Instagram Uncut Unedited

Y'all, I have another instagram account. It's affectionally known as "real life". I'll be the first to admit I can view and use social media in an unhealthy way. "Cute picture! She looks so happy. Wonder where she got that dress. I'd probably be happier if I bought that dress. I miss shopping. I need to go shopping. Oh GAP is having a sale! You gotta spend money to save money. Should I get coordinating dresses for the girls? If I do 1994 Olan Mills might call. But really, how is she so happy? Wonder how her skin is so clear... that Rodan and Fields stuff is convincing. Meh I'll just stick with the dress today." A glimpse into my brain is unsettling I know. As my husband used to say, "you are not well in the head". This was before we were dating so it's ok.  I digress. As long as my heart is in check quite frankly I enjoy looking at beautiful photos of hippie children galavanting in the woods at dusk and enjoy posting the one good photo out of 72 blurry toddler photos.

So today I give you my instagram and then I give you the other 99.9% of my daily life.

Instagram Says: Toddler using her skills to climb on a tray table and pretend hand sanitizer dispenses goldfish. Wow my kids have great creative and for that matter physical potential. 

Real life says: We are never above technology/TV to distract and we use it in way more than just "emergency situations". 

 Instagram says: One-year-olds posing sweetly for their 1st birthday picture.

Real life says: Diaper check on isle four. Taken seconds after the above 'gram. We spend approximately 0 minutes frolicking daintily around in smocked dresses. Take the dresses off IMMEDIATELY before they drool goldfish on them! 

Instagram says: Trendy toddlers mean hip and put together mom.

Real life says: Most days this is the best we can do.

Instagram says: Wild and unruly toddler making terrible life choices.

Real life says: Wild and unruly toddler still making terrible life choices.

Facebook says: Awww Easter sunday picture.

Real life says: Wait you seriously gave your 15-month-olds 22 donut holes? I did. I really did.

Facebook says: Toddlers hugging really do make the world a better place.

Real life says: Most days hugs lead to tackles which lead to tears which lead to bribes like 22 donut holes and Daniel Tiger's Neighborhood. 

Facebook says: Toy piano. Fire going. Stockings hung. Looks like a lovely Christmas. 

Real life says: It was lovely in a Maisie-is-recovering-from-a-terrible-winter-cold-and-could-snap-at-any-moment-don't-you-dare-give-her-a-new-baby-doll sort of way. 

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So next time you see a picture I post, just know that I probably bribed my children (and RD) with donut holes. ;)

The New Normal....

Well, we are officially one month into our new normal. I'm back at work. My husband is back at work. My baby is in daycare. (daycare posts to come)

I'd like to say I'm a super mom and it hasn't been a struggle every.single.day since it started but that just wouldn't be true. Being a working mom can be tough. Correction. Being a mom is tough.

First of all, Knox wakes up (fingers crossed) around 7:00 am each morning. I have to leave for work at 6:50 am so John gets baby duty in the mornings. I try to be exceptionally loud around baby's room when it gets close to time for me to leave in the hopes of waking him for a little kiss or snuggle before I'm out the door (don't tell John). Sometimes it works and sometimes it doesn't.

Leaving before your baby wakes up is so hard. Talk about mommy guilt. Everything inside of me says I"m the only one who can wake him up, dress him, prepare him for his day...and somehow, if I don't do these things, I fail...

John takes him off to daycare and then heads to work himself. I travel a million miles down the tollway, walk across two sky bridges, and then sit down at my desk and turn into SLP mode. The next 8 hours go like this....

"I wonder when he last ate?"
"Did he take a good nap?"
"Will he be in a good mood when I pick him up?" 
"Did I leave any extra clothes in his diaper bag?"

Trying not to think about your baby at work is like trying not to breath. indefinitely. I feel guilty for leaving him with someone else. I feel guilty for enjoying my time away from him. I feel guilty about feeling guilty. 

Finally, I'm off work. Then the real fun begins. It's a mad dash to the Tollway in an attempt to make it back to the burbs before the real traffic hits, and then decide what happens next...

1. Target. (There's surely something I need there on any given day. food. formula. curtains. hard to say.)

2. Workout. (who are we kidding? this is really #10,000 on the list. although it should be moved up. baby weight is real and upsetting.)

3. Go straight to the daycare because you can't stand another minute without him.  (cue additional guilt)

4. Sit in your car for an hour in the driveway of the daycare to "rest my eyes" without interruption. (cue additional guilt)

The options are endless.  

