Having help makes me a better parent.

We talk frequently about how hiring her is one of the best investments we’ve ever made. When That Husband comes home on the weekends he can go to work on Saturday (without me feeling overwhelmed at the thought of managing the kids all by myself for yet another day) and we can spend time together as a family on Sunday. Otherwise I’d constantly be handing the kids over to him and declaring that it was his turn. There would be little to no couple-time or family-time. It has been the best possible thing we could do for our marriage and stress levels after having another baby.

I don’t reflect on the experience without constantly thinking about how lucky we are. There are plenty of families who do much more than we are without any help at all. I know having any paid childcare help is a great luxury, and I am very grateful for that. Having a nanny means being selective about the festivals or theme parks we go to, or packing a lunch instead of eating out, but those are choices I am more than happy to make in exchange for the smooth transition we’ve had into a family of four. Our time with her is drawing to a close due to our early-June moving date and we are all going to be so sad to see her go! She has been a special part of our family the past few months.

I do want to make one thing clear though, that my situation (husband who travels M-Th every week without fail) is nothing like being a single mom. Or an army wife or any other equivalent situation. Every week my husband comes home late on Thursday night, kissing me goodnight before he collapses into bed. Friday evenings we curl up on the couch and watch Game of Thrones together and talk about our plans for the weekend. When I call he is almost always able to pick up, and lets me vent as long as I’d like when it’s been a particularly rough day. We have all of our needs and most of our wants met without any objection from him or fighting between the two. When he is able to be home with us, he is my partner, pitching in 50% (and often more because I am a great procrastinator and often selfish about my time).

I had deliberately not talked about having a nanny* in a public way because I felt guilty; or maybe it was that I was ashamed. I’m not sure which was the root cause for my silence. Without realizing it I had bought into the idea that the best kind of mother is one that does everything herself. I knew that talking openly about having a nanny would invite criticism (especially when I am not employed outside the home, living in a society that makes empty proclamations about how important motherhood is while simultaneously attacking any woman who dares to voice why running a household and raising children is difficult for her), but I was surprised by the amount of support I received. I laughed out loud when @itsthelinda said “Thanks for sharing your secret! I couldn’t figure out how you’re so productive with two. I only have one and barely survive most days lol.” Me? No, seriously, me, Jenna Andersen? Most days I go to bed wondering how I managed to do so little yet again, attempting to tally what I did do so I can stop mentally flogging myself for my weaknesses and wasted time.

This reaction reminds me of the way I felt after I admitted to some friends that I had hired someone to clean our house as we approached the birth of T2. Not a single one of them was shocked because they all had regular house cleaning services as well. Their non-reaction certainly says something about the socioeconomic status of some of my closest friends, but I think it also is a product of the culture we live in. I thought I was admitting some great deficiency on my part, and it turns out I was revealing how completely normal I am.

Of course talking about getting help (childcare or housecleaning or any other attempt to outsource responsibilities related to being a wife/mother) opens me up to attack, which is no surprise to anyone at this point. The criticism is summed up nicely on a later photo where I mentioned my desire for a mother’s helper in the afternoons/evenings so I can pack up the house over the next two weeks. “Why not be an actual mom?” troll-that-doesn’t-deserve-to-be-named wanted to know.

No!

I refuse to let you (internets, trolls, etc) make me think the only way to “be a mother” is to force my tasks, goals, dreams, ambitions, desires, and priorities to be wholly subsumed by my children. That I am only adequate at my role as their primary caregiver if I am hardly (or never) separated from them. You want to turn me into the standard bearer for The Mother Who Can’t Do It All? Fine by me, but I’ll do you one better. Hand me my sash because I am proudly going to wear the title of Ms. Can’t-Do-Most-Of-It. (I’ve already got the tiara sitting on a shelf at my mom’s house due to my high school pageant days.) If I lived next to family I would be asking for their help on a weekly basis (daily?). That’s not an option here, and so where I can afford it I’m going to outsource wherever I can. I’m going to send my children to school instead of homeschooling (not only because it’s a great environment for them to learn and grow, but also because I enjoy a break from them), buy my vegetables pre-cut from the grocery store, find a way to have once-a-month housekeeping work within our budget, and hire a babysitter whenever I feel I need one.

I am Ms. Can’t-Do-Most-Of-It and proud of it. Join me. I’ll even let you try on my tiara.

*Another post entirely could be written about how loaded that word is. If I called her a babysitter no one gives a fig. But in America the word nanny is a loaded term, only acceptable if certain conditions are met.

Extreme Birthday Cakes: Birthday Cake Battle Opens New Front in Super-Mom Wars | Video – ABC News

Nicknames: Mah-ree-ree, Fuzzy Lumpkin, Sweetie Pie, Principessa, Lovey, Chubba Wubba Bubba
Temperament: Every so often you have a rough day as you grow, but otherwise you are babbling and content 95% of the time that you are awake.
Thing(s) I Could Do Without: You want to nap at 5pm and stay up late into the night with me. I crave my alone time late in the evening and do everything I can to get you sleeping again.
Thing(s) You Could Do Without: You rarely get to nap and relax in the same place. Being the second child means we’re often out and about, and you sleep where and when you can.
Item/Toy We Love The Most: Dressing you in mama’s baby outfits.
Item/Toy You Love The Most:  Anything we set on your chest that you can bring up to your mouth and gum on.
Things I’m Loving Most Right Now: You started laughing! You are so fascinated by the world around you, and when we walk around I see you trying to take it all in. You wake up kicking and cooing and happy. The moments at night when brother is in bed and I get to drink you in.
Things You’re Loving Most Right Now: Peek-a-boo, talking, when I put your arms through your sleeves or take them out again.

M,

You are wearing 6 month sized clothing already. How did that happen?

This is the month you started laughing! I’ve been tickling you under your arms ever since. Sometimes you get confused and make a barking sound instead of laugh, because you can’t remember how to make the right sound, and it makes me laugh so hard. You’ve also started smiling, and sometimes laughing, when we play peek-a-boo. Your brother likes to clamp his (hopefully clean) hands over your eyes and count to 10 before screaming out peek-a-boo right in your face. I think you prefer mama’s much gentler method.

I cannot get over how happy you are. You often forget to keep sucking on your bottle because you are gazing up at whoever is feeding you and smiling. When you get the attention of someone you will push your tongue back and forth and try to mimic whatever sound they are making. I love when you’re on my bed and your brother leans over you and talks about what a “fweetie pie” you are.

You love to look a the world around you. The best way to get you to asleep is to bring you up to my chest, put a blanket over your head, and pat your back until you drift off.

My favorite moment this month was when we were walking back to the car from the beach. You had been sleeping in the carrier and I pulled you out and put you in your car seat while you were still half asleep. I leaned forward to take the carrier off, and when I leaned back again you realized who was sitting next to you. You beamed up at me and started chatting away. It was a simple moment, but it was so beautiful to me. You know that I am your mama and I am everything to you.

You are everything to me too.

Love,

Mama

Tuesday update: Still nothing.

Thursday update: I emailed the reporter and she said it should air next week. Keeping my fingers crossed for Monday! In the meantime, you can see me doing a webcam interview on the TV show The List offering up my three tips for avoiding Pinterest Stress.

I’ll tell you the whole story soon, but I (think I*) am going to be on Good Morning America on May 13th during the 8:00am time slot. They interviewed me alone, and then took some footage of me with the kids. I’ll put up a link to an online clip if I can find one!

*It is entirely possible that something else will come up and I will be on later in the week, or they will decide to kill the story, or they decide that nothing I said was interesting enough to use and so they decide to go a different route and cut me out entirely. Either way, it was an exciting experience to have a film crew in my home and talk to an Emmy award-winning journalist about Pinterest Fail!

Most of these apologies are related to my Mormon mindset, but I will start with one that has no relation to the faith of my childhood. While I was pregnant I wrote a post called I’m Gonna Climb That Mountain (those who were hurt by this post have requested that it be made unavailable to the public so that the hurtful messages I voiced within it can’t be spread any further). I’m not sure anymore what I was trying to convey, but reading back over it I can see that it was a terrible post and I said a lot of hurtful things. I’ve been ashamed of that post for a long time, but haven’t allowed myself to take it down because I didn’t want to hide behind my ability to make posts private or delete them altogether. I think women should birth how and where they want. I am sorry that I made any woman feel like her birth plans or birth experience weren’t good enough. I think mothers should have every opportunity to choose the birth experience that leaves them feeling empowered and triumphant, because that is how I felt after the births of my babies and that is what I want every woman to have as well. I think that some women do everything they can to give birth a certain way and it turns out to be something else entirely. Those women should have the opportunity to grieve the loss of a great dream while they simultaneously celebrate the arrival of their little one(s), and no one should ever criticize them for doing so. There is no mountain. There’s just a pregnant woman doing her best for the life she carries inside of her, and then there is a beautiful mother doing her best for her child.

