Control Freak.

It's funny how God has a way of reminding me that I'm not in control of anything.  Nothing at all.  As much as I try to control my life, my husband, my child, my corner of the world, I can't.  Nothing made that more clear than the events of this weekend. 

 

You may remember that we were supposed to move this weekend.  SUPPOSED TO being the key word there.  We didn't, obviously.  To make a long story (that ends up with a violently angry me) short, we were told that we can't move into our new home until an appraisal is done.  An appraisal that will take another 10-14 days for someone to come out to the house and do.  10-14 days.  That's TWO WEEKS.  Which basically means that I've busted my rear this weekend to get our ENTIRE house packed into boxes for absolutely no reason.  And when I say that I've packed everything, I'm not exaggerating.  I've packed our medicines, pajamas, our shoes, our pots and pans, our underwear....everything.  So I'm going to have to go through every single box, figure out what I need to take out to live on for the next two weeks....only to repack it again in two weeks.  When I found out this news on Friday, I was angry.  Violently, break something, scream and shake my fists angry.  I'd had a headache for going on a week straight, stressing about packing, moving and unpacking.  Now I had a headache for an entirely different reason.  Talk about a complete and total inconvenience.  My weekend was completely ruined.  Not to mention the next two weeks being a pain in the neck.  Until this morning's sermon at church.  The message that was given was on John 18:1-11 and Jesus' betrayal and arrest.  Out of every situation you can think of Jesus being in during his lifetime, you would think that during his arrest, he would have been completely out of control of the events going on.  His friend, his disciple, was betraying him, turning him over to be sacrificed.  You would have thought he would felt out of control of his situation, his circumstances. But he isn't (You need to hear the entire message.  I can't do it justice.  So go here---www.youngerscreek.com--and click on the online messages tab.  The date is March 3rd, 2013).  As I sat, listening to my preacher, I was reminded--I can't control everything.  I can't even try.  Instead, I need to remember that even when I'm not in control, God is.  Even when it feels like my best laid plans (aka moving this weekend into a new home) are falling apart, God is there.  He's in control.  So instead, I need to trust Him and look at the bright side of things.  I've never been a "glass half full" kind of person.  I want to be.  I want to be an optimist and look at the silver lining, but I tend to focus more on the negatives and the things that aren't going right.  I'm going to try to be the "glass half full" kind of person.  Instead of focusing on not being in my new house right now (like I should be this very second), I'm going to think about the extra two weeks I have to slowly move the things into my new house.  I can visit the house on my lunch breaks from work and slowly unpack things.  I can have my "office/art room" set up and arranged before we even move in.  I can have clothes in the closet and medicines and bathroom stuff put away.  I can stock the cabinets and put away our dishes.  Then, I can have those empty boxes to pack the remaining stuff at our "old" house.  This will work out for us.  This will make me a more patient person.  Plus, it gives me two extra weeks to come to terms with my emotions over moving and say goodbye to our house.  I'm going to remember that even when I'm not in control, God is.  And he knows what he's doing.

Terrible Twos or Bratty Kid?

I've had a magic trick happen in my home.  One day, I had a happy baby that laughed often, snuggled with mommy and daddy, willingly gave kisses and hugs and was polite.  Then *poof*!  I wake up the next morning to a whiny, clingy, demanding little 17 month old.  Could this honestly be the dreaded "Terrible Twos" already?!?

What's happened to my sweet baby girl?  We are deep in the throes of Temper Tantrum Land.  Squealing or growling or just plain "pitching a fit" when she doesn't get her way.  Perfect example:  last night, we were driving home in my car.  Avery wanted to listen to her Mickey Mouse CD (isn't it funny how you know what they want without using any words?).  After a little while of listening, she was still grunting and growling at me, so I turned Mickey off.  When she threw a fit to listen to him again, I told her that if she wanted something she needed to say please.  Cue terrible tantrum.  Cue the pouty lip and the waving of fists.  Which made me insist: "Avery, we don't act like that to get what we want.  If you want to listen to Mickey, you have to say please."  You see, this line ALWAYS worked before.  Want a banana? to watch TV? to wear a bow in your hair?  You must say please.  And she would.  Until recently.  Now she'll throw a fit to get what she wants...saying please is an absolute thing of the past.  I would like to say that I don't give into those embarrassing temper tantrums, but sometimes you're caught in public when one comes on.  What do you do?  You leave your cart full of groceries in the aisle and walk back to your vehicle because your child just HAS to have that rubber ducky she spotted on the shelf?  Sometimes, it's just easier to give her the rubber ducky that will keep her entertained the rest of the time we're in the store.  I know that's not the best thing to do.  So sue me.  It's hard disciplining a 17 month old.  She doesn't fully understand everything I'm trying to tell her.  I say "We don't pull mommy's hair.  That's not a nice thing to do Avery."  Who knows what she's hearing?  Probably: pull mommy's hair! 