Typically, I decide to immediately pick up my son. He's smiling, happy, talking, and generally had a great day without me as far as I can tell. We go home and I soak up 2 hours of Knox time, granted this is still his witching hour(s), until he's back in his crib and I'm already waiting to wake him up again in the morning.

It should be noted that trying to enjoy the witching hours is no easy task. He's tired. I'm tired. Stopping to enjoy the moments we do have can be so hard. I find more guilty feelings for "not doing more, teaching him more, loving him more" and so on....

The next several hours consists of running around like a crazy person to ensure the next day of daycare, work, and life are in order before crossing my fingers that we all sleep before the whole thing is put on repeat.

Being a working mom can be tough. We are still learning our new normal. What i do know is:

I am thankful for a job that I love and am passionate about. I am thankful God has blessed me with a skill that can help other moms on a daily basis. It's ok to love my job. It's ok to leave my baby to do my job. He's in good hands and I am able to serve others with a gift I've been given. I will not allow mommy guilt to cripple my love for my job.

I am thankful for a husband that supports and helps. I am thankful that we are a good team and that this baby thing is getting a little easier everyday. He leads our family well and I am able to enjoy my baby at night because of all of the help and assistance he provides.

I am thankful to have a crazy, smart, and chubby little boy who makes coming home from work a little more fun each day. His smile, his laugh, and his ability to make me melt make coming home so very sweet.

I am thankful for a God who loves me. The wife me. The mommy me. The speechie me. 

This is our new normal and I am thankful.

Formula Feeding 15 Months Later

A while back, I wrote a post about formula feeding for my favorite twin blog, Twin Talk Blog. Here are the cliff notes of that post.

"I'll nurse if I can, but no worries if not! Secretly thinking, I'm totally not using formula. Oh darn, the twins aren't nursing well. Oh yikes I have no supply. Try everything. Tears. Formula. Tears. Poison. Tears. Expensive formula. Tears. Baby Brezza Formula Pro. Miracle. Tears. Come to Jesus moment. He is better than formula. No guilt no shame needed!"

So 15 months later and bottles filled with formula are a faint memory. They weaned easily and quickly and were done by their first birthday. And my dishwasher rejoiced! A sweet friend recently asked for the link to that post, so I revisited it myself and thought of my perspective now that I'm an old washed up mom.

What surprises me the most 15 months later is what triggers to this day can still set off emotions of guilt or bitterness. Facebook is awash with great and terrible content. Cat memes always fall under the great category. Political posts of any kind are terrible (I vote for no-politics-allowed Facebook in 2016). Babies in costumes = great. Dogs in costumes = great. What is Your Lord of the Flies Name Quiz is and will always be absolutely terrible.

Just last week there was an article about the benefits of breastfeeding, pretty common and should be harmless. But I found myself clicking it, reading it, and resenting it. A mom nursing in public (covered or uncovered is a topic I dare not address) can set off these weird emotions. I was at a cafe when a group of moms with one baby each came in and sat down. They were happily discussing nursing and all that goes with it, and I found myself boiling up with said weird emotions. I felt like I had to justify myself to these strangers. I tried my hardest and it just didn't work! And you know what formula is okay! My babies know what the word somersault means!! I'm not a bad mom! You're not a better mom! Just leave me in peace to drink my latte and eat my scone!!!!!!

Don't judge. We all have moments that rank very low on the "most proud" list. Anyway turns out the problem for me isn't breastfeeding advocates, although some of them should take the same sedative I needed to take in that cafe. The problem isn't moms who are nursing in public. Or talk about nursing in public. The problem is my heart. It always is! In this particular circumstance, the root of those emotions is that I lack trust in who I believe to be the author of life. Author defined by my pal Trip Lee "just take my pen, here, you create my rhymes".  I can feel so guilty for "losing control" of nursing.  When the truth is that God wrote in the script the circumstances that led to formula in my babies lives. I ignore this and I often believe that breastmilk would have made a big difference in their life and justified me as a good mom.

If I zoom out of Maisie and Camille's nursery, and zoom out of my house, and zoom out of Wisconsin, and out of the United Sates, and zoom out of earth, and if I gain a greater perspective... things start to fall in their right place. It's not breastmilk that's going to make the biggest difference in Maisie and Camille's life, it's the saving grace of Jesus that's going to make the eternal difference. Case closed. The more often I reflect on the reality of that truth, the more equipped I am to keep my real but often wrong emotions in their proper place.

So every time that I feel a sting of emotion that isn't in check, I want to use that sting as a reminder to zoom out of my circumstance, and to gaze upon what I believe to be true.