And now for the opinions and thought processes that were a product of my personal history and religious tradition. A wonderful thing to note is that not all of those who come from my community or belong to the Mormon faith think or act the way I did; they are much better people than I. But when I shifted away from Mormonism and a worldview shaped by my youth I left old hurtful attitudes behind and I can’t untangle where these attitudes began and how much of a role my past played in nurturing them. All I can do is acknowledge that they were a part of the Jenna of the past and that I want to leave them behind forever and move toward the better Jenna of the future. 

LDS Church leaders spend/spent a lot of time teaching that homosexuality and gay marriage are wrong (more recently the stance has evolved to say that acting upon homosexuality is the sin, that existing as a celibate homosexual is acceptable) and because I thought that they were receiving messages directly from God I listened attentively and formed my opinions exclusively based on theirs. I now reject that mindset entirely and I want to paint rainbows all over my body and march proudly in a Gay Pride parade and shout at the top of my lungs how sorry I am and that I choose love. I am deliriously happy in my relationship with my chosen life partner, and I want every man and woman to have that with the person of their choosing no matter their orientation. I am sorry for the attitudes I espoused in the past regarding the LGBTQ community and am proud to say that I am a straight ally. 

I judged people who drank alcohol or coffee. I thought they were weak-willed and gluttonous. I thought that everyone who drank turned into a black-out prone bumbling fool and I was somehow better than them for abstaining. I know now that those substances do neither of those things and that they can be rather delightful to indulge in. I am sorry I indicated that people who drank alcohol or coffee were somehow lesser than me.

I bought into rape culture and spoke negatively of women who didn’t dress to a standard I personally deemed appropriate. I made negative assumptions about people who got tattoos or multiple piercings and was unable to recognize the beauty found in those forms of self-expression. I am sorry I judged people for the things they put on their body instead of the content of their character.

As I tried to explain what Mormonism is, I often maligned the religious beliefs of others. I am sorry that I communicated that systems of belief other than Mormonism are inferior. Two very clear examples of this stand out starkly in my mind and are painful for me to reflect on because it must have been so awful for these women to have me speak to them this way. A long time ago a commenter spoke about how nature was her temple, that whenever she needed to reconnect with her personal conception of the Divine she would head into the mountains and use nature as a conduit for the bond she desired. I dismissed her. I dismissed her and acted like her method was invalid and I am so ashamed that I would do that. Another example of my cruelty can be found in my comment section in an interaction with a woman who spoke about how difficult it was for her to be a Mormon. She couldn’t believe all that the church and the culture dictated, and she struggled to find a way to make the LDS faith work for her family. I read her words and instead of reaching out to her and enveloping her in a virtual hug I told her that she should just leave. That if she couldn’t do Mormonism the way I thought was right that it would be best if she wasn’t associated with Mormonism at all. I somehow thought that her approach to her beliefs was ruining it for the rest of us. Several years later, deep in my own crisis of faith, one of my closest friends communicated the exact same thing to me and I was able to personally experience how bitter and poisonous that message is.

One of my Awakening posts was on my evolving attitudes toward Stay-At-Home-Moms, but reading back over it I realize how selfish that post was. I went on and on about how I had arrived at a place that allowed me to choose how I would spend my time, but I devoted no words to offering penance for the hurtful and damaging attitudes I held regarding all women and their right to choose whether to work out of the home, work at home, work at raising children, or any combination of the three. I am sorry that I piled on to the mountain of guilt women feel about their choices. Have children. Don’t have children. Work in a big building an hour away. Telecommute. Start your own business. Become Mom, Inc. All are valid, and all are good and I support a woman’s right to decide what is best for her own life.

I am sorry for a lot of things. Most of all though, I am sorry for shutting family and friends out of our wedding. It is difficult for me to describe how emotionally painful it is for me to reflect on this, a piercing sorrow that burns to the point of physical pain. My husband’s parents are good, kind, generous, thoughtful people who gave everything they had to raise the man I love so fiercely. I treated them horribly, leaving them outside to wait and wonder as we walked inside the LDS temple and spoke our vows to one another. I loved the details of my wedding; the photos, my dress, delicious food, a sweet and tender choreographed dance, a thousand moments that I dreamed up over months and years of planning. I would give it all up if only it meant I could take back the choice to exclude some of the people that mean the most to us from our wedding ceremony. For this I have shed many tears, and will continue to do so. I am so sorry to all those who were hurt by this.

I am sure there are other things I’ve done. There are many things I know I’ve forgotten, and these are the things which I hope you can forgive me for so that we can move forward. Things I refuse to acknowledge out of pride that I hope to be able to own up to in the future. For now, I will start with the confessions found in this post. I will take these weights that have been holding me back and heave them into the deep, progressing toward something better from here on out.

Hello Pinterest Fail visitors, welcome to my personal blog. We are so happy to have you here!

I’m Jenna, and I labeled myself That Wife after writing a little blog called That Bride while planning my wedding. I married a man I call That Husband, and I have two children, T1 (a boy) and T2 (a girl). When I’m not doing the mom/wife thing, I’m usually writing here or working on something related to my photography business, Jenna Cole Photography (I’m currently located near Palo Alto, California). If you don’t scroll down and see a post that interests you, maybe you’ll like some of my greatest hits from the past few years?

Did you make it here via a media story talking about social media and how it makes women feel like they aren’t good enough? I wrote about that back in 2011 in a post I titled “On Being Shiny, Happy, Hip“.

I gave birth to my son at home. And then I liked it so much I did it again with my daughter a few months ago.

Have a dSLR but don’t know how to use it? I wrote up tutorials explaining shutter speed, aperture, and ISO that might help.

Have you tried the sock bun? It’s my favorite hairstyle.

Every so often I take a picture of everything I do in one day to document my life at that moment in time. I call it the Day In The Life series.

A list of my favorite baby gear purchases.

I’ve done the C25K program several times, and I love it. Just finished it again three weeks ago actually!

I’m really passionate about whole, local, organic, seasonal foods. I’m not perfect at it, but I do my best. We didn’t always eat that way though. Here is the story detailing how we went from fast food people to farmer’s market people.

I’m currently working my way through a freezer-full of meals made from scratch using the Once a Month Mom website. Here is a post detailing what I thought about the experience (and why I’ll keep doing it again and again).

If you’re new, I hope you’ll take the time to introduce yourself and say hello. And that you’ll stick around for awhile!

Feeling free

Thank you for the love and support that so many of you took the time to offer on my post about my faith journey. I knew there would be people who spoke up to support this, but I am overwhelmed by the magnitude of the response. That Husband has been teasing me, asking how it’s going to feel to go back to real life when people aren’t leaving virtual applause in my inbox all day long. Seeking validation and understanding is part of my character, for better or for worse, and so the time so many of you took to reach out is really appreciated. I’m working my way through the emails and comments as my children allow me to do so.

As I stated in my post, I have decided to prioritize authenticity over acceptance. Some of your comments reminded me of the way I feel about the blogger CJane. She wrote a post detailing why she was not a feminist, and then two years later she wrote a post reversing her position. I really respect her for that, for analyzing her life experiences, learning from them, and being honest with the world about changes she was making even when doing so was painful. I don’t bring her up in an attempt to compare myself to her, as I think our journey into feminism and progressive Mormonism (even if she doesn’t embrace that title I think that’s what she is, a Progressive Feminist Mormon) has brought us to different places, but because so many of you expressed a desire to hear more about my experience and that is exactly the way I have felt about CJane over the past year. Her blog didn’t interest me for a long time, then she moved from Point A to Point B and I wanted to hear more about what she thought on a variety of topics, even though I was at Point CZKR. I do have one more post related to my faith transition that I have been drafting for a long time, but I’m not sure where things will go from there. If I write critically about Mormonism (even if it is constructive) I am labeled as one who is fighting to take down the Church and can’t leave it alone. I want to see changes occur within the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints no matter my relationship with it because many people I love are still participating in it, but I think being public about my unbelief has stripped me of the opportunity to do so.

I’m certainly not alone in my departure from Mormonism. The LDS Church is experiencing a mass departure, described by Elder Marlin Jensen in November 2011: “…since Kirtland we’ve never had a period of—I’ll call it apostasy—like we’re having right now, largely over these issues.” The issues he is referencing are the same ones I am unable to rectify. I admit I am stunned by the number of people who have spoke up about transitioning out of the faith of their parents as well. I didn’t realize it was such a common experience across belief systems. I feel honored by people like my friend Kat (as well as a few others) who have linked to the post and said that it gave voice to their own experience. That means a lot to me.

Many of you have also mentioned that you saw this coming, and that in a way it doesn’t surprise you. Before I got married I was working as a waitress at a winery near my hometown. I was very orthodox in my Mormonism, and wouldn’t even taste the wine and spit it out in order to understand its properties so I could be more effective at my job. One of the chefs, Shauna, was very familiar with Mormonism as she had grandmother who was a devout member, and Shauna used to make predictions about my eventual departure from Mormonism. Back then, I found this to be very insulting. What part of myself was manifesting as weak and would cause such a terrible thing to happen? Now I look back and view that as a strength she pinpointed. She viewed me as a person who was intelligent and open-minded enough to ask questions and arrive at my own conclusions. And that is the kind of person I want to be.

