When Your Inner Voice Isn't Nice.

I've had this post written for a while now, and have been too scared to hit publish. It's one of those posts that puts a knot in my stomach and makes me not want to make eye contact with people whom I know have read it.

But, these kinds of posts, while hard to write and harder to publish, are usually the ones that someone else needs to hear as much I need to write it.

In the past year, I've been working hard on self-development, specifically my mindset. Of all the books, podcasts and speakers I've read, listened to and seen, Rachel Hollis has resonated with me most. Specifically, "Girl, Wash Your Face," and "Girl, Stop Apologizing."

Rachel's belief is simple: You are the only one in control of your life. Stop breaking promises to yourself. Stop lying to yourself. Stop living your life for other people.

Easier said than done.

I've been able to take some of her advice and heed it easily. I try really hard not to break promises to myself. I am much better about not giving a shit about other people's opinions of me or what I do. I practice gratitude. I set goals and am focused on them. I'm drinking the fucking water.

And yet. There is one area where I continue to fail. Every single day.

"Be careful with the way you speak to YOURSELF... the words and phrases we use with ourselves become the soundtrack playing in the background of every moment of our lives and there's not a single thought—good or bad—that you don't allow to be there." —Rachel Hollis

Inside my head is not a nice place to be. The way I speak to myself is not kind. My inner voice, my constant companion, the "person" I talk to the most, is kind of an asshole.

I call myself fat almost every day.
I don't look in the mirror when I get in and out of the shower.
When my husband reaches out to hug me, my reaction is to move away because I'm afraid of what he feels when he puts his arms around me.
I tell myself I am lazy when I don't work out.
I lament over the things I didn't do in a day, instead of focusing on what I did do.
I agonize over the choices I made that day, for my kids and myself.
I shame myself for nearly everything. Too much time spent here. Not enough there. Too slow. Too fast. Not enough patience. Don't be a pushover. Did I smile enough?
I second-guess my own intelligence.
I wonder if I'm smart as I'm told I am, or as I know I am, or if I'm an imposter.
I call myself stupid.

"You are not stupid, so stop telling yourself that you are. You are not ugly, so stop thinking it—even occasionally—when you look in the mirror. You are not a b*tch, even if you sometimes do b*tchy things. You are not ignorant or mean or unlovable or unworthy or falling short or any of the other stupid crap running through your mind."—Rachel Hollis⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

A lot of people tell me they admire my confidence. And while I am confident about a lot of things, there are many moments where I'm the most insecure person in the room. Fake it til you make it?

I would never speak to a friend the way I speak to myself. Never. And likewise, if anyone spoke to me, the way I speak to myself, I'd run away crying and/or kick their ass.

The truth in that hypothetical gives me a good idea about how much my mind needs softening up. Because how can my mind be settled and calm when I'm constantly so hard on myself? How can I expect anything other than discontent when I talk to myself harshly?

Now, don't get me wrong. It's not like I walk around all day just berating myself. I definitely have days where I feel good, about anything or everything, and that's the soundtrack I dance to. I've just noticed that lately, for whatever reason, I've been a lot harder on myself, and my first reaction is not to cut myself any slack or give myself grace.

I put so much pressure on myself, and that's not the example I want to set for my boys, or what I want to teach them, and it's not the way I want to "be" in general. The good news is, it's a learned behavior, and I am the only one in control of it. And I can control it since I'm aware it's an issue.

I didn't write this for sympathy or fishing for compliments. Please don't tell I'm not ugly, or stupid or fat. Just because you say it, doesn't mean it's true. And no matter how much I may be able to recognize a nugget of truth in those statements, it doesn't just mean I can believe it myself. It takes time. 

So I just needed to put this out there. To tell myself, and to tell every person reading this who feels the same, or is hard on themselves like I am: Pay attention to negative inner-chatter, and let's work on shutting it down.

Someone I follow on Instagram wrote something so profound the other day that I'm compelled to share:

What will it take for us to understand? ⁣⁣⁣⁣How many moments we’ve missed. ⁣⁣How many tears we’ve shed. ⁣⁣All the intimacies we’ve denied. ⁣⁣⁣⁣What will it take??⁣⁣And when will we see? ⁣⁣⁣⁣That we cannot hate ourselves happy. ⁣⁣⁣And how truly destructive we’ve been. ⁣⁣⁣We are wasting precious time, energy, money and power to trying. ⁣⁣⁣⁣I mean PRECIOUS. ⁣⁣Fleeting. ⁣⁣Undetermined... ⁣⁣Time. ⁣⁣⁣So know, no matter what you feel about your body right now, these things will never change:⁣⁣1. You deserve to eat food. ⁣⁣2. You deserve to make memories.⁣⁣3. You deserve to be loved.⁣⁣4. You deserve to be in that room.⁣5. You deserve everything that is good in this world and in this life and your body is not a prerequisite for any of it. ⁣⁣⁣⁣And I really hope we understand. ⁣⁣Before we miss it all. ⁣⁣Lost to the hate. ⁣⁣We were never meant to hold. ⁣

I have come a long way in self-development, but I'm a work in progress. There is no happy ending to this post, except to say that every day, I'm working being kinder to myself. I'm going to try harder. I hope you do, too.

"...So every time you find yourself thinking something negative... stop yourself, drop the hateful litany, shut 'em down...then replace them with good stuff. If you do it enough the good stuff replaces the bad and when that happens everything in your life changes immeasurably."—Rachel Hollis

Big love. Lost to the hate. 

