That is How Motherhood Works

October 6, 2018

Sometimes I snap pictures of Lo just to capture the moment. It is pure instinct with no real in-depth meaning, but then I go back and I look through the camera roll on my phone, and I stop and I am in awe at the beauty before me. Those messy curls, those morning eyes, the tiny features of her nose and cheeks. She still looks little to me. She still feels small. Yet, when I scroll through my phone’s photos to last fall or the fall before that, I realize how quickly time moves and how much my little one has grown.

It is not for the faint of heart this motherhood thing. It shakes you, tires you, and rattles your core. The good indeed outweighs every bad. How could it not? Just look at her. I melt to a puddle every time I see her.

And one moment I could be scolding her for taking a pen to my painted white walls, telling her at her age she should know better and watching the little light and her head fall in shame. Yet, a minute later I find myself cuddled up to her on the couch rocking her, calming her, and feeling all the guilt of being so hard on her, run quietly through my veins.

That is how motherhood works.

There are days I indeed beg my husband for a much-needed break. A time to check-out of worrying about everything and managing our day-to-day. Just some hours alone to be one with me. Yet, when he willfully complies and even sometimes absolutely agrees and takes our daughter for some daddy/daughter time, I find myself alone, missing them, checking on her through texts to him, and cutting my time short just to be reunited with the lovely chaos of life with a three-year-old.

That is how motherhood works.

I celebrate her every milestone with pride and relief. She is at a point that she is becoming self-sufficient. She will tell me when she is hungry or thirsty, with no more guessing. She uses the potty on her own, she will run in the bathroom and start her own bath, and if I am not quick enough, she will run with her bath towel wrapped around to her bedroom and put on her training pants and pj’s without my help. It has given me freedom. It has, should I dare say, made motherhood easier. Yet as baby number two’s due date nears, I find myself looking at her and yearning for her dependence. The days she really needed me and when I was constantly hands on.

That is how motherhood works.

And the nights, oh the nights. The nights when she can’t sleep unless she is tucked into our queen size bed, and like a magnet, laying up against me. Oh, I complain the next morning. My back hurts, my neck is stiff, I tossed and turned and nudged and moved her until the alarm forced me to my feet. Yet, when we try really hard to create a routine and talk up sleeping in her own bed and praise her the next morning for a full night across the hall, I feel a pang of longing for my messy haired baby to want me in the middle of the night and find her way to my arms.

That is how motherhood works.

It is the ultimate emotional pull. Take every emotion one may experience, throw them into a well-worn brown paper bag, shake it really hard, and open it up so the emotions come rolling one by one out into the world. That is motherhood.

I look at her now and the pictures of her then, and it hits me… time. Sweet, time. It is why motherhood works so very hard. Because we as mothers know that the saying is so true, that “the days are long but the years are short,” and as we check off another, we let a strand go.

It is the guilt, the sting, yet so much wonderfulness. It is a push when you want to pull. A no, then a sudden yes. It is boundaries and spontaneity. It is that bag of emotions spilling out that you rush around scooping up to place back in.

That is how motherhood works.

Mornings in my Rearview Mirror

February 3, 2018

Can we talk about mornings? Ya, know what I am talking about? Shit show mornings. Sorry for the curse (not sorry). Mornings when you have to get out the door and be at your office job by 8 am, and you got kid(s) – well I am not joking, it is a shit show. Sometimes I exclaim “I have worked a full day before I even start my ‘workday’.” Why? Well, because I am exhausted mentally and physically from mom life and adulting. I am pretty sure I do more from 6 am to 8 am than any other two-hour span all day.

Coffee. Bottle. No, actually I need to clean a dirty bottle, so my daughter has a bottle. Shower. Laundry load switcharoo. Throw a toddler in the shower. Well, don’t throw her. Find papers from work that said toddler relocated somewhere in the house (usually her shopping cart, along with a potato from three weeks ago). Fix hubby a coffee. He drinks it cold. I drink mine cold. Get ready the best possible way I can. Dry a wet toddler who got out of the shower and is crying she is cold from the bathroom. Pack toddler bag. Pack my lunch. Locate car keys, after getting locked out of the house in the cold. – You get it!

