My disgusting, awful, gross day-in-the-life nightmare

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Screams echo down the stairs with cries of
"it exploded" and "it's on his hands!!" added between breaths.
Right away I know who the "he" is.
It's #3, our resident 2 year old and king of all things rotten.
"He" is kindly escorted downstairs by a sour faced big sister who promptly let's me know
 "he poooooped!"
and oh boy did he ever
"I uh-splo-did" #3 grins with turd-bomb covered fingers
As I'm desperately trying to decide which surface in the nursery is easiest to disinfect, I also notice something else.
He's got it on his face
and his hands
and his legs
and his feet
and $&%* it's everywhere!!!

Now I'm just as good at keeping my calm as the next mom when it comes to the atrocities children excrete, but folks this was a whole new level of nightmare.

As I'm desperately scrubbing and pleading with him to "please start using the potty" I notice something else....this stuff isn't the same color.
The face mess is not the same as the stuff on his legs or feet?!
"did someone else poop on you??" I ask kind of hysterically
"eww no! Me eat choc-at, member?" giggles #3
Then I did.
 I remembered with blissful clarity that I had given them each a small handful of chocolate chips only a little bit ago.
Never in my life have I been so thankful for chocolate my friends. 



All images copyright: Amanda Abate

That's what she said

"I'm going to start a blog" she said. "It will be easy" she said.

Yup, and a NOPE!
Not unlike most things in life, keeping up with blogging hasn't been what I thought it would be. I thought after years of keeping journals, and writing random blurbs that I would have more than enough to say...and I do. The problem is that I'm not sure anyone ELSE wants to hear it. Ya know?

Self doubt has turned into my editor. Each time I think about writing a post, or sharing another experience, I pause. "Who cares!?" "Is it interesting, or relate-able?" "Am I going to be certifiable if I actually post this?" etc...

But this blog wasn't about all of that. I started this for myself. To have something, anything that I could call mine. Mine, mine, mine! (insert whiny 3 year old voice here)
I wanted a place to be myself, without worrying about someone else agreeing with me or if I was setting a bad example or giving two hoots about grammar and run on sentences.

Because darn it I deserve to do something without considering anyone else but ME.

Call me selfish, go ahead. It's OK. I am, I am being 100% selfish....and I don't care! I don't care if people think it's wrong of me to take time for me. As if by taking care of myself I am less of a mother. (WRONG!) Call me dramatic, and emotional, and illiterate.  It's OK. I'm OK.

Do you know why? Because I take time for myself. It's not often, and it's not some grand event. It may be something as simple as hiding the last piece of cheesecake and eating after everyone else is asleep. Did the kids want it? Probably. Does it really matter that I didn't share? Yes.
 It does matter, to me. I made one small decision to do something that would make me happy. I didn't think about how the kids would get really excited if I let them have that last piece the next day after lunch, or how eating cheesecake at 9:30 isn't healthy. I just made myself happy. I was selfish.

 As mothers we spend so much of our time, actually ALL of our time providing for everyone else. Usually we leave ourselves out of the mix and that's crap!
 How can you possibly expect to do your best for others if you aren't at your best?!
 I can't.
 It's taken years of depression, and anger, and sadness to realize that I can't be everything or even anything for someone else if I'm not OK.
I have to have an outlet. I have to take a shower by myself at least once a month. I need to eat cheesecake in the dark kitchen with a baby spoon even if it's unhealthy and weird.
I need to sleep late on a Saturday even if my husband worked late the night before and I want to buy a pair of white jeans even though it's impractical.
 Because those really small things are so big for ME.

So I'm going to do better about keeping up with my blog.
For me

Things I wish someone had told me about breast feeding.

I recently had someone ask me how I've managed to successfully breastfeed my babies for at least 12 months. She felt like it was impossible to commit to such a huge task. So I thought I would share some things I learned over during my my time as a ebf mom.

My youngest playing a game of peek a boo during a cluster feeding session

1. It takes time. Be patient and know you are doing a good job. It is really easy to get discouraged during those first few weeks or during a growth spurt when cluster feeding has taken over your life.

2. It's OK to feel tired, and confused, and unsure. You just had a baby, the things going on inside your brain/body from hormones and everything else give you the right to have extra feelings. If you feel like things are becoming too much or have any unhealthy thoughts about yourself or your baby call your doctor. Baby blues can turn into postpartum depression. There is no shame in that, it's more science going on that you can't fix without help. Ask for it.

3. Be prepared to delegate everything else to everyone else. If you can manage to, have someone else responsible for anything else but feeding the baby during your first week. Do it!
Your job should be learning with your baby on what latch works best for you both, and bonding. Grab a tall glass of water, a healthy snack, and get comfy. Don't forget to think about your baby while nursing too; those lovey thoughts can help with your let down.

4. Nurse on demand. There are a lot of people who like to put babies on a schedule, and that's great once they are old enough, but ebf babies need to nurse not only for food, but for comfort as well. You may feel like nothing but a glorified pacifier but at least you're a pretty one. :) I've been there. You can do it momma.

