Daisy Girl Press

Tell The Truth

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Mon, 09 Oct 2017 14:19:00 +0000

It's a glorious October morning and I have awoken to a completely empty house. A very unfamiliar energy slaps me in the face- a product of absolutely zero place to go, nothing that really needs to be done, and no one that needs attending to. So I've made my cup of mint chocolate coffee and headed outside to write.

I listened to a podcast the other day where Glennon Doyle was talking about picking yourself back up after a crisis. Women's social media today seems to be awash with our modern-day gurus whose claim to fame is radical imperfection. In a way, I love it. But in a way, it gets on my nerves. Sometimes it feels like spectacle- and I am now aware that I'm especially sensitive to mass produced spectacles lived out in front of the prying eyes of the public as fodder for personal transformation.

But I listened to the podcast nonetheless, and she said something so simple and so beautiful that I had to sit in my car and wipe my tears and get myself together before walking into work. She said, "Everyone needs a space where they can tell the truth." Driving down a city street in Mesquite, TX at 7:30 in the morning, that tiny sentence unexpectedly knocked my carefully held-together world off its axis a little bit. The wheels in my mind instantly started grinding trying to figure out why I'd lost my breath in that instant, just hearing those words. I thought of the ways I don't tell the truth most days. But I also thought of how I'm not a liar. I thought of how hard it is to keep up a carefully constructed facade of how I'm supposed to be. And how hard it isn't at the same time.

Ahhh, this is why.

From birth I have been programmed not to tell the truth. On the front row of a church pew in front of thousands of people, I was programmed to pretend to tell the truth as someone else defined it. I was molded and prodded and scolded to present to the world what they wanted to see, not anything that was authentically me. In turn, I learned to apply a rigorous filtering process to all the words and all the thoughts that entered my consciousness. I am a master at figuring out in an instant what needs to be said, how it needs to be said most effectively and to whom. Only rarely does that equation include complete authenticity on my part. I almost always have a goal in mind, and it rarely includes me showing up just as I am and telling the truth. Some people with this skill use it to manipulate others and get what they want. Others of us use this skill to make sure everyone is happy all the time and do our best to keep the peace with those around us, pacifying others and rarely considering our own needs.

Don't get me wrong. Reading people, reading a room, knowing how people will respond and why can be a great asset- especially if you work with people who are trying to accomplish a common goal. It's a hallmark of self-awareness to consider your audience and know how to tailor your message, to consider your words and how they will affect other people. But it can also be a crippling talent when it becomes your mode of operation. You lose yourself. You easily become a slave to other people's expectations of how you should be.

And while I don't think I've ever totally lost sight of who I am, I don't think I've ever felt like the world was my space where I could tell the truth.

But I'm taking baby steps. It is first and foremost important to me to speak out when I see injustice happening around me- when I see people harming other people. I've spent the last nearly twenty years of my life in my career helping others in one way or another, whether it be as a resource for women with unplanned pregnancies, as a caseworker for children in the foster care system, as an urban public school teacher, and now as a school administrator. I work almost exclusively with people who need help and healing. I also encounter people who hurt others in one way or another almost daily. Speaking out and telling the truth means confronting that. It means telling people to STOP. It means teaching them how to love others and how to communicate with others even when it's not easy. It means being brave in the face of hate, anger, insecurity, and selfishness. And it means being courageous even when I don't feel like I can be.

I read a powerful meme the other day that simply said,

And I don't know, but I try every day anyway. And so letting the world be a space where you can tell the truth, doesn't necessarily mean we have to have that moment where we do the Big Reveal of the thing we've been hiding all these years- although it can mean that, and those are definitely life-altering experiences. I think telling the truth is most importantly about being courageous enough to speak up about the little things- about how people make you feel, about how you perceive people are making others feel. It's about sometimes saying no. It's about saying, "You know what, this particular thing is not my bag, but you're doing a great job, and you should run with it." And being courageous enough to say, "This is my bread and butter. Nobody can do this better than me," and take off leading even when you're terrified. That's telling the truth.

So I'm working on it in little ways every day and asking for the courage to speak up and stand still in the uncertainty and chaos on the days when I have to speak the truth in big ways. I'm showing up and being brave enough drop some of the filters I so naturally employ to speak the truth, even when it's difficult.

I wanted to be a cheerleader.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Sat, 17 Sep 2016 13:55:00 +0000

When I was seven years old, my parents packed up the house and everything we owned, put my sister and I in the back of the car, and moved us from Burleson, Texas to Oklahoma City. I remember it like a movie scene, staring out the back glass off the car with tears streaming down my face, gasping for air in between sobs as I watched the culdesac of Tracy Lee Court fade into a distant memory on the horizon. My seven year old self was being forced to leave everything I knew and loved because a new church had hired my father as pastor three and a half hours away. I was leaving my elementary school, my friends at church, my best friend Sarah and our matching dresses. I was leaving our house and my bedroom, and my box that housed my imaginary friends, a family of toads. In my seven year old mind, I was losing absolutely everything I held constant and dear in my life. And upon my arrival in Oklahoma, apparently I didn't do much speaking for a while. I didn't do much of anything for a while. My mom says she couldn't understand why I wouldn't get off the couch.

She and my father took me to a child psychologist. I remember the elevator ride to the top of the building. I remember the doors opening to a hallway filled with glass windows looking into large offices. I remember kid friendly posters of smiling families on the walls.

In the quest to find out what was wrong with this seven year old girl who was listless most of the time and seemed so sad and wouldn't budge from the couch after she had just been separated very suddenly from everything she loved, this doctor in his infinite wisdom had me draw a picture of what I wanted to be when I grew up. I drew a picture of myself as a Mansfield Tiger cheerleader.

My babysitter back in Texas was a cheerleader at Mansfield High School, and it was the highlight of my year when she gave me a uniform to play dress up in. So on the page I scrawled a girl with dangly earrings covered in big swaths of Tiger yellow and black on the page.

She's angry, the doctor concluded. Yellow and black all over a seven year old's paper equals angst. That's silly. She just wants to be a cheerleader, my mother concluded. They both were right.

Eventually I got off the couch, started school in Oklahoma and made wonderful friends that I still talk to today. I tried out for the cheer squad in seventh grade and fulfilled my lifelong dream of finally becoming a cheerleader. Oklahoma ended up not being the gradeschool disaster I feared it would be. But all these years later, something still sticks with me about that ordeal of packing up and moving and not being sure of my new surroundings that summer after second grade.

How many times in life do we take difficult situations and complicate them more than we have to by not just acknowledging that things are tough, breathing through them, and letting them be until they pass. That's hard to do. As humans, most of us don't like stress. We want to fix the uncomfortable thing as soon as it rears its ugly head, and move on about our lives unscathed. But that's the thing about life. Those situations that pop up in life are there to teach us something- even if it's just how to react, to ourselves or others, during the hard times.

I'm sure it seems fairly obvious now, looking back, to both my parents and myself that a visit to a child psychologist may have been a bit of an overreaction. Or maybe it wasn't. Maybe my parents did recognize that as a seven year old I was deeply sad about leaving my home and my friends and they needed resources to help me. Either way, moving to a new state and beginning a new life can be an immensely stressful time for a family. Being there for each other, communicating about feelings, and moving through the difficult moments together during the adjustment are all normal things that should happen during the course of such a huge event in a family's life.

Letting the feelings breathe. Letting them be. Acknowledging them, their importance, and letting go of them as easily and as often as they came. With or without the broo-ha-ha of an appointment with a child psychologist.

Sometimes we want to kick and scream. And that's okay. I still move in and out of days where I want to kick and scream and say WHY IS THIS HAPPENING AND WHEN WILL IT STOP? But that little voice in the back of my mind still says to me, it will stop. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but eventually. I have to believe that. My dad has always told me, "If you don't like the way things are right now, just wait. They'll be different tomorrow." Then he laughs and says, "They'll probably be much worse tomorrow, but they'll be different!" And he's right, that's the nature of life. Everything changes and the pendulum swings. In the meantime, I have to let myself be angry and frustrated when I need to. And then I have to let go of that and make room for hope, even if it's just for a minute. Because that three hour tearful drive to Oklahoma doesn't last forever. How we move through the difficult moments is a choice we make. We breathe, we let the feelings come and go in waves, we fight, we kick and scream, we enlist the help of experts; the time passes the same regardless. Hopefully we come out the other side having learned something; even if it's just that we will survive-- and someday, finally get to be a cheerleader.

Daisy-girl1.blogspot.com

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Wed, 08 Jun 2016 12:36:00 +0000

Old days!

http://daisy-girl1.blogspot.com/2003_09_01_archive.html?m=0

Poetry

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Fri, 29 Jan 2016 13:07:00 +0000

http://asheswriting.blogspot.com/2014/04/the-proximityis-almost-too-much-for.html?m=1

A sign off and a new beginning.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Wed, 27 May 2015 20:36:00 +0000

I just got test scores back from the last class class I'll ever teach. The kids were kind enough, and worked hard enough, to let me go out on top. Out of the 1,839 kids in the school district sitting in the same course, taking the same test, my kids were the best. When I realized this and saw it in black and white on paper, I sat down and had a good cry.

Being a public school teacher is one of the hardest jobs in this country. And if you're a high school teacher, it's pretty thankless, too. This is my eighth year of sticking out and pressing forward, even when I felt like I didn't want to. Even when it felt like it would be easier to just give the kids a free day. Even when it felt like it would just be easier to write a kid up and send him out of class instead of pulling him out to have a conversation with him and try to get him on my side. Year after year of battling a system that's designed to fail kids, especially the poor ones. Day after day, week after week, year after year of this. And it's paid off.

