Change

What were you doing one year ago? Were you living in the same house? Were you working at the same job? Hanging out with the same friends? Keeping to your same eat, sleep, gym, and work schedule?

If you would have asked me these questions two years ago, my answer to most of them would be yes. There was always "nothing new with me." At least nothing major. I got married, that's huge, but besides that my day-in-day-out routine was pretty much the same. Same house, same job, same friends, same schedule, but in the last year and a half it seems like the only constant in my life has been change.

Having a kid means a lot of change and I'm not just talking about my sleep schedule. I can't even count the stages we've gone through in this very short amount of time. As soon as you think you have figured that little human out, they're changing again.

We have gone from no bleeping sleep to four hours of sleep to no sleep again and now to ten hours of sleep. We've gone from Huggies to Pampers to Pull Ups to big girl undies. From her loving avocados to only eating guacamole and then to hating both. We have gone from Baby First to Disney Junior. Baby fuzz to long curly locks. The list goes on and on.

In our home, we welcome the change. We encourage our daughter to learn and grow. I know it's annoying when people brag, but I'm going to do it anyways. Birdie is and always has been a little ahead of the curve with her milestones. My husband and I work hard to try to instill the things we feel are important. As much as I bleeping hate the shots, the tears and the screams at her doctor appointments, I love hearing her progress and hearing him tell us how bleeping smart she is. I always leave those appointments feeling really proud of her, and also really proud of my husband and myself. We're bleeping doing it, we're raising a little human and she's smart and silly and cute as hell.

Our biggest change right now is potty training. On her first day trying she was peeing in the potty and by day two she was already pooping in it. Before going to bed on her first day of training I remember feeling so proud of her, but just seconds later I was in tears. It never fails that at the same time of these feelings of pride or when she succeeds at something new, a little, tiny piece of my heart breaks. My baby isn't a baby anymore. She's getting so bleeping big. She's never going to be this little again. Not in a minute, not tomorrow, not in a year. In this moment, right now, it is the smallest she will be for the rest of her life.

I know we have so much more change to come and I look forward to it all, but I think a small piece of me will always dread the change in her. It will always mean she's growing. Ever since I was pregnant I had people tell me how quickly time flies and it's so very true. The change is constant, so snuggle those tiny babies while they let you, "Momoms" and "Dadads", because before you know it they're climbing up everything, peeing in potties, singing with Frozen and dancing to Bruno Mars!

You want to go on a date?

I just ran into an old friend of mine, who is now also married with children. While we were chatting about who we keep in touch with she said how her and her husband usually only hang out with their friends who have kids. She said it is hard sometimes to hang out with people without kids because they're in a different place in life. As much as I hate to admit it, it's true. And I can't blame someone without kids for not wanting to skip on a night out to get half of my attention and all of my screaming child!

First things first, let me clear this up, my relationship with my "parent friends" are no more important to me than the ones with my "kidless friends". I will never love my friends without kids less because they haven't entered this world yet, nor do I enjoy their company any less, it's not about any of that. It's mostly that my friends with kids just get it!

Would I love to spend an hour getting ready {while sipping on a glass of wine} for a wild Friday night out at a bar with a group of my girlfriends? Bleep yeah! It sounds amazing... Until I remember that once I've finished that one glass of wine at home I can only get away with two more drinks {at most} while I'm out. Why? Because I will be coming home to a baby that will most likely be waking up at least once in the middle of night and will most certainly be up by 7am and being drunk or hungover for that sounds about as good as death.

How about just having a casual dinner date with friends? My husband and I love this too! But if we leave Birdie at home with a babysitter, our $100 night out quickly turns into something more like a $200 night out. Oh, you don't mind if we bring her? Great, then she shall come! Although I'm sure you'll quickly retract that statement when it's 7:00, aka her bedtime, and she's screaming, throwing food on the floor, touching every possible bleeping thing on the table and begging to get out of her high chair. By this time we've spent 3/4 of the night telling her "no" and tuning out the conversation we wish we could being paying attention to. Of course, we can always do dinner at home... Oh, you want to do it at your house? Ok, but just know that I'll spend most of our evening chasing Birdie around because any pretty, shiny, breakable and off-limit decorations you have out are the things she tends to gravitate to. I promise when I suggest we get together here instead, it isn't because I don't love your lovely place, it's because I can gate my wild child in and give you more of me.