So, when we finally, yes FINALLY, get ourselves in the car to head out the door, sweat pouring from my face and down my neck even in sub-zero degree temperatures, I find myself sighing heavy and wanting to crank up the radio and drown life out.

VIEW STORY »

The Best Parenting Advice I Can Give

February 13, 2017

Some days I have no idea what I am doing. Scratch that. Most days I have no idea what I am doing.

There is no motherhood guidebook. Sure there are great resources out there. Books, mobile apps, Pinterest links to blogs like this one, your own mother, etc – but there is no ultimate guide that we are all working from. No uniformed source, that we can reference to.

I remember the first few days when I started my job with the company I am with now. Eight years ago, my job was digitally focused. I created email campaigns, website pages and was on the brinks of something big which would one day be termed “social media.” Part of my tasks was to update the company’s website on a regular basis with the various outlet’s hours of operations. I remember asking my director, “Well, where is the guidebook? ” He looked at me quite strange. I had all these places to go to look for the many outlet hours and very few resources matched. “How am I suppose to know which of these options is correct?” I again spoke up and asked.

I could tell I puzzled the man as he blinked hard and said, “Well, you will just have to call around and ask.”

It is the same with motherhood. No real – book or resource to end all books and resources. No real “Bible” of parenting or motherhood. We are all mad collectors of information. We ask and sometimes we receive without even asking, tips and tidbits on ways to coop and handle our kids. Sleep training and potty training, building self-confidence, discipline methods, best foods for their diets and how to the lose the pacifier and the bottle. We are absorbent creatures. But how do we know if our way is the right way? Or if there is even a right way at all?

A few of my girlfriends are expecting babies and turn to social media for recommendations. They will post things such as – “Looking for a childcare recommendation. Looking for the best brand of baby monitors. What are your baby registry must haves? Do I really need a wipe warmer?” I use to thrive so much more in assisting and offering my opinion. I mean they are asking! But, I have learned that everyone has an opinion. Everyone! To the point that I have made a recommendation based on my experience and then had someone comment below me basically telling the friend, “Do not listen to Ashli. Instead do this…” Well not in those exact words. It was more like a big “NO” and a pointer finger emoji pointing to my comment and then the exact opposite advice. It hurt my feelings quite frankly. First, because someone had the nerve to call me out in front of everyone and secondly, that my personal opinion was discredited as “wrong” and hers “right.” How could it be wrong when it worked so well for me?

I often like to participate in chat loops on Instagram. Last week, a group of mommas included me in one and the one mother posed the following question, “What is one thing you said you would never do before becoming a mom and now you do?”

I actually referred back to This Post on the Blog and shared how I said I would never give a binkie, or allow them to watch too much TV or co-sleep and now my two year old sleeps in between us at night, while watching Sprout, with a binkie in her mouth. Mom fail?! No, definitely not. Motherhood has taught me many, many valuable lessons. One being – never say never, but ultimately that you have to do what is right for you and your child without the influence of others. I added, “Each parent and each child are on their own unique journey.”

What is right for one family, one child or one parent may not necessarily work for another and that is okay. We are all dealt different circumstances that alter our wants and needs in this life. Everything little thing can add up in a big impactful way. If you ask me my opinion or my advice, know I will gladly share because I want to help you, but also know it is coming from a place that has worked for me, and may not you, and guess what – that is okay.

We all learn as we go. Some days motherhood is pretty great and others days lousy. Some days I feel like supermom and other days question my sanity. We can talk about those things too. The good and the bad. It is not all roses being parents, and having a bad day does not define who we are or how well we are at raising our kids.

Social media has a brilliant way of making us look like super stars, with perfect lives, doing it all the right way. We don’t post pictures of our grimy kids, who have not showered in two days and have dried maple syrup on their sleeves. We would be mortified if someone posted a video of us losing our minds when our kid(s) have literally pushed us to our breaking point and we would be devastated to share the not so nice words we say to our spouse over something so minuscule because we are tired, no, take that back – exhausted and completely stressed. But, that is really our real lives, and that is okay. I am here to say. I got you. I understand you. I have been there. I am there.