This, the year my students and I decided from day one that this would be an English class, not a test prep class. That we would read and write and talk a LOT and not use acronyms like SAQ and STAAR and EOC and write essays in boxes with twenty-six lines. Instead we would read interesting books, and talk to each other, and discuss the hard topics even when it felt uncomfortable. We would write even when we didn't feel like it. I say "we," because we wrote together. They watched me draft and revise and draft and revise and mess up and start again, just the way I watched them. This is the year we decided we were going to actually SAY SOMETHING. And we did.

So thank you, kid who tried to burn down my classroom five years ago. Thank you for teaching me I could stick it out even when I felt a little scared. Thank you kids who broke into my portable three times six years ago. Thanks for reminding me that you don't need a cute classroom or ANY TECHNOLOGY to teach kids how to think critically. Thanks, super sweet kiddos, from the wrong side of town for showing me that sometimes, it's okay for me to be your mama or your auntie and teach you how to move through tough things in a graceful way both inside the classroom and out. Without you guys, my kids today wouldn't be at the top of their game.

This is it for me, one on one, teaching the classics to a classroom full of kids. A new adventure awaits. I'm committed to being as open, as determined, as persistent, and as successful in my new world as I was in the classroom. It's been an awesome ride, and I can't wait to start the new one.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Tue, 20 May 2014 18:59:00 +0000

I had a conversation yesterday that most people will never have in their lifetimes. And I had it with a student. It was disturbing; it was honest; it was fascinating, and it was frightening. I can't go in to particulars, but it if you're imagining what it might entail, you haven't gone nearly far enough. This student is struggling with some serious mental demons and is only back at school for a week-long trial run at being around other people. And while the rest of my class was working away on research, this kiddo sidled up to my desk and proceeded to spill his guts about his last two weeks as an inpatient in a mental hospital. And I listened.

This kid has been on a downward spiral school-wise all year. His behavior has always been excellent. He is never disrespectful, he never distracts others during class, and I've never seen even a hint of temper or violence from him. But he's quick to shut down- just put his head down and do nothing during class. Around the turn of the semester, it started getting worse. As a campus, we jumped in to offer support, but not much seemed to be making a difference. Finally, he was gone for two weeks and his mother called to tell the school he'd been inpatient at a local mental health facility. So when he pulled a chair up to my desk to talk- I couldn't NOT listen. In that moment, I was his teacher, yes, but I wanted to be his friend, too. Which is why I didn't gasp when he told me some of the things he deals with in his mind on a daily basis. I nodded and said, "That sounds intense," and he would tell me more. This conversation went on for forty-five minutes.

This child has lived in poverty all of his life. He shoulders the majority of the burden of raising his three siblings. And he's brilliant. He started telling me some of the things he sorted out in his mind over the last two weeks. He told me he thinks he's figured out why he hates being around men- because of what he's seen them do to his mother whom he loves very, very much. He told me he struggles with trusting anybody, even himself. I told him that was fair- when you can't even trust your own thoughts in your mind, that must be a scary thing. He told me how the people at the mental hospital made him feel like a monster with the questions they asked him. He said, "I DO have some good in me. I know I do."

And I said, "That's not even a question. I see the good in you every time you come to my class," because I do. His smile is one of the most gentle I've seen, and he's quick to come to the defense of people he feels are being treated unfairly.

He talked to me about the obsessive thoughts and feelings he's had as far back as he can remember- even in preschool. And he told me that he doesn't know where they came from, but he knows they came from somewhere, and he's afraid they'll never leave.

And I explained to him that he probably wasn't born with those thoughts and feelings- that his brain learned how to think that way as a reaction to some kind of trauma he may have suffered when he was tiny- something that he in no way was responsible for. And he said, "Yeah, that's what we talked about in the hospital. I couldn't think of anything, but that's probably true." And then we talked about the good news: if the brain can learn to think that way, it can also learn to NOT think that way with lots and lots of hard, gritty work and probably with the help of medication. He smiled and said, "I never thought of it that way." Then he paused and said, "You know, I'm thinking maybe I should've been working with YOU in the hospital the last two weeks!"

I was glad I could offer him a little hope.

For forty-five minutes I just listened and encouraged him as his teacher and as his friend.

Then after class was over, I had some time to sit and try to process all I'd heard and what we'd talked about. I started thinking about it from a mother's perspective. That's innate to me now that I have a little boy of my own. And I started thinking about how absolutely imperative it is that we protect the minds of our little ones.

I had a fantastic counseling professor in my graduate program at OU who broke down parenting in two phases: parenting to protect and parenting to prepare. If we get these two phases twisted or backwards, we can cause emotional damage in our children's lives. We protect our little ones from harm and we prepare our young adults for life in the world on their own. So I started thinking about this notion of "protecting." And it's not one of protecting our children from every curse word and every bit of flesh flashed on the television screen. It's protecting their hearts, their inner-selves, their sense of who they are in the world- where they fit and how they function in it- their senses of humanity and compassion and community. We can protect our children from all the things in the world deemed "inappropriate" for kids and still neglect what we teach them through our own relationships in our homes and with our family members.

The world is cruel and harsh and unforgiving sometimes. Our homes shouldn't be. Mamas, protect your kiddos, so they don't grow up to be lonely, confused adults.

My One Year Old's Christmas List

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Fri, 13 Dec 2013 02:06:00 +0000

I saw this post that's going viral and decided to make one for my own toddler! We spend so much time and money getting our little ones things we think they'll love, when all they really want is the simple things in life, right?

Dear Santa,

At Thanksgiving, I heard Nona asking Mama what I wanted for Christmas. She kept saying "outdoor toys". And while toys to play with outside would be okay, there are a few things I REALLY want for Christmas. I'm not sure why people even have to ask what I want. Isn't it already obvious? But if I need to spell it out for you, here it is.

First, this:

My parents have tried in vain to replace my favorite dump truck. I've got Hot Wheels, I've got a huge dump truck that hauls sand outside, and I've got a smaller, industrial version that I accidentally tore up as well. But I want this one. Only this one. Why does no one understand this? If you could get me another dump truck exactly like this one, that would be great.

Also on the list:

If you could make music come out of my headphones when I plug them in, that would be the best Christmas present ever.

Next, this:

See that hole right there on the right side of the back of the vacuum cleaner? I'd like you to bring me some things, anything really, that will fit into that hole. I don't care what it is. I'm not picky at all. I'll be happy with absolutely anything that fits into that hole. That would be so incredibly awesome.

Then, these:

I know we already have 2 iPads and 3 phones in the house, but I'm going to need at least 2 more. I AM the E-Trade Baby.

I also would really appreciate some help with this:

Much like my vacuum cleaner request, I need things that will fit into both the gas fireplace thing in the living room wall and the electrical outlet. Please note the different sizes. I'll need different things to fit into each. If you could also tell my parents to CALM DOWN when I'm playing with these, it could quite possibly be the BEST CHRISTMAS EVER.

Next, I would like unlimited access to these:

We're probably going to need to get this down on paper somewhere. There's no way mom's going to let me climb on the tables to touch the light fixtures unless I have a note from you saying it's okay. I like shiny things. I can't help it. So if you could hook me up this Christmas, that would be fantastic.

Okay, two more things. I'd like a couple more of these:

Santa, nothing makes me happier than unlocking the automatic lock on the front door, running in to the kitchen, and waiting to hear the sound it makes when it locks back so I can spin around and say "Who's that??" So if we could convince my parents to put these awesome locks on EVERY door in the house, it would just be that much more fun for me!

Last thing on my list: for the next year, I'd like mom to turn this thing on ON COMMAND:

Please let her know when I want her to turn it on, I'll say, "Chicky Chick-ON! Chicky Chick-ON!" Also, if you'd like to get me another mixer that I could have just for myself to turn off and on whenever I want, I would be SO happy.

I know Mama and Dada are going to get me new toys for Christmas, but if you could help me out with these few things that I REALLY want for Christmas, I think this could be the best Christmas I ever had. I've already had one and it was okay, but I think with your help, this one is going to be much, MUCH better.

Waiting anxiously,

Cash Cochran

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Tue, 19 Nov 2013 17:14:00 +0000

Getting down to the nitty gritty.

I read this blog post this morning about teacher burn out and how to be a teacher for more than five years, written by someone who put in an extra four and walked away after nine. The post is spot on and mostly about managing your time and expectations.

I've been thinking a lot over the past few days about why I love being a teacher and why I love the field of education. Prepare your face for shock and astonishment and possibly some judgmental disdain.

It's not because of the kids.

I should say it's not just because of the kids.

Let me tell you what I've found. The people who truly are in education just for the good of kids (while a noble aspiration it may be) are the ones that fall the fastest and the hardest out of the profession. Here's why. Our public educational system is broken. Utterly, irretrievably broken. And teachers can't fix it. Try as we might, no matter how hard we kick and scream and shriek at the top of our lungs, "But we're failing our children!!" We cannot fix it. As long a lawmakers are regulating public education and as long as a constant flow of money is infiltrating our political system, teachers cannot fix public education. Period. So many teachers come into the profession with lofty ideals and visions of brilliant students and free thinking classrooms floating in their heads. Then it doesn't happen that way. And when it doesn't happen the way they envisioned it, they get mad at the things standing in their way- that Assistant Principal that is ridiculously hard to work with. That curriculum that is so boring and poorly written that it makes them want to poke their eyeballs out. Those constant assessments that eat up so much instructional time in the classroom. And they rage against the roadblocks and they scream, "This isn't fair to the kids!!!" And then nothing changes. And after about four or five years of fighting the broken system, worn out from all the kicking and screaming, disillusionment sets in and they quit, because they've bloodied themselves trying to fix a system that is unfixable. And they feel like they've failed their students because of it.