5. It's OK to supplement. A lot of people will argue with me on this one. I know the best way to increase milk supply is to keep breast feeding, and you should. Pump after feedings, increase your water intake, make sure you're eating enough, and stay away from tight bras but if nothing else is working it is OK. After my last baby was born I had emergency surgery. It was traumatic and with a barely 2 week old, we hadn't reached that level of comfort to ward off nipple confusion. She got accustomed to how easily the bottle was, and I got upset. My supply went down, so we supplemented. But we made it. I kept at it, and slowly weened her back to me. Sometimes that meant giving her a bottle to help her ease her hunger and sneaking her onto the breast for the last half. It wasn't the perfect last baby experience I hoped for, but she's a happy 15 month old who has no desire to give up on nursing.

6. Talk to someone. A group online for moms who ebf, a lactation consultant, a friend, your mom, your pediatrician, anyone who is pro breastfeeding. It's incredibly hard to have a positive nursing experience when you are made to feel ashamed of feeding your baby. A lot of times people don't realize they're causing the shame, and maybe they just don't understand. But stick with your guns. Your a making the healthiest choice for you and your baby. So even if people stare at you in Walmart because your walking around with a giant tarp around your neck and little feet sticking out the end, it's OK. Laugh it off, smile at them, and if you dare lose the tarp. It's probably hard to eat under a blanket anyway. :)

7. It's OK to quit. You'll know when the time comes and it may not be by choice. But do not feel guilty. Don't allow any ounce of shame to taint the amazingness that is you! Giving your child something that only you can give them is beautiful and wonderful but babies grow up to be beautiful and wonderful without breast milk too. I would know, my first born was formula fed from 6 weeks and I think she rocks!

My Valentine

I already gave my husband his Valentine's gift. I know it's not February 14th. But we don't celebrate the holiday the same way others do. We enjoy having a reason to go on a date, and it does make procuring a sitter less guilt inducing.

So last night I set the most romantic scene imaginable.....I pulled out a kitchen chair, told him to close his eyes, and climbed onto the counter to  grab his gifts. (the top of the kitchen cabinets is a great hiding spot) My sweet hubby didn't mind that I didn't wrap anything, and he really did enjoy his gifts. And it felt GOOD to give him something. I think it's easy to forget that we need to spoil our man sometimes too. Woman deserve it too, don't get me wrong. But I know in my relationship I tend to always be the one on the receiving end. Yes I do a lot more little things  like letters, texts, and special meals. But he always does the big things. He surprises me with birthday presents and anniversary gifts. He listens to me rant and rave about everything and anything. He provides for his family in a way so many don't these days. I can count on him. I never doubt that. I've never had to and I think I take that for granted sometimes. The old adage "you never know what you have until it's gone" is cheesy, but spot on. I'm thankful I haven't had to go without to notice just how blessed I am.

Hubby and baby #4

 God gave me an amazing husband, a strong friend, and a dedicated Father to our children.

I'm going to remember the way I feel today as I look at what I have. I'm going to make a point to remind him who he is to us not just on special occasions but when he's having a bad day. I'll forget, because I'm human and busy. Maybe this will serve as a reminder to us both, I love you, I'm thankful for you, you are an amazing man.

Kindred mom spirit aka proof I'm nuts

We braved the giant mega super center with all 4 kids a few weeks ago. It was crazy, hectic, and filled with embarrassing moments that no longer embarrass me. At the end of our shopping trip we pulled into a line with our mini van style buggy. You know the ones, giant contraptions with thick micro-ban  plastic seats, and the turning radius of a semi. All 4 kiddos were pilled high in the extra buggy. We always end up with for a "time-out" zone, that instead holds an open box of fruit loops and a few kids sitting atop bulk size toilet paper and paper towels.
 Yeah, we're classy like that.
So we're waiting for our turn when  I glance at the mom in front of us. She looks to be a few years ahead of me in mom years, with her oldest looking to be about 10.
 Seeing these amazing woman who have somehow survived toddlers and elementary school and are wearing real pants tend to give me a sense of hope and pride. Go moms!
 But this time my pride hit overload when I realized she was one of the very few who I can relate to on all levels. She had 4 kids!!
Now I know "bro-mance" is totally a thing, but I've never found a word for this. She was like, my kindred mom spirit?
It was like seeing myself in a few years. The baby of the family happily napping against a cute but not over trendy purse that mom actually uses! The oldest of the kids quietly helping load the groceries while the rest of the kids browse the candy isle without asking for even a piece!
I was in awe.
While we made polite chatter about the joy of shopping with 4 kids, and how we had both "been there" I realized, wow we could totally be friends. Like actually make a play date, and not worry about someone judging me for the cheese doodle in the couch cushion that the toddler tries to eat. No, this woman had been exactly where I am right now and SURVIVED.
I should have gave her my email and told her I would love to pick her brain on how she did the unimaginable.
But I didn't. I didn't want to be the weird, creepy woman from wally world who couldn't just join a mom group like everybody else. My husband and I watched them leave and laughed at how cool it was to meet someone else outside of the average 2.5 kids realm.