I knew there would be a lot of questions about That Husband and where he is at. I have a compulsive desire to tell everyone everything, and so before I went public with all of this we sat down and talked about how he would like to be represented. He loves me, but he doesn’t want to be represented by me. I get that, because I don’t want anyone or anything speaking for me either. Until he expresses a desire for another approach, for now I will keep repeating that our marriage is strong (this is important to note because for a lot of couples the faith transition experience of one or both members can cause great harm to the relationship and we are so grateful that hasn’t been the case for us) but I’m telling my story, not his. If and when he is ever ready to be public about his experience he knows my blog is open for him as a platform to do so.

I haven’t felt any desire to be “religious”, in the traditional sense, for a long time. I’m still too frustrated with many things related to religion, and it’s going to take me some time to work through that. Last weekend though, I went to a festival in Cupertino and they had a group of men and women playing drums in a traditional Japanese style. The way they played and the sounds they produced were so beautiful. It touched me in a way that I haven’t felt since before my faith crisis and I realized that I want to make time to seek out beauty. Dancing, music, writing, nature, art. These things are good for the soul and I want more.

Prints available via HJDStudio

I was raised in a tiny town. It seemed to me that everyone was either Nazarene, Catholic, or Mormon. Growing up I never heard anyone vocally identify as a democrat. There was one African-American in my school, otherwise everyone was either Latino or White.  I didn’t personally interact with a gay person until I was out of college. I tell you these things to try convey the lack of diversity in my hometown community because it played a pivotal role in shaping the person I was throughout my early and mid twenties. During my freshman year my roommates teased me for taking a Women’s Studies course at BYU. They said I was going to turn into a “dirty feminist” and I fought back not because I wanted to defend Feminism, but because I too thought that feminists hated men while secretly wanting to be like them in every way. I knew so little and I was wrong about so many things. Mormonism wasn’t just one hour of church on Sunday, it was my entire lifestyle and culture for a quarter century. I don’t blame my past for my actions, but I am the person I am today because of my personal history.

This journey that I’m about to describe was initiated, in large part, by my blogging. Between the posts on Mormonism that I used to write each week and the questions that were sent my way via Formspring, there were so many aspects of Mormonism that I had never considered. Ever the stalwart missionary, I set out to find the answers for my readers so they could understand why joining the LDS Church would be the best possible thing that every single person out there could do. That’s what Sunday School lesson after youth devotional night after annual temple trip had taught me to do. I relied pretty heavily on the FAIR LDS Wiki, an apologetic resource with the tagline “Defending Mormonism.” I liked that this was a place full of people taking a look at difficult issues and trying to make sense of them from a faithful perspective. Over time I was exposed to things I didn’t know about, things that felt a bit jarring, but the apologists at FAIR were always there to help me make it all fit together within my belief system.

Slowly I started to feel like it was okay to learn about Mormonism from sources other than those approved by the leadership of the Church. I know this limitation isn’t what every LDS person believes regarding reading and studying about Mormonism, but it was the framework that I personally was operating in and I think this is a framework that is encouraged by the current LDS curriculum. At one point in my life I limited my information to very specific sources because that is what felt safe, and I was terrified that something written or shared with ill-intentions would deceive me and make me question my beliefs.

My online missionary efforts pushed me out of the circle I had drawn for myself. For the first time in my life, I was asking questions that I had never dared to even think before.  Mormonism encourages congregants to build their faith upon their own testimonies, but also encourages members to “shelve” things that are difficult to answer. To quote myself from just over a year ago, “I have several boxes on a shelf in my mind, and I want to sort all the issues out . A box for the things I know, a box for the things I’m puzzling through, a box of ideas that others accept which I’ve rejected, and a box for things I will never understand no matter how I search, ponder, and pray. This idea of a “box on the shelf” is not a concept of my own invention, it’s a pretty common idea passed around within Mormonism. We are encouraged to build up our faith like a house, laying the bricks that form the foundation, and then moving on to the pillars and windows and shelves, fortifying along the way. If we don’t have a strong testimonyof something, we put that idea in a box on the shelf and come back to it again later.” As I started to seek out answers to questions I had previously shelved I realized I wasn’t finding answers that worked for me. Pieces of information that used to fit perfectly together like a puzzle were jutting out uncomfortably. I was no longer sure. This was extremely upsetting because feeling sure was a critical part of my faith. Once a month members of the congregations I belonged to would get up and talk about not just what they believed, but what they knew. I would get up a few times a year and say “I know God lives. I know we have a loving Prophet. I know the Book of Mormon is a literal story of a people who lived in America. I know the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints is True.”

The trouble is that once you see it, you can’t unsee it. And once you’ve seen it, keeping quiet, saying nothing, becomes as political an act as speaking out. There’s no innocence. Either way, you’re accountable. – Arundhati Roy

I used to know things, and then I had come to un-know them.

Acknowledging the unraveling of my faith was something I was not ready to do yet, and so I doubled down. I thought unshakable faith was attainable to me if I met certain standards. I maintained a public scripture blog to motivate me to read the Word of God more frequently for longer periods of time. I prayed morning and night, trying out different approaches that would help my prayers become more in-depth and meaningful. I committed to attend the temple more and sent out emails asking for women in my ward who would be interested in doing babysitting swaps. I was going to be as perfect as possible in all areas so that God would speak to me directly and answer my questions. This was the formula leaders had assured me would be the solution to my problems. But the answers didn’t ever come from the scriptures or the temple. Reading the Old Testament confused me and sometimes left me with a revolted feeling. The God of the Old Testament is mean. What the hell happened in the Heavens between Malachi and Matthew? I would pray and pray in the temple but there was no clarity of thought.

Occam’s Razor: The simplest explanation is usually the right one.

I wasn’t getting answers from the sources that the LDS Church told me to turn to (scriptures, prayer, temple), so I dove deeper into apologetics. I started reading historical documents. I devoured “The Rise of Modern Mormonism.” I started listening to podcasts like Mormon Matters, Mormon Stories, and Daughters of Mormonism on 2x speed because I couldn’t take all the information in fast enough. I rejoiced at the thought that there were other people like me out there. Unsatisfied with the answers that previously satisfied them. Overwhelmed by questions and unable to find answers from the usual sources.

Mormon Matters did a podcast on something called Fowler’s Stages of Faith. In his book, Fowler describes his theories regarding developmental processes related to faith. The processes are broken up into stages, and you can find an excellent summary of each stage here. The Stages concept spoke to me because the stages are intended to represent different states of being–a way to conceptualize where you are at any given moment. They are not organized in a pyramid as if certain stages are superior to others. As I reflected on my recent dive into my faith I discovered I had reached Stage 4 without knowing it. For me Stage 4 manifest as a faith crisis. It meant not knowing what I believed anymore. It meant asking lots of questions and not knowing if I’d ever find answers. While I never want to go back to where I once was, I sometimes miss the comfort and certainty that I experienced in Stage 3. I realized that for me the only tenable approach to belief would be to keep reaching forward and searching for truth from all credible sources.

All of this is what led me to write my Awakening posts. My thinking had changed and I wanted to be understood in my new place. I have to remind myself on a daily basis that understanding and acceptance won’t come from everyone no matter how patiently or clearly I explain my position. That’s okay. I can be at peace even if I am not widely understood or accepted.

The Hyde Park ward in Chicago was the best possible place to experience all of this. I found a group of friends just like me, asking the same questions and struggling with the answers they found. Or more often than not, the lack of answers. We would get together and talk for hours. They shared heartbreaking personal stories. They endured estrangement from their families in a variety of ways. They were the kind of friends you find once in your life and I love them dearly for the myriad of ways they supported me and made me a better person. The Hyde Park ward in Chicago is the greatest ward in the world. I will always sing the praises of that congregation and the people in it.

Any real change implies the breakup of the world as one has always known it, the loss of all that gave one an identity, the end of safety. And at such a moment, unable to see and not daring to imagine what the future will now bring forth, one clings to what one knew, or dreamed that one possessed. Yet, it is only when a man is able … to surrender a dream he has long cherished or a privilege he has long possessed that he is set free for higher dreams, for greater privileges. – James Baldwin

I wish I had recorded in detail how it happened because if you asked me to talk about my problems with the LDS faith (absent the many issues I have with church culture, which are a separate thing entirely) I wouldn’t even know where to start. I had been raised to think that my beliefs were the “Capital T” Truth, but so many facts I uncovered undermined my previous views and my confidence in them. How the Book of Mormon was translated. The extent of Joseph Smith’s polygamy. The source material for the Book of Abraham. The origin of the Priesthood Ban that prevented Blacks from holding the priesthood. How women were phased out of offering Priesthood Blessings. I’m not sure how to or if I can talk about these issues in a public way because I know doing so could be considered offensive and antagonistic by some of my LDS friends and family members. This blog is not just a place to share my ideas, it’s become a way to communicate with friends and family and their participation means a lot to me. I love when those I’m close to mention things they have read on my blog, because I see their participation as a way of communicating that they care about me. If they feel like this space is going to become one where they are confronted with information they want to avoid, I worry they will eschew content produced by me altogether. Some who have left Mormonism have even experienced friends and family who disown them.  I don’t want to be seen as some sort of Pied Piper, attempting to lead away any and all that come within the sound of my voice. I am trying to straddle a fine line with this post, communicating why I have left without explicitly detailing the deeper issues that are so troubling for me. I do this out of respect and love for my family and friends, and I hope that is conveyed properly here.