I'm on year seven and I've seen it happen more times than I can count. So I've been asking myself over the past few days, why do I enjoy being a teacher so much? Why do I want to stay in the field of education even though I know the system is terrible and there isn't much hope of change on the horizon? After all, all of my adult working years have been spent in either non-profit work focusing on under-served women and children or in education. I have been a non-profit program director and education director. I have been a CPS caseworker for foster children. I have spent most of my teaching career teaching children from some of the poorest communities in the state of Texas. It's not like I don't have lofty ideals about the importance of community and helping people. I've committed my life to it. So why have I stuck it out this far when so many people haven't?

Because my number one focus isn't the ideal of helping the kids which requires changing the system. My number one focus is facing and conquering the challenge that is public education. And the challenge is figuring out how to effectively educate children inside a broken system. See what I did there? When your focus shifts from the kids to the challenge of becoming successful with what you've got, if you're a competitive person, you retain some of your staying power. I've been in enough classrooms, districts, and schools to know this: You don't like your principal(s)? Tough, they're not going anywhere... this year. You don't like your curriculum? Guess what, that's probably not going to change either. You think common core is total BS? Well, it's the law in most states now. Get used to it. Kids are coming into your classroom several grade levels behind? They're coming to your class tomorrow regardless.

I'm really interested in what you're going to do to be effective in your classroom in spite of all of this. This is the challenge we face as public educators in every district in every state across this nation. All our gripes are the same. What will distinguish us is how we will take on the challenge. Will we be content just to scream as loud as we can how unfair the system is to our children? Or will we get down to the nitty gritty, face reality, and decide how we can still be effective in our instruction in our classrooms, even with the deck massively stacked against us and against our students?

This is what we call grit. It's such a buzzword right now. Everyone tells us we should be developing it in our students. But do we have it ourselves?

Our football team is in the playoffs this year. Friday night we will play the powerhouse reigning state champs in only the second round of playoffs. Our marquee outside the school this week, even though meant for our boys, echoes my sentiments in my classroom, "Any team, any time, any place." I'm thriving on the challenge. Bring it!

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Thu, 26 Sep 2013 17:23:00 +0000

Writing when I don't know what to write...

Admittedly, this will be one more post about not writing anymore/enough. And I'm not making any grand promises or even planning to write more frequently. When I feel it and I can carve out a few minutes, I'm going to do it.

Baby steps.

In related news, it's no secret around our house that I haven't written much of anything since 2011. I got pregnant. My life became consumed with cluster headaches, doctors appointments, and keeping my blood pressure down. Then in 2012, along came the most wonderful thing in the world- my little boy, and my attention has been 100% focused on him ever since. He's just so fascinating and so much FUN!

Most of my adult life I've heard the stories of women who lose themselves to wifehood or motherhood and they "forget who they are" and end up twenty years down the road crying to Oprah or to their friends while recounting the most poignant parts of an "authenticity" episode of Oprah. I've heard of moms whose biggest regret is not staying "true to themselves" and "putting their needs last" to those of their family. The conversation always seems a little "either/or" and tinged with resentment. At the surface, I'm finding myself presently in their camp. But I'm talking myself through it a little differently, I think. Instead of losing myself, I think I've just found a different part of myself- the mother part of me- that wasn't there before. And I think these parts of myself can move fluidly to the back and to the front of my life if I let them.

They're all there. No part of me is lost. I just have to make a little more of a concerted effort to make room for all the new stuff while keeping the old stuff as near and dear as I always have. I don't know that I've been that great at it so far, but we're only two years in. I'm still a newby, so I'm cutting myself some slack.

The last two years have been huge growing years for me. First, I had a baby. What a strange new world that was. But I navigated it and managed to come out of it in one piece. Then, I got a promotion at work that came with a massive increase in challenge and responsibility. I'm learning lots of new things about myself this year. I'm learning how to manage my time. I'm learning how to prioritize. I'm learning to have confidence. I'm trying to let go of my "the bottom is going to drop out any minute" mentality when it comes to things I know I can do well. I'm learning how to be comfortable in a leadership position, when inadvertently, no matter what I've done to try to avoid it, there's a target on my back simply because of a title. I'm managing my way through these things and I'm only 2 months in.

As a family, we're trying to get back into the swing of life after spending a good 2 years completely focusing on the baby. It's time to emerge back into the world again. One of my good friends says when you have a baby it's like a bomb goes off in your life and you have to figure out how to put things back together in a normal way again. But the bomb analogy just brings to mind images of severed limbs and dead bodies, so... maybe it's like a confetti bomb. It's gone off and now you have to decide what other fun things you're going to do at the party. Cute decorations aren't enough.

So we write. We play music. And we put the baby to bed every night at 8 p.m. sharp.

Having It All.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 20:15:00 +0000

Forty percent of married women in the United States are the breadwinners in the home. I heard this statistic today. I found it staggering and wonderful at the same time. We have the ability to provide financially for our families and we're doing it.

I also read a piece by a mom explaining how she "juggles it all," a husband, a full time job, a kid still in diapers, a baby on the way. And law school. Her post was punctuated by a picture of her child on the floor of the library, face down, passed smooth out, surrounded by the contents of her purse.

The bulk of her post was how as mothers we need to drop the pursuit of perfection and learn to lean on others for support. This is very true. Many of us have extremely busy lives, and we have to acknowledge that even though we want to "have it all," we can't always DO it all. We need help. But this made me think: What are we trying to DO? And why?

Never in a million years would this be a post about how we need to prioritize our desires as women and put everyone else's needs before our own. I don't believe that in any way, shape, or form. I don't think we are the best mothers or wives or partners or friends or professionals we can be until we are the be US we can be; and that requires having goals for ourselves, knowing our own needs, and finding productive ways to fill them. But I do think there is a point when the pursuit of literally having it all can become an unhealthy thing for ourselves and our families if we let it.

These are just my thoughts, and I'm learning as I go. And Super Woman Law School Library Baby Napping Pregnant Lady may have a relatively low level of stress in her life. Her family may be perfectly happy. Maybe she and her family thrive on Starbucks and five hours of sleep. But for me, and probably for most families I know, that would be too much. I would end up with bald spots on my head, a mental breakdown, bored students, a baby who didn't know me, and a husband who missed me. So I certainly applaud her for keeping it together and doing things so well in her life. She talked a lot about doing many things, but giving each thing 100% attention at different times. She apparently is really good at it.

My life is not very similar to hers at this point. So does this mean that I don't "have it all"? Does this mean that I have less lofty aspirations for my life because I'm not running myself and my family ragged in pursuit of my dreams? No. It doesn't. For me, not for everyone, but for me, setting goals and planning and being patient seems to allow for personal and professional growth without overloading myself and the people around me. In my late teens and early twenties, my life was very reactionary. Things happened and I reacted. Needless to say, this philosophy didn't produce very many positive things in my life. After a few years of making the same mistakes over and over again, I learned. Think ahead of this moment. Plan. Take opportunities when they are afforded you, because they will create more opportunities for you.

I was very purposeful in waiting until I was in my late twenties to get married. We planned and saved for years before we bought our first house. I didn't start thinking about having a baby until I was in my thirties. Why? Because I knew I needed to be the best ME I could be, which included graduating from college, getting a graduate degree, starting a career, and getting my personal finances in order, before I felt I could be the best mother possible to a baby human being.

But being the best me I can be doesn't stop at childbirth. I still have other goals for my life. I want to advance in my career. I'm considering a post graduate degree. I don't plan on having any more children, but I have so many plans and things I want to do with the child I have. I want my marriage to continue to get stronger. And for me, the best path to getting these things done is to continue to plan. To think about timing. I'm a very strong believer in the fact that there is a right time to do most things- not that you can't make unplanned situations work and make them turn out wonderfully- but planning and taking advantage of good timing tends to produce less stress in my life. I have a one year old. Am I going to start a PhD program now? No. Unlike Super Lady, I am absolutely sure I cannot physically devote the time required to my family, my job, and a post graduate degree and be successful at all of them. I applaud her, but the job I love, the man I love, and the little boy who has stolen my heart, and not to mention myself, would suffer if I took on such a gargantuan task at this moment in my life.

But I fully plan on re-evaluating when he starts pre-school. Or kindergarten. It's just about the timing. And it's about the fact that we as women are not failures 1) if we choose not to stay home and devote our entire lives to raising our children in the home, and we are not failures 2) if we are not superheros who spend all our waking hours away from work pregnant in a law library. There is a happy medium. And if you do find yourself in category one or two, more power to you. I fully support your plight. If it works for you, let it work. But if all areas of your life begin to suffer because of the overload that comes with trying to "have it all", maybe shoot for more of a balance. Plan. Look for the right time. Take advantage of opportunities. And most importantly, remember you're not a failure no matter what you choose, because making the choice is one of the most empowering things you can do.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Wed, 31 Oct 2012 14:38:00 +0000

Every mother thinks her child is exceptional. Every mom thinks her child is the most special, the cutest, the best. Well- not every mom. (I've been watching too much news lately.) But most do. And I definitely can join the throngs of hyper-caffeinated, eager and endearing mothers who love to proclaim to anyone who will listen how amazing their children are.