Let's move on to dinner time.  Eating out at a sit down restaurant is going to have to be retired for the time being.  Avery wants to throw her cup, throw her toys, throw her food, get out of the chair, pretend to choke because she thinks it's funny (yeah....that really happens).  I understand that she's still a baby, leaning towards being a toddler and that she isn't always going to sit still whenever we're in public or eat all her vegetables.  I'm not naive.  But I definitely don't want to be embarrassed any time Marty and I decide to go eat dinner at Cheddars. 

Then there's playing well with others.  To summarize:  it doesn't happen.  Well, let me specify.  Avery plays well with others at a neutral place (i.e. someone else's house).  When those playmates are on "her turf," don't even think about it.  A while back, there were a couple of Avery's friends over at her Gramma's house.  They played with Avery's toys at Gramma's house....and Avery wanted nothing to do with it.  Harper would play with Avery's kitchen...Avery would run over and play with her kitchen.  Delaney would pick up Avery's play vacuum....Avery suddenly wanted to vacuum.  Lots of growling and yelling took place that day.  How do you teach a child that's Avery's age how to share?  I can tell her that she needs to share her toys, but again...what does that mean to her?  I have been blessed to have an amazing family that watches Avery during the week, thus keeping her out of daycare.  Am I doing Avery a disservice by keeping her out of daycare and keeping her away from the chance to learn how to interact with other kids her age?  What's a mom to do??

Someone told me that this could be the result of lack of sleep.  Well, at 17 months old, Avery is still not consistently sleeping through the night.  We may have a week of sleeping through and then a week of being up every night crying it out.  Then she may sleep through two days and cry the next three.  She's also not getting regular naps.  She may go to my Granny's house and take a three hour nap around 11 one day and then go to my Aunt Pam's and sleep 30 minutes at 12 the next.  Without me being with her every single day, it's almost impossible to regulate her naptime schedule.  Could I just have a grumpy baby because she can't figure out a consistent sleeping pattern??

Now that I've ranted, let me explain.  Avery rarely ever acts this way with anyone else (unless all my babysitters are lying when they tell me "She was perfect today!").  It seems to be just when she's with me.  That makes me feel like crap.  And let me clarify something else:  I know I just talked about everything that Avery is doing to misbehave, but my child is no means a terror.  She's still enjoyable to be around (for the most part), ALWAYS says thank you whenever you hand her an item and is so much fun.  Everything I mentioned above is behavior that happens occasionally.  No, she doesn't throw a fit every time we go to Wal-Mart.  No, she doesn't embarrass me every single time we're at a restaurant.  No, she doesn't throw a temper tantrum every single time she doesn't get what she wants.  But these instances are becoming closer and closer together.  And I want to raise a well-behaved and polite child (for the most part...I understand kids aren't perfect). 

I'm a little worried about this new development in Avery's behavior.  I worry that it's my parenting or disciplining style that's made her that way.  Help??
(I leave you with Avery's best "gimme-what-I-want" pouty face, as given to her Gramma)

Hot Mess Monday {Week 16}

Hot mess Monday time.  And yes, I'm feeling more hot messy than anything else this week.  I haven't blogged, I haven't slept and I haven't exercised.  *sigh*  Hopefully next week I'll be back in the "hot mama" mentality.

Original weight:  142.5 lbs
Last week's weight:  132.4 lbs
This week's weight:

Weight lost from last week:  zilch.

Overall weight lost:  10.1 lbs.

 

I'm still feeling good about the weight I've lost throughout my entire journey.  But this week, I just felt downright chubby.  Nothing fit right.  Since it's been getting chillier, I've had to pull out my fall/winter clothes.  The problem is, I don't have any warmer clothes that really fit my new shape.  Last fall, I'd just had a baby, so I was still sporting a lot of maternity and large sized clothing.  The year before that, I wasn't pregnant, so I was wearing my skinny clothes.  Now, fast forward to this year.  I don't need the larges or the maternity clothes, thanks to my 10 pound weight loss (gosh that feels good to say), but I certainly cannot fit into my pre-baby clothes anymore. That leaves me with maybe 6 shirts and one pair of jeans that I feel good in.  I have no dress pants, no sweaters, no extra pairs of jeans for backups.  I hear you now: "So just go buy yourself some new clothes Devan."  Thanks for the advice, but we have a tiny little problem.  My daughter Avery is a tiny little thing.  Right now, at 15 1/2 months old, she's sporting 9 and 12 month clothing.  Clothing that she SHOULD have been wearing this past spring and summer for her one year birthday.  So every piece of 9-12 month clothing she owns is short sleeved or sleeveless--all meant for warmer weather.  Not 50 degrees and raining.  I've been slowly trying to build up her wardrobe with sweaters and long sleeves and jackets.  Add in Christmas presents needing to be purchased and that doesn't leave a whole lot of money to make me feel like a hot mama.  Ah well.  I guess I just need to make do with the shirts and jeans that I have and keep myself feeling good, instead of trying to fit into those old clothes. 

