really like living in South Bend, Indiana.
On a brisk December night, my husband and I decided Chicago was not for us.  And we love Chicago.  We wanted nothing more than to live there.  But when we actually were about to leave, we realized what we'd be leaving behind.  The past eight years, we planted roots in our community and we never even realized it.  We wanted our little guy to be a part of that.
As stated before, I hope our furniture enjoyed its stay.
We moved everything out of our Chicago apartment a week later and realized we were back at square one.
So here we are, about three and a half months of living with my parents.
That's okay.  This whole crazy mess was meant to be.
Why?
We found a house that we both felt was ours' as soon as we walked in.  And it's in the neighborhood we've always wanted to live in. We close in three weeks.
I'm sure eight years from now, my 40 year old self would love to tell my 32 year old self a few things.
I'm sure my 95 year old self will too.
Now I realize something.  I wish I could go back and tell my 13 year old self that Ace of Base was right.
It really is a beautiful life.

The Lonely Island (Please don't sue me for using your group name Andy, Akiva, and Jorma.)

Oh childbirth.  It comes along with a wave of emotions, thanks to a tsunami of ever changing hormones, a soft drink and a side of fries. One would think that with all these emotions, loneliness should be the last thing a mother feels.  But it's not.  In fact, after the first couple weeks of getting used to having a new baby, loneliness seemed to be my only companion.
This is a tough thing to understand and explain unless you've experienced it for yourself.  Perhaps it's part of the postpartum blues but loneliness certainly came knocking at my door.
My husband was still there, we had a number of well wishers and a new baby.  So why did I feel like an island?
I know there's probably scientific reasoning for this but I never researched it.  I didn't really have time.  I just kept telling myself, "It's the hormones.  They're messing with you.  This will pass."
And eventually it did pass.  Still, there are times when loneliness rears its ugly head.
Which makes me wonder if all new mothers feel this way.

I know.
This blog isn't that funny.
But that's okay.  This isn't really a funny topic.
It's also a short blog.
That's because I've had way too much caffeine this morning and I can focus on things for ten seconds at a time before I have to get up and focus on something else!
With that being said, let's end this blog on a high note before I vacuum, do the dishes and complete 100 burpees all in a five minute span!
Go!
Sure I may have felt loneliness and you may have too, or maybe you do now!  Life is full of different seasons and we should be grateful for each one, even if we'd like to forget about them and leave them in the dust.  If you are in a tough spot, it will pass.  It always does.
And soon enough, you'll feel like sprinting up a hill, probably after having too much caffeine, and shouting, "It's over and I'm ready to move on!  Let the games begin!"  And by games I mean the Olympics.  They're getting ready to start and they're always encouraging so you could watch those if you're feeling down.
Again, the caffeine is taking over as I am going way off topic.
This blog must end NOW before I take you on a journey through 20 other topics!
Thanks for reading!

A Hairy Situation

My hair...is a problem.  My cousin and I always complain about our hair we inherited from our grandmother.  It's thin, fine, and has absolutely no body.
About a year and a half ago, I decided enough was enough. I chopped it off!  Well, I didn't.  A professional did.  It looked great!  The picture you see along with my blog was taken while I had this hairstyle.  I loved it and received tons of compliments.
Then on December 28th, 2012, my husband and I learned we were pregnant!  One of the many joys I felt was the thought of my hair!  So many women said, "Just wait until you're pregnant!  Your hair will grow so fast and be so thick and wavy!"
Oh boy!
I couldn't wait!
 I pictured myself all plump in the summer with beautiful locks of golden hair kissing my shoulders while it danced in the breeze.
One problem.
My hair was short!  Solution?  I started to grow it out.  If it's in fact true that hair grows faster when you're pregnant, then mine should grow back in no time!  No problem at all!
Let me take you through my realistic experience.
My hair did not grow fast.  It did not become wavy or curly or have any sort of body.  In fact, I think it became more lifeless than before.  I waited until my second trimester to get highlights thinking this would help the problem.
Nope!
The color of my hair didn't even look good.
I know, I know.  Hormones do crazy things when you're pregnant.  In reality, my hair probably didn't look that bad to other people.  Just me.
Well, guess what?  Things didn't get better.
When I gave birth, it started to fall out.
Woohoo!
In the past, I've lost hair because of stress.  It's happened twice.  However, the hair always came back.
So here we are and it's been about five months since I've given birth and my hair still has not grown back.  I definitely look like I have a receding hairline...which I do.  My forehead could have its own zip code right now.
And no regrowth in sight.
There's really no theme or encouraging tone to this blog.  It's just a story.
A story of a girl and her hair.