What I can tell you is that the temple is no longer the respite that it was. It has become a reminder of many of the things that leave me feeling frustrated and unhappy about the LDS Church. An LDS leader once said that each time he attends the temple he learns something new. I was having the opposite experience, each time I attended I felt more confused and didn’t have anyone to turn to.  Why was I spending so much time reading the same scriptures over and over when there was so much to learn about the world from a variety of sources? Why had I listened to messages telling me that my greatest role and primary purpose was to have children? I’m no genius but I’m so much more than my ovaries. Church services became frustrating. Why do we spend so much time and effort on perfecting prayer, obsessing over “modest” dress, and looking up the names of the deceased and so little time discussing tolerance, poverty, disease, ignorance, malice, racism, and sexism? Church services became something I endured, trying my best to ignore comments from my fellow congregants such as “I think one great sin of our day is having too much knowledge.” WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN???

Mormonism is no longer a refuge for me. It’s a minefield.

A commonly held belief among many Mormons is that people leave the church because they were offended, because they wanted to do things forbidden by the church, because they are lazy, or because they read anti-Mormon literature and were led away by false information. None of those things apply to me. My break from Mormonism means I have the opportunity to make different choices without the guilt that was previously associated with them and this is going to affect what I wear, how I spend my time on Sundays, or what I drink with dinner. I realize that this will be an opportunity for some to write me off as someone who wasn’t righteous enough and gave in to the natural man. I have accepted that this may be something some people may believe about me no matter what I say in my own defense. Living authentically and openly is more important to me than avoiding any malicious or untrue statements that might be made about me because of choices made about my lifestyle.

I do not want to imply that the way I have done things is superior to other approaches. For some, asking the questions I have asked and reading the things I have read isn’t the right thing. There are also those who have asked the same questions and done the same reading and arrived at very different conclusions (Richard Bushman is an excellent example of this). Their personal approach to Mormonism makes them really, really, ridiculously happy. You know the laughing families in the Mormon TV commercials? For some people, that’s a real thing made possible by their LDS belief system. They have personally found answers to questions that make life difficult, and they are better off because of their membership in the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints.

So now you know. I am no longer the person I used to be. I’ve wanted to talk about this for a long time, but the way Mormonism is set up my faith is not mine exclusively. I am part of a chain, and being the broken link is a devastating thing for my parents. I know they spend a lot of time praying about me and my children. Sitting them down and telling them I no longer believed was one of the scariest things I’ve ever done, but I don’t regret it. Just like I don’t think I will regret this blog post. For me, authenticity is paramount, and for the last year-and-a-half I have struggled with a desire to preserve my relationship with my family while simultaneously living what I view as an authentic lifestyle. I know my parents and family are good, kind, loving people though, and I believe we can find a way to make our relationship work with this new version of Jenna.

So what do I believe? An atheist is someone who actively believes that there is no deity. That is not me. I like Wikipedia’a definition of Pragmatic Agnosticism: The view that there is no proof of either the existence or nonexistence of any deity, but since any deity that may exist appears unconcerned for the universe or the welfare of its inhabitants, the question is largely academic. I don’t know if God exists. My best efforts to get answers have gone unheeded. And so I’m going to take all of the energy I used to devote to worrying about the Divine, and do my best to funnel it toward worrying about the people I can physically see and affect through my actions in the here and now.

One of the best parts about where I am now is that I feel like I hold a new power over my own destiny, over my own thoughts, views, and opinions. Before if you were to ask me, “How do you feel about the death penalty?” I would turn to the words of the LDS Church leaders and parrot back what they said. What were my opinions on birth control or the role of women or marriage equality? Before 2012 my thoughts were a duplication of the words offered by men (always men). I had believed that the only way to be happy was to be baptized at 8, to visit the temple at 12, to marry a man with the priesthood in the temple. Check, check, check. I heard leaders say “Children are one of the greatest blessings in life, and their birth into loving and nurturing families is central to God’s purposes for humanity. Those who are physically able have the blessing, joy, and obligation to bear children and to raise a family. This blessing should not be postponed for selfish reasons.” And so I started having children right away, because it seemed like the only sure-fire way to know that I wasn’t delaying for selfish reasons was to do my best not to delay at all. I put no thought into having a career, because I assumed I would not have one. My role, as defined for me by the LDS Church, was to nurture our children. My husband would take care of providing for our family. While no one was physically forcing me to make any of the choices that I did, it has been a great relief to distance myself from any strong social and emotional forces that emphasize narrow prescriptions for the way one must live in order to find happiness. I can’t go back and undo any of the choices I’ve made (and when it comes to my husband and children I have absolutely no desire to do so), but I have the freedom and responsibility to figure things out entirely on my own from now on. I can research issues and form opinions on them. Being true to myself is crucial to my emotional well-being, and it feels wonderful to be approaching the world on my own terms.

The thing I am most grateful for? A strong marriage. I am in a partnership with a man I respect, love, and admire more than anyone, and anything, else. This post is my story, not his. But in all of this he stands by my side. We both know how lucky we are to have that after going through something like this.

This doesn’t mean I will never be an active Mormon again. Mormonism is my tribe, and it will always be a part of who I am. Faith is a journey, and certainly not a linear one. What I’m typing up in 2013 is where I am now. I can’t even begin to predict where I will be physically, emotionally, or spiritually in 2023 because in 2003 I never would have predicted that I would be writing this. An enormous weight that followed me around as I agonized over these questions has been lifted. I am no longer guilt-ridden. I am happier than I’ve ever been. I am not an envelope opener.

I’m not an envelope opener
By Tova Benjamin

God appeared to me when I was very young.
He whispered to me through the mouths of dumpy woman in straw like wigs and sang to me, together with shuckeling men in black hats, and long beards.
God came to me, in the form of my community – a cross-word puzzle of streets where everyone was somehow connected because we all claimed to have a piece of God inside ourselves. I listened to the trees boast this claim, listened to the ants tell me how the leaves fall to the ground to protect their children, and I listened as my teachers looked me the eye and said:
“Chelek Elokie Mimaal Mamesh, you are a literal piece of God above!”
I asked, “How did it get there?”
They said, “He blew it into you, through your nostrils”
I asked, “Is that why Jews have such big noses?”
I still don’t know the answer to that question. But I do know, that it takes a community to keep a child in line, to infuse a love of learning – it take a community to raise a child, and it takes the same community to ruin another but I don’t know anything good that doesn’t cause harm. Because God made this world like my mother makes soup. With too many vegetables – and he sprinkles in salt like my brother, too much. But you can’t take out the extra salt without throwing the soup away too, and my community liked things salty.

In elementary school the nine year old girls would wear men’s style uniform shirts because the woman styles showed off too much of their underdeveloped bodies and Sex-ed wasn’t taught. Boys were only told masturbation is a sin and the girls think that God magically places babies in their bellies after marriage and don’t know what a period is. Until they get theirs, and think they’re dying. When I was young they said “Tova! Respect your body, your body is a precious gem!” So for the high school play they duct taped our chests so our breasts wouldn’t bounce around on stage, I wondered “Is this what God wants?”  I pictured him in heaven making cookie cutters, and I saw that my ideas were too big to fit inside.

When I told my teachers I wanted to go to college, they told me that college is wrong and the principal said it’s unnecessary, there are too many outside influences. So I argued with the Rabbi, I said “What if I don’t JUST want to have nine children?”
The Rabbi stroked his long beard and said, “Would you have an envelope opener do anything else, other than open envelopes?”

YES. I would use my envelope opener to open up the packaged potential inside of me and I would use my envelope opener to file my nails and put on my shoes so the backs don’t bend. I would engage in pirate sword fights with my envelope opener, and spread butter on bread.
I would take my envelope opener, thrust it in the ground and draw a circle around it to make a sundial to tell the time, and I would see – that I’ve spent way too long, flattening my hair, so it would fit into God’s cookie cutters.
So I left. I left the crossword-puzzle of streets that I could no longer figure out the answers too, and when I left, I left my envelope opener there too with a note for God. It said, “Hey God? There are other ways to shape cookies.”

We went to an egg hunt that was held in Menlo Park and I was not impressed with the “hunt” portion. There was no hunting. Just eggs dropped on a football field and picked up by dashing children. It worked great for T1 though, because this was his first hunt and he was very polite, giving everyone else a turn and moving very slowly as he tried to figure out why we were picking up eggs that policemen had dropped out of a giant bag a few moments before.

He experienced his first ever tootsie roll that day. It made for some good video footage.