Because my child IS amazing!

Here's what I notice about Cash. He is uber attentive. Maybe all babies are and I've just missed it til now. This child will sit and stare at you and watch your mouth move and try to imitate it on his own. He's done this since he was about three months old. You can literally see the wheels turning. He stares intently at his dad's hands as he teaches Cash how to count to five on his fingers- then, on a good day, he'll hold up his tiny eight month old hands and try to make the same motions with his fingers. When he's crawling around the floor he has to inspect objects from every single angle. He pulls up to see what's going on on top, he crawls around the sides, and his favorite thing is to get underneath things to see what the bottom looks like. He loves to explore and is very curious.

I love the way his mind works. He's already getting very smart and I'm so proud of him. And of course, he's got the smile to match his brains! Last night he officially, purposefully said his first word. He's been babbling and making sounds for months- but last night the wheels were turning, I could smell the rubber burning, and he put his sounds together to make an actual word. I couldn't have been more proud!

Learning Curve

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Thu, 25 Oct 2012 13:17:00 +0000

Taking a new position at a new job is no joke. Especially after having a baby.

The beginning of this school year has been a challenge for me. I knew at the end of last year that most likely it would be my last year at the school where I taught the past five years. The district was increasingly unstable and the inner city rough kids didn't have the controls in place anymore to keep them from imploding on themselves at our campus- in five years I'd never been scared at my job- much to the astonishment of some of my family and friends. They're really good kids for the most part, I'd say. And they really were. But the last year of teaching there (while I was pregnant) my mind shifted from not ever thinking about the "what ifs" for me, to thinking about the "what ifs" for my baby. And I had some close enough calls that last year, so I decided it was probably time for a change. The door opened, I walked through it.

I changed schools and most importantly, changed districts. It's a whole new world. It has its good parts and its challenges. The students are a lot the same with a few less really rough ones. On a classroom level the kids academic levels and abilities are remarkably similar to my students at my old school. But the campus and district environment is completely different- more structured, more organized in some aspects. Less structured, less organized in other aspects. On a campus of 5,000 students and over 300 teachers, you always get plenty of notice when a deadline is approaching. It's the only way to manage the beast. In my new school, they're quick to say, This needs to be done by noon tomorrow. So that's an adjustment I'm having to make- dodging the email bullets, making sure they all get on my calendar and nothing gets missed.

The ethos is different on the new campus- in the new district as a whole. Going from the city to the burbs is apparently completely ideologically different. I wasn't prepared for that. In every educational environment I've ever been in- college, non-profit work, then on campus- I've always been surrounded by people who had very thorough understandings of social justice and a passion for seeing the world through the eyes of those who have been somehow "othered" in our communities- whether it was through providing social services for them or teaching inner city children how to read and write in a high school classroom. I always felt like I was in a pretty progressive environment when it came to how we viewed the world around us and how we went along functioning and helping others function in it.

The burbs seem different. And I don't want to portray it as a particularly bad thing, because it's not. It's just another adjustment I'm making. Feeling out my surroundings. Things seem to be less socially acceptable in the new place- certain topics of discussion, ways of life. Things seem a little more sectioned off. While my last school certainly had its lonely moments- how could it not in such a massive place, the new school seems like it has a few more walls to work around socially. I guess when you're not fighting tooth and nail to help a sixteen year old learn the alphabet (I had one of these once), it's easier to let other more superficial obstacles creep into your daily routine.

I know it's just going to take time to adjust. I know I need to come out of my shell more at school and make friends. It took me two or three years to do that at the last school too. That's a lifelong habit for me- I know this. I'm in a good place- a very good place. And I think it's true that the older you get, the harder it is to go with the flow of change. But I'm learning. I'll get there!

Every Day I'm Shufflin'

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Sat, 06 Oct 2012 20:13:00 +0000

It's been a minute since I've blogged, huh. I've had my hands FULL! I now have a mostly mobile little boy on my hands, school started back, and after five years of teaching I'm having to figure out a new routine that juggles work, students, baby, and hubs. It's a learning experience for sure.

Cash is as amazing as ever. I've been around some babies in my life, but I have NEVER been around a child who lives to smile and laugh like he does. This little boy will stare at you for minutes until you look at him, just so he can smile at you. And it makes my heart leap every single time.

I also turned thirty-three this week. Meh. Normally, I love birthdays and I look forward to them all year. This year I feel a little bit older. It's true what they say about kids aging you. And yeah, it's worth it, but it's still true. :) Luckily hubs is here to take the edge off. He's a full ten years older than I am, so I still get to say NANNY NANNY BOO BOO. You're so OLD. And I'm so YOUNG! :) It also helps that he brought home a dozen froo froo cupcakes and is taking me purse shopping and out on the town tonight. I got a good one, you guys!

And in a week and a half we'll be wheels up to Laguna for our five year anniversary. Five days away from kiddo is going to be tough, but I think I'll make it. Many, MANY thanks to Miss Dehli, Caroline My BFF, and hub's parents for tag teaming to keep the ankle-biter after the news that Okie Pa & Grandma wouldn't be able to keep him as planned because of a terrible car accident. Thankfully, everybody is alive and recovering, so we don't mind the monkey wrench in the plans.

Life is good. Fall is here. Music is back in the air. We had our first patio session since the baby was born after Cash went to bed last weekend. It felt SO good. We're gonna do it on the rooftop of Casa del Camino in Laguna. And that will feel amazing. I need my creative juices to start flowing again.

I'm so excited about life right now and all the things our little family is learning and doing. And the holidays are just around the corner! Exciting times all around!

Love

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Thu, 02 Aug 2012 16:24:00 +0000

My son is rolling around in his pack n play, playing with the shadows the sunlight is making in his little play space. You should hear the sounds he's making. Most days, he spends hours playing by himself with me in the other room listening to all the little giggles and squeals he makes at almost six months old. Every little squeak melts my heart.

I always knew I wanted to have kids. It was just always something I thought I'd do. But I was never one of those people whose life goal was to be a mom or who just couldn't WAIT to have a baby. I definitely took my time. Everybody always says there's never a right time to have a baby, but there was a better time for me to have a baby. And it was after I got settled in a career, was in a healthy relationship, and was financially stable and able to plan money-wise for adding a person to the family. That time came and so did Cash. And I had NO IDEA how much I would love being his mom. Knowing that unless something massively unplanned and unforseen happens, he's going to be my only one just increases my love of being his mom. Every single day he does something new, and it makes me cry happy tears every time. Who knew having this tiny little human in my life would be so incredible?

Waterproof Catch All Bib Tutorial

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Fri, 20 Jul 2012 21:29:00 +0000

So I thought I'd do something useful today and create a tutorial on how to make a waterproof catch all bib for kiddos still trying to master the whole food-goes-in-the-mouth thing. If you can thread a sewing machine and make it go, you can easily make this bib. You need a bib to trace, fabric for the front and back, iron-on vinyl (easy to find on google), and snaps.

To start, grab a bib and use it as a pattern to trace. Lay your fabrics right sides together (which means you'll be looking at the back of the fabric) and trace your pattern adding about 1/4" for your seam allowance. Cut out your pattern. (Click on any picture to enlarge.)

Notice I added about 4" in length in a bell shape for the catch-all pocket. Also, you're going to need to widen the neck straps a bit. Iron-on vinyl is great but it's hard to turn inside out in tiny spaces.

Next I like to iron the front and back to make sure they're nice and pressed before I waterproof.

Next, cut 2 pieces of your iron-on vinyl, peel the vinyl away from the backing (keep the backing handy, you're going to need it) and smooth it out over the right sides of your fabric.

Next, with the shiny side down, place the backing on top of your vinyl and press on medium heat for 8 seconds over each area of the bib.

But the vinyl will stick to my ironing board, you say. Yes it will. But it will also peel off very easily in one piece. No worries. After you've pressed on your vinyl, peel the backing paper off and cut the excess vinyl from your bib.

Much like wrapping paper your scissors should glide along the vinyl making your life a lot easier. Now you have two perfectly waterproofed sides of a bib.

Now turn your right sides (waterproofed sides) together and pin them. Don't worry about holes in your vinyl, they'll be closed later in the process. At this point you can also trim up any uneven edges you might have.

Now take a break and feed the baby.

When he's sufficiently full of something both delicious and nutritious, you can now begin sewing. Sew your right sides together using a 1/4" seam allowance and leaving a big space unsewn along the bottom of the bib.

Cut tiny little verticle slits around the edges of your corners. This will keep the edges from being bulky.

Now turn your bib right side out, poking out the edges and the neck straps as you go. You'll end up with a bib that looks wrinkly, puffy, unsewn, and altogether unpresentable. Don't fret. We'll fix it. This is what it will look like:

With your fingers, turn under the unsewn edge of the bottom of the bib and smooth it out.

Now grab your vinyl backing one more time, put it shiny side down and press both sides of the bib.

When you peel the paper off, you will end up with a very soft, nicely pressed bib.

Now back to the sewing machine. Top stitch around the edges of the entire bib. This will close the open edge at the bottom. Don't forget to match your bobbin thread to the backside fabric.

Next, place your snaps on the front of the bottom of the bib.

Then fold the bottom up to decide where to place your top snaps that will create your catch-all pocket.