I have started tracking my meals again on My Fitness Pal and I'm retraining myself to watch what I'm eating.  I'm also going to start the Couch to 5K program, courtesy of my mom's treadmill.  I'm going to be printing out those quotes that I found last week {Suck it up, and one day you won't have to suck it in!}.  And hopefully, next week, I'll see the number "131" on my scale.  

Unfriendable.

Does becoming a mom automatically make you un-friendable?  It seems like when I had my sweet Avery, I gained a daughter, but lost all of my really good friends.  If someone were to ask me right now who my best friend was, I would have trouble coming up with an answer.  Actually, before I go any farther, let me clarify.  My husband is, without a doubt, my best friend.  I know that I can tell him anything and he's always the first person I turn to whenever I have something on my mind or have news to share.  Sometimes though, you just need a girl-best friend.  Someone that understands that you HAD to buy that cute pair of shoes or your need to go into an Anthropologie store even though you can't afford anything in there.  Someone to call when you need to complain about your husband (just kidding Marty! sort of....).  Someone who will meet you for lunch once a month just so you have an excuse to put nice clothes on.  I need that person in my life.  And I don't have them. 
I had my college friends.  People that would hang out on a Wednesday night at the drop of a hat and didn't care if I called at 1 am on a Thursday to just talk or make a Taco Bell run.   As college friends tend to do though, they graduated.  I graduated.  We got jobs.  We moved.  We got married.  And, even though I share some of my fondest memories with those people, I can't remember the last time I talked to them.  Other than the occasional "Facebook hello,"  I can't remember the last real conversation I had with them.  I feel like that's part of life though.  You share the college experience and then you grow up. 
Once upon a time, I would have considered my sister my best friend.  I would tell her everything.  And I think she did the same.  We knew that we shared an unspoken sisterly bond.  Until I had a baby.  A baby that would become her niece.  Suddenly, seeing me was less important, unless I was bringing my kid along.  The bond is still there, but it's more my kid's aunt---her niece's mom kind of bond.  The ability to share secrets and stay on the phone spilling my guts isn't really there anymore.  I guess we're at different points in life now.  I used to love hanging out with my cousins.  We're all close in age and we would spend a lot of time hanging out, giggling and bonding.  Now, I feel like the old maid that's left out of the loop.  Browse any of their tweets on a weekend and you'll see inside jokes and plans for parties and get-togethers.  It just makes me feel.....old.  Outdated.  Friend-less.  I understand that I'm not the same person I was pre-baby.  I can't take off on a Wednesday night to hang out or go watch a movie on a weekend with all of them without making plans for a babysitter and trying to get home in time for the bath-bottle-bedtime routine...but sometimes it's nice to pretend that I'm still that person. 
I have my mommy friends.  The girls whose daughters are around Avery's age and we have the occasional play date.  I love spending time with these girls.  I know that I can show up with baby food in my hair or be late because I had a poop explosion situation on my hands and they just get it.  We can talk about epidurals for hours or the things we're going to do differently on our next babies.  But we haven't gotten past that "mommy friend" point.  We have a great time at the play date, but that's really where the friendships end, with the exception of one or two of the girls.
Right now, I would probably consider my mom my best friend.  We have more things in common than we ever have before and I know that I can talk to her for hours about whatever was on my mind.  She understands my need to have a good cry about Avery's sleep issues and gives me advice on how she would start to wean Avery off her bottles.  But (and if you're reading this mom, PLEASE don't take this the wrong way) there are things you can't talk to your mom about.  Sometimes, you just need a best friend.  I realize that it's not an easy thing to do.  It's not like I can just take an ad out in the paper:  Wanted.  Best friend for a 20-something mommy.  Must understand if lunch dates are cancelled due to teething, but also must be prepared for a 3 am ranting phone call when her daughter is up for the fourth time.  Needs to be a frequent window shopping buddy that supports her shoe habit.  Unpaid position. 
Is it something I've done?  Have I put myself in this mommy zone and made myself unfriendable?  Have I subconsciously distanced myself from everyone I was close to and only have myself to blame?  Or is it just part of life?  Meet the guy, get married, have the baby, lose all friends?  Am I the only one??