This is the best I could do when it came to “photo with the bunny”. He had no interest in sitting in the lap of a person dressed in a creepy bunny costume, and I wasn’t about to make him do it (I wouldn’t sit in that lap either).

The next day I had a fabulous time putting them in Easter outfits and did my best to get a picture of both of them dressed up and not crying. Who knows how often that will happen in the future!

It’s not strange Jenna. It’s awesome. I know this because I mentioned on one of my Instagram photos that I was itching to take pictures of someone other than my family, and a woman in the area whom I had never met before spoke up and said she would be interested in getting together so our kids could play and I could take pictures. I took her up on her offer and had a great time. And now we are meeting up at an amusement park (tomorrow) as well!

Moral of the story: Making new friends via Instagram is not weird. And I want to keep doing it.

My two college friends and I drove down to Carmel on Saturday, which is one of my new favorite places because the light was stunning and the white sand makes for gorgeous pictures. I’d like to find the perfect spot (with closer parking) and come back on a regular basis.

The second friend that came is actually someone I met via blogging/my internet escapades! We’ve become really close over the years and I loved spending an extended period of time with her in this really intimate way. Meeting up with friends in person is so important because I think conversation flows in a different (often better) way than it can over the phone or via email.

On our first full day together she and I took the kids up to San Francisco. I wanted to ride the cable cars with T1 but I didn’t realize how insane the lines are on the weekends (and we had a big stroller and weren’t sure we could take it on with us). He was perfectly happy riding the streetcars, which he referred to as choo choo trains.

I didn’t realize that my friend is not only brilliant at her chosen profession, but is also a fantastic photographer as well! She volunteered to take some pictures of me with my kids over the weekend, and they are some of the best that have ever been taken of me. Of course the gorgeous California light helps as well.

Most of our second full day was spent getting ready for the beach (this takes a surprisingly long time when you’re taking young children), and we managed to make it down there in time to actually spend some time with our feet in the sand.

Me. My children. Beautiful light. Warm weather. I LOVE LIVING HERE.

I taught T1 to be “king of the mountain”. Now whenever he sees this photo he mimics this pose and yells excitedly about how he was king of the mountain and wants to do it again soon.

Dear friends who visited,

I loved having you here. You are welcome back anytime. I adore you both.

Dear other friends who have yet to visit,

Come soak up this California sunshine with me!

Below is my retelling of the birth of my daughter. I type it as she grunts and wiggles in my lap, the joyful result of the story I’m about to tell. During my pregnancies I longed to hear the birth stories of the women in my family. I don’t want to wait until my daughter is blooming with a little life of her own to tell this story, to trust my faulty memory to truly communicate how transcendent the experience was for me. Even now my written word can’t do it justice. My heart is full.

I listened to far too many women say their second, third, fourth, etc, babies came “sooner” and I thought that meant that I would deliver at an earlier gestational date than I did with T1. He came at 40 weeks 2 days, and I was convinced that I would be delivering before the 10 month mark. My mom came down, I had everything prepped and ready to go, and we waited. And waited. And waited.

On the night before my due date, February 1st, I was convinced that this would be my last night without a baby in my arms. I lost my mucous plug that day, my due date. The 1st was a Friday, the weekend of the Superbowl, and it felt like time had stopped. I was bored, anxious, tired, sick, swollen, and ready. What was baby waiting for? On the night of the 5th my mom told me “My nurse friend said that if you really want to get this baby out, try the same method that you used to get it inside of you. And lift up your hips at the end to help the sperm get to your cervix.” I would have tried anything recommended by a medical professional at that point, and so we did… it.

Two hours later, just after 12:00am on the 6th of February, I woke up to a pop. 40 weeks, 5 days. My water didn’t break with T1 (the midwife did it manually when I was around 8 cm), and I had really wanted to experience labor initiating with the breaking of the bag of waters. Even though I had read many, many birth stories where women described what it was like to have your water break spontaneously, and even though I had huge amounts of fluid gushing out of me every time I moved, I still called our midwife and said “I’m pretty sure that my water just broke. I don’t think I’m peeing my pants? The fluid is clear. I’m probably in labor.” She told me to go back to bed and get some sleep if I could. We cleaned up the bed (easy to do, I’d been sleeping on a shower curtain for weeks!) and I tried to go back to sleep. I had learned my lesson with my first birth, that even though I was uncomfortable and sore and excited, there is never enough sleep to be had right before a baby comes.

Contractions started shortly after I climbed into bed, 5 minute apart, and I could tell things were moving along fast enough that sleep wasn’t an option. That Husband rolled over and offered to help me, but I told him go to back to sleep. Before things got really hard I wanted some time to myself. I went down to the kitchen and tried to eat and drink, thinking I might have a 12+ hour labor like last time. I paced the floor, practiced breathing through the contractions, pushed my backside against the fridge to try to relieve some of the pain in my back, drank water, ate a banana, and played Candy Crush. I hated sitting with T1′s labor, but this time it felt so good to labor on the toilet. There’s something so wonderful about being able to completely relax your bottom half when you’re contracting.

At 3:30am I called my doula, Jen, and asked her advice. I told her contractions were 30 seconds long, about 2 minutes apart while walking around. I initially told her to go back to sleep and that I wouldn’t need her until the sun was up, but less than 2 hours later I called her and told her to come help me. I hadn’t been sure that a doula was really necessary for me, as I knew That Husband would be home, and it felt silly to have so many people present at my birth (husband, mother, doula, midwife, midwife’s assistant, photographer) but I’m so glad I decided to hire Jen. She was so flexible, willing to do whatever I asked, and told me she would come at any time, no matter how early it was in my labor, if that’s what I needed.

Jen and the birth photographer, Kelly, arrived around the same time, at 6:30am, as the darkness melted away and my contractions intensified. I would be giving birth in a corner of our bedroom with beautiful light, one of my favorite spots in the house, and I had told baby many times that I wanted to give birth when the light was nice for the photos. As the sunlight began to fill our bedroom I knew I was going to get my wish.

At 7:00am my contractions were 1 minute long, 2-3 minutes apart. Jen called our midwife, Kavita, and told her I was getting close. I continued to play Candy Crush until I ran out of lives, then I switched to browsing Pinterest.

One of the first questions I asked Jen during our interview process was whether she knew how to do a french braid. With T1′s labor I waited until I was 8 cm until I tried to take care of my hair and it was a disaster and I didn’t want to make that mistake again. She’s a licensed massage therapist who has given birth as well, and she knew just where to push and how hard it needed to be to make me sigh in relief. Much better than pushing myself up against the fridge.

Once the tub was ready I could not get myself in there fast enough. As soon as I got in I pursed my lips and started doing my “horse breathing”. I got in right before 7:30, just before I think I started to transition and told Jen “I want to stay in here the rest of my life!” For me, there is nothing like getting in the water during labor. I plugged my phone into our portable speaker and kept the music on repeat throughout the morning, and I remember worrying during contractions that I was being a bother every time I asked to have the music louder or softer. I chose songs like “Devil Town” by Bright Eyes, “River” by Sarah McLachlan (a favorite during my first labor), and “Beasts” by David Karsten Daniels. I liked listening to dark songs full of melancholy while I labored the baby down.

T1 woke up around this time, and TH brought him in to see what was happening with mama. I had been talking about this moment for weeks, showing him YouTube videos of other women laboring in the water at home, but it was still tough for him to understand why I was going for a swim in the bedroom and making noises like a horse non-stop. Our midwife, Kavita, arrived and T1 went downstairs to eat breakfast after falling in love with the shark thermometer I bought for the birth tub. We promised him he could have it once it was all over and he went merrily on his way.

Transition feels like your body is attempting to turn itself inside-out. It’s a straight-jacket of pain, and relaxing into the torture is something I’ve never been able to muster. I pursed and sputtered and made my fingers rigid in an attempt to channel the pain to another part of my body. I thought about asking them to take the clock down because I couldn’t stop glancing up and thinking how little time had passed since my last time-check. At one point I asked “Can’t you just knock me out and take the baby out?” and felt like sobbing as I said “I need a break.” If I could just have 3 straight minutes without any contractions at all I knew I could make it. There would be no relief until I had labored through to the other side of this dark tunnel I was in.

That Husband took my hand at around 8:00am, and I wouldn’t let go of him until baby was in my arms. He was my anchor as I floated on wave after wave of pain. He is my dearest, the one I love most in the world, and I needed him right there.

Sometime between 8:00 and 9:00 T1 had a full on meltdown, dashing any hopes I had of a sweet family experience. I pointed toward the door to let my mom know that I wanted our firstborn elsewhere if he was going to act that way, and made it known that TH was not allowed to leave my side. We are so grateful that my mom could be here to help comfort T1 during what I’m sure was a confusing time for him. Throughout transition Jen kept me hydrated and replaced the towels on my forehead and chest whenever I needed it.