Challenges

After having a baby, getting back in shape sounds about as appealing as eating eyeballs.  I'm one of those people that enjoy physical activities, so imagine my surprise when I had no motivation to move my rump post baby!  

I've always been a dedicated runner.  Ever since eighth grade track, I've been running.  Maybe it was cross country season, road races, track, whatever.  I was running!

Finding the gumption to kick it in gear after my baby was challenging.  Please don't be mad when I say this...

I had never been out of shape.  Never, ever in my entire life.  That is, of course, until I spent nine months growing a human, eating whatever was in sight, and gaining plenty of "water" weight.  

And no, I was not one of those talented women that ran a marathon the week before I was due.  No sir!  I stopped running around the three month mark.  Then, add an extra month or two for recovery time after giving birth and well, running didn't sound fun.

But I knew I had to do it.

I needed it.

Not because I wanted to lose weight. Nope, it's a part of who I am.

So, on a warm October day, I did it.  

It was slow.

Painful.

Horrifying.

My lungs burned like fire.

I think I did a mile.  A slow mile.  

But I did it.

My body definitely didn't feel the same as it had before a baby.  There was some extra jiggle in my butt and stomach area.  My chest weighed about a ton from producing all that milk.  My stride was short and my feet barely left the pavement.

But I did it.

During my first week of running, I saw a fellow runner I had coached in the past.  Bless his heart, he encouraged me and was impressed that I was running after having a baby.

Meanwhile, I was trying to muffle the sound of my heavy breathing and disguise the painful look on my face.  Perhaps he thought the sun was in my eyes.

 Still, I'm glad I saw him.  Sometimes you need encouragement from a fellow runner, especially if you don't believe in yourself.

What's the status now?  I still run.  It's nothing impressive.  I go for about a half hour.  

Soon, though, my favorite running partner and I are taking my son in the jogging stroller and doing miles upon miles.  I'll be slow compared to her at first, but I know I can do it.

Whatever your passion is, if you've lost it or had to put it on the shelf for whatever reason, go find it.

You won't be sorry.

A Day in the Life: Superman

A Day in the Life: Superman: "It's a bird!" "It's a plane!" "No, it's Superman!" My graphic novel loving husband will tell ...

Superman

"It's a bird!"
"It's a plane!"
"No, it's Superman!"

My graphic novel loving husband will tell you that Superman is not one of his favorite heroes.  He complains that Superman has almost every super power and his only weakness is kryptonite; something found on another planet.  It does sound like Superman has it made in the shade compared to other superheroes.  The last time I had my hands on a good piece of kryptonite was in...  Ummmm...
Well, you get it.
Luckily for Superman, he's quickly becoming one of my favorites.  And no, it's not because I need time to be reversed!
It's because every night when my husband comes home from work, he lifts our son above his head and hums the Superman theme song.  My son is ecstatic when this happens.  He loves looking down on his dad's face and seeing the world from a whole different point of view.  My husband is just as excited as my son.
This warms my heart.
My two favorite boys laughing and enjoying each other's presence.
It reminds me of how blessed I am to have a partner in life that wants to be with me and raise a family.  So many children don't have strong male role models in their lives.  Maybe the father leaves completely or only wants to see his kids as little as possible.  Maybe he's in their lives but just plain sucks as a person and dad.
I've seen it's effect on kids at school.  The girls are always craving boys' attention and the boys don't really know how to respect a girl or woman.  And sadly, it's a vicious cycle.
This is not a mean, boy bashing blog!  This is to uplift those that are a positive part of their children's lives.  Keep it up!  I know it gets tough, especially if you have the added pressure of being the "bread winner."
Calm down feminists.
All I'm saying is that I can't even put into words how much I appreciate my husband.  If you are a husband reading this, your wife probably feels the same way!
If you are married to one of these superheroes, remember to show him, or her, your appreciation.  So what if you disagree on laundry or the proper way to load the dishwasher.  You're a team!
Appreciate those in your life that bring good to it.  Maybe he's not Superman.   He's probably better.  I know my husband is.
After all, he can fight off kryptonite, no problem!