There is no guide to being a great parent. There is no one-stop, end-all-be-all, that will tell you exactly how to handle motherhood. There are a ton of great resources and there is a great deal of mixed advice. The best advice I can give to you – There is no wrong or right. There is only your wrong and your right.

And, as a parent, you will learn what is best for you and your own children. Learn it, love it, accept it and own it.

Here are some of my other favorite motherhood and parenting posts:

Enjoyed this post? Awe, thanks. I am blushing. We can connect through facebook || twitter || instagram || pinterest || bloglovin’

10 Hotel Hacks When Traveling With Kids

April 6, 2016

Please note: This post contains affiliate links, which means I may make commission off clicks and sales. Thank you for your support.

Request a Kitchen Efficiency
If your hotel of choice offers a Kitchen Efficiency, take it! Well, I mean make a reservation. If not, at least request a mini refrigerator and / or microwave. Baby Lo still takes a bottle at bed and a refrigerator and microwave are necessary for overnight trips. Plus, the convenience of these two appliances are great for storing snacks, juice boxes and even drinks for Mom & Dad, you know what I mean, (oh, wait not about us?) While you are at it, don’t forget to pack a sponge and dish soap. It helps for washing bottles, sippy cups, dropped binkies, you name it.
Lysol Wipes
Yes. I am that Mom. I Lysol the heck out of a hotel room. “Don’t touch anything!” That is me as a bore ahead of Nathan and Lo, ready to tackle any germs. If you are neurotic like me, I would suggest wiping down the following: light switches, door knobs, remote controls, telephone, heating / cooling controls, and bathroom handles and knobs. I know. I am nuts. Clean, but nuts.
Be a Safety Officer
I bet it never crossed your mind the safety of your room. You probably unload and unpack and jump right into vacation mode. Although, I suggest taking a moment to get eye-level as it relates to your children. Check for any small items that were left under furniture – safety pins, pills, buttons. Basically, anything that could be hazardous and while you are at it, check the placement of your crib or pack n’ play for cords from curtains. If you have very young children it may be helpful to pack outlet covers and a roll of tape to secure ropes, cords, etc.
Pack an Extra Sheet
This is a hack for those with super young children who are bound to the floor with their rolling and crawling. You can easily throw a sheet across the room’s floor and place baby and toys on top for safe and clean play.
Bring Your Own Pillows
Staying in a new space and new room can be hard on young children. Heck! It is sometimes hard for adults. Missing the comforts of home and your own bed is natural. Pack your own pillows for comfort. The smell and familiarity will assist in helping your children fall asleep.
Pack a Portable Crib
Avoid roll away and crib rentals when at all possible. They cost you extra money, can be bulky and again if you are a germaphobe like me, you just are not a fan. Bring your own pack n’ play for little kids. It will provide comfort and you, peace of mind.
Pack Plastic Cups
Don’t use the glassware in your hotel rooms. Just don’t. Instead pack the good ol’ Solo Cups and use, use, use. You will avoid children fighting over that one glass that exists, because we all know a sibling wants the one thing the other sibling has. Plus, I always question the disinfecting and cleaning of glassware in rooms. Yuck! Plastic cups are the away to go. Trust me.
Bring Extra Trash Bags
Kids are messy individuals. They have this insane ability to generate trash like it is a supernatural power. If you have a little one in diapers then this is a must. You do not want to be stuck in a room with stinky diapers in an overflowing waste can. Plus, have you ever seen hotel trash cans? Super tiny. Just pack some trash bags! Plus, another tip. I throw all dirty clothes in a trash bag and cart out for travel back home. This way, when I walk in the door, I head straight for the washing machine and immediately start a load of laundry.
Always Lock The Doors
This may seem like a no-brainier, but I doubt you have even thought about this let alone acted upon it. We are conscious that our rooms are not accessible from the outside in. Although, the concern is for the children inside, getting out. Use the latch to lock the door as soon as you enter. That way if your little explorers decide to open the door to peak out the hallway and make a mad break for the oh-so-fun, must run down that hall, the latch will not allow the door to open all the way. Resulting in a child locked out of the room and a panicking parent. Most recently, we stayed a unit that did not have a latch but a hard to turn secondary bolt. I highly recommend investing in the Travel Door Alarm (under $15). This system will alert you if the door is opened from the inside or out. Another great tool is the Portable Door Lock, which can be used in so many situations outside of travel. Again, reasonably priced (under $20).
Leave the Expectations at the Door
Or, in the hallway for that matter. I suggest going into a travel situation with children with an open mind. Setting goals and preconceived ideas on what your vacation should or must be, just places unnecessary pressure. It is too hard to live up to the expectation. Plus, with children, anything can happen. Our last vacation, I forced myself to go-with-the-flow. It was the best thing I ever did. Lo was great and our vacation was better than I expected.