During the pushing stage with T1 I was on my back in the water, pushing in the way the midwife told me to. She told me to push during my contractions, but I wasn’t having any. Instead of speaking up and telling her I wasn’t having any more contractions I just pretended like I was and pushed at random. I don’t know why I did that, I guess I was just tired and overwhelmed. This time I was committed to really listening to my body and making sure I delivered in the way that was best for me. In the weeks leading up to the birth I spent a lot of time using the epi-no, trying to understand the best position and techniques for pushing. I found that I liked being up on my knees, kneeling on a chux pad so I could relax my lower half entirely. And so at 9:00am when I said “I’m feeling the urge to push” I slowly maneuvered myself on to my knees and soaked in the lack of contractions I was feeling. It’s my own personal version of the calm before the storm.

Kavita offered to check me, only the second time she checked me throughout our entire experience together. Up until this point, I had barely registered Kavita’s presence. And I mean that in the best way possible. She was so calm. I knew she was there, knew she was ready to step in if I needed her, knew that she had all of the training and tools necessary, but I didn’t need her and so she let me navigate the experience with That Husband in a very intimate way. He held me, held my shoulders and my hands, told me how beautiful I was, how much he loved me, that he knew I could do this. And I knew it too. I was beautiful and strong and I was going to have a baby.

The time between the end of the contractions, my move to my knees, and the final pushes is a bit hazy for me. I know it took 15 minutes from the time I flipped over to the time I had a baby in my arms, but I have no idea how long I actually pushed for. It felt like a long time, but it must have been minutes, 10 at the most. As I imagined the pushing process during pregnancy I thought I would take it slow to avoid tearing as much as possible, but in the moment I threw all that out and pushed whenever I felt like pushing. I knew I was so close and I was ready for that feeling of sweetest relief when it was all over. Kavita moved behind me and did a wonderful job supporting my perineum as I took one last second to wonder whether I was about to meet a boy or a girl. Only a few moments more and I would know. I grunted and moaned, but never screamed. There were no expletives uttered, not even in my mind. I was using all of my energy to focus on the stretching of my body; trying to listen, relax, prevent tearing, and get the baby out all at the same time. It was painful, the worst kind of pain you can imagine. There’s a reason they call it the “ring of fire”. But it was also magnificent. One of the most transcendent experiences of my life.

9:15am. As baby slid out I quickly leaned back, anxious. Not even daring to hope. I knew I would love this little baby that I had carried with me for the past 10 months no matter the gender, but I wanted a girl. I wanted a girl with everything I had. I looked down and exclaimed “It’s a girl! We have a girl!“. I hugged her to my chest and couldn’t believe it. “Did you guys see, was it really a girl? It’s a girl right?“. I just couldn’t believe that she, M, had been with me all this time. She was perfect, beautiful color, resting peacefully on my chest after arriving in the gentlest way I could provide for her.  A boy and a girl. I can’t think of anything better, and I knew right then and there that our family was complete.

T1 came in with tears in his eyes after throwing a rather epic tantrum, instantly calmed by the sight of the squawking new little being in my arms. Finally he could see this baby we had been talking about for so long.

Once the adrenaline rush wore off, it hit me all at once. I was no longer pregnant! And I was exhausted. I couldn’t have asked for a better labor, long enough for me to feel prepared for the birth, short enough for me to not feel like I was zapped of all my strength by the time I reached the pushing stage, but labor is hard work no matter how long it takes.

I stood up and remembered that my lower half was a war zone, wondering how I would make it from the tub to the bed with a baby attached to me. Somehow I made my way over there and settled in for the introductions and pictures and evaluation. I was sad to hear that I had a second-degree tear, as I had personally set a goal to avoid tearing at all (I know many women speak of the labor experience with fear in their voices, but it’s the recovery that I hate most). The shot and the stitches weren’t as bad as I imagined, and I ended up healing twice as fast as I did the last time so I’ll accept my second-degree tear with pride.

Born at 9:15am

21.25 inches long

14 inch head

8lbs, 2 oz

My birth team. Kavita, the midwife, on the left. Jen, doula, on the right. So grateful that they were there to help make this a beautiful experience for us.

Less than 3 hours after I gave birth. This is real life, and it is why I love home birth so much. Eating strawberries in my own bed, surrounded by the things that bring me comfort and the people I love most. T1 bursting with so much excitement that he can hardly contain himself.

T1 saw everyone taking dSLR and iPhone photos of his new baby sister, and so he ran downstairs to find his own camera so that he could join in.

We ended the birth experience with a short round of family photos. I look like hell, and felt like it too, but who can possibly care about that when you see the joy on my son’s face. A new baby! A baby sister! I love my little family and am so grateful for them.

As things wound down I found my phone and posted T2′s first photo on Instagram. I read the messages of love and support and felt loved. I knew that she was loved too, by people who didn’t even know her. What a lucky girl.

The next day we gave T2 her first bath, with T1 excitedly joining in as well. I wasn’t ready to have someone climbing all over me when I could barely sit down but I laughed and told him to come on in. This was my life now and I was happy to see him taking an interest in sharing things with this baby sister already.

That night we gathered downstairs for our family tradition, celebrating baby’s birth day with avocado cake.

My mom took the time to make it look fancy, and we did our best to get a picture of the four of us together. We couldn’t get enough of her. We still can’t actually.

Slowly we settled into our new routine. I healed. T1 learned what it meant to be gentle. That Husband enjoyed his time home with all of us. I felt overwhelmed thinking about how lucky I am, to have so much, to be so blessed. To be a family of four.

Yay! A beautiful picture of me with my newborn daughter to match the many wonderful images I have of me with my newborn son.

My mom wanted a picture of the grandparents on the bed with a happy baby and a bouncing boy. Neither of the kids were interested in cooperating but I think the resulting image is a more accurate portrayal of reality anyway.

After we took pictures we went downstairs and had cake and opened presents.

The next two are some of my favorite pictures of him, ever. They perfectly describe who he is at this moment in time.


And look. I was there! I was at my own child’s birthday party and I have photo proof. Over the years there will be many parties where I forget to hand the camera over and ask someone to take a photo, so these pictures mean a lot. I’ve talked about this before, but it’s always shocking (and sad) to me how few images I have of me with my mom over the years. Take lots of pictures with your kids!

Who needs a fork? He dove right in.

I attempted a rainbow cake for his birthday. It was a bit of a Pinterest Fail.

A big thank you to my mom for doing some video for us as well. I’m not in photos very often, but I’m almost non-existent in our family videos.

And now my post-writing time is all through, as T1 has brought me the car you see in this photo and told me it is broken. I think he threw it down the stairs…

One of the presents my parents gave T1 was a kite. We took it over near Google’s main campus to fly it. Note: You are not supposed to fly kites here. We did not know this when we started.

This will be the only picture of me publicly breastfeeding (maybe the only picture of me breastfeeding, period) in existence, now that I’m done. (I took some notes and plan to post about my experience with T2 eventually, just like I did with T1).

We decided to to T2′s blessing at home (we blessed T1 at church in my hometown when a bunch of my family was in town). I loved how intimate it was. That Husband gave a beautiful, meaningful blessing that she will treasure.

This is the dress I was blessed in, handmade by my grandmother. That same grandmother made the booties she is wearing as well.

We finished off the visit with a trip to the zoo. I don’t know if T1 just doesn’t like zoos (I actually don’t like zoos either, they make me sad), or he just really loves maps and couldn’t be bothered with a group of caged exotic animals, but he was frankly a bit of a jerk. He wouldn’t even look at the animals, sat in the stroller and searched the free map they handed us for the choo choo train, threw a fit and hit me in the face when we got to the choo choo train (which meant he didn’t get to go on it), rode on three different carnival rides you can find in the corner of random parking lots across the US, and then the place closed and we went to the airport.

Despite the zoo fail, it was a wonderful weekend with the grandparents. I love that we were able to spend time celebrating both T1 and T2 while they were here.

T1,

These posts are going to get harder to write as you grow older. As a baby you make rapid physical changes, but the mental developments aren’t really manifest yet. At this age though, you change dramatically from day to day and it’s getting hard for me to keep up. And I LOVE it. Go ahead and outpace me as much as you’d like little one, because there are few things that make me happier than watching you grow, develop, and embrace the world around you.

I’ve been writing down notes about you on my iphone for months now, but it’s hard for me to capture your personality in a few paragraphs. You’re determined, sweet, forgiving, excited about life, fascinated by the world around you, and love to be with other people (though you love to soak up every second with your dad most of all). Everyone who has spent time with you, whether it’s for a few hours, or on a regular basis, describes you as a sweetheart and a great kid to be around. We agree.

A few things I’ve noted about you at this age:

I picked up a car you can ride on at a garage sale, and you love to ride it around the living room and kitchen while I cook and clean the kitchen.

When you first started stringing sentences together you started talking about “So high in the air”. You’d put your feet up above your head and say they were so high in the air. Tata would stand on a chair to reach something and for weeks I would hear about how he was so big and so high in the air.

You must be in the same room as us at almost all times.

I recently realized I need to turn off the wifi on the ipad because you’ve stopped playing games and started watching video after video on YouTube. You ask me for the gummi bear song or slippery fish, and then click through related video after related video, watching some of the dumbest videos I’ve ever seen.

