Lucky Gal

This week is St. Patrick’s Day. In the past, St. Patrick’s Day had always been fun (and only a few occasions, too fun). I’d never been a mom before this year. I grew up in a very Irish Catholic environment. Boston is known for having the most incredible, crazy, fun St. Patty’s Day in America – and yes, I’ve participated there, too. But this year it’s quite different. This year I’ll most likely get a book about St. Patrick, read it to my daughter all day long until she’s bored to death of hearing me voice, and go to bed as soon as my head hits the pillow because I’m exhausted. I’m not complaining. I’m not much of a drinker, I don’t love partying, and being home with my family sounds better than any other option. I’m a lucky gal.

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My own little Irish (barely) girl keeps me more than occupied – even on fun “drinking” holidays. Plus, what with breast feeding and everything, I can forget alcohol!

I actually really like Mondays (I know for most people Mondays are the Devil). But Mondays always feel like fresh starts to me. Which is good weight-wise, because I cheated the shit out of the weekend, and probably gained 5 lbs just eating cornbread alone. So yay for fresh Monday starts! My run today was AMAZING. I was faster than usual, ran a really healthy distance and felt really strong this morning. With that said…. Fuck you, Daylight Savings. Starting my run in the dark wasn’t exactly in the plans. But in order to get my workout in every day, I need to go before everyone in the house gets up.

 

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On another great note, I’ve finished my immediate custom orders for my business, and I get to work on a few of my own projects… at least for a couple weeks. I’ve been buying yarn at an alarming rate (c’mon, if you’re a crafter, you know about this yarn-buying dilemma). Food? Or yarn? Or electric bill? Or yarn?

Hopefully I’ll be able to show you some of my collections as soon as I get a good head start!

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Sleep

Most nights with out peanut are great. She’s a good sleeper (always has been) and generally I’m only up once (at most, twice) a night to feed her, change her diaper, and then she falls back into her blissful coma. I should note here that whenever I find the person who came up with, “Sleeps like a baby,” I’m getting a posse together to destroy them. Last night she did NOT sleep very well, my boobs kept aching because she wouldn’t eat, and her nose was stuffy – which left Mommy to lay in bed, peeking over into the bassinet every 20 minutes to make sure she could breathe through her mouth, and generally rock her, comfort her, whisper to her and walk her around when needed.

And today my house suffers for it.

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Theodore and Mia seem unaffected. He’s guard dogging the back door for intruders (aka squirrels that get too close to the house and birds that dare land in our yard), and Mia just paces back and forth waiting for to me to serve her a treat. Blasted spoiled pets.

And then Scout…. oh. Well. NOW she sleeps.

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Maybe at some point today once I clean up the kitchen, take the dishes out of the washer, fold laundry and make the bed – and SHOWER (can’t forget that, Jesus, I stink) – I can get a few minutes of shut-eye in before her Daddy gets home.

It’s given me time to work on some of my projects though. Stuff I can do right on the couch without moving too far away from my ball and chain baby (I really do love her). I can hear her farting from my desk…. so that means in about 5 minutes I need to change a very scary diaper. Yay for weekends! Restful!!! And then I laughed and laughed and laughed…

 

Baby Love

Motherhood is tricky, tricky. There are moments (few and far between at this age) when you want to throw your baby across the room because she won’t sleep, or feels like she has exclusive rights to your boobs and needs comforting for 6 hours straight, or simply because you haven’t gotten out of the house in 3 days. And those moments pass pretty quickly because then she smiles that first smile and you pretty much willingly become her prison bitch all over again.

And then there’s the quiet moments when you’re just laying on the bed together, talking back and forth complete baby nonsense, and you check out those amazingly small toes, and you think, “Love love love love love love love.” It’s not really a coherent thought – more of this bursting feeling in your chest. Like fireworks going off right inside your rib cage.

