Vacation

To All of My Readers,
 Thank you! I haven't been able to sit and write much this week, we are leaving for the beach on Sunday and planning to do anything these days is a major undertaking. How do I feed Beau in his high chair and keep it clean so I can pack it in the car? Hmmm, not possible. Oh well, life is messy when you have kids!
  I'm hoping the sound of the waves and smell of the salt will inspire me, and I will have lots of pictures to post and I'm sure lots of good stories. I will be bringing my laptop so I can do some writing in the mornings while I'm there.
  I really hope that everyone enjoys reading my posts. Writing is not just something I like to do, it is therapeutic for me. It helps to relieve some of the anxiety I feel in my daily life. Putting words on paper (or the computer screen) kind of brings back to me a little piece that seemed to be missing for a long time. It's easier for me to express myself in writing than it is through actual conversation.
  Thank you all again for taking the time to read my posts. More soon, Liz

I Miss My Truck

My first car was a 1994 sky blue Toyota Tercel. It was a two door with black vinyl interior and a black rubbery steering wheel. It didn't have AC, the radiator was a piece of junk and the car constantly overheated, so I had to run the heat year round. It was like sitting inside a black trash bag on blacktop in August. But it was a good first car. I had that thing for ten years and would have kept it longer had it not been for all the repairs it needed.
  In 2007 I traded the Tercel in for a 2001 Oldsmobile Alero, beige with tan leather interior. Judging by the hand written notes in the car's manual it was previously owned by an elderly man in Florida. Yup, it was an old man car. It did have AC and at first I didn't have a single problem with it. One day on my way to work I got stuck in traffic and the car started to overheat. It was warm out and I was just idling so I opened all the windows, turned on the heat just a little and figured it wouldn't be an issue. I was wrong. I had that car for three years and everyday it seemed like there was a new issue. The headlights would stop working so I replaced fuse after fuse. The radiator would over heat so I started carrying a jug of water in the trunk. I think at one point the interior lights stopped working, too.
  The week before I was leaving for Basic the front calipers exploded and the car seized completely in the middle of a Walmart parking lot. Seriously?? To this day I regret buying that stupid car. I got the car fixed and left it in the parking lot at our apartment building. I had the parking pass, my tags and registration were up to date. While I was away at Basic the towing company that works for the apartment building ripped off the registration tags and towed it. We got it back when I came home for Christmas.
  When I got home from Basic and AIT I officially left my first husband (we shall call him Buttface) and moved in with friends. My car got towed from the street they live on a couple times. It started to severely overheat every time I drove it and eventually it got to the point that it wasn't worth keeping. Late in 2009 I went back to my Buttface. We ended up trading in the Alero for a 2003 Nissan XTerra. I fell in love with my with that truck.
  The XTerra had it's issues, once again the AC didn't work, but it didn't overheat. I'm not sure why I flipped over that truck the way I did. I was working full time for the Guard and my truck was moss green, it matched my uniform. I called it my Tank. It wasn't four wheel drive, it got stuck in the snow, I think one of the windows stopped working for a while, too. Didn't care, loved my truck!

A moss green 2003 Nissan XTerra. Mine had a Combat Medic sticker on the back window.

  When Buttface and I finally divorced in 2010 it was decided that though the truck was in his name I would keep it, continue to make the payments and refinance it into my name. The problem was the truck was too old and too high mileage and no one would refinance it for me. Buttface (the name I really call him is slightly more offensive and contains another part of the anatomy) really was a butt face. I explained to him that I was having a hard time with the refinancing, blah blah blah. No Go. He threw a fit about it, one of the reasons I divorced him, and refused to negotiate. By that point I was remarried to Brian and we decided to give up and just trade in the truck. I got a brand new 2011 Mitsubishi Galant. It's a good car, no issues at all, but it's just a car. I honestly cried a little when I had to say goodbye to my truck.

This is what I've got now. It's a really good car, it's just not as cool as my truck.