One of your favorite activities is to run circles around the couch with your dad. Good exercise for him and a great way to wear you out before bed.

You had a brief potty training regression after your sister was born, but we’re back to normal again. Although you still refuse to even enter public restrooms the majority of the time which makes things interesting whenever we are out and about. Luckily you have good bladder control.

You call everyone your friends. Everyone, especially those around your age, is an instant friend for you. Recently you’ve started differentiating between little friends and big friends. Those about your size or younger than you are little friends. Older kids are big friends. You want to play with them all. As we drive down the street and you see kids playing in their yards you shout form the backseat that I need to stop and let you get out so you can go play with them.

You really, really like the Jingle Bells song. Four months after Christmas and you’re still asking me to sing it with you every few days.

You were stuttering for a few weeks, and I was starting to get worried. I talked to your preschool teacher, and she said we should wait and see how you develop. It’s almost stopped completely, as you’ve picked up the vocabulary to communicate what you want to say.

You are the best big brother. You love T2 so much, have only been physically aggressive with her once or twice, and love to hold her (even if it’s only for a few moments). Several times a week you talk about how T2 is going to be able to “walk and talk” soon.

Sunday is our day for mama and T1 adventures. We leave your sister with dad and spend time together, just the two of us. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to constantly feel like each child isn’t getting enough individual attention from me, and our Sunday time helps us reconnect each week.

Over the past 6 months we’ve seen your language explosion, and I realized while talking to Kelli (Aunt Kelli as we like to call her) that I spent a lot of time talking about your language delays, but not any time pointing out how far you’ve come since they told me at 18 months that you were speaking at the level of a 10 month old. I tried to remember to record you more often so you would be able to see your progress.

T1 at 3 from Jenna on Vimeo.

I started a private Twitter account to document the glimpses we are getting into how your brain works.

I’ve also been keeping a list of some of your favorite phrases on my iphone. You’ve already dropped some of them, which is really sad when they’re especially cute. It’s a really fascinating way to see how your language has developed and changed over time.

“Tataaaaaaaaaaaa”
You wander throughout the house whenever dad is home screaming this at the top of your lungs if he moves out of your sight for more than a few minutes.
“Hey mama!”
“Hey mama tata!”
This is one of your favorite jokes, to call me “mama tata”.
“Wad dat?”
“I sitting next to you”
This was a phrase you used constantly right before your sister was born.
“Boo boo do it”
You still call yourself Boo Boo sometimes, but most of the time you use your real name to refer to yourself now.
“Red light means stop mama”
I thought teaching you what the traffic lights meant was a good idea, but I quickly regretted it. Now you’re a perma-backseat driver who doesn’t understand the traffic rules and chastizes me for going right on red, or not moving forward immediately on a green light (you don’t understand yet that we have to wait for the cars in front of us to go first).
“Tata works hard”
Monday morning is so hard. After a full weekend spent with your father, it is devastating to you when you realize that he has flown out once again.
“You hear dat noise?”
I think you must have super-sonic hearing. You hear everything, and hold your hands tightly over your ears whenever we go into a public restroom because the sound of the toilet flushing is overwhelming for you.
“Your turn mama!”
“I wanna hold da baby”
It took a few weeks for you to start using T2′s real name. I think because we didn’t know the gender so we called her Baby for 10 months straight.
“Good job mama!”
“‘Member silly?”
“I wanna hold you”
This means “pick me up”. It’s one of my favorites because it’s so literal and precious. I wanna hold you too.
“How would dat happened?”
During the month of April you’ve started using this phrase several times a day, most often when we are doing Talk About Our Day before bed. I’ll say to you “You woke up in Mama’s bed this morning” and you will respond with “How would dat happened Mama?”
“I don’t wanna hit Mah-wee. I don’t wanna fight peoples.”
Fighting is on your mind a lot, and it reminds me that I need to be more aware of what I’m watching on TV when you’re around. You talk a lot about how you don’t want to be fighting cars, fighting “peoples”, or fighting your sister.

We celebrated your birthday a month early when your grandparents came to meet T2. We flew your new kite, ate cake, and visited the zoo. Later this month we’ll have an official T1 Day and take you to the beach.

Little one,

Thanks for teaching me how to be a better mother. Mama loves you firstest.

I didn’t know it was possible to be this happy.

I am so grateful that I was born in the place I was born, to the parents who raised me, to get to spend the rest of my life with the person who means the most to me in the world, to have so many things I want and never have to worry about what I need, to have two delightful children that are going to shape me into a better person, to have so much to look forward to in the future.

Family Photo by Kristin of Dezember Photography

And a little addendum I’m going to attach to this post for my favorite friend Paige, who we left behind in Chicago and that I miss so much:

Looking for the perfect Mother’s Day gift for a friend, your wife, or yourself (:  ? 

Saren Loosli, the founder of PowerofMoms.com is coming to Chicago to lead a premium retreat June 3rd from 9:30 to 12:30 with a Yoga session after.  Located in a beautiful mansion in Beverly, IL (Southside of Chicago), the retreat will focus on mothers bringing more peace, purpose, order and joy into their lives.  

Like members of any other serious profession, mothers need opportunities to network with other moms and learn and share “best practices” in their field. 

Click HERE to sign up and learn more about this awesome opportunity! 

Source

I’m looking for something I can make on Friday evening and use for meals throughout the weekend. It would also be great to have a recipe that I can make when we are having people over which would allow people to customize their own wrap as we eat. It seems like this is a recipe where I could make some components ahead of time and then reheat as needed. I know lettuce wraps seem a simple thing to want to address, but I’m specifically interested in the meat and the sauces. How is the meat cooked and season? What type of meat is best? What are the different sauce options and how are they made? How can I create something that fits my diet (mainly vegetables/meats/fats/fruits) but will contain some sort of carbohydrate to fill those who aren’t limiting carbohydrates?

If you have a favorite recipe, link to it below! I’ll post a summary of my attempts as well as my favorite recipe once I choose a winner.

Nicknames: Mah-ree-ree, Fuzzy Lumpkin, Sweetie Pie, Principessa*
Temperament: We’ve had a few rough days here and there, one evening where we walked out of the house with you screaming in the babysitter’s arms. Overall you’re still a really happy and content baby.
Thing(s) I Could Do Without: You wake for the day between 6:30-7:00am. Your brother loved to sleep in and I miss that.
Thing(s) You Could Do Without: Your brother patting your belly a bit violently in an attempt to calm you down, bedtime (juggling both kids by myself means you are often crying as I try to get your brother to bed).
Item/Toy We Love The Most: The swing.
Item/Toy You Love The Most: Your fists. Initially when you sucked on them it meant you were hungry. Now I can’t always tell why you are sucking on them so greedily.
Things I’m Loving Most Right Now: Your smiles. Most of the time you won’t look right into my eyes, preferring to look around the room and take everything in. But there are times when you will look right at me and smile so big.
Things You’re Loving Most Right Now: When I hold you on my chest and pat your back. This is the best way to put you to sleep.

M,

I wanted one of your weekly pictures to be in one of my newborn outfits, but I waited a bit too long to make it happen. You’re growing so big so fast! Everything except your hair. I admit I grew up dreaming of a girl with thick dark hair like I had at birth, but you’ve convinced me that bald baby girls have their charms as well.

My favorite thing about you at this stage? Your smiles up at daddy. When he comes home on the weekends you can’t stop beaming. “Daddy’s Girl” is a cliche, but I understand why everyone uses it. You adore him (and he adores you in return).

I hate to be the stereotypical mother, but the month passed by far too quickly. I don’t want you to stop growing (we have so many exciting things ahead of us!) but I am kicking myself for not taking more pictures and recording more videos. I can’t slow time down, but I can preserve who you are at this very moment so you can look back someday and see what a sweetheart you were. Actually, you’ll see what a sweetheart you are. Because I’ve got a feeling you’re always going to be that way.

Love,

Mama

*I find this so hard to resist, it’s as though I’m conditioned to call you princess. I dislike the “entitled princess culture” in America though, so I’m going to try to stop (eventually). For now I’ll delude myself into thinking using the Italian form of princess somehow makes a difference. 

If you’re not sure you want to join, check out the results from TWLC1, TWLC2, and TWLC3. I want to be those ladies. Join me. Join us!

Want to see where I’m starting out?

Actually that was last month, March 15th, 5 weeks post-partum. But you get the idea. Lots and lots of work to be done. In the past I’ve collected money myself, but I’m very happy to say that I no longer have to attempt that momentous task. If you want to compete for cash you can do so using DietBet.com, which I’ll talk more about below.

April 15-October 15 2013

 The Components

1. Spend the next 6 months competing for a Jenna Cole Photography Session (compete for free, but you have to send in before+after photos of your body, plus before+after scale shots)

2. Monthly DietBet rounds, where everyone competes to win their $25 back, plus the extras from those who don’t reach their goal

The Resources

1. Join the TWLC Facebook group.

2. Use the hashtag #TWLC4 on Twitter.

3. The Google Doc. It’s a place to fill in your measurements, tell your story, link to your blog, and watch your competition progress throughout the challenge. If you’d like to have access to the Google Doc see below under “How To Be Granted Access to the Google Doc”.