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Breaking the Silence

In this moment, I'm sitting on my porch, and it's quiet. It's Tuesday night, the sun has set, a candle is burning, my tiki lights are on, and it's quiet. It's July, but it's a cool, perfect, 69 degrees outside. I'm wearing a cozy sweatshirt, my cozy slippers, and drinking a glass of wine. It's quiet.

My oldest loves are downstairs or in bed. My littlest love has been sleeping since our evening dance party ended two hours ago. The kitchen is cleaned up. Lunch prepped for tomorrow. Laundry still needs folding. Work emails to be answered. But here I sit. Just me. In the quiet.

Quiet, you see, is not something I come by easily. Even when the sounds around me are still, the noise in my head is louder than any child ever could be. Always thinking of the next to-do, setting mental reminders to call my parents, sisters and friends; to wish so-and-so a happy birthday, don't forget to text my R+F customer, and holy shit, can you just start working out already? It's exhausting, really.

I spoke today to a group of bright-eyed interns about what I do in my job, and how I got to this point in my career. I was asked to talk about my career path and my passions. Of course, I proclaimed that writing is my passion. I quickly moved on, on to my next point, but I must have lingered long enough because when it was time for Q&A, the first question asked was, "Do you miss writing?"

Of course, I said, but it's OK because I have a blog as a creative outlet...so even though I don't get to do as much writing at work as I wish I could, I'll always have that.

Next question: What's your blog, and what do you write about?

Pause. (Why are these kids so interested in my blog?!)

I tell them the name of my blog, talk about its evolution from shitty weird thing where I had nothing to talk about and how it's cringe-inducing to go back and read most of that stuff. Then I talked about how it's now a lifestyle/mommy long and bored them with why I found it important to talk about the 'real' side of parenting and pregnancy and marriage, for example. (What's that, 22 year olds? You don't care? Sorry, I'll move on.) To recover, I threw out that I also blog about the Bachelor and Bachelorette, and that got a reaction. Back in their good graces.

As I was driving home, I got to thinking about how much I felt like a...phony, maybe? Why did I even mention my blog, I thought? It's not like I'm updating it! I'm not even blogging about the Bachelorette (even though it's the best season, ever!! Where my Tyler C. fans at?) I felt stupid for mentioning it, thinking about any one of them googling, "Raves and Revelations," and coming here to see that my last publish date was...

February 2018?!?! But...that's A YEAR AND A HALF AGO. Like...what? I mean, life has been busy but no one, certainly not me, is THAT BUSY.

So here I sit. I have a million other things I think I should be doing, but I couldn't resist the quiet, or my pineapple lights, the cool air, or the feeling that I want to sit down and write. Something I haven't felt in a long time.

Honestly, I think what's happened is that, as I often do, I put too much pressure on myself. Nothing new, either...typical feelings, like fear to write openly about how I feel about x, y or z; is this blog worthy? or will anyone care? Things like that.

But here's the good news: In the past 1.5 years since I've written a word that I feel "worthy" of publishing, I've hitched a ride to the self-development train. I've learned a lot about fears and feeling inadequate and holding yourself back, and why that is no way to live your life (thank you, Rachel Hollis).

So, I hope this is the first post of many more to come, on a much more regular basis, and without so much worry and thought devoted to if whatever I want to talk about is right or wrong, or if anyone gives a shit, or if there is a typo.

But if its not, and these are the last words I write for another 1.5 years, know that tonight, I came here and during the mere 30 minutes it took me to write down these thoughts, I was surrounded by things I love, like candles, lights, wine, sweatshirts, summer nights and motivation. It was quiet.

And I broke the silence.

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2017: Year in Review

Happy 2018! I hope everyone is recovering from what I lovingly refer to as the "holiday hangover." You know - where everyone is off-schedule, overstimulated, overtired, over-gifted and just generally ready things to go back to normal? I know I am.

Not that I don't LOVE the holidays - I do, I really do. But this year, for the first time, as ready as I was for them to come and be enjoyed, I was also ready to say goodbye to them. We spent our holidays in Iowa with our families, and while being home is always a joy, it's not without challenges—especially with two kiddos. We had an amazing time, but are happy to be back in Chicago, organizing our new (unnecessary) loot, cleaning out the old and getting back to a routine.

It goes without saying, blogging was not a priority for me in 2017. I started the year with the best of intentions (I always do), but pretty much, we went on vacation in February, came home, found out we were pregnant, and then everything that followed was mass chaos. I'm a sucker for a New Year though, so while 2017 was a year of ever-present ups and downs, both personally and for the world, I wanted to take a minute to reflect on the past year and share a little about what I hope for in 2018.

I started 2017 on a great foot with a promotion at my full-time marketing job. In this role this past year, I became a manager for the first time, and leading my small staff (of one) taught me more about management in 12 months than most people experience in a career! Suffice to say, I learned so much about what it means to be a leader, good manager AND good employee. I found areas where I needed to improve and I'm ready to focus on those in 2018 now that I have a new team when I return back to work.

2017 also started with the inauguration of a new president, Donald Trump. I try to keep my blog a place of love and light, so I'm not going to waste my breath on the setbacks that have occured under his "leadership" this year. I will simply say I do not support Donald Trump and don't believe he has our country's best interests at heart. I truly hope 2018 sees Trump's impeachment, because in addition to being unqualified and unfit to lead our country, the man is just a vile human being who should not represent our great country.