Even if my friends who don't have kids say they understand the madness that is now my life, inside I am thinking about how bleeping terrible I feel that I am only halfway checked in to what they are saying to me. It's like having lunch with someone who doesn't look up from their iPhone the entire time. I don't have this guilty feeling when I am out with my friends who have kids, because I know they're only half way checked in too. 

As time goes on and my little lady grows, I hope to find a better balance. Until then, I apologize to all of my "kidless friends" for being bleeping sucky and I also thank you for tolerating my scatter brain and very chaotic dinner dates that we do make happen!

 

About Time

Think about what you have done in the last 365 days. Who have you met that has impacted your life? What have you learned? Where have you gone? How many things have you accomplished?  

One year can drag on and seem like a bleeping eternity! I remember feeling like four years of school was forever, like I wasn't ever getting out of there. In February of 2011 my husband popped the question and the year and a half of planning for our big day never seemed quite as long as it did during that time period. And when I was pregnant, nine months of pregnancy felt more like nine years of bleeping misery!

A year, to most, most of the time, seems to be fairly long and drawn out. As adults, we seem to live our lives on repeat. We tend to hit that snooze button {twice} a little earlier than we would like to every morning, roll out of bed and get ready to do the same thing we did the day before and if we are lucky, we spend evenings and weekends away exploring or nights out doing things we enjoy with those that we love. This was my life every year leading up to this one.

365 days ago actually feels just like it was only last week.  One year ago I was deep cleaning my house, perfecting my baby's room, packing a hospital bag and mentally preparing for the gorgeous little human that would forever change my life. In one bleeping week, that insanely adorable little 7lb1oz baby that came out of my bleeping body 358 days ago, will be one. She will be bleeping one! In the last 358 days I have watched this itty bitty human learn more things than I ever even thought she would have in such a small window. 

A week shy of one year ago, Birdie couldn't move, not voluntarily anyways. Her eyes barely opened and when they did, they weren't open for more than a few minutes. She ate just enough food to fill her marble sized tummy and she slept all day long. Today though, Birdie wouldn't sit still if my life depended on it! She {bear} crawls everywhere,  she scoots off of the bed, gets up and down the stairs, and is walking with the assistance of just my pinky finger. She now eats real food {that she manages to devour with only two teeth}, mostly cheese... So much bleeping cheese! Sleeping all day left her far too soon, now we fight {against each other} naps and bedtime. Her little infant whale bath wasn't the only thing we have said goodbye to over the passing months.

This crawling, eating, screaming, laughing monster has also developed quite the personality! She's the busiest, silliest little thing I've ever met. She tells you, by shaking her closed fists and scowling, when she's "SO MAD", she laughs when you laugh and claps when you clap. We have dance parties and she never misses an opportunity to jump around when we sing to her, "Don't this hit make my Birdie wanna jump, jump"! She screams and books it when she thinks you're "gonna get her" and she hits your bleeping face when she "gets you"... So don't ever let her get you... because her blows to your face bleeping hurt! 

This last year flew by too quickly. Way, way, way too bleeping quickly! I wish my last 365 days would have dragged on the way my engagement did. I wish each moment could double in time, but it can't and I think these next few years will continue to fly by and seem to last much shorter than I hope them to. There is a beautiful movie that I love so much called About Time and it is about time travel. In the movie, Tim finally figures out the perfect way to live his life, and I won't tell you what his secret is because I think everyone should see this movie {and Heaven forbid I wreck it for you} but this part {along with five other scenes} brought me to tears. I have been trying to remind myself everyday, and will continue to do so, to remember Tim's secret and live it. 

Cheers to another best year of my life and to my beautiful little Bird turning one in one week! 

SMA Awareness Month: The Strongest People I Know

Being a parent is bleeping hard. It's exhausting, it's trying and it's emotional. Being a parent is hard because you put your child's needs before your own. If your child is awake in the middle of the night, you sacrifice your sleep. You put off your showers to bathe them, your favorite tv shows to read them books, and your naps to do their dishes. When your child is sick or sad, you feel it too. When you become a parent you {should} make the decision to come second... Or third... Or fourth.

I try to be the best parent that I can be, and I know a ton of really incredible parents, but this blog today isn't about me being the best parent or even about the best parents I know, this is about the STRONGEST parents I know, this blog is about my sister-in-law and brother-in-law. They have this strength in them that I don't know that I would be able to find within myself if I needed to.