What hotel hacks when traveling with kids would you suggest?

For more Parenting Hacks, check out the following articles:

Enjoyed this post? Awe, thanks. I am blushing. We can connect through facebook || twitter || instagram ||pinterest ||bloglovin’

Snowmaggedon With A 1 Year Old

January 27, 2016

Unless you have been living under a rock or perhaps on a remote island in the Caribbean with lack of access to internet (for which I am jealous), then you heard, the East Coast got hit with SNOWMAGGEDON. That is right. Our little blimp on the map received approximately 34″ according to some certified reports including a basement yardstick. 🙂

The snowfall began last Friday afternoon, just in time for the weekend, and it was a fast and furious downfall. When we awoke Saturday morning this is what greeted us, and guess what? Mother Nature was not done! She gave us another 12 hours of snow. Oh, you real funny Mother Nature, real funny.

Don’t worry, I went out and brushed off the buried yard gnome.

When Lo awoke Saturday morning and saw this for her very eyes, she cried. Yes, cried. She grabbed onto me clutching my t-shirt with a firm grip, burying her head into my shoulder, looking out the window, looking at me, looking out the window. And, I laughed. I know, I am terrible.

In anticipation for all the snow, Nathan went out for Lo’s first sled (she does not have him wrapped around her finger or anything?!). He also specifically requested I order snow boots, which made perfect sense since she can move so well in the 2′ + of snow. 🙂 Regardless, she looked so darn cute in her Little Ralphy layers.

By the way, don’t judged me. I layered her up and could not stop laughing, so I snagged these photos. I know, again, I am terrible. All I do is laugh at my child.

By the way, dressing a 13 month old for fun in the snow takes just about all of your energy. All of your energy. She cried, got stiff, threw herself to the ground and starred at me like, “Why the torture?”

“Because I am doing this for you, Baby?” I kept thinking.

I realized I needed more than a long sleeve shirt, so I hunted down a sweatshirt. I realized she needed gloves. I realized she needed a hat. I got her dressed and realized I needed my boots, my hat, my sunglasses. I was ready for a nap by the time I got her snow pants and boots on and at one point I was in a complete full fledged sweat and contemplated just going outside without my snow pants, jacket or gloves, just to cool off.

After more tears, after more layers, I seriously questioned the rational behind taking a 13 month old outside to play. I almost opened the door to yell out to my husband, “Don’t mind us. We are going to pass on this whole snow experience,” but, I plugged through and am glad we did because eventually we got our crap together and I was able to snap this cute picture.

I know, arguably there are still tears there, but she was coming around.

Since, when did my baby decide to look like a kid? Ummm, right about now.

Also, clearly still not sure about all of the snow.

You want me to ride that?

Yep! That is right.

Finally, some smiles. She has no clue where her legs went, but she is all smiles.

So, the whole two feet plus of snow was not Lo’s thing, but you know what? Not mine either. I guess like mother, like daughter.

Regardless, getting snowed in all weekend with my Baby Girl made every inch of that snowfall well worth it.