We watched our sister get married in the beautiful Punta Cana. It was a joy to spend a full week with family in Puerto Rico and the Dominican Republic, and to see Liam enjoy the sun and sand. (Oh the sand...it was not meant for toddlers.)

We found out we were expecting our second baby and that said baby was a BOY! My pregnancy was less than ideal, as the first half was spent feeling sick and the second half was spent largely in the hospital due to complications.  Those tough months of pregnancy taught me a lot—about faith over fear, about family, about patience and about my own strength. I've since regained my own health and for that, I'm endlessly grateful.

 

And yet, despite those challenging 9 months, I can't complain for even a moment because now we have a beautiful, healthy boy to show for it, and I know that is more than so many others have. Our newest,  amazing blessing, Connor Leo, was born on October 5, 2017.

His arrival has rocked our world. With your second child, you think you have an idea of what's to come, but...I'd beg to differ. Sure, the actual "what do we do with a baby" aspect feels easier and less overwhelming. But you don't think about all of the other elements that a second baby brings. Because it's not just about caring for another baby. Now it's about caring for a baby, while also caring for your first born and helping him or her adjust to these major changes. It's learning how to parent not just one but two little people. Newsflash: IT'S NOT EASY.

In 2017, Bryan and I have faced more parenting challenges than I think we ever imagined. Not only have we dealt with Liam during his "terrible twos" and his entrance to being a "threenager" — we've also had to deal with challenges of helping him adjust during some major life changes, such as moving, moving into a big boy room, potty training, dealing with some big feelings surrounding me being in the hospital, and of course, becoming a big brother. Adjusting to life as parents of two boys has been hard...really hard. Gone is the luxury of one of being able to give the other a bit of a break. Now it's basically man-to-man defense, and half the time it feels like we are just waving hello across the room as we each deal with one respective child. But, this too shall pass, we will continue to learn and enjoy (most) of this crazy life we lead as parents!

We spent months and months (and months) in 2017 looking tirelessly for our perfect new home. When we found out we were expecting, we stepped up our game and finally found our perfect new home to fit our growing family, and which checked off most of our "want" boxes. We moved in July and it truly is the best of all worlds for our family, in terms of space, location, price, etc. I know we will be happy here for many years to come.

We traveled, which is our favorite thing to do, not only to the Dominican Republic, but to Montreal, Canada to celebrate our six year wedding anniversary. And when we couldn't travel anymore, we made the most of the summer with visitors, street festivals, and a $6 shark pool on our new rooftop deck.

We closed out the year with our three favorite holidays: Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas.

 We were able to travel to Iowa to see family for Thanksgiving and Christmas, while we rang in the New Year and celebrated Halloween here in Chicago at our new home.

Our home was sick for much of 2017, whether it was Liam battling a cold (which I swear has been non-stop since the fall, me being in the hospital, or Bryan's bout with the stomach flu. And, sadly, we lost a few dear members of our family.

It was year of major highs and major lows, so my hope is that we appreciate each of those highs and lows for what they taught us. So what do I hope for in 2018? Fewer life changes, for one thing!

This year, I hope to be more intentional with my life. One of my friends posted something the other day that resonated with me so much - she said that JOY in our lives comes from the Journey Of Yes. In other words, say yes. To everything, and especially to things that scare you. And instead of saying NO, how about, not right now?

Rather than make resolutions, I decided I want to have a focus word for the year. A theme to carry me through each and every decision I make. I've been thinking long and hard, and my word for is 2018 is: IMPACT. 

As people, we tend to spend a lot of time watering the weeds so speak. Worrying about and wasting energy on things that are not within our control and/or that simply do not matter. I know I'm guilty of this. By being more intentional and positive, I hope to have a bigger impact on all aspects of my life, from my health and well-being to parenting, relationships, giving back, business...all.of.it.

I hope to IMPACT other people with my stories and words here on my blog.
I hope to IMPACT the lives of others as I grow and lead my Rodan + Fields team and find like-minded people who strive to be successful and want more.
I hope to IMPACT my children in a positive way, as they teach me how to be a better mom.
I hope to IMPACT client's businesses at my full-time job, as well as lead my team to make a bigger, better IMPACT through our work and to my company.
I hope to IMPACT my personal well-being through being kinder to my body, mind and spirit.

You get the picture.

How was your 2017? What are you looking forward to this year?

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Heavy Heart, Little Hands

I've been struggling the past few days to put into words what I've been feeling in the wake of the past week's tragedies. I feel sick to my stomach when I think about the latest mass shooting in Orlando. Or the Stanford rape case. Or the toddler who was drowned by an alligator. All of this, in addition to the political state we're in and the countless other hate crimes and terrorist acts that flood the news every day.

I cannot express how much your view of the world changes when you have a child. You are so much more aware of mortality. Of the bad things. Fear and anxiety over "what ifs" can be crippling if you let them.

Children are so innocent. They believe in unicorns and superheroes. They don't know about things like hate, racism, sexism, violence, politics, judgement, bullying and death. And they shouldn't have to. But because of all that's going on in our world today, parents are being forced to have those tough conversations.

I'm thankful that Liam is not at an age where I don't have to explain to him why a man walked into a nightclub and opened fire on a group of people because of their sexuality. That I don't have to explain why a white college boy raped an unconscious woman and was not given the same sentence as a a black man who committed the same crime. That I don't have to explain why people are judging parents who went to Disney World to fulfill their toddler's dream of meeting Mickey Mouse, for letting him play on beach where millions of other children have played before him.