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Stinkin’ motherhood. It’s a real heart killer. I think back to bad breakups I’ve had…. failed marriages, cheaters, losers and numerous people who have broken my heart. And I think, “That’s nothing compared to the broken heart of being a parent.” Like… what if she decides to hate me later on in life? Or never speak to me again over a silly argument? Or have a bad accident?

Seriously. Screw you college boys that broke my heart! Y’all are PANSIES compared to this darling who could shatter and destroy me in a nanosecond!

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That’s my girl. My heartbreaker. My love love love love.

Play Time

Today Mommy & Scout are stuck without a car (I love Martha, my new Mom Car, but the Bluetooth isn’t working, and I’ll be damned if I continue making payments on a car that isn’t 100% working). So today is all about play time, arts & crafts (ok, that’s mostly me), reading books, singing songs (I swear to Jesus I make up songs about everything) and thinking about my healthy eating through the weekend (weekends are always my biggest challenge).

Scout is working on so many skills right now, it’s crazy to see her develop. As adorable as she way, I much prefer her at 10 weeks old than I did as a wee newborn. I’m loving this smiling and laughing thing that’s been going on! The way her eyes crinkle makes me melt into a puddle of love. And I adore watching her play on her play pad – the way she kicks her feet like a tiny ninja and punches the air like a teeny white Tyson.

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Although I’ve been feeling isolated the past couple months, I also enjoy my time at home with her. Watching her grow, learn and talk are some of the sweetest moments of my life.

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Tomorrow we can go on adventures again, maybe try a new place to take a walk or shop. Her curiosity is fun to experience alongside her! I wonder what tomorrow will bring for my sweet baby.

Home Days

Scout and I spend a lot of time at home. So. Much. Time. At. Home. It’s logical to assume we both occasionally go stir crazy. Cabin fever is almost a constant state of being for the two of us. Daddy gets to go to work, to the gym, to the store… Mommy and Scout are very much confined to this space until she’s easier to manage outside of the house. But it makes us both moody monsters.

Yesterday, Scout wasn’t feeling the happiness. She was bored looking at me all day. Again. She was bored with her play pad, bored with my breasts, bored with her bouncy chair, bored, bored, bored. And any time I tried to do anything remotely interesting with her, this is the response I received:

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That is Scout’s official “fuck you” face. And when I woke up this morning, I was in a similar state.

The news this morning was littered with International Women’s Day stuff, women I’m friends with were participating in a bunch of things for it – and I was stuck at home with a little 10-week old peanut. There’s no one else in the world I’d rather be at home with, but I was feeling defeated as a woman. My mind raced with memories of driving to the beach solo to enjoy the sun, or grabbing my camera and simply heading off on an adventure to wherever my vehicle would take me. I thought about the hours I’d spend in craft stores, or visiting new yarn shops regardless of their distance from home. I remember so many times grabbing a PB&J sandwich, hitting the road, yarn shop crawling for a whole day, then head home tired and poorer after spending money I didn’t really have on fresh fibers.

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I don’t mind at all hanging with this gorgeous lady. I just wish she was a tad older so we could go places without me having to worry about my boobs leaking. Or her being too uncomfortable in her car seat for hours on end.

Next week I intend to put in place a calendar where 2-3 days a week we have scheduled adventure days. I have to remind myself there’s no reason she can’t come with me. If I have to breast feed in public, then so be it. If some killjoy comes up to me and tells me I’m making them uncomfortable, I’ll gladly disengage Scout from my nipple and squirt the bastard in the eyeball (I can actually get some pretty good power behind a milk squirt – I’ve been practicing in the shower).

I have to remind myself there’s no reason at all Scout can’t start to share adventures with Mommy. Maybe I can even find little towns not too far away that offer antiquing and yarn and little cafes! Operation Mommy & Scout Adventure is totally happening!

Full of Sugar

I may have a slight obsession. Let’s just say I can’t go grocery shopping at Walmart without coming home with less than three outfits for my daughter. Thank you, Walmart, for selling cute outfits for $2.00 a pop. Without you, I’d be living off Ramen Noodles and Kraft Mac & Cheese.