  I think the truck symbolized freedom to me. Even though it was in Buttface's name I maintained it. I was on my own for the first time and I had a bad ass truck. I used to load Ruby Dog into it and we would go explore the city. I had that truck when I got MY first apartment that was solely MINE. I was the only person on the lease. I had a bad ass truck, a cute little apartment, a great dog and I had started seeing an amazing guy. And, to be honest, I just felt cool when I drove it.
  Now we have the Galant, my little red, dependable car. the stroller doesn't fit in it so I don't drive it much. It doesn't even have 20,000 miles on it yet. The AC works, so do the windows, the radiator and the interior lights. It's got grey cloth interior and wood finish for the control panel. It's just not my XTerra.

What do you mean the diaper genie is full?

I have had many moments when I have been so exhausted I  swear I am delusional. Sometimes the things that come out of my mouth make me sigh and just shake my head. Everyone tells you that once the baby arrives you will be more tired than you ever knew possible. Yes. You will leave the house accidentally wearing Crocs and not realize until you are in the middle of Target. You will find binkies (pacifiers) in your pockets at the end of the day and will come home only to realize that you have spit up all the way down the back of your shirt. When did that happen? Here are just a few giggles from the past six months, I hope you get a chuckle out of them.
  1. When Beau was a week or two old I was changing his diaper, no big deal. When I stepped on the pedal to open the diaper genie it seemed stuck. The damn thing wouldn't open so the diaper went in the trash can. I told Brian that the diaper genie was broken, could he please take a look at it? Brian is a carpenter and I'm pretty sure he can fix just about anything. A few minutes later he came out with a long bag full of dirty diapers. "It was just full." Now, I still have no idea what was wrong with me at that exact moment, and I will blame it on exhausted mommy brain. "What do you mean it was full?" I asked, completely confused. Brian just stared at me like I had nine heads and repeated that the diaper genie was simply full and needed to be emptied. Dumbfounded, I looked at him and said "you have to empty it??"
 For whatever ridiculous reason I was under the impression that when a diaper went into the contraption it simply disappeared. Like, maybe there really was a genie inside that ate all the dirty diapers? I'm laughing even as I sit and write this because it's possibly the dumbest thought I have ever had. I consider myself an intelligent person, how was I outsmarted by a diaper pail?
  2. Brian has been a hands on dad from the beginning, taking Beau when I need a minute to myself, helping with bottles, and of course diaper changes. One night Brian was changing Beau's diaper and I wandered into Beau's room, just to coo at our beautiful little boy. I watched as Brian put the new diaper on and something about it looked funny but I couldn't figure out what. Until Brian went to fasten the little Velcro tabs, to the back of the diaper? Yup, it was on backwards. I told Brian and he just gave me a funny look, and went on with it. I had to point out that 'Honey, you put it on him backwards'. "Oh." Poor Brian, I think this was when Beau was a very new addition to our home and he was still a newbie at the whole diaper thing. To this day I can't help but wonder how many backwards diapers our little guy wore in those first few weeks.