Mommy Knows Best

I haven't made it any secret that Avery doesn't sleep.  And, at 12 months old, this hasn't changed.  We've tried it all...to the point of not trying anything anymore.  Whatever happens, happens--whether that means getting up once during the night at 5:30 or if that means waking up at 2, 3:30, 4:15 and 6.  It's random in our house.  We've tried keeping bedtime routines strict, then no routine, cereal and bath before bed, bottle to fall asleep, sound machine, sleep training....you name it, we've tried it.  Our kid just isn't responding.  I was pretty much okay with it.  I accepted that she'll do whatever she needs to do and prayed to God every night that she'll eventually grow out it.  But recently, Avery has been visited by the teething fairy (boy, I'd love to punch that woman) and has made sleep pretty much non-existent in my home.  Instead of waking up at 3 and whining for a little while, Avery would wake and a full-on, scream-her-head-off crying jag would begin.  No pacifier would quiet her, no bottle would soothe.  She didn't want to be in her bed, held, rocked, laid on the couch with daddy, NOTHING.  We basically gave her Advil and fought her until she finally passed out again.  Completely, utterly, physically and mentally draining.  I've been in a fog....it's hard to get up in the morning, it's hard to find motivation to do anything throughout the day, it's hard to stay awake on the drive to and from work.  This stage is so exhausting.  Then, on Saturday night, we went to my cousin's wedding and stayed the night in a hotel.  Avery was worn out by the time the wedding was over, so my mom and sister took her back to the hotel room so she could turn in for the night.  When Marty and I got in, we left her in my parent's room and I worried all night long what kind of sleep they were getting.  Was Avery screaming her head off and they were cursing me for a terrible night?  When morning came, I went to their room....and putting on my most sympathetic and "I-totally-understand-because-I'm-living-it-everyday" face, I asked "How did she sleep??"  All night, y'all.  She tossed and turned around 5:30, but never woke up and slept until 8:30.  WHAT.THE.HELL.  What does my kid have against her daddy and I that she is hell-bent and determined not to sleep for us??  Better yet, determined that WE don't get any sleep either.  Frustrated is only the beginning of what I was feeling.  Yesterday, when I got home, there was a card addressed to Marty and I in the mailbox.  I opened it:

And I know it's going to be okay.  Because sometimes you just need your mommy to tell you so.

Hot Mess no longer.

I'm done playing around.  I'm done saying that I'm going to lose weight and do all of these things to shed the baby pounds and then pull right back into the McDonald's drive-thru the next day.  Where'd my motivation come from?  Check out Mama Laughlin's blog and her progress from "former fatty" as she calls herself to a size 4.  She lost 60 + lbs.  And has two kids.  I have no more excuses.  I'm tired of being all talk and no action.  I'm tired of being self-conscious.  I'm tired of taking forever to get ready in the morning because I hate how everything looks on me.  I'm tired of being afraid of new clothes and the dressing room.  I'm tired of not being confident enough in my body to even want my husband to see me without a shirt on (sorry if that was TMI).  So, I'm beginning my "Hot Mess to Hot Mama" journey.  Today.  I'm going to document my weight and take pictures and share my journey.  It's my hope that I won't be judged by my extra baby fat or how I look in my "before" pictures.  I just hope to build up a support team and feel good about myself again.  And this is how I'm going to do it:

Weight: 142.5
Biggest weaknesses when it comes to my weight:  fast food, Dr. Peppers, snacking, unbalanced meals. 
Goal weight:  120
How I'm gonna do it: 
{1.} No more Coke.  Not long ago, I said I was going to cut myself down to just 1 can of Pepsi a day.  So far, it's not happening.  I've found that I have zero willpower when it comes to drinking sodas and I can't have just one.  If I've had one, it opens the door to more and before I know it, I've had two cans of Pepsi and a large McDonald's Dr. Pepper.  No, my daughter still doesn't sleep well.  But there are other ways to stay awake during the day than a constant caffeine intake.  Water makes me feel good and that's all I'm allowing myself. 
{2.}  Work-out.  I don't know that I'm comfortable yet with going to a gym.  I'm slightly asthmatic and LOATHE running because I look like a dying cow with my thundering feet and wheezing breaths.  Maybe work out videos?  I'll keep you updated on what works best for me.
{3.}  Motivation.  Every week I'm going to do a "Hot Mess" update, complete with a picture of the scale and myself to show you if I'm making any progress.  It's easy to sit on the other side of this computer and vow to change, but if you guys never see me, I can go on pretending that I'm living this healthy lifestyle.  Through pictures, you will know if I cheated.  You will know if I've lost any weight that week or that month. 
{4.}  Having a support system.  This is the best part....I'm not doing this alone.  My friend Sarah from "Our Family of Three" and I are doing this together.  Her daughter is just 3 months older than my Avery, so she knows all about having the baby fat hanging around.  She'll be documenting her progress and will be guest posting on what works for her.
{5.}  Feedback.  I'm not a gym rat.  I hate working out, I hate sweating and I hate the idea of eating like a rabbit forever and never enjoying another burger.  But if I want to feel good about myself again, I have to suck it up.  But I need your help.  What works for you?  What healthy recipes do you have that you'd like to share?  What's the secret to building endurance and running without collapsing a lung and wanting to die?  I'm all ears. 
This won't just be my journey to lose weight.  I'm going to work on all areas of my life that aren't making me feel like a "hot mama" right now.  It's going to be a self-discovery and self-love trip as well.  I don't like myself much right now.  I'm a hot mess....minus the hot part. 
Hopefully, with all of these factors, I'm going to lose my Avery weight and have confidence again.  Flabby to fabulous, here I come!

No pictures, please.

When do I start feeling good about myself again?  When do I stop looking at pictures and thinking "My gosh.  I am a fat, pasty white cow."?  I have struggled with low self-esteem my entire life. I'm constantly worried about looking stupid or if my chin is too big or if people like me.  I've never had much confidence in myself.  But nothing compares to how I feel now...ten pounds heavier than I should be and carrying the battle scars of pregnancy.  Don't get me wrong, having my sweet Avery is more than worth the extra weight I'm carrying or a couple of stretch marks.  I'm not asking for a flat tummy or killer boobs.  I just want to feel good about myself.  I don't want to dread taking pictures with my family because I'm worried about how I'll look in them.  Something is wrong when I look at a family photo and, instead of focusing on my adorable daughter or my smoking hot husband,  all I can see is my double chin and how my clothes cling to my stomach.  When does it end?  When do I start feeling on the outside like I do on the inside? Motherhood is the most amazing, most empowering thing I've ever done in my life.  I've never felt more beautiful as a woman than I do when I'm caring for my little girl.  So when does that start to show on the outside too?  I guess I've done it to myself.  I have zero motivation to workout after being at work and going through my daily routine.  I know I don't always eat as healthy as I should.  I guess instead of complaining, I should be jumping on the treadmill or doing laps in my parent's pool.  If I want to look good, I have to work for it...and it won't come easy.  But until I get that "hot body," I would just like to feel good about myself in the meantime.

Rantings. And LOTS of them.

{Warning. I am going to be complaining. I don't need judgement. I just need to vent. This is more for me than for anyone else to actually read, so it's probably going to be a jumbled mess of angry rantings. You've been warned.}