A Touchy Subject

Well, here we go.  I just spent the entire day finding out how much money I owe my employer since I'm not returning to work.  Such a wonderful day!  You see, I'd rather stay at home with my son.  Don't get me wrong, I absolutely love teaching.  I'd just prefer to stay with my son right now.  What stinks is that I feel like I'm being punished for it.  

You know America, most other countries offer paid paternal leave up to 14 weeks.  Plenty of  countries offer it for a longer amount of time.  Look it up if you don't believe me.

Sigh.

But I don't live in those other places.  Don't get me wrong, I know how blessed I am to be in the United States.  It's just been one of those days.

Becoming a Stay-at-Home-Mom was a tough decision to make.  Women really can't have it all!  There's no way we can continue our careers and spend all day with our little treasures.  We have to make the tough decision of whether we shall stay home or go back to work. 

I will NEVER look down on a woman for trying to make that decision.  Sometimes, you just gotta go back to work for financial reasons or because you want to continue your successful career!  Don't worry, someone will criticize you and say, "Don't you wanna stay home with your baby?"  That's a silly question.  Of course you do.  But there are reasons that you aren't.

Women that choose to stay home are criticized too.  "So, you don't have a job?"  "What do you do all day?"

No matter what decision you make, you'll be criticized.  Get used to it!  And you really can't have it all!  I miss teaching.  It is a huge passion in my life.  However, I know that right now I want to be with my son.  I have to give up something.

Can we all just agree that as women, we should stop criticizing each other for choosing to stay at home or go back to work?  It was one of the toughest decisions I've ever had to make.

I mean, c'mon.  Women criticize each other enough.  

Let's ease up on this one.

The Doggy Blues

My dog Elway.  Let me tell you, when he was a puppy,  I wanted nothing to do with him.  He chewed up parts of our carpet, ate a corner of our wall and destroyed some of my shoes.  You don't mess with a girl's shoes.  I guess someone forgot to mention that to him.
Somehow, throughout our nine years of owning him, he worked his way into my heart.  I took him for two or three walks a day during the summer and he came with me to do track work outs when I ran. My husband and I took him to Dairy Queen for ice cream cones.  We were three peas in a pod.
Until I became pregnant.  Things changed.  Apparently, there is no room for four peas in a pod.
I've heard stories from other women that their dogs became protective of them during pregnancy.  They were excited to see the baby when he was brought home.  That sounds nice and lovely.  That's what I, too, had in mind.
Our dog had somewhat of a different reaction.
He seemed jealous and anxious during the pregnancy, as if I was growing a spawn of a vacuum cleaner inside my uterus.  Dirty looks from him were the norm.  It's not all his fault.  My raging hormones turned me into an unlikable character.  I blamed him for everything.  He could do nothing right.  We came to some sort of understanding to completely ignore each other.
And so we did.
For nine months.
Then my husband and I disappeared for three days.  People he knew let him out and fed him. They reported that he was getting restless, wondering where we were.
Unfortunately for him, we walked through the door with an eight pound baby that took every ounce of our attention.  He was ancient history.
Sure, he wagged his tail and curiously sniffed our son at first.  He wanted to be by him and help comfort him when he cried.  But once he realized he wasn't getting the attention anymore, that routine quickly changed.
I'd like to report that everything is better and normal in our relationship.  That's simply not the case.  The poor guy mopes and would rather be outside than inside with us.  He gravitates toward other people for attention and ignores us.
That's okay.  It really is.
Because I also know that if a stranger comes to the door, he'll be greeted by a vicious bark.  Elway still wants to protect us, my son included.  He still acts concerned when my son screams at the top of his little lungs.
Our relationship may never recover.
But I still love the guy.