3. I've come to learn that babies are creatures of habit, they like their schedules (give or take 2 hours) and as such I should expect certain things. I picked up one of those little baby chairs that vibrates before Beau was born and he loved it immediately. I could sit him in the chair and he would be asleep in a few minutes, YAY! As Beau got a little older the schedule became eat, poop, sleep in the chair, until one day he pooped while he was in the chair. I couldn't figure out why he was so upset and unbuckled him. I picked him up and snuggled him, rubbed his back and discovered...that he had pooped right up the back of his diaper. Into his jammies, all over the chair and now all over my hand. Yeah, that was fun to clean up. I managed to prevent a repeat performance for the most part until my in laws bought him a little exersaucer thingy with wheels on it. It looks like a little red car and has some little do-dads on the front for him to play with. Beau loved this immediately, too. One day I picked him up and discovered that his back was covered in poo and so was the seat in his car. I'm shaking my head as I write this because it still occurs on a fairly regular basis. I have become much better at cleaning it, though. That's that two hour window...never know when it's going to happen now. Oh well.
4. I have a pretty good routine in the morning, I get up around 5:00 am, turn on the coffee maker and make Beau's first bottle. A few days ago I was going about this, just like every other day. I turned on the Keurig, warmed the water for the bottle and filled it, put the formula powder in the bottle, and then I opened the fridge and took out the half and half. I had the cap off the carton and was ready to pour it when, like a bolt of lightning to the brain, I realized I was about to put half and half into Beau's bottle, not my coffee. Have I actually done this? I hate to admit it, but I can't say no for sure. Maybe I'm not as good at multitasking as I thought.
5. Beau was holding his head up at about one month, he was sitting at five months, he has, so far been ahead of the curve. Because he could hold his head up and his back was good and strong around three months I decided to play airplane with him, picking him up in the air, over my head and flying him like an airplane. Pretty self explanatory. Beau was having a blast, giggling and smiling, and my arms were getting tired so I rested him tummy first on top of my head (holing onto him, of course) and he loved that, too. He loved it so much that he grabbed two fistfuls of my hair and started to screech like a little banshee. I was in pain but could not stop laughing, I laughed so hard that I was crying and the little booger would not let go! Brian was sitting on the balcony so I walked over to the door and kicked it to get his attention, trying to tell him that I needed help. I was laughing so hard I could barely breath and that "WTH?" look appeared on my husbands face. Finally Brian came in and untangled Beau from my scalp, looking at me like I was a lunatic because I was still in hysterics. I cut my hair a few days later.
6. Another game of airplane ended badly, because I'm stubborn and it makes Beau laugh so I continue to do it. I was sitting on the couch, had Beau up in the air and I was flying him around, Beau was giggling, got the hiccups and then 'spit up' (slimed) all over me. My hair, face, clothes, the couch. Lovely. And of course he thought it was hilarious. A few days later Brian was doing the same thing and I told him to be careful because Beau would puke all over him. No sooner had the words come out of my mouth than the spit up (slime) went into Brian's. I couldn't help it, I had to laugh, the look on Brian's face was sheer disgust and Beau was still giggling.
7. Last, but not least, Crockett, our Boxer/Lab mix will find binkies all over the house. He picks them up, like a baby, with the sucker end in his mouth and brings them to me. Imagine a seventy pound dog walking over to you with a binkie in his mouth that says "Chicks dig me".
This is my life now and I wouldn't change it for anything in the world!