As a mother, or parent, it's our sole responsibility to teach our children right from wrong. To shape them into being kind, decent, tolerant human beings. The pressure of such responsibility is heavy.

As parents, we should not have to fear our children going to school. We should not fear them going to the mall. We should not fear going to church with our families. We should not fear going to a movie or a dance club or letting them go to a party.

Our children should not live in fear of bad men and women who do bad things. How do I tell him that nowhere is safe? It's not even a matter of being careful...because these tragedies are happening where innocence thrives. Nowhere feels safe anymore.

I want Liam to know that the world is beautiful and that kindness, and good people and equality DO exist. I want him to know that hate and entitlement are not acceptable behaviors. I want him to know hate is weak. I want him to know that a little kindness can go a long way.

I will teach him patience and manners.
I will teach him that it's OK when people have different opinions and it's not OK to react to those differences in other way than respectfully.
I will teach him to love every person of every race, sexuality, religion, political party and lifestyle.

The fact remains that the world in which we live is scary and demands change. I don't know what the change is. I don't know how to make it happen. People need to accept that our freedoms include difference of opinion, and that the answer to that difference is not a mass murder or hate crime.

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Parenting in One Word

Momentous occasions are always met with required follow-up commentary and questions. When you get engaged, people ask how it happened. When you get married, people ask if it feels different. When you get pregnant, people wonder how you're feeling, when you're due and are you excited?

Having a baby is no different. Along with congratulations on your child's beauty and asking if you're getting any sleep, people with kids usually ask how you're feeling, And people without kids ask:

What's it like being a mom?

Is it possible to sum up what it feels like to be someone's entire world in one sentence? Or one word?

When people ask me what it's like being a mom, my short, one-word answer would be this: Overwhelming. In every. single. way. you can possibly imagine.

You are overwhelmed with responsibility. With happiness. Overwhelmed with gratitude. With anxiety, and hormones. Overwhelmed with fear. And more than anything, with love.

Overwhelmed is not (always) a bad thing. It is just to say that everything you feel after having a baby is amplified. Bigger, sometimes heavier. You're at your most vulnerable, and suddenly, every choice you make directly affects more than just you.

So when people ask me what it's like to be a mom, or how I feel, the long answer I'd give, is this:

I'm overwhelmed with joy when I walk through the door and his face lights up like he has never been, will never be, happier than he is at that instant, at seeing his mama walk through the door. At the distinct "Mama," followed by a slur of jargon that only a parent could understand. Joy can be overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with guilt, at times. For not being the mom who makes all of her baby's food or buys only organic. For being the mom who buys frozen meatballs and serves Spaghettio's. For feeling like I'm never giving enough but knowing I can't give any more. For buying him things that I know in my heart he doesn't need, and for not buying him everything despite that. Guilt is overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with pride when he takes wobbly, hesitant (yet confident) steps, one hand holding on to his ear like he's holding a boombox, while the other is extended, like he's from The Walking Dead.

I'm overwhelmed with options. What is the difference between the convertible car seat that costs $100 more than the other model by the same brand? What is the difference between natural and all natural? Should his diapers be sensitive or cruisers or baby dry? Choices are overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with awe when I think I about how just one year ago, my baby was growing inside my belly. With the idea that my husband and I created him. With the way my heart feels when he looks up at me and in his eyes I can see happiness, wonder and love. To be constantly in awe of something or someone, is overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with fear. That something terrible, tragic and horrible is going to happen to me, my husband or my baby. Overwhelmed with grief and sadness when I read about other mothers, ones who are diagnosed postpartum with cancer or rare diseases. Parents whose babies died, for no reason at all or for the most unimaginable reason in the world. Isn't any reason unimaginable? Fear is crippling.

I'm overwhelmed with relief that right now, in this moment, me, my husband and my baby are alive, healthy and thriving. Then again, I'm overwhelmed with guilt at feeling this way at another family's expense.

I'm overwhelmed with information, about everything from when to start solid foods to how to wean off a bottle or pacifier to how to get the baby to sleep through the night, right down to what shoes are best when baby starts to walk. Knowledge, and my lack of it, is overwhelming.

I'm overwhelmed with nostalgia, thinking about my own childhood; traditions and memories with my parents and family, and the desire to create those same moments with my new little family. Nostalgia at my "old" self, and the notion that doing anything on a whim is no longer possible and that getting drunk on date night is not as fun when you know you still have to wake up and be a parent. (Hello again, guilt, at longing for a time of life when the baby wasn't here.)

I'm overwhelmed with time, both the sheer lack of it and the pace with which is moves by, so quickly.

But mostly, I'm overwhelmed by love. Incredible, all-encompassing, take-your-breath-away love that is shocking, really. A kind of love so great and so big, it's frightening, but wonderful...and indescribable.

Parenting is overwhelmingly hard. Overwhelmingly rewarding. And if you ask me what it's like to be a mom, or how I'm feeling - I'll tell you the short version.

And I'll hope that someday, you know just what I mean.

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10 Things I Was Before I Was "Mom"

As most any mom will tell you - they love being a mom. But I think we'd all be lying if we said we didn't think about, miss -- sometimes even long for -- the period of life before we lost a bit of our former selves.