My Craft to Bear

As I pictured myself as a mom, I pictured someone who sat down with her child and whipped out the arts and crafts projects.  They were gorgeous:  paintings, sculptures, drawings, wooden toys, anything.  Then I remembered middle school.  In Home Economics I made a tote bag that immediately ripped when I put a book in it.  There was also the pillow that had a giant hole in one of the seams.  I received a C- on my report card.  I'm pretty sure that's the only class that kept me off the honor roll that semester.  Don't worry Mrs. Balka, no hard feelings.  I know I probably deserved an F and you were being nice.
Well, what about the wood working projects?  I have a boy, he might enjoy that!  Oh that's right, my rubber band car in wood shop only rolled two inches when we tested it and I broke a saw.  My forgiving teacher also gave me a C- in that class.
Okay, so I'm not going to be a crafty mom.  The problem was, I felt like I was surrounded by moms that went online to look up projects, recipes, and sewing ideas to do with their kids.  And they did them. Successfully!  What would I do as a mom?  I obviously can't do ANY of those things and honestly don't enjoy doing them.
I came to the realization that I couldn't change who I was.  I needed to embrace my talents and favorite activities and include my son and I'll do the same for him.
So what does this mean?  For me, it means taking him in the jogging stroller when I go for my runs (when it finally rises above 40 degrees).  He can get out of the stroller and run around with me if we pass by a park or a field or playground.  It means I can teach him all the Motown songs I desperately love and my husband and I can dance with him like fools on the hardwood floor.  It means we can go outside and play in the dirt, climb trees and wrestle with our dog, Elway.
That sounds like a pretty good childhood to me.
If you happen to be a crafty mom, keep it up!  I wish I could create something worthwhile with my hands!  If you're not, appreciate what you can do and implement it into your parenting style.
Don't worry, I won't completely give up on arts and crafts.  If I royally screw it up, at least my son will have a funny memory with his mom!

I'm a Mom Now?

On August 29, 2013 my life changed forever.  I became a mother.  Never in my life had I felt such a sense of responsibility or a kind of love that gripped me and forced me to be a selfless person.  My son became my world in an instant.  It was also the most terrifying moment I'd ever experienced.  While pregnant, I dreamed about what it would be like to bring our baby into our house.  They were wonderful dreams.  But they weren't reality.
Once my husband and I brought our boy home, a wave of anxiety and hopelessness rushed over us.  What in the world were we going to do with this baby?  In the hospital nurses changes his diaper, checked his temperature, helped me along while I breastfed.  Now we were on our own. With a screaming baby.  That didn't stop screaming.  And didn't want to sleep unless we held him.
I was a stubborn Sally that wanted to breastfeed and use no formula.  The only problem was my milk wasn't coming in and our baby cried constantly from hunger.  At the time, I shamefully had to use formula after I breastfed him.  I shouldn't  have felt ashamed but I did.  Wait, he's hungry again?  But I just fed him 20 minutes ago!  I'm pretty sure I was shirtless for two solid days because by the time I located my shirt and put it on, he was hungry again. 
Add my ever changing hormones and a total of two hours of sleep over the last two days and you have an interesting situation.  Unexpected visitors arrived at our door when we finally comforted our baby to sleep. Friends and family that arranged to visit came right on time, right about the time you thought you could finally catch some much needed ZZZ's.  My husband and I yelled at each other, cried with each other, and looked to each other for help.  The only problem was we were both helpless.
But we survived.  If you're a brand new mom, you will too.  Everyone said it but it's true; the first week or so is rough but it gets better.  You slowly experiment until you find what's right for your baby.  The books and articles you read while pregnant shouldn't be so black and white because every baby is different.  Don't worry, you'll figure your baby out.  By the time you do, she'll change the routine on you!
Sure, we called our pediatrician about 72 times and loosely considered giving him up for adoption that first weekend but hey, it's all part of the experience.