The Taboo of Formula Feeding

Years ago most doctors recommended that mothers feed their babies formula because breast milk was bad for them. Oh, how the times have changed! These days any baby or mommy blog/forum/article, etc. pushes for breast feeding as do doctors and midwives. We know now that it is, of course, the best thing for baby. Mom passes antibodies to baby through her breast milk, provides (supposedly) just the right amount of nutrition and it is important for bonding. I agree with all of that.
  When I was pregnant I did tons of research, I already knew that I wanted to breastfeed and the more I read the more determined I became. I was excited to share this amazing, special thing with my son and the feeling that through breastfeeding I would make him stronger was empowering. I was also nervous, as any first time mom is, thinking 'what if I can't do it? what if he doesn't latch...' I am a worrier, so it was only natural for me to obsess over it. When Beau was born I nursed him almost immediately and everything was great. I also had to supplement with formula due to a high Bilirubin count. The nurses said formula helps to pass all the toxins out of their system faster. No problem, he was still nursing well and it continued when we got home.
At Beau's first visit with the pediatrician I was told I could stop the formula and nurse exclusively.  Now lots of people will tell you that breastfeeding is natural and comes easily. After a week or so I was ready to pull my hair out. This kid would NOT stay awake during feedings. I tried stripping him down to his diaper, putting a cool cloth on the back of his neck, tickling his feet and nothing worked. He would fall asleep within minutes and it would all be for naught. Feeding sessions started to last longer and longer as I struggled to keep him awake. Then he decided he only wanted one side at a time which meant even more time doing this. Despite all of the difficulties I was still determined to continue breastfeeding. I wanted my son to have the best and if that meant sitting on the couch trying to keep him awake for hours on end that's what I would do. I did give in and feed him formula from time to time, and he would gobble it down. My mom kept telling me that there is no shame in switching to formula, he would still be healthy and get everything he needed.
  A couple weeks before his two month appointment Beau seemed to go through a faze that included screaming if anyone but me held him. I was convinced it was just a baby thing and he would outgrow it in a week or two. Brian kept urging me to give Beau formula because he was still hungry but I insisted that he was fine just breastfeeding. When I took Beau in for his two month checkup, as I have discussed previously, the doctor diagnosed him with 'Failure to Thrive' and told me that I needed to supplement with formula immediately. Beau was underweight and his little legs were too skinny for his first round of immunizations. I felt like a ton of bricks had been dropped on my heart. I cried in the doctor's office (he was working with a med student that day, which only made it worse), I cried when I got home, I cried when I called my mom. I cried when I told Brian, who basically said 'I told you so, but it's not your fault.' Brian tried as best he could to make me feel better and after a couple of days I did.
  Feeding sessions went from what seemed like hours to twenty minutes when we started supplementing. Beau gained all the weight he needed to in no time and was much happier. I continued to nurse and pump and supplement and it was terrific. I was less stressed, Brian could hold Beau without the baby screaming and they were bonding.
 Soon Beau began to want formula more and breast milk less and less, nursing became more difficult, Beau was again getting uncooperative with it but he was doing great with the formula. I had read about nursing strikes and again figured he would outgrow this faze, too. I should mention that I am incredibly stubborn, but I was getting more and more frustrated. I contemplated feeding him strictly formula and then I would read an article about how some women just don't try hard enough to continue nursing. I started drinking more water, I think I was going through a gallon a day, I took supplements that made me smell like maple syrup, I tried everything I could think of. Beau was weaning himself and I was left feeling like a failure. It was gradual, first he stopped wanting to nurse in the afternoons. Then he stopped at night, and finally one morning he decided he was done nursing all together.
  I was ready to feel crushed when he didn't want to nurse, but what I actually felt was happy. I didn't have to fight him to get him to eat, he wasn't grumpy, I wasn't grumpy and best of all, Brian could really take over more of the feedings! I was still slightly ashamed, though, to walk in to the grocery store and buy a container of formula. I felt like other mothers were looking at me and judging my abilities, and I do occasionally get a look of disapproval. You know what? They can stick it. My son is happy and healthy. He has only had two small colds in six months and has grown significantly in the past few months. He's ahead of the curve with his milestones and is getting smarter by the day. I swear he never blinks those big blue eyes, he is constantly taking everything in.
  While breastfeeding is best for both baby and mom it's just not for everyone (more wisdom from my mom). The struggles and frustration can create more of a divide than a bonding experience. I'm not saying don't try, just don't beat yourself up over it. I plan to try with our next baby but this time I know that if it doesn't work it's not my fault and I won't beat myself up over it.

It's okay to admit that we have bad days.

  I have had some bad days in my so far short career as a mom. And I'm okay with that. I'm also okay with discussing it. No, I'm not looking for attention, not looking for sympathy. I'm simply taking a moment to vent and say "I am having a horrible day. The baby won't sleep, the dogs won't stop barking, the kitchen is a mess, and I just can't do it all."