When my beautiful niece, Falynn, was seven months old, she was diagnosed with type 1 Spinal Muscular Atrophy ({SMA}. SMA is a genetic disease that causes progressive muscle degeneration. The doctors didn't give them much hope after delivering this news, they were basically told to take Falynn home and give her all of their love. The life expectancy of a baby with type 1 SMA is two years. Being the strong willed fighters that they are, they took it upon themselves to research this more and as a result of their determination and will to fight, this upcoming October Falynn will be four years old.

This is and always will be a very sensitive subject, because no matter how much sympathy I have, I will never be able to empathize. I recently read an article my sister-in-law posted about people making the comment that we all just want a "healthy baby". And while we don't realize it, we are saying that we don't want unhealthy children. I am guilty of saying this and after reading it put into perspective, I feel really terrible. I also feel terrible that by making such a comment, I sent the message that there is something wrong with being disabled. I believe and would like to teach my daughter to believe that everyone is equal and everyone is beautiful.

I am guilty of complaining of being tired, and still, my day does not compare to the day that Rian and Gonzalo live. I get upset when my baby hits her head or has a cold, I cannot imagine the feelings they have knowing the things that the little love of their lives is enduring every day.

I say I cannot imagine their life, because I truly can't. We are lucky enough to spend weekends with them sometimes, but we don't live their day to day. And I'll never know how truly exhausting, trying, and emotional it is for them because of the simple fact that ... they are the strongest parents I know- I've never heard them complain, I've never heard them play the victim, and I've definitely never heard them wish Falynn was different than who she is. They are, Falynn included, stronger than anyone I know. They are fighters and the things they've done in the last three and a half years trump what most people do in a lifetime.

Your "typical" parent gives up showers, naps, and our favorite tv shows... These two have given up those things in addition to date nights and social outings because a babysitter just doesn't cut it. They've given up jobs to be home. They have given up the comfort of sleeping in their own bed, just the two of them, every single night, or even in their own home because they sleep {or don't sleep} in a shitty hospital chair. They've done it all and so much more, but I've never heard them complain about it.

August is SMA awareness month, so I wanted to share a little bit about the little lady that I love who has SMA. To learn more about Spinal Muscular Atrophy {SMA} and Falynn, visit their website: falynnswings.org 

I am not cool anymore. I am not hip.

More times than not I feel like I am still very young, but every once in a while I realize that I am not actually as young and hip as I sometimes think that I am. On the 4th of July, we celebrated down by the beach at my aunt and uncle's house. My younger, 20 year old cousin had a good sized group of fraternity and sorority kids partying over there. My {super hip, super awesome} husband was challenged to a shotgunning contest with a few of the kids there. Much to their surprise, he bleeping won! I mean, he and I both knew all along he would win, he usually does and he was in a fraternity in college too, but these kids could not bleeping believe it. Immediately after he beat them by many seconds, one of my cousin's girlfriends screamed, "OH MY GOD!!! THE DAD WON!!!" He hadn't ever felt older, and neither had I.

I hear these terms, or read them on my younger cousins' Twitters and I get so confused. "Turnt up", "this should be us, but you playin'", "can't stop, won't stop", and "bae". What the bleep? I mean, I can find a use for all of these words or sayings, but I really doubt they mean to preteens and tweens and teens as they do to me. 

Turnt up. All I see here is turned up, which seems a lot like turned in. When I think of turning in, I think of going to bed. I've got it wrong, don't I? 

This should be us, but you playin'.  At 10:30, when my daughter is desperately fighting sleep and falling over like a bleeping drunk mini human and I see her night time shows tucking their bunnies into bed, I think "this should be us, but you playin'". A little different than the pictures my cousin is posting with girls legs wrapped around a guy with rock hard abs!  

Can't stop won't stop, this is how I feel when I am going on 15 minutes of rocking and singing to Birdie. Her blinks start lasting seven seconds, her paci starts slipping out of her mouth, she's so bleeping close to sleep... can't stop won't stop until she's out, so that I can get on with my laundry and sweeping!

And bae. What the bleep is bae? My little brother's girlfriend calls my daughter "Birdie Bae". I don't bleeping get it!? Is this a shorter, more ghetto version of babe? Someone enlighten me, because it sounds really stupid! 

I am not cool anymore. I am not hip.  I do not know the lingo.  I feel slutty when my shorts aren't at least an inch past my butt cheeks. I retweet the wrong tweets, hell, I don't even know how to tweet for goodness sakes. I am a mom... And I don't care that I am uncool. 