I have a zombie baby. One who has decided that sleep, unfortunately, just isn't for her, no matter what kind of sleep training techniques or bedtime routines her mommy and daddy try. And we're not just talking not sleeping at nighttime. That, I could almost handle. We're talking not sleeping...EVER. She's a notorious catnapper. Ten to twenty minutes later, she's awake. You rock her to sleep when you see that rare window of opportunity when she begins to rub her eyes and show signs of sleepiness. But don't even dare try to lay her down. She has a magic sensor that alerts her body when someone is no longer holding her and those sweet little brown eyes fly right open. No matter how tired she is or how little sleep she got the night before. She WILL NOT sleep unassisted. She has to have help going to sleep and staying asleep. The going to sleep thing, I can handle. I love rocking her and singing her a variety of bedtime lullabies and watching as she can't fight anymore and sleep overcomes her. Those moments, I cherish. It's the moments when she cries the second I lay her in her crib or on a mat in the floor are the ones that are about to drive me bananas. For the most part, I had come to terms with the fact that Avery never sleeps. Until this morning. The last three nights, Avery has been up almost every single hour and laid in her bed and whined. Not really cried, which lets me know that she isn't in pain or needing to be comforted, just whined. Like "Someone please come get me because I sound so pathetic and I know you can't stand it" whined. And for the past two nights, I've ignored her. (when I say ignored, I mean laid by the monitor and listened to every noise she made, but didn't go to her). Last night, however, was a different story. After several hours of waking, whining and falling back asleep, Avery thought that 4:30 am was an appropriate time to wake up and start really crying. Just enough to get my attention to make me think that she didn't feel good or needed to be attended to. So I got up, went in her room and got her out of her bed, thinking that I could rock her back to sleep. Fifteen minutes later, I still had a wide-eyed baby that had no intention of going back to sleep in her crib. So I made the mistake that I'm sure a lot of sleep-deprived mommies make....I put her in our bed. I swore, from the moment I found out that we were expecting, that our babies would not sleep in our bed. I didn't want to find ourselves, five years down the road, with a toddler still sleeping in between. But sometimes, in the wee hours of the morning when you would do almost anything to get a few hours of sleep, you're not thinking 100% clearly. I laid her down, thinking the warmth of our bed and her laying in between us would immediately put her back to sleep. Wrong. She laid in our bed....and played. She reached for my pajama top, my nose, my hair, the blanket--anything she could get her hands on and play with. She rolled from Marty's side to mine. She flipped over, she sighed, she popped her pacifier in and out of her mouth. Basically, she did everything BUT sleep. Soon, I found myself facing 6 am and time to shower and start the day....all without a single wink of sleep since 4:30. I gave her a bottle and placed her beside Marty, thinking that she'd keep him awake and demand early morning playtime or episodes of Mickey Mouse Clubhouse. So I showered and fought to stay awake. I applied my makeup and fixed my hair. All was well until my dryer bumped the display board where I have all of my earrings and down went all of my earrings in the sink. As I picked up the pairs of earrings, I found only one lone earring belonging to my favorite pair....meaning the other probably went right down the drain. And I lost it. I stood in my bathroom and cried. Over a $5 pair of fake pearl studs. I knew it was less about the earrings (which could be easily replaced with a trip to Claire's or another equally cheap jewelry place) and more about the fact that my baby's sleep issues make me feel like a complete and utter failure. What have I done, or haven't done, to get her to this current pattern of sleeplessness that she's in?? Did I baby her too much as a newborn? Did I hold her too much? Show her too much attention? Rock her to sleep too long when she should have been laid in her crib as soon as her bedtime routine was over? Which, in turn, made me angry. Why should it always be my fault? Why should it be something that I did, or didn't do, to cause something as huge as these ridiculous sleep issues? I shook off these feelings, finished drying my hair and walked out of the bathroom to get dressed...only to find my 7 month old curled up to her daddy....sound asleep. Which started another fit of crying. Why me? Why will she go to sleep just fine for Marty, but seems dead-set against getting a good night's sleep for my sake? It wasn't always like this. When Avery was about 10 weeks old, she was sleeping at least 8 hours through the night. I was incredibly thankful. Each night that I would lay down and wake 6 hours later without a peep was a restful and wonderful night. Then, Avery caught a cold. Stuffy noses and a whiny baby became our nightly routine and I thought we'd never get back to that blissful state of restfulness we were in before. Until Marty and I started Avery on a pretty strict bedtime routine. At 7 pm, on the dot, we were beginning her routine which started with a bottle and cereal and ended with a bath and lotion-y massage. For awhile, that worked. She would sleep from 8-5 consistently for about 2 weeks. Then she got an ear infection and broncholitis and spent an entire week in our bed propped up on pillows so I could make sure she was still breathing through the night. Which brings us to our current state. The routine is still the same...filling that little tummy and then a bath and lotion before bed, but the results have been far different than they were before. But no one else in the house seems to be affected by this sleeplessness, other than me. Avery is a happy baby...seemingly unaware as to how awesome sleep is and the fact that most babies her age should be getting 10-18 hours of sleep a day. We're lucky if we get 18 hours in two. Marty, while extremely helpful whenever I ask him to get out of bed and tend to her, has the remarkable ability to sleep through anything and usually doesn't hear her crying at night. There have been a few times that he'll stir when she's really wailing, but he can always roll over and go right back to sleep. And I'm envious...and a little bit angry...and a lot bit resentful. Anger is now my #1 emotion...if I'm being completely honest with myself. In fact, more than once during this frustrating morning, I had to refrain from punching my snoring husband. And why? I'm exhausted and want sleep more than anything...why on earth would I begrudge anyone of getting their own 6-8 hours of sleep a night? But when I'm in the middle of being sleep-deprived, I don't think of things like that. I think of how jealous I am that he gets to sleep and how I want to be the one that's drooling on my pillow. I've become this irrationally angry person that I don't even like being around. I get mad over clothes left in the laundry room or a dish left on the table. Things that absolutely don't matter in the long run. But rational thinking and an even-temper have completely left me. And I have no idea how to get them back. I resolve to be a nicer person and to control my emotions when it's no one's fault that I'm so tired, but I can't. I go right back to being the snappy, hormonal, momasarus I was before. Not to mention the fact that I have become a blithering idiot. I can't think of words that I'm wanting to say, I lose my train of thought at the drop of a hat and if it's not written down or I'm not reminded 5 times or more, I will forget things. My co-worker probably thinks I'm the dumbest person in the world. I feel like I'm on this vicious merry-go-round: Avery doesn't sleep=I don't sleep=I blame myself=I feel like a failure=I get angry=Avery still doesn't sleep...the cycle continues. I want it to stop. I want my baby to sleep. Forget all of my issues for a second...how is she functioning?? If a baby is supposed to be getting 10-18 hours and she's getting maybe 7 the entire day, how is that good for her? If she doesn't take naps, is she a burden to anyone that watches her? I know I'm barely able to get things done on the weekends because she refuses to be left alone and she doesn't nap...do other people resent the fact that they have to stay right by her side the entire time they're babysitting her? In fact, this very issue lost us a regular weekly babysitter. One who had children of her own that needed her attention, which is how is should be, and my whiny baby was beginning to interfere with that. Which makes me feel like a terrible mom. No one likes to hear that their baby cried all day and didn't let the babysitter get anything done. I don't want to be THAT mom. I just don't know what else to do. We've tried crying it out. It worked for a little while, but now she's up all the time just crying. What do I do? Go to her every hour that she's crying and rock her back to sleep? But then doesn't that teach her that she needs me to comfort her before she enters any state of sleep? Do I let her cry every single time through the entire night? But doesn't that teach her that nighttime isn't an enjoyable time because she knows she'll lay in her crib and cry? Why isn't there a clear answer? I can handle all the ifs of mommyhood...if she'll be succesful, if she'll hit her milestones on time, if she'll be healthy and happy...but this is one issue that I just want the magic answer. Don't get me wrong, if there's a good reason to lose sleep, my Avery girl would be the best one. But I would like the magic formula to get my baby to sleep through the night and get my home to return to some type of order and the old, pleasant Devan back. I guess until then, I just have to keep repeating that "this too shall pass...."