  This is the focus of my writing today because I recently had someone ask me if I'm doing alright. She said that some of my posts on Facebook make it seem like I'm having a hard time. My answer was that  everyday is a brand new experience. With any new experience there will be ups and downs, good days and bad days. And days when you just want to throw up the white flag and surrender.
  As moms it seems we feel the need to project an 'I can do it all and be happy' attitude. Why? Admitting that you are having a bad day does not make you less of a woman. It does not mean that you love your child any less. Hiding the fact that you are having a rough time does nothing more than make you feel worse. Why is it so taboo to admit your feelings?
   Women's magazines and the media would have us believe that as a modern woman, you CAN do it all and be happy. The thing is, us normal moms do not have a nanny for each child, personal trainers and chefs and assistants to manage our lives. It is up to us to get it all done and nine times out of ten that is impossible. We need to be the care giver, dog walker, chef, housekeeper, shopper...the list goes on. In my personal experience it rarely works that way. My son will be cranky and refuse to take a nap, which in turn, limits the amount of time I have to do anything else. It's okay if the dishes don't get done right now, and the grocery shopping can wait.
  Beau was one week old on Thanksgiving Day 2012. We were supposed to attend a large family dinner at my brother in-law's house. Well, Beau did not agree with that and had kept me up for all but three hours the night before. I couldn't figure out what he needed, I fed him, changed his diapers, swaddled him and still he wouldn't sleep. I remember so clearly being in tears and looking at the clock to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. I spent the night on the couch with Beau so that Brian could sleep and by the time he got up in the morning I was done. I was exhausted, my eyes were puffy from crying all night and there was no way I was ready to interact with a large group of people. I explained to Brian, and he still wanted to go. We had previously let everyone know we would be there and Brian wanted to introduce Beau. I was even more upset about the fact that Brian didn't understand why I wanted to stay home. Finally I said no. I just couldn't do it, and I didn't want to expose Beau to all of that so early on.
  I would like to say that my decision went over well, but as with some family matters it did not. A few months later everyone got to meet Beau and I was deemed less anti-social than they originally thought. Eh, I have a thick skin and did what I thought was best for our son and myself.
  The day after Thanksgiving my mom took the train from MA to VA to help us out. Seeing her meet her first grandchild was a moment I will never forget. I will also never forget her telling me that it is okay to ask for help. I learned so much from her in the few days she was here, her knowledge is invaluable. After all, she did raise four of us. She let me know that it's not always easy and that things will get better. Now when I need help with Beau she is the first person I turn to.

Me: Beau is all congested and I can't get him to sit still so I can suck the boogers out of his nose with the booger sucker bulb thingy.
Mom: Wrap him up like a burrito. It probably bothers you more than it bothers him.

 When I took Beau for his two month checkup the doctor looked him over quickly, gently pinching at his arms and legs. He told me to get Beau dressed and meet him next door in his office, these were not the words I wanted to hear. Beau was under weight, and looking back I can see that he really was very thin. The doctor used the term "failure to thrive" which immediately brought tears to my eyes. I was starving my child, unintentionally, but he still wasn't getting enough to eat. The doctor told me to supplement with formula after every nursing session and report back in a week. I cried all the way home, feeling a kind of guilt I never knew possible. How could I have not seen what was happening??? The doctor assured me that as a first time mom it happens, it was not my fault, I had never dealt with anything like this before, so how could I know? He also explained that the term Failure to Thrive is simply what the medical community says when a baby is underweight. I called my mom in tears, she reassured me just as the doctor had. She also said 'don't let this get you down, you are doing a good job'. So we started the formula, a week later Beau had gained a full pound. A week after that another full pound. He is perfectly healthy now and has chubby cheeks and fat little baby thighs. And I learned that it's okay to have bad days, to get knocked down, but you have to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. Drive on.
  Being a mom is scary. Simple as that. Yes, it's wonderful, beautiful, challenging and an adventure, but it is scary. My Dad said "the flood gates of worry have opened and will never close again." Truer words I have never heard.
  I have veered slightly of course, but my point is that we all do have bad days. I'm not going to brush it under the rug. I'm going to address it head on, and I will post it on Facebook if Beau just spit up ALL OVER me and the dog puked on the carpet. It feels good to say it, to put it out there and let it go. It's not admitting defeat but rather a declaration of my humanness.I can't say I don't care that the dishes need to be done or that the laundry is piling up, because I do. I would just rather spend my days playing peek-a-boo and watching Beau try to crawl because these days are slipping by too fast .
  The good days now out number the bad and the bad days aren't so bad. Even on the worst of days a smile from my little man lights up my world.