And of course, in addition to having a baby outfit addiction, I also have to torture her while I force numerous outfit changes on her a day. How can one adequately show off their baby without the perfect outfit!?

My poor child. She’s abused. In a rich-kid sort of way.

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A friend of mine posted on Facebook just this morning that she can’t afford a new wardrobe, so she’s going on a diet (aka “adulting”). And it’s true… I can’t afford a pair of $70 mom jeans, but you can be damn sure I’ll be buying designer diapers, useless cute socks that she loses daily and books she can’t yet read. My daughter is currently lounging around in style, and I’m still in my old ugly-ass maternity jeans because I can’t fit in my former size 1 jeans sitting in my closet.

And you can be darn sure they’ll be sitting there for some time. Maybe forever. I’m not yet ready to give up on the fact that my body is forever changed and will NEVER again be able to fit into size one teeny-bopper jeans I bought at Abercrombie 10 years ago. Nope. I’ll be rocking these maternity jeans until my new mom hips can fit into a size 4, then a size 2. That’s my goal. I’m around a 6 right now thanks to the house that Scout built.

Meanwhile, she’ll look adorable in her “Full of Sugar” onsie I bought her, courtesy of Walmart. Yay for outfit change Sundays!

Casa Voyles

It’s supposed to rain in Houston every day for the next week. This means long days of snuggling, napping and finding things to do around the house (Casa Voyles is in need of a deep clean). Scout’s daddy bought an anvil today because he’s working on creating a blacksmith’s…. smithy? That sounded redundant. All afternoon he’s been out working on molding the anvil into his perfect blacksmith’s tool.

Scout and I hunkered down, watched the rain, had deep conversations that consisted mostly of vowels, watched Property Brothers (how stupid are these buyers!??!) and crocheted. Scout also needed a bath, which resulted in an epic meltdown (who’s only origin I can conclude came from being cold fresh out of the bath and absolutely abhorring having lotion gently massaged into her body). She promptly nursed and fell asleep – apparently I have magic boobs.

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I started out fantastically with my diet this morning. I had 70 calorie yogurt (which just made me hungrier) and went for a killer run. My FitBit even told me I kicked ass with my “peak fat burning” heart rate. And then Chris (Scout’s daddy) was like, “Let’s go to lunch! I’m starving!” EAT BREAKFAST MOTHERF****ER!!!!! This is exactly what’s contributing to my expanding waist line – people who want to go out to eat. What am I supposed to do at a Mexican restaurant? Bring a PB&J? Yeah. I did that. Last week. It was embarrassing.

So today I made a NEW pact with myself —- keep up the amazaballs workouts, and stop going out to eat. And if I DO go out to eat, stick with low calorie, veggie-heavy meals. Gawd. I miss being 10 years younger. At 26 I could eat two breakfasts, a pizza for lunch (yep, a whole one – I can feel you judging me) and usually I ate two bowls of sugary cereal or pasta with butter for dinner. I’m not even going to mention the obscene amounts of chocolate I consumed.

Alright 36, I’m over you. I’m bringing back 26!!!!

The Zoo

If there’s anything that going to the zoo teaches me, it’s that I only want one kid. Seeing a mom (who was about 5 months pregnant) haul around 3 other kids all under the age of 6 cured me of any potential baby fever I had. Her frustration level was at about 4,000% and to be honest – she didn’t look like she was having fun in any way. Her hair was a mess, her outfit was a modified set of PJs designed to look like a casual day outfit, she had chocolate ice cream dripping down her arm and she was yelling at the other children to, “Come here!”

I’m sure having all of those kids is very rewarding. I’m sure of it. About 85% sure of it. It’s at least amazing to create so many tiny humans. Okay, I think it’s stupid. Why would anyone purposely stress themselves to that level? I love my daughter. I know for a fact that I would love any other child that graced our lives. That’s the Catch 22. You are automatically programmed to love any tiny human you create…. sooooo….. you just have to try really hard not to create too many. Cuz then you’re stuck. You can’t pop ’em out and them give them away when you realize you’ve hit your child threshold.