Who the bleep am I?

Yesterday my baby turned 10 months old. I take these little balloon pictures of her every month, a balloon for a month, ya know, to see how much she grows. I searched through the monthly shots, a few short videos we took of her and some newborn pictures. While looking over all of these, I turned my head to see my yelling, gibberish talking, crawling baby and I got a little teary eyed. Oh, great, have I become THAT bleeping mom?

I remember celebrating one of my best friends kids' first birthday shortly after finding out I was pregnant {I won't say your name, but you know who you are :)} and my friend cried while everyone sang Happy Birthday to her baby. All I could think was, "no bleeping way will I cry at my baby's first birthday. It's just not me." Months after this, when I was very close to my delivery date, this same friend and one other warned me about the emotional wreck I would become after I had Birdie. You guys, I am going to bleeping cry when my friends and family sing her Happy Birthday! I'm not bleeping kidding you! I AM THAT BLEEPING MOM!

The truth is, from day to day I create new challenges for Birdie and encourage her to do things to advance her development. I read to her everyday, I clap and yell like a bleeping idiot when she stands on her own for longer than five seconds, or when she looks at the object I just asked her about, or makes horse sounds. I want her to grow. I want her to be smart, witty, amazing and to have a beautiful, adventurous soul. So, why the bleep am I getting sad when I look back? I guess I just want her to be little for a little longer. In just two short months my baby won't technically be a baby anymore. Bahumbug!

You should be bleeping scared

This post is for my friends who are afraid to have kids... You bleeping should be! In these short nine months I have learned that babies are exhausting. They keep you up during hours you never wanted to be awake, they cry and usually you have no clue what for, they poop A LOT, you never ever feel like you have a free moment, they grab your hair and your face and your glasses and your plate and anything else within their reach- each and every time they get the chance... and some days you really question yourself and your ability to make it through the rest of your life as a sane human being.

There are some things you don't think about though. You don't know to think about that split second between a fit of rage when your baby looks at you, grabs your face and gives you the most slobbery open mouth kiss, or when they lay next to you and stare at you for minutes like you are the most important thing in this whole bleeping world; because to them, you always will be. You don't realize that sometimes when you look at your baby, you are going to see yourself, in an innocent way that you had almost forgotten even exists. Your kid will make you laugh, without effort, when you need a laugh the most.

I know it's hard to see your social life remaining the same, and it won't, but that doesn't mean you can't still have one. You don't need that little human attached to your hip {or nip} all the bleeping time... Pawn that kid off for a date night or some adult time! It's normal. And when you are out and about without them, you are going to miss them. Yes, you're probably going to have to skip out on some fun vacations, or maybe miss a couple of weddings and graduations, but I promise, there will be more. Try think about all of the fun places you'll explore that you haven't in years or maybe never have at all. I haven't ridden Dumbo at Disneyland in decades, but you bet your butt I will ride it next time I am there. Not only will you explore fun places, you will explore your imagination. You will be Barbie, Mickey, a cat, and a dog. Some days you will live in a fort in the living room and sometimes you will have 20 bleeping voices while you read just one eight page book.

You can travel the world, be 35, 45 or 55 and have a hefty bank account and you still won't feel ready. The day you read that positive stick, your life will change in a seriously huge way! Be bleeping scared, but only of the sleep depravation and fits... Those are the only big things to fear, and both are things that a little coffee and a big gummy smile can fix!

Mom VS Dad

First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes the baby in the baby carriage. Let's face it, sometimes this little nursery rhyme is a total bleeping lie! Sometimes love doesn't come first... Sometimes love doesn't come at all. Fortunately for me, first came love, then came marriage, then came the Birdie in the baby carriage.

I really am lucky in love, I married a really great guy. I don't say this because I'm obligated to, I say it because it's the truth. Emanuel gets along with just about everyone, he's really bleeping funny {which is why I decided to keep dating him in the first place}, he's always on my side- in big things and small, he laughs with me and at all of my hilarious jokes, he's, like, totally hunky, and most of all he is a really bleeping super duper awesome dad!

My husband is so hands on with my daughter. He changes poopy diapers, he feeds her, he gives her baths, plays with her, reads to her, and is genuinely upset when he has to miss out on any of her waking hours. Sounds perfect, right? I really couldn't be any luckier... But could I?