Then place your snaps on the BACK SIDE of your bib. This will create a natural opening for the pocket to catch all those stray pieces of chicken nugget.

Then place your neck snap and you're done! Wah-LAH! A perfectly durable, waterproof catch-all bib.

Now go make one for your friend, because you're nice like that.

The Argument for Rocking Your Child to Sleep

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Thu, 12 Jul 2012 01:36:00 +0000

Disclaimer- I'm mostly writing about infants in this post. I know once you reach the toddler years more complicated sleep problems can arise- not staying in bed, etc. Although I don't feel like those problems are necessarily related to rocking a child to sleep, I'm mostly referencing infants in this post.

How many books have I read and how many "sleep" experts have I heard say that babies need to learn to fall asleep on their own. They warn parents against rocking their children to sleep. Put the kiddo in bed, and let him fight it out with himself. Let him learn to self-soothe and fall asleep on his own. Why? One reason. If he falls asleep on his own initially, he'll be more likely to fall asleep on his own when he wakes in the middle of the night.

I'm a new mom. I don't have all the answers. The only answers I have are ones that concern my child- and sometimes I don't even have those. But when it comes to my child, I know one thing. I rock him to sleep. I'll continue to rock him to sleep 1) as long as it works and 2) as long as he wants me to. What's the main reason people argue against rocking? It all boils down to time. It takes time away from your schedule as an adult to rock your child to sleep. When they're tiny, it takes time away from your sleep to rock them back to sleep should they wake in the night. Again, the only point of reference I have is my kiddo. And we were very fortunate that he awoke only once nightly from the day he was born until about seven weeks when he started sleeping through the night.

I have a few problems with the No Rocking theory. First, children with healthy sleep patterns usually only awake consistently in the middle of the night when they are very young infants. This is expected. All new parents have the experience of waking up in the middle of the night with tiny, little ones. No expert in their right minds would tell you not to soothe your newborn back to sleep when they awake. Around four months "sleep training" should start. By four months, aren't the majority of babies (given that they are fed and well rested during the day on a consistent basis) sleeping through the night with only that rare occasion of waking? So how does the logic fit, that we shouldn't rock them to sleep initially to keep from rocking them in the middle of the night? They're already sleeping in the middle of the night by this point, right? So I'm more inclined to think that the No Rocking theory has less to do with middle of the night wakefulness and more to do with some expert thinking children need sets of rules to go by at bedtime and that parents need a break from rocking kids at bed time.

It feels completely counter intuitive to me. I was thinking as I was rocking kiddo to sleep tonight (at five months), "I'm probably not supposed to be doing this. I really should just put him down and let him figure it out in his crib." Then I stopped and thought, "Why?" And I couldn't come up with a single reason except that it would let me get downstairs faster so I could finish watching So You Think You Can Dance- that I was already DVRing anyway.

Seriously?!

So I looked at his sweet little drowsy face in my arms and thought to myself that this is more than likely the only child I will ever have. This is the only day that he will be four months and twenty-four days old. There is no place I have to be or nothing that I have to do that is more important than being in this moment with him in my arms right now. And I've heard people say, "Well, you'll be rocking him to sleep til he's in kindergarten." Guess what. That's perfectly okay with me. Do you know why? Because that ensures that absolutely no matter how our day has been or how hectic life gets or what's going on around us, I'm going to have at least ten or fifteen quiet, uninterrupted minutes with my child in my arms- where I can feel the weight of his tiny body on mine and feel his warm baby breath on my skin and be deeply and infinitely thankful for the life I've been entrusted with. And if I get that time with him every night until he's in kindergarten, I can't see how that's a bad thing.

As adults, sometimes we have let ourselves be slowed down. Our babies need us. They need that comforting relationship with their parents. And I'm 100% sure the more comfortable, confident, and secure they feel during the day time, the better they'll sleep at night. And the more rest we'll all get.

And that's what works for me.

A Quick Letter to Cashimilian.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Mon, 21 May 2012 17:26:00 +0000

Bug,

I've been doing lots of writing about how you're growing up and developing, but I've neglected to write anything directly to you in a while. Mommy's fault. But in all fairness, you DO take up pretty much ALL of my spare time. So I haven't written, but we've done LOTS of talking. And you DO LOTS of talking lately. I love it. The funniest thing is when you start to get cranky and cry, I can hold you up in front of my face and say anything I want, because you don't really know what words mean yet, but as long as I do it with a HUGE smile on my face, you start to smile too. It makes me laugh. And then it makes you laugh, because you just do whatever mommy's doing.

Daddy thinks you like being with me better than you like being with him. But I don't really think that's true. When you're with me, you get lots of soft cuddles and I hold you really tightly and make sure you have a place to rest your head and be comfy. So you tend to quiet down pretty quickly with me when you get upset. But daddy likes to play with you. You guys play constantly. You talk to him and you talk so LOUDLY. You can tell that the level of noise is a direct result of the level of fun you're having. And even though I seem to be maybe a little more comforting for you than daddy is right now, so far you've done all the important stuff in your time spent with him. You picked up your first object while he was playing with you, and then yesterday while I was out shopping, he sent me a message that said, "AND he's discovered he has feet!" along with a really cute picture of you studying your right foot very intently. You're learning so much every day. We laugh at the cute noise you've started making when you're concentrating really hard. We love seeing your wheels turn.

Standing up is one of your most favorite things to do at the moment. You're only 3 months old, so you still can't do it on your own, but you seem very determined to. We can't even sit you down on your knees on us anymore without you tucking your feet under and pushing yourself all the way up to standing with our hands just supporting your sides. You fling your arms up and out and give out a little grunt like it took SO MUCH WORK to get all the way up there. And your eyes get so big every time like you kind of can't believe you've stood all the way up, even though you do it a million times a day. It's hilarious, and I'm so proud of you every time you do it. As soon as your body starts to outweigh your head, you'll be doing it on your own, no problem.

You're finally getting into a little routine during the days, and mommy is starting to feel like life is a little more predictable. You sleep FOREVER which is awesome, then you wake up and have breakfast, then a good nap in the morning, then lots of playing, and another nap in the afternoon. Bath time is your favorite. I love it when you get to take a bath with me in the big tub. Your most favorite thing is to fling your head backwards and put your ears underwater to hear the jets rumbling. And right now we're trying to help you get ready for the swimming pool during bath time. We're working you up to hopefully being able to go underwater without thinking you're drowning. And you're doing a great job right now. I hope you're going to be as big of a fish as I think you're going to be.

So you're growing up and I really can't believe how big you already are at 3 months- until I see your dad holding you, then I think you still look so tiny. I soak up every minute with you. You are one of the two best things in my life and I still can't believe I'm your mom. My absolute most favorite thing is getting you out of your crib in the mornings. You yell loud enough to let us know you're awake, then I come in and say good morning and you get quiet, because you know mama is there. And then I pick your sleepy, squinting face up and kiss you good morning and we get ready for the day. I want to do this every day for at least the next eighteen years. I think I will. Your mama loves you, Cashimilian. Never doubt that. :)

Three Months

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Thu, 17 May 2012 19:44:00 +0000

It's been a big month of growing for kiddo. He's eating a ton and sleeping 10-12 hours a night consistently! He's gone from giving us a "goo" and a couple of few syllable laughs to talking constantly. Everything he says cracks him up. He laughs at his own jokes. But he laughs at our jokes too, so it's ok. He's finally begun to open up his fists and doesn't have his dukes up constantly. He's getting really good at holding onto his rattles, and sometimes he gets a little over zealous and throws them in the floor.

He's super eager to be able to stand up. If you set him on your tummy, he'll push down with his legs with all his might and try to stand up. So we figured it was time for the jumparoo, and we were right. He loves it.

The only complaint mommy has is that he still can't go for more than 15-20 minutes in the car without crying. So it still makes leaving the house difficult. But it's a positive sign that he's able to entertain himself at home for longer and longer periods of time these days. Maybe we're moving toward days where he can run errands with mom and be ok. I don't even remember what running errands feels like!

We're really excited about the approach of summer. We have a pool membership at the country club and the pool opens next Monday. We plan on being there with floaties and baby shades ready to go! I hope he loves it as much as I think he will!

It's been a great three months. Every month gets easier so far. Here's hoping this lasts. At least til he's 2. :)

The Dragonfly Races

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Wed, 09 May 2012 13:46:00 +0000

(Click here to listen to The Dragonfly Races)

I bought a ticket
to the Dragonfly Races
out where the forest meets the meadow
The twinkling lighting bugs
threw light upon our faces
the crickets chirped,
the bullfrogs bellowed

Beneath the moon,
before the sun
that's when the Dragonfly Race is run
The winner gets a ribbon for a prize

Across the creek,
through the hollow,
you've gotta fly like there's no tomorrow
There ain't no way to lose
but if you don't try,
it'll pass you by

It's the Race of the Dragonflies

Dusty the dragonfly
was lazy as a moonbeam
He took his naps in a bed of flowers
His friends just needed one more man
to make a full team
They begged and pleaded him for hours

The Great Horned Owl
cried out,
"Dragonflies! Get ready!
Get set!" He shouted,
then his great horn did blow
Dusty, he started last
but his wings flew sure and steady
he passed his friends at the creek
They shouted, "Go Dusty! Go!"

Beneath the moon,
before the sun
that's when the Dragonfly Race is run
The winner gets a ribbon for a prize

Across the creek,
through the hollow,
you've gotta fly like there's no tomorrow
There ain't no way to lose
but you gotta try
and Dusty tried

He won the Race of the Dragonflies...