Times we didn't appreciate. Times my kids will likely never know about, and if they do, never believe. Times that I'm willing to bet, our closest friends didn't appreciate, either. (My friends LOVE drunk Rachel. And they miss her.)

So kids, if you're reading - here are some things you should know about your Mom:

1. Before I was a mom, my Instagram featured something other than you. I know it's hard to believe, but "Mom Me," my Instagram looked like anyone else's: Poorly "styled" food photos, snaps of the alcoholic beverage I was consuming, overused hashtags, my dog, and trips from travels.

But then I got pregnant and my baby bump took over the feed. And then you actually arrived and I totally became the mom that I swore I never would be on social media. #BLESSED (Just kidding, I have never and will never use that hashtag.)

2. Before I was a mom, I used to sleep. On the weekends, you could find me going to bed between the hours of midnight and 4am. I'd rise for a quick hangover fix between 10-11am and then go back to bed and stay there, drifting between states of consciousness, before I got up and did it all again. I napped when I wanted to, woke up when I wanted to and that's right, went to bed when I wanted to.

3. Before I was a mom, I wasn't annoying. Not AS annoying, anyway. I certainly wasn't doing things like talking baby talk, making up songs about stinky diapers, dancing like a fucking idiot to make you smile, and following people around saying "No thank you!" as politely as possible when I really want to say "Don't touch that, god dammit!"

4. Before I was a mom, I used to be kinda cool. That's right.  I was COOL AF. Nevermind. I wasn't cool. I'm still not.

5. Before I was a mom, I judged other moms. Kids throwing tantrum in public? Kids wearing mismatched clothes? Moms in public looking disheveled? Helicopter parenting? NOT ME. NEVER.

6. Before I was a mom, I used to party my ass off. Oh, the stories I could tell. The stories my friends could tell. I got five underage drinking tickets before I turned 21-three of those were in one week, and two were in one night. (No drinking until you're 21, kids!) The night I did turn 21, I took 21 shots to celebrate and lived to tell the tale. I was voted to have the "Best Party House" in high school. I passed out before noon on St. Patrick's Day, woke up three hours later and STILL went out to party the day away. Know this.

7. Before I was a mom, I was athletic. Well, kind of. I worked out on a semi-regular basis. I ran (a) half-marathons. I did a Tough Mudder. I was pretty much a badass.

8. Before I was a mom, I cursed like a motherfucker. I'm trying to get better at this, especially while I still have the luxury of you not really being able to talk. I'm sure hearing you mutter, "God Dammit" will not only give me the chuckles, but I will think it's adorable and impossible to scold you. That is until you start dropping F bombs. (And even then, let's be honest...)

9. Before I was a mom, I was put together. I curled my hair. I straightened my hair. If I styled my hair one way and didn't like it, I'd try the other. I had time for these things. I did my makeup.  I wore jewelry. I tried on multiple outfits, worried about parts of my body other than my post-baby mom pouch. Now that I go to work, I am a *little* closer to being put together, but if you bet on my outfit on any given day, if I were you, I'd include "hoodie" and "yoga pants" in your wager.

10. Before I was a mom, I never knew how much how much I wanted to be one. Most of us spend our life trying NOT to get pregnant. We're scared of it. Even when we decided we wanted a baby, it was terrifying. But that moment you, my first baby, entered the world, you took it over. Life split into two halves: before you, and after.

Life before you was wonderful. I'm grateful for it. But I wouldn't trade one moment of this "after" life with you.

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To the New Mom Walking

Hey, you.

Yes, you - the mama at the intersection looking nervously in every direction to make sure all the cars are stopped before you cross the street with the baby stroller you are gripping for dear life.

You, the one pushing your new travel system, which you have covered, but keep peeking under to make sure your brand new, beautiful, most precious piece of cargo is still alive - and sleeping.

You push the stroller back and forth, back and forth, a quiet "shhhh" crossing your lips - unconscious movements and noises. You hope, wish, pray that you can make it to Starbucks and back without the baby waking or screaming.

I know you. We've never met. But I'd recognize you anywhere.

You're self-conscious out here in broad daylight. You wonder if people around you think you look fat, or like a slob in your yoga pants, or if your breasts are leaking. You subconsciously tug your shirt down.

You walk gingerly, still sore from the trauma of delivering a human.

I see you, sneaking your phone under the car seat cover to snap a picture of that sleeping beauty. You're making sure to get some of the sidewalk or sunlight in the photo, to make it known that you're outside, and that you're brave enough to leave the house.

You have a venti coffee in the cup holder, and as you walk, you do so carefully, so as not to spill a drop of your precious caffeine. You're already thinking about when you can have a second cup.

Beneath your sunglasses, your eyes are tired and bloodshot. They still sting from this morning, when for no reason at all - yet for every reason in the world - you burst into tears when your mom called to see how you're doing.

Your hair, piled high in a pony tail, is wet from the shower you took this morning. The first one you've taken in days. The one that lasted a whole three minutes, because even though your little one was sleeping in his Rock 'n Play just outside the bathroom door, you still stuck your head out of the shower every 30 seconds because you swore you could hear him crying.

You're confident from taking a shower. This small victory made it easier for you to put on fresh yoga pants - not the ones you've been wearing the past few days. Cleanliness and accomplishment propelled you out the front door with determination to seize the day.

I know you, Mama. I was you. I am you.