There is a difference between moms and dads! The big difference is that when dad has the baby, dad watches the baby. When mom has the baby, she watches the baby and does everything else that needs to be done... with one bleeping hand! When Emanuel is home alone for a couple of hours with Birdie I come home to dirty bottles, a dirty high chair, clothes all over the place and sometimes a baby with a tee shirt and diaper only. On the other hand, when I'm alone with Birdie, I've done the laundry, cleaned the bottles, mopped the floor, made our next meal and picked up the messes she's left behind. One of my favorite stories about mom vs dad in our house is this: When Emanuel went back to work after we had Birdie, I finally got her on a sleep schedule. It was amazing! When it was nap time, she was ready, and I was able to put her down in less than five minutes. The first Saturday after that I asked Emanuel to put her to down while I shower. After my shower, I hear chatting in the room. I go in to find Emanuel and Birdie playing and his response was, "We were just having such a good time!" Get it together, man! 

This is nothing personal against my husband, I hear from many other moms that he's not the only dad that is this way- although I know there are exceptions to everything! So, ladies, if you're planning on that baby carriage {no matter how it fits into your love story} make sure you've picked a really bleeping great guy first!

Skinny Fat

It has been said that you have nine months to lose your baby weight, ya know, because it took you nine months to put that weight on. While I was at my pre-pregnancy weight months ago, I am nowhere near my pre-pregnancy body. So, since I am a week away from nine months out of pregnancy, I thought it was time to get my booty back into the bleeping gym!

I just started back last week and I am as sore as ever.  I did the stair climber, an old favorite of mine, and I only lasted five bleeping minutes before I was panting for dear life. Guys! Five! Minutes! This is embarrassingly ridiculous. Two years ago I was able to do at least 20 minutes on the stair climber! Instead of finishing up my half hour of cardio on that bad boy, I hung my head low and headed over to the treadmill next to my husband, where I finished my work out at a fast paced walk.

Like I just said, my weight is down... but so is my muscle tone! A friend recently asked me how I'm so small. The truth is, I really don't know. I guess I'm just a bleeping skinny fat. I eat fairly healthy {sometimes} and I don't drink soda. I guess my only real secret weapon is my insanely active child! She never gives me a bleeping break. You can usually find me bouncing her around, chasing after her, or carrying her in the Baby Bjorn. Those things don't give me guns though! I can assure you, Steve Erkle could beat me up... but I am determined to change this. Forget my pre-pregnancy weight, give me back that wedding bod!

Yay for getting back into the gym... And for not feeling so bleeping guilty about that bowl of Rocky Road I chowed down last night! 

Going, going, back, back to Orange County...

We are bleeping doing it, guys! We are moving back to Orange County. Get excited!! But not too excited, because this is only a temporary move. 

As all of my close friends and family know, moving to L.A. wasn't always the easiest transition for me. I left behind {I say this like I moved to bleeping China} all of my family and most of my closest friends. Although I am only 38 miles away, between traffic and life, it sometimes feels more like 10,000 miles. I have finally found my peeps and my groove out here, so I am glad we will only be gone for a year, but I must say that I am so happy for a year full of girl dates, q.t. with the fam, BBQs, swimming, wine, and Taco Tuesdays with my OGs!

Packing has been a real bleeping pain! Packing totally super sucks regardless, but it sucks even more with a baby on the move. We cram as much as we can in during Birdie's naps and after she's fallen asleep for the night, but it never feels like we got enough done.  Our living room is full of boxes and my body is full of anxiety!

I am so very proud of my husband, he is doing a major purge and I will admit that I didn't think he'd chuck half as much stuff as he is. I like to joke with him that he's a hoarder. He keeps things that {to me} seem meaningless, ya know, the way a five year old keeps a stick she found on the ground! I know that what I am about to put on paper for proof will never be lived down by Emanuel, but I think I'm following his suit when it comes to Birdie's clothes that she's outgrown. I went through her closet and drawers and I made three separate piles: one to keep, one to get rid of and one to store. Why am I storing Birdie's clothes when I am 99.9% sure I never want another baby? Am I holding onto them because of that .1% that I might have another baby? Or am I holding onto them because I'm pretending there is sentimental value in fabric my baby once wore and threw up on? Or maybe I'm hoping that by holding onto these things that these days can move past me a little slower, a reminder that not that long ago, she was actually that itty bitty? Guys, I'm hoarding! Help!

We are moving, my baby is growing, life is going on, as it does... But sometimes, most times, it seems like it's all just happening way too bleeping fast!