Enjoyed this post? Awe, thanks. I am blushing. We can connect through facebook || twitter || instagram ||pinterest ||bloglovin’

Mama Bear Syndrome

January 23, 2016

mama bear syn⋅drome –
The act in which one’s inner beast releases itself on its prey to show dominance, stemming from protection instinct.

Basically, I am going to show you who is boss.

I am writing this post without any permission from one of my subjects. Yikes! Don’t worry, I know her well. I think she will laugh at the topic and realize very quickly who she is. I bring her up because she is the first peer within my circle that I recall seeing signs of what I like to refer to now as “Mama Bear Syndrome.”

Sometimes Mama Bear is sly, as she mumbles under her breath about a child at a birthday party who keeps pulling on her child’s new shirt, and other times, I have point blank seen her attack the situation growl on, swooping in to take charge and save her child’s day.

I do not think I necessarily realized where this sense of pride and protection came from, because she has always been the protector of situations of wrong against family or friends. In fact when I know I need to complain to customer service, I just call her and she pretends to be me. We have literally sat giggling and listening, sure there was a grown man crying on the other end of the phone. And, once I actually saw her leap over sand dunes at the beach to confront another relentless Mama Bear looking to pick a fight for get this… something we were in the wrong for.

For years, us childless folks have chuckled in amazement at her ability to remain dominant in situations that would seem to most, out of their control. I have on many occasions wondered where she gets her fierce need to protect from.

Then I became a mom.

Mama Bear Syndrome. It is really, friends. The first time I experienced it was when Baby Lo was less than a month old. It was winter and cold and flu season was running rampant. I was super cautious and overly protective (rightfully so, though) and, when a snotty nosed child, or stranger in the Grocery Store reached their hands into the car seat carrier I would pull back and firmly say, “Don’t touch.” The words would easily come out of me and there would be no remorse. I even recall being in the waiting room of Lo’s Doctor’s office waiting for a check-up and when a hacking, child kept inching closer to my little baby, I literally extended my leg, foot out, to keep a barrier from my baby, all while giving the mother the ultimate stink eye.

Here is what I believe, Mama Bear Syndrome lives in the inner depths of your belly where it has been burrowing or hibernating for years. It is waiting for its awakening which typically occurs the moment labor pains kick in. Then, only, then is the beast ready to claws its way out.

As Lo starts to get older and interact with more children, I find myself always near by. Watching, waiting, lurking in the woods for the moment Mama Bear needs to come out.

I look back with my own Mom and finally understand. When I was in middle school (by the way – worse years of a young girl’s life) and I would come home crying from being picked on or left out, my tears would turn to pleas as she would pick up the phone to call the other girl’s Mom. “No. Don’t!” I would yell but it would be too late. Mama Bear was already growling into the phone.

When I was in High School and my competitive nature caused nights of stress and tears when I was not always the best or number one. She was always there to tell me I was and why. And, when my heart was broken for the first time… woo wee, my mother did not hold back her ill will words. I actually felt sorry for the guy after she was done with him.

Mama Bear Syndrome. There you have it.

I am sure some days it will come to Lo’s advantage and other days not too much. But I hope she and all our children know that one thing is for certain, this inner bear comes from the pure love for our cubs.

Attack on, Mama Bears, attack on.

Enjoyed this post? Awe, thanks. I am blushing. We can connect through facebook || twitter || instagram ||pinterest ||bloglovin’

What I Learned About Living In The Moment

January 16, 2016

Here is the thing. Lo awoke at 6 am this morning, wide-eyed and ready for the day. Momma on the other hand was a bit more groggy. Once Lo gets up, I usually can pacify her for 25-30 minutes in our bed before we really must bounce up and face the world.

To be honest, our typical mornings spent “cuddling” in bed are selfishly for me. I hope to possibly sneak 5 or 10 additional minutes of shut eye, while she watches Doc McStuffins on Disney. When that does not quite work out, I find myself laying there usually stroking her hair, my mind racing and placing unnecessary pressure on myself. Looking at the clock and beginning to feel anxious I silently tell myself, “10 more minutes.” I have already created a deadline. A deadline for my daughter and I. I have already made a mental list of chores or errand to-dos that I must accomplish. It is so unfair to Lo that as she looks up at me, fixated on me, all I can do is look at her and think about what needs to be done.