Pregnancy rantings....

I've noticed a few things since becoming pregnant that I never noticed before.
1. People, mostly men, stare at my belly. Like I'm harboring an alien child. Sometimes, when dealing with customers, men's eyes will flit from my face to my stomach no less than 15 times in a 2 minute conversation with a nervous look on their face like I have a highly contagious disease that they're in danger of catching. Am I delusional in thinking that these men HAD to encounter pregnant women in the past? Some of these men have to be married with children...were you absent for the 9 months your wife was pregnant? You can't tell me that I'm the first expectant mom they've come across in all their years on this Earth. The bigger I've gotten, the more I've noticed this behavior. Like they're waiting for my water to break all over the place and they want to run away in the other direction as fast as they can. As if I didn't feel unattractive enough.....so to you, man in the Wal-Mart line or customer in the bank that I'm walking past to go to the bathroom for the 25th time that day, I'm fine. I will not be going into labor any time soon (and if I do, feel free to go about your business. I have a cell phone and can call the hospital/my husband/my mother) and I am not going to pop out an alien child. Please stop staring at my belly. It's weird.
2. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I've noticed that everyone and their brother wants to give me advice now. They ask lots of personal questions like if I'm quitting work, getting an epidural, having a home birth or if I'm breastfeeding my child. If I decide to answer those questions, they immediately ramble on about how I should quit work, shouldn't get an epidural, how home births are the best and how I should breastfeed until my child is 5. Thank you, kind stranger, for your unsolicited advice, but I think I'll be doing my own thing, which includes working, getting an epidural in the comfort of a hospital room and my breastfeeding plan is none of your beeswax. I totally understand that every mother thinks their way is best and they want to bring every person they possibly can to see things from their point of view. However, just because it was good for you, doesn't mean it's going to work for me. Note to self: when I become a mommy, keep the advice to myself unless otherwise asked for such advice. [disclaimer: this does not apply to family. I totally realize that, as my family, you are allowed to give advice whenever and wherever you'd like. I just don't have to listen to you. :)]
3. Suddenly, everyone I see is a doctor. When I stand up or walk by someone, they feel the need to exclaim "You're huge!!" or "Gosh! You look like you're about to pop any day now!" Actually, no. I have two more months left and will get a lot bigger than this. Thank you for your outburst because I didn't really feel like a sweaty beached whale that waddles. You've made me feel so much better about myself.
I hope when this is all over and I have the baby in my arms instead of my belly, people can go back to ignoring me. I'm sure I'll still receive the unwelcome advice once Avery comes and I'll have to learn to take that in stride. As long as they're not still telling me I look like I'm about to pop.

