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
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.
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!
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!
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!
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!
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!
I had my first OH BLEEP!!! moment last week! My husband and I were a foot away from her, if that, and while we were having a discussion about where we should put her Bumper Jumper, little miss Bird decided she was going to crawl right off the side of the bed. Talk about feeling like the worst parent ever! Our plans for her fun {literally} crashed within a split second.
I think the image of my poor baby hitting the ground, her fearful eyes meeting mine, will be scarred in my mind forever. She cried real tears for a good minute, then was easily calmed with a bottle. That bottle didn't console me though! My heart was beating faster than I've ever felt it beat, my entire body was shaking and I felt a desperate need for a Xanax. I let me seven month old daughter crawl right off the edge of my bleeping bed! How?
Of course, paranoid me calls my mom immediately, despite her convincing me that my child isn't as fragile as I seem to think she is and that she is ok I followed up with taking her to see the doctor. He assured me that things like this happens to every parent... But it still didn't help me feel better about it! Any of my friends with kids told me the same, and also that it only gets worse! Bigger accidents, bigger bumps, and blood are coming my way soon. Oh great!
I grew up with three brothers, who all very much fit the saying "boys will be boys". They were always breaking bones, busting their chins and knocking each other's teeth out; I, on the other hand, didn't get stitches until I was 25 years old. I think it's safe to say that my husband was a walking bleeping accident. He has a number of stories to explain every scar, some that even I have a hard time believing! Let's hope that Birdie follows in my footsteps and spares me a couple of heart attacks. I now know the only worse things than getting hurt is seeing your child get hurt!
I have let the days slip away, and I didn't post a blog last week. My days of staying in and being lazy are gone. If Birdie is awake and inside for more than an hour, she's bored out of her bleeping mind, and I'm sure my neighbors want to bleeping kills us. But, how can I even complain? This California sunshine is Heaven!
Birdie is creeping up on seven months and this is such a fun stage... Although, I'm sure I'll say this every month. Her personality is shining and she's quite the little explorer! We have found so many awesome outdoor activities to do with our little monster and I'm loving our time out and about.
We found a great little gem in Marina Del Rey called Mothers Beach, and this is where we spent our St. Paddy's Day- so much different {and better} than the years before. Mothers Beach isn't really even a "beach", it is actually a little bay where boats are docked but it's bleeping perfect! The sand is short, there is a playground, a picnic area, and get this...no waves. Birdie couldn't have loved it more; the sand, the water, the birds, the sunshine! And I'll admit it, Emanuel and I loved the two hour nap that followed.
We spent our Tuesday catching some rays and rocking out to a band at the beautiful Americana in Glendale. This isn't a first and most definitely not a last, so much fun and we usually have a run-in with Birdie's hunky little friend, Ryker.
The week only got better. We left the L.A. gloom and headed up to spend the weekend in Big Bear. My aunt and uncle own the lovely Eagle's Nest Bed and Breakfast and we escape there as often as we can. If you're ever looking for an awesome weekend get away, I highly suggest you check out their place! Birdie had such a bleeping blast up there! We let her ride my aunts dwarf horses, and she had some q.t. with their pups and cat. We took a walk around the lake and she couldn't take her eyes off of the water and trees. She's a little nature girl.
We are so happy Spring has finally arrived! The weather is great and our days seem to be becoming busier and busier. California love!!! Where else are you really bleeping lucky enough to spend time in the city, the suburbs, the beach and the mountains all in one week?
Last week, after finding out I am a stay at home mom, a woman asked me, "Like, what do you do all day?" I, like, sit on my bleeping ass, watch bleeping soap operas, and eat bleeping bon-bons, you bleeping moron!
It isn't news to me that some people assume being a stay at home mom (or dad) is an easy "job". I know more than one person who thinks that my job is less important than theirs, or that my day is much easier and more lax than theirs, or that I've given up on any and all of my dreams to stay home with my kid. To these assumptions, I say you're wrong!
You got me, I watch daytime television. I am a Dr. Phil fanatic and I do watch him almost every day... but very rarely in one sitting! And I can almost guarantee you this blog will take me two sittings to post. Once Birdie finally falls asleep for the nap she just lost to, I scramble together her dirty bottles, toys and/or laundry with the hopes of finishing with at least five minutes to sit down and pick up where I left off the last time I tried watching one of my guilty pleasures.
While most of you enjoy stepping out of the office for an hour on your lunch break, I'm making a peanut butter sandwich with one hand while holding my daughter with the other {as she desperately tries getting any and everything in her reach}, then scarfing it down in two minutes tops. That is, of course, on the days I have enough time to eat anything at all before 2:00pm. I don't get to step out for a breather when things get a little bleeping crazy, or clock out at 5:00 for the next 15 hours.
I may not be managing a store or running a restaurant or teaching a class, but I'm raising a human being. If you're out in the work field and that's the life you've dreamed of, more power to you and I truly think that's fantastic, but don't knock me because my dreams don't align with yours. The life I always dreamt of for myself is the one I am living. I am watching my daughter learn and grow, and it's happening way too bleeping quickly. In the blink of an eye she has found something brand new to explore and there is no way, if I don't have to, that I want to miss any of those things.
So, like, what do I do all day? I, like, wake up and live my bleeping dream! My alarm clock {Birdie} goes off way bleeping earlier than I want it to, and I drink a cup of coffee to survive the first few hours. I make annoying voices and sing The Itsy Bitsy Spider, and I read the same six bleeping books over and over and over again. I move from the floor to the pack and play to the jumparoo back to the floor every 15 minutes and I visit the outside world at least once a day to keep my kid {and myself} from going bleeping bonkers. I clean multiple bottles, and spit up, and poopy diapers. When 7:00pm rolls around, I give my baby a bath, a massage, I read her Guess How Much I Love you, and I put her to bed. Once she is asleep, I cook dinner, do dishes and watch a show that's been recorded with my husband. Then at the end of my day, I lay down in bed, exhausted, and I thank God for making my dreams come true and pray for another day like the one that I was just lucky enough to have lived!