Jenna Cole Photography Session

A portrait session with Jenna Cole Photography (individual, with romantic partner, or immediate family) awarded to the person with the highest percentage of weight lost between April 15th and October 15th 2013. Can be redeemed wherever I am at any point in the future. I currently live in the San Francisco bay area, and am willing to drive up to 2 hours one way to do the session. I also visit my family in Washington state regularly. Are you in Poland? Sometimes I go there too (and if you’re in France, go ahead and win because I want an excuse to go there.) You are free to try to win this no matter where you live, and then if I ever travel where you are, or you travel where I am, we can meet and do your pictures then.

How To Enter to Win a Session with Jenna Cole Photography

Step 1:

Copy and paste the following sentence in the comment section below. PLEASE COPY THE SENTENCE EXACTLY AS SEEN BELOW.

I would like to compete in TWLC4 to lose the highest percentage of weight to win a portrait session with Jenna Cole. I will email you exactly as described below.

Step 2:

1. Start drafting an email with the subject line “TWLC4 Before Picture – Insert Your Name Here”. THIS IS CRUCIAL! YOU WILL NOT BE ENTERED UNLESS YOU DO THIS EXACTLY AS DETAILED.

2. Email me a before picture of you from head to toe (or neck to toe if you prefer). I need a picture of your front, back, and sides if possible. I suggest *not* wearing black, wear light colors and tight fitting clothes so you can see a difference!

3. Include a picture of the scale while you are standing on it.

4. Pictures must be received before April 15th. Get them in right now! (Get them in sooner and you’ll have a little bit of a head start over everyone else.)

Emails should be sent to thatwife [at] gmail [dot] com.

DietBet

What is DietBet?

As the site describes it: DietBet is a game where you’ve got 4 weeks to lose 4% of your starting weight. To begin, everyone puts money into the pot. After four weeks, whoever’s hit their 4% goal is a winner and splits the pot. DietBet verifies everyone weight at the beginning and the end by giving you a random word to include with your weigh-in, a word you only have access to 48 hours before the game starts (and at the end). This nifty little rule helps prevent cheaters. You can read more about how it works here. I’m in the middle of my first bet with the site right now, and it looks like I might actually make my goal. I’ve been eating better and exercising more diligently than I ever have before.

How to bet.

1. Sign up for my first DietBet (future DietBets will be advertised on Twitter, the Facebook group, and on That Wife).

2. Send in a picture of yourself to the DietBet admins (don’t worry, they’ll walk you through the process)

3. Pay your money

4. Win your money back!

4. Renew each month if you’d like to continue betting with me

 How To Be Granted Access to the Google Doc

Copy and paste the following sentence in the comment section below. PLEASE COPY THE SENTENCE EXACTLY AS SEEN BELOW.

I would like to be added to the TWLC4 Google Doc list where I will log in regularly to enter in my progress. 

Failure to log percentage lost at least once per month will result in revoked access to the Google Doc.

FAQ

I’ll add to this as I see questions pop up in the comments below.

Do I need to send you a picture to participate in TWLC4?

Only for the Jenna Cole session. But even if you aren’t going for that, send the picture! Once you’ve lost the weight, you’ll be kicking yourself for putting it off. You’ll want before pictures to put up on Facebook so everyone can oooooh and ahhhhh over your efforts. You deserve those compliments.

How will I know that I’m signed up for the Jenna Cole Photography session prize?

I will write a reply to every picture submission email to let you know I received it.

Will you post my picture on the blog?

Only with your consent.  NO PICTURES WILL EVER BE SHOWN WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION. I am happy to crop photos, blur out faces, and would never use your name along with your photo unless you let me know it was okay to do so.

 Do you have to sign up for DietBet to be included in TWLC4?

No. There are several different ways you can participate in TWLC4.
1.You can participate by utilizing the resources noted above.
2. You can compete, for free, to win a session with Jenna Cole.
3. You can pay $25 and compete in the monthly DietBet rounds.

Or you can do any combination of 1-3. It’s up to you!

How regularly do I have to check in on the Google doc? Every week? Once a month?

If you want to continually have access, you need to check in once a month.

Can I start late?

I’m excited that this round of TWLC will accommodate those who want to start at any time, except if you want to compete for the Jenna Cole photography session (you must email me your before+after+scale shots by April 15th if you want to compete for that in TWLC4). DietBets will start over each month, so you can join for the months that work for you. Join us in the TWLC Facebook group whenever you can.

When do I sent in my DietBet information? 

Once you sign up, DietBet will email you details regarding what you need to do next. It’s really easy, I promise! I’m just the host for the challenge, everything else is done through them.

The first step in the cover selection process was choosing the look of my slipcover. Comfort Works has dozens of slipcover options when it comes to color, pattern, fabric, etc, and they’ll send you some free fabric samples so you can see them in person before you commit to buying an entire cover. I didn’t know quite where I was going with the theme of the room yet, so I wanted to stick with neutral options that would allow me to be inventive with the decor in the room. I decided on white because I wanted something that would be easy to bleach (and Pinterest has successfully convinced me that using white in a nursery is a good idea). In a different room the Nomad Grey would have been my favorite option.

When my slipcover pieces arrived and I took them out of the box they were really wrinkly (which is, of course, to be expected!) so I took about 30 minutes to steam them.

The process of applying all of the different pieces took about 30 minutes, even with T1 popping up here and there to “help”, ask for milk, etc.

I didn’t need any directions to show me how to do it, the process was really intuitive. I initially applied one of the cushion covers the wrong way but it was a quick fix once I realized that it wasn’t sitting correctly. I appreciate that the covers fit really tight, but they won’t be difficult to get on and off when they need to be washed.

I only had one problem with my cover, and that was getting the back to fit properly. In the back corners it doesn’t lie completely flat no matter how much I tug it this way and that. For me that isn’t an issue because my couch will be up against a wall.

Once I had everything on I did another round of steaming along the bottom to get at any leftover wrinkles.

Doesn’t it look great? I really love my custom, machine washable Ektorp Sofa Bed slipcover from Custom Works and I’m looking forward to how the entire room comes together now that I have the sofa and the rug.

Next I gave the custom Comfort Works sofa protector set a try. The set came with sleeves for the arms of the sofa, as well as a sofa protector that I tried applying two different ways.

This is the first way, with the sofa protector under the top cushions, but on top of the bottom cushions. With the sofa protector applied I lose the clean look that is very appealing to me (as seen above) but I gain a lot of peace of mind. If baby spits up and it lands on the sofa protector, I don’t need to be stripping items off the couch and zipping them back on. I can pull it right off and get it in the washer, and lay it back on the couch again with little effort.

Next I decided to try putting the sofa protector over the entire couch (the sleeves for the arms are still on, and unless we have guests in there I’m sure I’ll be leaving them on all the time).

I confess, this isn’t my favorite look, but if I find myself washing the top cushions frequently I would definitely lay the sofa protector over both sets of cushions like this to save myself some work with a new baby in the house.

Another drawback to putting the sofa protector over the entire couch is that there is nothing anchoring it down, and so it wrinkles anytime someone sits down on it.

And it really struggles when your 2 year old climbs up and kicks and rolls all over the place!

I’ve finished decorating the room now, so you can see how it all came together!

Overall I am really happy with this cover. I went to Ikea and looked at the cover that they offer in white, and now that I’ve seen them both in person I think they are very similar, though the Comfort Works fabric seems a bit sturdier. I would use Comfort Works again in the future for one of two reasons. Because you think the sofa protector will save you a lot of time and headache (for me I know it will!). Or because you see a color/style on the Comfort Works website that you like better. Order some free samples and see them in person because the Kino Natural and Nomad Grey were runners-up for me and looked and felt different than I expected (in a good way).

Speaking of ordering samples… Comfort Works is a free pair of cushion covers (45cmx45cm, or 17 3/4 inches)  in any Comfort Works fabric to one of my readers! Even better, it’s a contest that is  open worldwide. You can order free fabric swatches  to figure out which is your favorite. Maybe you’ll pick something in an fabric more adventurous than white and then send me a picture of how it looks? I would really love that. Look at this fabric they posted on their Facebook page. Gorgeous right? I might need to order a second cover.

To enter, use the Rafflecopter widget below. To enter you’ll need to both like their Facebook page, and comment below. Rafflecopter will walk you through the process. Enter before April 7th at 11:59pm PST.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Update: After I wrote this post (but before I published it) my family came to stay with me and my sister used this sofa bed. After she left I noticed that one of the zippers on the right couch cushion (the one you sit on) had burst. She’s skinny-mini so I definitely considered this a manufacturing issue. I contacted Comfort Works and sent her a few pictures and received a replacement cushion two weeks later. I delayed this review for a few weeks so we could use the couch again (my mom stayed in that room when she came for the birth of T2) and everything looks great now. The customer service experience concerning this issue was great and I do think it was a production issue that’s going to happen every so often, but I thought it was important for you guys to know.