If you have little ones, I highly suggest you get this album. It's SO much fun and chock full of world peace and other great lessons. :)It also is #9 on NPR's list of Top 10 children's albums! Ellis also has a brand new children's album out called The Hero in You that contains biographical songs about people who played important roles in shaping history like Thomas Edison, Rosa Parks, Jackie Robinson, Benjamin Franklin and Albert Einstein. It also won a Parent's Choice Award!

I love the explanation he gives for getting the idea to record children's albums in the liner notes of The Dragonfly Races- when he had his first child he realized they were being inundated with Barney and the likes and that his own music was getting lost in all the noise! :) The albums are awesome. If you're a parent, go buy them. You'll have them on repeat... even when you're by yourself.

Two Months

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Wed, 18 Apr 2012 21:05:00 +0000

Things are moving along just swimmingly with the little guy. He's officially sleeping through the night and started doing it consistently at about 7 weeks. I'm still learning that pretty much everything "they" tell you, while they're good suggestions, that doesn't mean it'll necessarily work for you or that other things won't work too. We're pretty much doing the opposite of everything every "routine" book I've read tells you to do, and we have a kid that sleeps through the night, and did it fairly early. Don't let anybody tell you that a demand-fed baby takes longer to sleep through the night. I think it has more to do with the kiddo's temperament than when/how you feed him during the day. At least that's been our experience.

He's smiling all the time now and giving us a few really super cute few syllable laughs. His laugh is hilarious. He laughs more like a 14 year old boy than a baby. It's in a lower register and he goes, "Huh, huh, huh". And he's started to coo and try to talk back to us quite a bit. It's fascinating to watch his wheels turn. He stares intently at our faces and watches our mouths move. Then he makes the funniest shape with his own lips and lets out a "goooo..." He loves to stand up and support all his weight on his legs with help from mom and dad. He seems very eager to be able to get up and go! Recently we've decided he has to start sleeping in the Pack n Play during the day and no longer on the big ottoman in the living room. Two days ago I was paying some bills on the computer (in the living room two feet away from him, mind you) while kiddo was napping on the ottoman. I looked up and saw this:

Not good.

Kid's head makes up about 8 of his 10.5 pounds. He was about to go head first into the floor in just the few minutes I spent paying bills. He's quite the scooter. So we've entered the mobility phase. We're getting much more careful about where we put him because he's no longer an immobile blob of jello that stays put. This also means that our SIDS risk is getting much lower because he's strong enough to move himself around and lift & turn his head and even roll over. And because of that, it's time for a bumper pad. He's woken up by bumping his head on his crib rails three different mornings. So he's either gonna have to learn to open his eyes while he's scooting or we're gonna have to get something softer for him to bump into.

And while things are going really well, we've got a few things we're still hoping will happen in the near future. One of them is that kiddo will be able to leave the house for short periods of time without having complete meltdowns every single time. Right now there's no going ANYWHERE with him unless it's an outside picnic lunch with dad. That works because it's outside and there are two people there to entertain him and we're not trying to get anything done. Errands and the grocery store are out of the question at this point. So I'm hoping that will change in the near future and he'll mellow out a little bit.

I go back to work in a couple of weeks. And while I'm not really looking forward to it, I'm only going back for a couple of days a week (thank you vacation days!) and it'll only be three weeks til summer break! So really, it couldn't work out much better. It's been a great and CRAZY two months. And I can't wait to see what kind of fun this summer holds!

Cash Miller, 2 months

Love.

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Sat, 14 Apr 2012 04:00:00 +0000

People told me about 500 times when I was pregnant how sleep deprived I would be when baby arrived. Get used to it, they said. It's gonna be a long 18 years.

In the words of my good friend, Ragan... Huh. Or in my own words, That's interesting.

First, I guess I should say we're fortunate to have a baby who likes to sleep at night. It's been eight weeks now and I think we've had only ONE night where we had to get up twice with him. When he was brand new he generally awoke once in the middle of the night to eat, then once more in the early morning when P would feed him before going to work. And now we're just to the early morning feeding. And some mornings that doesn't even happen. So everybody's getting sleep around here.

But it's not to say we don't get tired. We do. Our entire lives shifted focus in one minute- at 1:26 pm on February 16th. Everything we do revolves around this little guy and his needs right now. That does get exhausting from time to time. It has been an adjustment. And there are times when I'm waking up at 7:00 anticipating kiddo's next meal that the bed feels soooo good and I don't want to get up. But I do. And when I walk into his room and unwrap him from his warm blanket, and see those perfect arms shoot straight up in the air, and those little chicken legs kick out as far as they can go in what looks like best morning stretch that has ever been stretched, that my bed seems a million miles away. And I'd gladly leave it there for him.

He's perfect in every possible way. Even when he's doing the mad-face scream. I love it and I wouldn't trade it for the world. Not even for a few more minutes of sleep.

Things I've Learned So Far (Month 1): What Worked for Us

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 16:52:00 +0000

So admittedly, I've been micro-documenting the baby experience on Facebook. Sorry, FB friends. I've always had a compulsive need to document my life learning experiences and this is decidedly the biggest one I've ever had. And I've been thinking a lot lately about the things I've learned so far with this pregnancy and now the first month of little man's life. Overall, the main thing I've learned is that I can do this. Everybody's an expert and you get advice from every single angle on every single issue whether you want it or not. But I can figure it out and I can make this experience successful. I just have to breathe and surround myself with supportive people. Check and check. But let's get down to brass tacks here. Specifically what are the big things I've learned so far?

Pre-Conception

1) Plan, plan, plan. Even if you don't want to "try" for baby and want it to happen organically, you can still financially plan ahead for having a baby. If there's even a possibility you could get pregnant in the next couple of years, go ahead and start planning financially. Get some supplemental insurance. If you do it before you get pregnant, they'll pay you thousands for your hospital stay after delivery and you can use that money to pay bills while you're off work. Lots of times employers will provide supplemental insurance as an option with your benefits. If not, companies like AFLAC and Humana have good hospital indemnity policies you can purchase as long as you're not pregnant yet. Take a look at your health insurance. Think about how much it's going to cost you to have this kiddo. "Purchase up" if you've been paying only for the minimum plan when several are offered to you even though the premiums are a bit more expensive. Also, start saving. Make a budget, have a goal to put a certain amount of money in your savings account every month, even if it's only a little. Every penny counts. Caring for a newborn is stressful enough without worrying about how you'll pay the bills while you're off work. And if you happen to have a job that gives you paid maternity leave, then chances are you're living a charmed life, you have an awesome job with a fabulous boss, you're already rolling in the cash, and you should never, ever, ever quit that job with that fabulous employer.

The Pregnancy

2) Trying to get pregnant is stressful. It's crazy emotional. It'll wear you out. Pregnancy losses are absolutely devastating. As women we need to be more open about talking about our experiences. The statistic is huge- something like 50% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage. A ridiculously high number of women have experienced at least one. Yet we continue to suffer in silence and don't want people to know when we go through it ourselves. We've got to talk. There's strength in numbers. This is key.

3) And as much as we planned and tried for this pregnancy, I've learned I pretty much never wanna be pregnant again. I can do labor. I can do delivery. I can do late night feedings with a newborn. But I do NOT want to go through nine months of pregnancy again. Don't get me wrong, I LOVED feeling those little kicks and punches. Loved, loved, LOVED. But that was about the only saving grace of my pregnancy as far as I'm concerned. Your body completely whacks out on you. You start having pains in places that have NEVER hurt before. You feel like you're 80 years old suddenly. And I'll chalk this up to being pregnant in my 30's. And as my sister said, "Ashly, it's not like you're 18 anymore." That's true and my body felt it. So if you're looking for advice on how to feel better during your pregnancy, I can't really help ya except to say, it'll be over soon. Promise. But here's something I can help you with...

4) Choose wisely when you pick an OB. Don't just go off a recommendation from a good friend. Know what kind of person you want to deal with for 10 or 11 months once you get pregnant and interview your doctor in his/her office whilst you're clothed without your legs up in the stirrups. Yes, you want to make sure you've got a knowledgeable and skilled OB, but you also want to make sure your personalities mesh well. For example, I spent the last three years going to a female OB/GYN who was young and very matter of fact- pull no punches, tell you like it is, worst case scenario just in case. I was miserable the entire time. And after one very bad, misguided experience with an IUD, I changed doctors. This time I researched a little better and went with an older man who was very soft spoken, encouraging, and reassuring. He's exactly what I needed when dealing with blood pressure issues during my pregnancy and a very unplanned C-section during delivery. He was the best healthcare decision I've made in my life. (The same goes for picking a pediatrician for kiddo. Do NOT settle for a doc that makes you feel bad, doesn't answer your questions, or talks down to you as a new parent- and they're out there. Shop around.)

A C Section Delivery

5) ...which brings us to the C-section. Most people don't want to have their insides cut open and have the baby taken out, but sometimes it can't be avoided. And we can debate birthing ideologies all day long, but the fact is C-sections happen. And here's how I dealt with mine. First off, I was TERRIFIED. And it turns out there was nothing to be scared of. My operating room experience was AWESOME thanks to a very skilled doctor and a husband who was devoted to keeping me distracted from what was really going on on the operating table. Nothing hurt. So if you've never had a C section before and end up having one in the future, don't be afraid. There's no pain involved in the procedure.