Warning: Complaints Ahead.

What's the secret to getting a job right now? Is there some code word I don't know about, some certain experience I'm supposed to have listed on my resume, some personal connection I'm supposed to have that will guarantee my being hired to a company of my liking? Yes, I know I have a job. Yes, I know I should be thankful that I have somewhere to go every morning that enables me to make money and pay the bills. But is that all there is to life? Go to work, do your job, get paid, pay bills? What about ENJOYMENT? What about passion, drive, commitment, JOY?? I guess I was raised differently than some people, but I always thought that I would want a job that I loved, not just one that I focused on how much I made at the end of the day. Don't get me wrong, my current job is a good place to work, but it's not what I went to school for. It's not what I feel passionate about. It's not what I want to do with the rest of my life. What good is an agriculture degree at a financial institution? Is it bad to feel like I'm wasting my 4 years of college, my degree and the money paid to get it? I want to wake up every morning and look forward to going to work. I want to feel passionate about the work I'm doing. I want to feel like I'm making a difference. How am I supposed to get a job in agriculture and feel all of those things if no one will even give me the opportunity. Sure, I've had plenty of interviews, but the job always ends up going to someone that already works for that company. I can't tell you how tired I am of the phrase "Thank you for your interest in this position, but at this time we're selecting a candidate whose qualifications better meet our needs." A.k.a. "they already work for us, so they get first dibs." How is anyone from outside of the field supposed to break in? How are you supposed to gain that experience if no one's going to give you the chance to earn it?? I know I'm supposed to have a constant go-to attitude and be positive during my job hunt, but it's so discouraging. How are you supposed to remain eternally upbeat when you're repeatedly told you're not good enough? If someone has these job-landing secrets that I know nothing about, please pass them on. They'd be greatly appreciated.

Get on with it....

I came in with the full intention of being a whiner today. It's been one of those weeks. Where I wake up in a horrible mood first thing Tuesday morning, and that mindset continues for the rest of the week. Nothing seems to go right, I hate my job, people make me mad, I don't feel good, I'm listening to a child screaming at the top of it's lungs as I currently write this....it's been that kind of week. Sitting down to my computer, I planned to unleash my full wrath of emotions, disappointment and frustration. I want to write about how financing is NOT at all what I want to do with my life. How I hate sitting at a desk 8 hours a day, talking about auto equity loans and ATM deposit holds. How I feel my creativity and brain cells slowly dying away while I tell people their credit score and how it got to be that high/low. I wanted to write about applying for job after job, only to be told that I don't have the experience necessary for that position. How I am at a total loss on how to gain said experience if no one is willing to take the chance and hire me in the first place. I wanted to write how I have been experiencing intense stomach pain for the past 7+ months, only to find I have a bacteria in my stomach, go on an intense round of antibiotics to supposedly kill it and then have the pain return. How I have a "consultation" with a surgical specialist next week and I am scared to death of having a colonscopy or an endoscopy or whatever other "scopy" that involves sticking a camera where a camera isn't supposed to go. I wanted to write about how I've seen at least 15 things that I want to buy for the spring season, only to be restricted by my stupid self-imposed shopping ban. This was my plan this morning....I thought the writing would be cathartic and make me feel better about my all-around crappy week. And then we opened our doors for business this morning. And a lady walks into my office and is practically in tears over the loss of her credit card and the charges that were made to her account by some hoodlum. And I realize that I am whining over a job when there's a lot of people that don't have one. I'm whining about not being able to buy things I want, but thank God I have the money available to do so. So many people have it worse...what gives me the right to complain about not being able to shop or being forced to discuss interest rates? I wish I could have this attitude more often. Unfortunately, I get caught up in the "not me's" and the "it's so unfair" attitude and complain more often than I should. But today I've been enlightened. It's ridiculous for me to complain whenever I have so many things to be thankful about. If you know me at all, you know that I have a teensy obsession with quotes. I shouldn't have looked any further than the wonderful Ms. Hepburn: "It's that wonderful, old-fashioned idea that others come first and you come second. This was the whole ethic by which I was brought up. Others matter more than you do, so 'don't fuss, dear; get on with it.'" Thanks Audrey.