You're tired in a way that you've never known, never knew, was possible. You're overwhelmed, in every sense of the word - with love, responsibility, amazement, uncertainty. You're scared. You have no idea what you're doing. You question every single decision you make. Your Google history would show me everything from "how long can breast milk sit out" to "why is my baby crying." You cry for no reason, sometimes just because you love that baby more than anything.

But outside the walls of your home, being a mom doesn't seem as hard. The day ahead of you, filled with feedings and crying, shushing and soothing, dirty diapers and spit up, doesn't seem as daunting.

You look forward to that baby opening his eyes, so you can talk to him, kiss him, snuggle him. You don't feel like bursting into tears when someone asks you how you are. You don't feel scared at the prospect of taking care of this baby, whom you've only just met and are still getting to know, all by yourself - at least until Dad gets home. In the fresh air and sunshine, you feel like you've got this.

And you should. Because you do. I promise you, despite how unfit for it you feel, you are the best person for this new job you hold. You will find your groove. And while I can't promise you it will get easier, I can tell you on good authority that it does get better.

So keep walking, Mama. You're doing great.

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Why I Write

Writing is one of those things that you either love or you hate. It goes without saying - I love it. It's how I best communicate. It's how I de-stress. It's how I think through things. It's how I connect with people.

That connection is what drives me to write. When I read something by someone else and think, "YES. This. ALL OF THIS." That is my favorite moment.

When I write something that provides that same connection, that people can relate to - that is why I love to write. To connect, relate, teach and learn.

My voice is only mine, and my experiences are only my own. But if I can use that voice and those experiences to help other people, empathize with other people, or at the very least, make someone smile - I'm fulfilled.

When I first started this blog, I didn't have a vision for it. It was a "lifestyle" blog. And it still is. But now, since getting pregnant and then having the baby, I feel like I can now use this platform to connect on a bigger level. I guess maybe I'm a "mommy blogger," and I'm totally cool with that.

Parenting is a trip, I'll tell you that. It's the hardest, easiest, most challenging, rewarding, hilarious, bittersweet, amazing journey you'll ever go on. There is no shortage of opinions, ways to do things, methods of coping, ways to teach, things to learn.

My goal is to give you honesty and candor. Sympathy and empathy. Smiles and a giggle. Having a baby is not all baby snuggles and warm fuzzy feelings. People who say, or think it is, are full of shit. Parents need to know that there are others going through what they are, feeling what they're feeling. And they need to laugh. You will not survive as a parent without laughing - at yourself, at your kids, at what your life has become.

I have not been a parent long enough to think I know everything. Hell no. But I have been doing it long enough to feel like I have something to contribute to the conversation.

In seeing some of my recent posts being published on national media outlets, it gives me validation that this is what I'm supposed to be doing. Writing is my passion, my outlet, my gift. It's up to me to use it.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, for coming to my corner of the world, even if it was just one time. I may not have thousands of followers, but I do have you, and your support means the world.

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37 Times You Know You're a Parent

Parenthood changes you - physically, mentally and emotionally. Priorities shift, emotions intensify, marriages evolve.

And tolerance for bodily functions increases tenfold.

After just seven months, I’ve gone from an aversion to blood and vomit, to now deciding whether or not to shower or change clothes based not on IF I was pooped, peed or puked on, but on the amount that is still on me. So there's that.

Note the vomit on my shoulder. #dontcare

Whether it’s catching puke midstream with my hand before it hits someone in the face, or recognizing the warm (yet not fuzzy) feeling spreading across my stomach while nursing – these are the moments where I think, "You're definitely a parent."

I asked other parents when they had this same revelation. Their answers left me equal parts entertained, horrified and frightened.

Spoiler alert: Being a parent involves a lot of poop. Can you relate?

Photo Credit: lifecreations via Compfight cc

You Know You're a Parent When...

1. You'd rather stay home on Saturday night than wake up at 6am to nurse a baby AND a hangover.
2. You celebrate bowel movements with a "poop dance."
3. You don’t think twice about pushing on your boobs in public to see how full you are.
4. You want to kick the person’s ass that coined the saying, "Sleeping like a baby." It should be switched to, "Sleeping like my 80-pound Labrador Retriever on a Tempur-Pedic bed."
5. You accidentally tell your co-workers you'll be ready for lunch after you go "potty."
6. You institute a "no bodily functions" rule at the dinner table.
7. You find yourself alone in the kitchen at night softly singing "Old McDonald" as you do dishes.
8. You find yourself saying "Oh, good, it's just vomit."
9. Your husband asks if you want to have a "quickie," and you think he said "cookie." You’re disappointed because you would prefer the cookie.
10. You learn to shower with people watching you.
11. You sniff your baby's butt multiple times a day and think nothing of it.
12. You leave the house and find pacifiers in your pockets.
13. The 10pm showing of a new movie is too late for date night.
14. You use the restroom with a kid in your lap.
15. You know the pain of stepping on a Lego.
16. You and your spouse create a swear jar just so your kiddo doesn't repeat that four-letter word to his Sunday school teacher...again.
17. The most revered object in the household is the hairdryer. Not because you give a damn what your hair looks like, but because it's the only thing that can get your baby to stop crying and fall asleep.
18. You poop with the door open.
19. You're singing along to the Frozen soundtrack, then realize you're in the car alone.
20. Getting poop on your hand—or anywhere else—doesn’t faze you.
21. You know precisely how to "extract" a hard poop ball from your child.
22. You have groceries in the cart, and you're totally okay with leaving them in the aisle, so you can assist your screaming child out of the store.
23. You find yourself swaying and rocking, no matter where you are—or if there is a baby in your arms.
24. Food falls out of your bra when you undress at the end of the day...and it wasn't food you ate.
25. You find boogers on your curtains.
26. You learn to bribe your children with everyday tasks. "If you pick up your blocks before bed, you get to brush your teeth!"
27. You keep watching kid shows after the kids go to bed.
28. Going to work on Monday sounds like a vacation.
29. You buy clothes for yourself based on how easily puke will wash out.
30. You hear a baby cry in the store and instantly start rocking your shopping cart.
31. You hide to eat a snack because you don't want to share.
32. Your trip to the gynecologist is your idea of "girl time!"
33. You make up songs… for everything.
34. You consider 7AM sleeping in.
35. You pretend to use the bathroom just so you can play on your phone for a few minutes without being bothered.
36. You know where all the drive-thru Starbucks are in your city since you frequent them daily driving baby around for nap.
37. You can fall and stay asleep in almost any position.