Now, afterward is a little different story. Luckily, my doc's practice is to put 24 hours worth of time released pain meds in the IV to keep you comfy for the most painful time after the surgery, the next day. It did the trick. I know lots of people get morphine after surgery that helps the pain but keeps them drugged up most of the time. If you can ask for different pain meds than morphine, do it. The next thing to remember is that the quicker you get out of that bed, the better you're going to feel. I know it feels like your insides are going to fall out at any minute, but they won't. Trust me. If they don't give you a binder to wear around your tummy, ask for one. It makes walking around a thousand times more comfortable, especially in the hospital those first few days after delivery. I gave birth at 1:26 p.m. The next morning after breakfast I was up and in the shower. And from there on out it only got easier and easier. Probably the hardest thing is getting up and down out of bed because you're used to using your tummy muscles to get it done. Now you can't because they've just been sliced apart. Remember to use your arms to pull and push yourself up to a sitting position. Pretend you're paralyzed from the waist down and use your arms to lift EVERYTHING. But overall, the main idea is MOVE. The more you do, the better you'll feel and the quicker you'll heal.

Going Home

6) Hormones: Good. Grief. Charlie. Brown. They can tell you all day long that your hormones will be crazy, but until you find yourself in tears every day for a few weeks, you won't understand what they mean. It'll happen, so just be prepared. You'll be so in love you'll cry. You'll be so confused you'll cry. You'll be so tired you'll cry. You'll burn your frozen pizza and you'll cry. This is just what happens. It WILL get better. Hang in there.

7) Feeding. Feeding was what triggered almost all of my hormonal meltdowns. Suffice it to say, this is what I learned: do what works for you. You are not mother nature. You are not Mary Poppins. You are not practically perfect in every way, nor should you be. Everybody has a different opinion on feeding. Society shuns moms who breastfeed in public- just watch the news. And in the same breath they'll poo poo you for formula feeding. Do what works both emotionally and physically for both baby AND YOU. An unhappy, stressed out breastfeeding mom is not good for baby. What worked for us after two weeks of tears and a screaming child was bottle feeding breast milk while supplementing with formula. If exclusively breastfeeding doesn't seem to be working for whatever reason, first get help. Talk to a lactation consultant, then try a few different things. You are not a bad mom if you don't/can't breast feed exclusively.

8) Sleeping. People always say, "Sleep when the baby sleeps." That's not always practical. However, pick ONE time during the day, one time out of the four or five naps your newborn will take, and lay down with him/her (not in the same bed though just to be safe) and take a nap. It'll make your day much better. Ours was always right after lunch. Baby was tired, mom was tired after eating, so kiddo would fall asleep in his bouncy chair next to the couch and I'd fall asleep with him for an hour and a half or so. And let dad help with feedings in the middle of the night. You take the first, let him take the second, and so on. That way everybody is getting roughly the same amount of sleep and nobody ends up resenting anybody else for getting to sleep through the night. Although, if you're staying home and dad is getting up early for work, it would be nice of you to accommodate his schedule and work it so he can take the early morning feeding before work instead of the one an hour before he's supposed to get up, etc. if that's possible.

9) Crying. If feeding is the most stressful thing about having a new baby, crying gives it a great run for its money. By sheer luck, we have a pretty content baby. But he does have his fussy time, usually at night for a few hours before bed. We though it was gas. And it may be. But using the Best Baby on the Block methods really seem to be helping, namely swaddling. My best advice to you if you have a screaming infant is SWADDLE, SWADDLE, SWADDLE. As in SUPER TIGHT. You'll feel like you're restraining your baby. And you are. You'll feel like it's uncomfortable for him, but it's NOT. They just spent nine full months in a space that started out the size of your fist. They need to be squeezed. Get a Swaddle Me or get a BIG swaddling blanket and wrap them up til they can't move. Yep, it's a straight jacket for babies. And it'll keep YOU sane. Harvey Karp says, "Calm babies become serene babies. And serene babies sleep better." We've noticed when kiddo is wrapped up tight in his Swaddle Me, on average he sleeps 1-2 hours longer than usual. He even sleeps through feedings. So try it. See if it works for you. Do anything you can to replicate your womb in the outside world. Swaddling, white noise, warm snuggles, tummy and side time for fussiness, anything that engages the sucking reflex. Something will work. Experiment.

10) And the main thing I've learned in this first month of kiddo's life is this is all one big experiment. There's no user's manual. You just try a million things and see what seems to work for you and baby. You don't HAVE to do anything (except common sense things to avoid health and safety issues). Do what works for you. Try to relax. Babies are like dogs. They can smell fear. And stress. :) Put out relaxing vibes and they'll respond in kind- sometimes with a little help from you. This journey is amazing. And I can't wait to see what I learn in month two. Rest assured, I'll share. :)

Trial by Fire: The First 2 Weeks

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Tue, 28 Feb 2012 18:36:00 +0000

Oh. My. Goodness.

Being a new mom is no joke. Lack of knowledge + stress + tiredness + crazy hormones = crazy woman. The first week was a little hairy. Trying to figure everything out, integrating a new little fussy butt into our household was a bit harrowing. But like Diane Sawyer says, "When you feel like you're at the end of your rope, tie a knot and hold on." And I did.

Parenting a newborn is kinda tricky. One thing I've learned over the past two weeks is to listen to your instincts and do what you think will work for you and your little one. EVERYONE is an expert. Your doctor. Your mother. Your best friend. The online forums. EVERYONE knows exactly what you need to do except you. So you try it, but something's not quite clicking.

For years in preparing for the arrival of this kiddo, I was always dead set on breastfeeding. It's a problem for some people, but I'm committed to it, so it'll work itself out. We'll get through the hard times, and I'll be the perfect example of mother nature nurturing the child at my breast. So for the first week and a half, I breast fed a very fussy baby every 2-3 hours. I supplemented with a little formula, originally to help get rid of kiddo's jaundice, then because he just didn't seem like he was getting enough to eat.

The pediatrician at the hospital and his new pediatrician both told us to cut out the formula. Trust us, you're producing enough. Almost all women do. So for two days, I gave him almost exclusively the breast. And both days I ended up in tears (again) because kiddo was screaming after every feeding and voraciously sucking on anything in sight. Even after he'd fed for an hour. They tell you to watch for hunger cues and tell you to cut out the supplementing in the same breath. It was all very confusing. I kept pumping after every feeding trying to increase my supply. Nothing seemed to be working. And kiddo never seemed to have a full tummy.

So I made a decision. This is my baby. And I'm not going to sit around and watch him starve over the principal of breast feeding just because it's "best" and the perfect nurturing motherly thing to do. I felt like a failure. It's a feeling that still nags at me. I pumped, I pumped, I pumped. And I was pumping about a quarter of an ounce (on the high end) at each feeding. No way was kiddo getting enough to eat. So after days of tears and kiddo screaming, I made an executive decision. I would pump everything I can at each feeding and mix it with formula and bottle feed kiddo. The physical experience of having him at my breast is not nearly as important to me as 1)knowing exactly how much breast milk he's actually getting and 2) seeing his satisfied little face after each meal and knowing his tummy is full.

As a result, so far we have a much happier mom and a very satisfied baby. My supply is slowly increasing and he's still getting that good milk, even if it is supplemented with formula and given to him in a bottle.

The hugest lesson I've learned so far is that I am not mother nature. This body sometimes does not cooperate- I should've learned that at his birth, even though our intentions are good. I'm learning to be creative and flexible. It's been a difficult lesson, but so far I'm learning it. And it's working.

The Eagle Has Landed: An Imperfectly Perfect Birth Story

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Wed, 22 Feb 2012 01:16:00 +0000

Going into the 38th week of my pregnancy, I had the feeling this kiddo wasn't one who was in a hurry to see the world. I felt like maybe he had dropped just a little, but not too much. And nothing really felt out of the ordinary or like I was on the verge of going into labor. I figured he would just take his time and we'd go all the way to 40 weeks.

Then on Wednesday night, as I walked to the bed after taking a shower, I felt a funny feeling in the bottom of my tummy. I stopped and thought, Hmm. That felt weird. Wonder what that was. Then I put it out of my mind and laid down to sleep. About an hour and a half later at 12:45 a.m., as my usual routine dictated, I got up to go to the bathroom. Luckily, I made it all the way there and POP. There it went. Ummm, that was NOT pee. It went, and went, and went, and didn't stop. Oh dear. I don't know what I said, but Poncho heard it. Honey? He called into the bathroom. Yep, my water just broke. I sat there for a few minutes just trying to compose myself and breathe. I was shaking. This wasn't supposed to happen tonight. I'm not ready yet. OMG, it doesn't matter if I'm ready, THIS IS HAPPENING NOW.

So the rush began. We started putting clothes on, picking up a few last minute things around the house and heading to the car. I wasn't contracting yet, and it was 1 a.m. so we didn't have to stress about traffic on the way to the hospital. I had my first contraction standing at the check in desk at Labor & Delivery.

They checked me in, I put on my lovely hospital gown, they hooked me up to all the monitors, and sent a resident in to check me until my doc could get to the hospital. Sure enough, as I had expected, my body wasn't quite ready- not dilated at ALL. Then the contractions started coming slow, but in my opinion, pretty hard. And can I just say those contraction monitor gadgets are NOT cool. I'm NOT a fan. I was lying there in pain, just trying to breathe til the monster passed and it barely registered a blip on the screen. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?? MY GUTS ARE BEING RIPPED OUT AND YOU'RE TELLING ME THAT ONE DIDN'T COUNT?!