Lately I have realized that I do not enjoy such little snippits in time. I do not live in the moment.

You know, the moments where there are no cell phones or laptops. Moments of quiet and contentment. Moments where the only form of entertainment is my little one’s face starring at me, examining my structure and pointing forcefully at my nose and into my eyes. Moments when there is nothing to do but be present, breathe, live. I do not like to admit this. It makes me really sad actually, but unfortunately it is the truth. I am not here writing this Blog to create a perception of a false reality of my life or any parents life. Maybe you can relate?

Sometimes I wish I could live my life like a child. They see their surroundings and the world untouched by perceptions, hate or even harsh truths. What is in front of them is what the see. There is no complexity about it. They do not worry about what must be done or time wasted. They truly live in the moment.

When I watch Lo play, I see how engaged she is with her current reality. Unlike me, who sits on the couch worrying about work, even though it is a Saturday. I fearfully login to my email to make sure I am not missing anything and can prove my commitment and reach. Although, the truth is because of this action I am missing something. What I am missing out on is the very little thing directly in front of me who is so content in herself and current surroundings. She in her little unknown wisdom teaches me so many things about little moments and life.

I am sad. I am angry. Why do we create such unnecessary pressure on ourselves to always do more, be more? Why are we not satisfied with the present? Why can’t we live in the moment?

So, this morning as Lo got sleepy eyed and needed her morning nap, I did like I always do. Gave her the binkie and her blanket, placed her in her crib, shh shh and walked away. I sighed in relief for an hour to myself to do what I wanted or needed, whether it be to curl back up in bed, clean-up the kitchen, pay bills or make a grocery store list. But, shortly after I heard her cry.

Every single dish in the house was dirty and I swear every piece of clothing laid in two heaping piles in the laundry room waiting to be folded. But, this morning, when I heard her cry, I walked away from it all. Instead of returning the missing binkie to her mouth and patting her back, and yet walking away from her again. I chose her. I chose the moment. I picked her up from her crib and I rocked her in her room for much longer than I typically would. And, you know what she did? She stared at me, soaking me in. What was she thinking? “What is wrong with you Mom? You hardly ever do this.” I felt so ashamed.

All she every needs is always right there in that second. So, I stared and smiled back. Kissing her forehead, humming and truly cuddling for the both of us. We said more and shared more in that moment, just quietly rocking.

Slowly she fell back asleep, and I placed her in her crib. As I walked away I thought, “Gosh, I needed that.” Once I allowed myself to give her all of me, I realized in essence that she gave it all right back. Nothing else that typically races through my mind of to-dos or have-tos would or could ever fulfill me like she does in the moment. It really is true how the little things are the best things.

Have a beautiful weekend, friends. And, my goodness, if you can, find your moment.

Enjoyed this post? Awe, thanks. I am blushing. We can connect through facebook || twitter || instagram ||pinterest || bloglovin’

0 to 10 Parenting Scale

October 24, 2015

You know when you go to the doctor’s office and they ask you, “On a scale from 0 to 10, what is your pain tolerance?”

When my water broke with Baby Lo, we rushed to the Emergency Room. “Level 3!” I declared and it was mostly that high due to nerves. I just felt like I peed my pants over and over but there were no contractions yet. I actually remember at one point thinking, “Maybe I will be one of those women who has a great pain tolerance for labor.” HaHa, oh silly girl. Then the pitocin kicked in and I smiled and told the nurse, “Okay, I think I am a 6.” An hour later, I rocked myself in an upright fetal position and exclaimed, “I am an 8.” I know, I am bad ass. Actually, then the kind anesthesiologist made his appearance and knocked me back down to a 2 before I ever had a chance to make it to 10. Thank you, kind sir.

So, why am I sharing this with you?

VIEW STORY »