And THANK GOD I have help! This man is the best daddy there is!

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Scout and I would be pretty unhappy without him. And he love the zoo, too! We were lucky enough to have Daddy all to ourselves today. One of my favorite things is family time at the zoo. The outdoors, the animal poo smells, the colorful birds and sounds of elephants… all pretty magical in my book.

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I even allowed a few pictures to be snapped of the baby and fat me. Shhhhh. I know what you’re about to say, but you’re just being obnoxiously nice. The truth is… I’ve gained weight. I can’t get rid of the baby weight even though I’ve been running for the past month. I’ve tried eating more healthy.

Tomorrow we go into survival mode and drop the number of calories I’m eating. This is going to require a tedious amount of calorie counting, frustrating hungry moments and basically all over bad-for-everyone mood swings. Sorry babe. In advance.

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But today I’m just going to enjoy the afterglow of bringing my little monkey to see the real monkeys. The zoo always puts me in a good mood and I’m riding this wave into tomorrow until I start starving myself again.

Martha

I’ve had a variety of blogs for years. Blogs where I overshare, blogs that showcase my photography and crafting, blogs that tackled a specific topic designed to keep me focused and blogs targeting friends and family so they can keep in touch with me and get small glimpses into my life. But since having a baby I feel the need even more to blog and keep my family far away informed. And, of course, a place where my mom can actively stalk photographs of her granddaughter from 3500 miles away.

So while I’m at it, here, Mom:

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Meanwhile, I’m sitting here, looking out the window at my new “Mom Vehicle.” Yesterday I said goodbye to my 2012 Jeep Wrangler, my companion, a black beauty I named Jenny when I first purchased her back in Connecticut. Jenny was my last connection to the Northeast, my sidekick as I drove back and forth several times across the country from New York & Connecticut to Texas. I’ve transported clothes, hefty possessions, a huge dog and two cats in that vehicle from one end of the country to the other. We visited big cities together: Atlanta, Boston, NYC, Nashville, Houston, Dallas, San Antonio. We’ve traveled to beaches all over the East Coast, threw her top off and enjoyed the sunshine in just about every eastern state. That was my “before baby” car. Now I have a gently used 2013 Ford Escape. While the SUV itself is nice to drive, solid and dependable, I’ll never feel the same as I did about Jenny. But at least now I can bring my daughter with me when we go antiquing (babies like that, right?) and take her out to lunch without having to borrow her daddy’s  car.

And I have to name her. Although we’re still getting to know each other, a spark of inspiration hit me when I was thinking about her purpose. She’s a Mom Vehicle now. I need to her to amazing. I want my SUV to see my child through her baby and toddler years. I want this SUV to entertain her, be our “home away from home,” house bags full of yarn from the store and haul 200 lbs of groceries from Sprouts. I’m naming her after a tough old bird that’s seen both good and bad times, but is still considered a widely respected homemaker. Martha. Yes. As is in Martha Stewart. Don’t judge me. It’s not nice.

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So with Jenny gone and Martha taking up real estate in my driveway, I look towards my beautiful little girl (who is staring up at the ceiling rather intently) and think it’s all so very worth it. She’s slowly closing her eyes and beginning to fall asleep for a super short nap, and I wonder if she’s staring at angels, or dreaming of breast milk, or singing her ABCs because I’ve overloaded her with the alphabet over the past week.

I’ve finally found a real outlet where I can write about a little of everything. I’m through with specifying a reason for a blog. This is simply all about our little lives here in Houston, living the dream, struggling just like everyone else, enjoying life and creating an environment of love for our daughter. I’m off to take sleepy baby photos before she grows up. I hear it happens overnight. Best to get in as much as I can before she’s 16, wearing makeup and asking her daddy if she can go on a date.

Tonight I finally get to go out and enjoy myself a little without Scout and break bread with a co-worker. I’m hoping she’ll talk me into coming back to work sooner than I’ve planned! Otherwise I’ll be bothering y’all on here too often!