Thanks random mom for smiling and nodding when my toddler ate the box for the macaroni but not the noodles.
It's nice to know I'm not the only one who finds this normal.





What have your kids done to embarrass you in the store? Comment with your stories and I'll share one on the next blog!

For the fear of cupcakes

Sugar is king in this household of 4 tiny sweet deprived children. There isn't much they won't do for even one tiny morsel. Sometimes I use this to my advantage. Say for instance a certain 2 year old aka #3, HATES taking oral medication but has a horrible case of the funk. If it takes an entire bag of rainbow confections to get a measly 3.5ml of antibiotic in, than so be it. But I do not reward them for good behavior with junk, or for cleaning their rooms, or when they're upset. I try to stay away from the thought of food being a bandage. I'm already deep enough into that habit for all of us. (insert nervous giggle here)

Anyway, last month I scored some awesome clearance cake mix at a local grocer. Sprinkle filled cake with matching Christmas tree icing for only $0.95!!!??? YAAY! Needless to say I bought a box...or 8 and made the first batch of cupcakes after school. The kids of course loved it and even helped without any major catastrophes.

Fast forward to after dinner when I finally let them have a Christmas tree sprinkle covered green piece of heaven. I was cleaning up the dinner I worked so hard on (thank you hubby for making a pizza run!!) When I heard the big kids laughing behind me. I turn around to find the baby aka #4, with half a cupcake stuck to the side of her face! Although it was adorable, she was not enthused. Of course the culprit, who else but #3 himself was rather proud and when I asked him what was he doing shoving cake in his sisters face?!

Awesome picture of our awesome cupcakes 

 He replied sweetly "it birf uh day (birthday) cake! Me give her some".
Now to explain; in our family the birthday person is subjected to a thorough icing on their special day. Being that there are roughly 30 people in our family on either side, we see a good bit of icing faces. #3 just now old enough to remember such traditions but still not old enough to understand they don't apply to ALL forms of cake was a bit confused at my shock.
"but it isn't her birthday buddy. We shouldn't put our food on other people, OK?"

Apparently is was not "OK" because #3 has managed to conspire with #1 and #2 a minimum of 6 times in the past 36 hours, 10 of which they spent in bed! Poor #4 has a slight tinge to her cheek now from all the food coloring. After my telling them the kazillionth time to "STOP getting in the cake or I'm throwing it away!" I marched into the kitchen to retrieve the cupcake container and follow through with my threat (which really means I was going to take them and hide them and eat them....)
but upon arriving to do so, my hip ornament (#4) buries her head into my chest and grunts "uh oh!"
"oh baby, mommy will let you have one."
picks up cupcake to hand to baby

"uhhhh!!!" says baby and smacks the cake into the floor while turning her head into my chest.

It's safe to say that the easiest way to teach a child to hate cake is by borrowing my kids, and letting them eat cake.

"mom, they're touching me!!!"

I've called my mom and said those exact words.
"I seriously don't understand why someone always has to be on top of me!?"
"Why do they have to rub or pull or pick constantly?"
"Do I smell like candy or something??"
"ugh, I just want to NOT be touched anymore"

I know. They look and sound horrible when I hear them now. Especially out-loud. But at the time, it was true. I didn't enjoy having someone rub the back of my arm for 30 minutes while I tried to clip coupons....but he needed to. He'd just had a melt down and lost his temper. He said things I know his 5 year old little heart didn't mean. He hurt his mommy's feelings and he wanted to make up for it. I totally get that, and when it isn't in the moment I am thankful he has a compassionate heart.

It just isn't always that easy.
I get tired, and frustrated, and overly emotional. Because I am so many things to so many people and it wears on you. It's hard to have a husband that works all the time. It's hard to be the tough one, and the one who fixes the nightmares, and the only one anyone will go to when they are sick/tired/mad/upset.

 Being MOM is hard.
I fail at it, a lot more than anyone else will admit. But I think I get it right too. A lot more than I will ever admit. 

So when my 2 year old comes to sit half on my rib cage, half on my hip and pull my pony tail so he can fall off to dream land yeah I might get a little agitated. It hurts to have your hair pulled. It hurts to have a 33 lbs toddler sitting in the space between your ribs and hip bone (yeah that's a seat, apparently) and it totally stinks to have booger fingers in your sort of clean hair. But I know that no  matter how grumpy it makes me when I'm having a moment of self pity, it would make their little hearts hurt 1 million, zillion times more for me to NOT be there.

I may vent to someone else. I may even really mean what I say at the time. But there will come a day when I ache to have those little fingers twirl the hair behind my ear. I'll miss the sweet hands that always tickled with their gentle touch on the soft skin on the back of my arm.
I'll be thankful for the times when they needed me.

 Because they may grow out of their need, but I never will.