And we did that for SIX HOURS. No pain meds except one Norco-- which barely knocks the edge off my headaches. They couldn't give me the epidural because I wasn't progressing enough. After six hours of contractions, I had still only dilated to a two. By that time, my doc had arrived and saw how much pain I was in. He ordered the epidural immediately. I was initially super grateful for it. It wasn't painful-- no biggie, I was just ready to be rid of the contraction pain. It was effective, except I had a weird reaction to it (probably mostly caused by anxiety) where my entire body started cramping up and shaking. The shaking was fine, but the muscle spasms were wierding me out and just adding to my anxiety that something was going wrong. So my doctor asked my anesthesiologist to come give me another dose, and that one did the trick. I was much more comfortable.

Then they started the Pitocin to try to speed up my labor. We tried it for an hour, but then the nurses rushed in to turn it off because kiddo's heartbeat had crashed during a contraction. They called the doctor and he came in to talk to us. We left the Pitocin off for 30 minutes, then we tried again. Once again the nurses came rushing in. His heartbeat had crashed again during a contraction. We turned it off for 30 more minutes. Then the doc said Ok, we're going to try it one more time. Same result. He checked me- it had been twelve hours. Still a two.

And that was it. He said, Ashly, even though the residents were talking C Section at 5 a.m. on the phone with me this morning, I was so optimistic that we'd be able to get your labor going and deliver vaginally. That's why we waited a few more hours and tried the Pitocin as much as we could. But kiddo is not tolerating the contractions. And as much as this wasn't the first choice for either of us, I think it's best we go ahead with a C Section. So I cried and said Ok. All my family came in to wish me luck and say goodbye. Caroline, my best friend, who went through the same thing, an unexpected C Section a year ago, came over to hug me and I said, I'm so scared. But I know if you can do it, I can do it. She cried. And I cried some more. And fifteen minutes later they were wheeling me to the OR, P in scrubs following behind.

The idea of the doctor cutting me open and having a major surgery scared the CRAP out of me. I didn't want to feel it and I couldn't stop picturing my vital organs exposed to the air and in someone's hands. The OR was bright and bustling with doctors, nurses, techs, and and excitement. They put up the little sheet where we couldn't see the procedure UNLESS YOU LOOKED STRAIGHT UP AND WATCHED THE WHOLE THING OFF THE REFLECTION OF THE STEEL LIGHT FIXTURES. I tried my best to avert my eyes and tried to encourage P to do the same. Talk to me, and don't stop talking, I said. So he did. And a nurse came over with a stack of CD's so we could pick what music we'd like to listen to. P was nervous and didn't want to take a lot of time to consider our music selections, so he picked one he recognized, Alison Krauss. And that seemed good to me. Relaxing, reassuring. And the music started. P kept talking. We tried to imagine what our little guy would be like. What he'd want to be when he grows up. And we laughed a LOT. I relaxed. There were no tears- except from P at the very beginning when he WASN'T FOCUSING and saw the doc make the first incision. Apparently watching your wife get cut into can be a pretty emotional thing. And from that point on, I said you look at me and you don't look away. (He still did.)

I didn't feel a thing. Nada. It was wonderful. I felt the doctor pressing down up high on my tummy a few times and then he said, THERE'S the head. It was way higher up than I thought. Whose idea was it to have a vaginal birth?! Whoops. We laughed. And just a few seconds later, P's face lit up. He's here! He's here! So I listened. I listened some more. I only heard doctors and nurses voices. No baby screaming. It seemed like I listened for about five minutes. Then the doctor flung a reddish purple goopy baby over the top of the sheet. Here's your son! Still quiet. And this is how it went.

The kid, only seconds old, turned his head in my direction, looked straight at me with wide open eyes, arms and legs flailing wildly, opened his mouth, and screamed in my face as loud as he could. It was the most awesome sound ever. He looked like a little baby imitating a monster on Halloween. It was hilarious and I laughed and cried at the same time. So did P. They declared him 7 pounds, 19 3/4 inches long. Perfect. Then they finished putting me back together, and I looked at the nurse and asked her if everything went ok. She responded with a sweet, reassuring smile and said, Oh yeah. Everything went great. HE'S PUTTING YOUR UTERUS BACK IN RIGHT NOW.

I'M SORRY, WHAT?! My uterus was OUT?! And then she explained the whole procedure to me. I had no idea that my uterus was actually going to leave my body and be in the doctor's hands and get inspected and rinsed out and put back in. Goodness. It's a wonderful thing I did not know that before hand. But I wasn't able to worry about it too long, because a nurse rushed over with my child and put his super warm and soft little face up next to my cheek and left him there for a good minute so I could feel his soft face up against mine.

I will never forget that feeling in my whole life. One of my absolute greatest moments. Then they wrapped him up and laid him on my chest and let me hold him while they finished up with me. Before I knew it, they were wheeling me to recovery. I was exhausted, delirious, and happy. Then after two hours in recovery and sweet visits from most of our entire family, we got moved to our room. And that's when the pain happened. Absolute worst part of the C Section experience for me was changing beds from the recovery bed to the bed in our room. YOWZA. HARD CORE. Shoulda been doped up more for that one, seriously.

But once I was settled, all was well. By the next morning I was unhooked from all the monitors and up and around and taking a shower. That was the best feeling ever- just being mobile. And after that, everything was smooth sailing for me. My blood pressure stayed relatively normal most of the time and my recovery was relatively painless. And I was able to come off the pain meds pretty quickly. I know this isn't a typical C Section experience for many people, so I'm very grateful for mine.

The next day, we found out kiddo was a little jaundiced. He had to have lights wrapped up in his blankets with him in the room for two days. It was annoying, but I was okay with it because he got to stay with us and didn't have to lay under the light machine in another room. Then after two days, they released us to go home. And we were more than ready.

Now we're here and trying to figure out how our new family routine works. The feeding, the sleeping, the pooping, the screaming, the holding, the shushing, the loving. It's taking some adjustment. My hormones are RAGING. One minute I'm fine, one minute I'm crying because I'm so in love and can't believe I have this perfectly imperfect human being in my life, and the next minute I'm crying because kiddo is screaming and I don't know why and I just want to help. So I'm ready for those things to balance out a little bit. But the good thing is I KNOW it's the hormones, so I'm not too distraught. This too shall pass. I'm confident.

This is the most amazing experience ever. And I'm loving every second of the learning. Can't wait to see what the future holds and who our family turns out to be.

Cash Miller, February 16, 2012

Bed rest

noreply@blogger.com (Ashly) — Tue, 31 Jan 2012 22:37:00 +0000

From my very first doctor's appointment in July when the doc first confirmed the pregnancy and checked my blood pressure, he straight up told me bed rest was going to be a possibility "after Christmas". Well, I made it exactly a month past Christmas. At our doctor's appointment last week, my blood pressure was a little elevated and wouldn't go down, so the doc sent us downstairs to the hospital for observation "for a few hours" just to make sure everything was ok.

What?! I'm going to the hospital?! CUE THE STROKE. My blood pressure went from slightly elevated to through the roof in two minutes flat. I was immediately surrounded by doctors and nurses asking me over and over and over again if I was having headaches or seeing flashes of light or having contractions or bleeding. No. No. No. No. No. **between tears** I just want to go home.

Wrong.

They ended up admitting me and keeping me there allll weekend. They put me on blood pressure medication and checking it every four hours (after we were initially out of the woods) for three days. "Sort Of Kind Of Maybe Mild Pre Eclampsia" was the diagnosis, depending on which doctor you asked. My actual doctor had left to go out of town to a conference about thirty minutes after I was admitted-- so we got the fun experience of dealing with on-call docs all weekend. If I've never impressed upon you the importance of healthy relationships and the importance of choosing the right life partner, PLEASE, listen to me now. It is probably the most important thing I've done in my life-- choosing to marry P. He slept in a chair in the hospital for three days when he didn't have to. He brought me every meal so I wouldn't have to eat the nasty hospital food. He rubbed my shoulders and ran his fingers through my hair during blood pressure checks to help me calm down. (I have a bit of White Coat Hypertension- and the baby is just adding to the higher numbers.) And now he's waiting on me hand and foot, while doing dishes, laundry, and picking up the house, now that I'm on strict bed rest. I don't know how single people, people with rocky marriages or less considerate husbands do it. It is not lost on me how unbelievably lucky I am.

While I'm not thrilled about having to leave school three weeks earlier than planned, I am grateful for the rest. I've lost five pounds in water weight just being off my feet over the weekend. When I saw the doctor yesterday he noted how I even looked different since all the swelling had gone down. And my blood pressure was fine, so we're just going to keep doing what we're doing.

As usual, this kiddo is super healthy and happy. He's just upside down in my belly kicking away night and day. He's never shown even the first sign of distress. He's such a trooper. And if things keep going the way they are now, positively, he'll be able to arrive on his own time whenever he's good and ready. This is really important to me, so I hope it works out that way. If my BP spikes and we do have to induce, I'll understand, but I REALLY prefer that not to happen.

We are SO ready for kiddo though. Everything is set. Bags are packed, car seat is in the car. Diapers are ready; his bed is ready. I can not wait to meet him and for the first time see the precious face of this little boy that I've been talking to and feeling wiggle around inside me for the last nine months. I want to hold those little hands and kiss those tiny feet that have been poking out through my stomach the last few weeks. And it's almost time. It's just a matter of days now.

So excited!