When was a moment that you realized you were in the thick of parenthood?

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Give Yourself Grace

Lately I've found myself in a bit of a negative funk. It comes and goes, but when it comes, it's intense. It infiltrates every part of my brain. 

I just feel like there are so many things to juggle right now. Everything is only getting half my effort or attention - nothing gets 100%. It's a shitty feeling.

I've made a concerted effort lately to change my perspective. To try and not be so hard on myself.

People tell me this all the time - that' I'm too hard on myself. I always have been. I'm that girl who brings herself down with more negative thoughts than I'd ever admit to anyone who asked. 

Nothing I do is good enough. I don't exercise enough. I am too forgetful. I am so clumsy. I am too this, too that, not enough this and definitely not enough that.

Now, as a mom, those "flaws" morph into anxiety or worse, guilt. 

Over having to go to work every day and leave Liam with a nanny. 
About not yet having started a college savings account for him. 
About looking forward to bedtime some nights, even though I've only spent a total of 3 hours with him that day. 
Still about not exercising enough. 
About not being able to get done all the things I used to be able to get done in a day. 
About not producing enough breast milk or drinking too much wine. 
About not losing enough weight fast enough.
not saving enough money.
spending too much money.
not waking up early enough.
not going to bed early enough.

I have anxieties about bad things happening to people I love - mostly, my family. everything feels more fragile now that I'm a parent. Probably because it is.

It is so easy to get bogged down in all of the things I'm not doing good enough, instead of focusing on the things I am doing well. Or to think about the areas in life where I'm doing the best I can. And why. 

I am working because the money I am earning will allow us to give Liam with a life where we can provide for him.

I am also working to pay off debts so that someday soon, we can start putting money into savings for Liam instead of into credit card payments.

Although I might look forward to bedtime so I can get some things done, those 3-4 hours I am spending with Liam, I teach him, love on him, play with him and I'm all in.

I may not exercise enough, but I am exercising when I can, and that has to be enough right now.

It's natural to not want anything bad to happen to our loved ones, but worrying about things not in our control is a waste of energy. Not to mention morbid and toxic. Instead. I must be grateful, and hold every day a little closer to my heart.

I can't do everything in a day - no one can. But I do what I can.

And isn't that the most important thing? That as moms, and parents, we do the best we can? 

There is just so much judgment out there in the world - so many ways to compare ourselves and so many ways we don't measure up. 

We don't make enough money, live in a big enough house, take enough family vacations, eat enough healthy food, save enough money, sleep enough hours.

When is "enough" actually enough?

I allow myself moments, sometimes entire days to feel overwhelmed and consumed by these negative emotions. But before I go to bed at night, I try my damnedest to remember what is most important: I'm doing the best I can. I am enough for Liam. I am enough for my husband. 

I give myself grace.

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My First Mother's Day

Well, this Monday officially beat me. As much as I want to lay my head down and go to sleep right now, I need to recap the lovely Mother's Day weekend I had first!

Let's say the weekend started on Thursday night, because I went for girls night out to see one of my favorite musicians, Tyrone Wells, perform at a local venue here. The venue was super intimate, had great food and wine, but most importantly I had great company with my lady loves! We had a great time, and Liam and Bryan had "guys night."

Fridays are usually pretty low-key at our house - Bryan and I are tired after the work week, and Liam is worn out from "school." This one was no different. Liam and I hung out while Bryan was at a work event, and we were all asleep for the night by 10pm!

After a beautiful few days during the week, of course the weather on Saturday was horrible. Cold and rainy. We spent the morning hanging at home with Liam, and on Saturday afternoon, Liam and I went over to my best girlfriend's (sister's) house so he could meet her family! He also got to catch up with his buddy Harvey, who was born just one week after him. I love love love getting together with my friends' kiddos.

When I got home, I found my lovely husband cooking me dinner! We put Liam down and enjoyed a dinner of ribs, charred corn, sweet potatoes and garlic pretzel bread, while we drank while and watched The Wedding Ringer. We mainly rented it because our friend from high school, Dan Gill, was one of the groomsmen in the movie. It was funny, but we were happy to have waited to see it on RedBox.

Sunday morning, I got to sleep in (until 8:30am...what what!) and was served coffee in bed while I fed Liam. When I went out to the kitchen, I was greeted by flowers, mimosa fixin's and a sweet card from Liam. Of course I cried at "his" note.

 While Liam napped, Bryan and I sipped mimosas and got ready to go to brunch. 

After, we watched a movie (Wild) and we all took naps, then got up and went on a long walk. We ordered my favorite pizza (taco!) for dinner, and watched Sunday shows. And of course, we facetimed with our moms, too!

It may not sound like an exciting weekend or extra special, but I loved every moment. All I wanted was to spend time with my family, and everything else was extra.

It's super cliche, but quite honestly, the meaning of Mother's Day was completely changed for me this year now that I'm a mom. Of course I have always honored my mom, stepmom, mother-in-law, sister, etc on Mother's Day. But it's almost like becoming a mom makes you a part of a club. Growing up, my mom always told me that I'd never know how much she loves me. As I told her this Mother's Day, I finally think I get what she means by that. 

I feel so lucky every day that Liam is ours, and that I was chosen to be his mama. I never could have imagined how much I would love this new part of my life, but I do, so much. Being a mom is the hardest, best, most rewarding experience of my life, and I feel like it has given me new purpose.

Thank you to my husband for making me feel extra special and helping Liam with his gifts. And thank you to all of my friends who wished me a Happy First Mother's Day, as well as my family who showered me with the sweetest cards.

I hope all of you mamas, mamas-to-be, fur-mamas, step mamas, foster mamas, etc, felt the love and appreciation you deserve!

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41 Things I've Learned About Being a Mom

In honor of Mother's Day on Sunday, I wanted to take some time to reflect on this new identity I have as a mama.

There's a saying, "You don't know what you don't know." And when you're expecting your first baby, there is A LOT you don't know.

In fact, I'd venture to say, you know nothing. You can ask friends and family, or Google to your heart's content to try and answer your many looming questions. But there is only so much you can learn before a baby arrives. And ultimately, you will never truly know anything until you become a parent.

Being Liam's mom has been so much more than I could have possibly dreamed. It has changed me in ways I couldn't have imagined. I've learned so much in the past 4 months, about myself; babies and children in general; about love.

1. I've learned what all-consuming, true love feels like. It is different than the love you feel for your husband, or your sibling. It is indescribable.
2. I've learned what it feels like to not get more than a few hours sleep in an entire week.
3. I've learned that it's not about me anymore.
4. I've learned that to be a good mother and a good wife at the same time is really frickin' hard. 
5. I have not learned how to be both at all times.
6. I've learned what to always include in my diaper bag.
7. I've learned that I am semi-obsessed with my milk output when pumping.
8. I've learned how to relinquish control. I re-learn this in new ways every day.
9. I've learned to see humor in everything because if you don't, you won't survive parenthood.
10. I've learned that watching a smile reach my baby's eyes turns my heart into mush.
11. I've learned that seeing your husband as an amazing father deepens your love in an unimaginable way, and is sexier than even his tightest pair of jeans.
12. I've learned to always point a baby boy's wiener down, lest you want to get sprayed in the face with urine or constantly have to change the baby's clothes.
13. I've learned that it is IMPOSSIBLE not to kiss baby rolls and chubby cheeks less than 100 times per day.
14. I've learned that onesies and jammies are the only thing a baby really wears the first few months.
15. I've learned that there is such a thing as spending TOO MUCH MONEY on the baby.
16. I've learned that most of the things I worried about prior to being a parent were silly. 
17. I've learned a whole new appreciation for my own parents, especially when I think about the things I put them through.
18. I've learned that a baby's coo, smile, squeal or grasp on your finger makes all of the hard moments instantly fade.
19. I've learned grace.
20. I've learned that it's possible to miss someone, even when they are in the same room.
21. I've learned that a baby's laugh is the sweetest sound on Earth.
22. I've learned how to not be so hard on myself.
23. I've learned that there sometimes you need to turn off the faucet of information hidden all over the Internet and just go with your gut.
24. I've learned that Mommy Guilt is a real thing, and it's the worst.
25. I've learned that they weren't lying when they say that every baby, pediatrician, parent is different.
26. I've learned that most of the time, there is no "right way" to do things. There is only what works for your family. 
27. I've learned that I would literally lay down my life for my son.
28. I've learned what true pride and joy feel like.
29. I've learned that sucking your baby's boogers out of his nose with a Nose Frida is weirdly satisfying.
30. I've learned a new meaning to the phrase, "Crying over spilled milk."
31. I've learned that I can't do everything.
32. I've learned that it's OK to want and take time to myself.
33. I've learned that having a baby changes your marriage in ways you'd never think.
34. I've learned that a sleeping baby is the most angelic, peaceful, idyllic sight you'll ever see.
35. I've learned not to compare myself to other moms, and not to compare my baby to other babies.
36. I've learned that Starbucks and wine are more amazing than I ever knew.
37. I've learned that I had a lot more free time than I ever realized before having a baby.
38. I've learned why people say their baby is XX weeks, instead of X months. Liam is 20 weeks old, by the way.
39. I've learned that I am THAT mom who takes 100 photos of her child daily and posts them all over social media. 
40. I've learned the meaning of "helicopter parent" and that I can be one, sometimes.
41. I've learned that these things are only a fraction of what I will learn on this parenting journey.

I could go on, but clearly, there is some truth to the phrase, "You learn something new every day."

I think perhaps the most important thing I've learned is that I feel so lucky to have Liam and that he is mine. This Mother's day, my wish is that he feels the same way about having me as his mommy.

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

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