Taken sometime around 3 AM Thanksgiving morning, a self portrait of sheer exhaustion.

Beau, happy and healthy, showing off those big blue eyes

Exersaucer scooty car thingy time!

                                              

  Beau had his 6 month checkup yesterday and the doctor said he is doing great. He is ahead of the curve with his developmental mile stones and has grown from the 5th percentile to the 15th. I watched as he finally figured out how to scoot himself along in his little car excersaucer (a word invented by parents to describe the little seat with wheels that keeps babies content for 45 minutes :)) and then he crashed into my potted plants in the process. Later in the day he cried because his legs were sore from the shots he had received at his appointment. A few months ago I would have been completely undone by his tears and seeing the pain he was in. This time I gave him a little baby Tylenol as soon as we got home from his appointment and plunked him in a warm bath when he started fussing. It's amazing how much a rubber duck in a bathtub can distract him. He was still a little fussy at bedtime so I snuggled up with him on the couch and he was asleep in minutes.

  I still have bad days, days when I'm stressed and in tears by the time Brian gets home from work, but I also know how to turn most bad days into good ones. I let myself be upset for a few minutes and then I adapt and overcome. A little glass of wine at night never hurts. Bad days are a part of life, embrace them, learn from them and then just relax because things will always get better.

                     

All about a girl named Liz

Hi. My name is Liz. Elizabeth, actually. I love Elizabeth, but truth be told, I've never been crazy about my nickname. I've also never told anyone that, so there it is. For 33 years I have been going by a nickname I've never really been sure about. It stuck so I have always just gone with it. Honestly, after all these years I wouldn't respond to anything else anyway. And if it was up to my Mom I would have been Augusta. Hmmm, Gusty?
  Anyway, here's the introduction. I am (as stated) thirty three years old, I am married to a wonderful man, Brian and we have an absolutely amazing son named Beau. I hope he likes his name. I am a stay at home mom, care taker of two insanely lovable mutts and one crotchety old cat.
  I did not intend to be a stay at home mom. I got my first job at 14 and have worked ever since. I enlisted in the Army National Guard in 2008, graduated AIT in 2009 and reported to my unit in July of that year. In August 2009 my Master Sergeant dubbed me the unit's Medical Readiness NCO. Mind you, I was a measly E-2 Private with no idea what the job entailed. By April 2010 I had been promoted to E-4 Specialist, still not an NCO, but I made it work. I built the position from the ground up, with the help of senior NCO's in the unit and the Office of the State Surgeon. I am extremely proud of the work I did. I was the only Medical Readiness NCO in the state who was not actually an NCO. But, through hard work and perseverance I gained the respect and cooperation of my fellow MRNCOs. The job was what the National Guard calls an ADOS position. In short it was a temporary position on full time orders that were extended again and again as long as there was funding. And then there was no funding. In March 2012, due to budget cuts, my orders stopped and I was out of a job, one month after finding out that I was pregnant.
  After applying for job after job with not so much as a phone call in return I applied for and received unemployment. I continued to apply for numerous jobs but to no avail. When the unemployment ran out in January 2013, two months after Beau was born we decided that while I would continue to look for work I would be the primary care giver for our son. And now, here I am.
  I was naive about being a Mom, as are most first time moms. There are so many things no one tells you, like how much your body truly hurts after you give birth. And the fact that while you are dealing with a squirmy, screeching bundle of baby your hormones-and then by default-your emotions go haywire. Your hair will fall out, you will bleed for weeks, and unless you're one of the lucky few, the baby weight DOES NOT just 'fall off'. Feedings do not occur on the neatly laid out 2-3 hour schedule the nurses told you about. My son's ability to poop up the back of his diaper and all over his clothes when placed in any type of baby chair was also surprising. Trying to dress a small person who does not want to wear clothes is, of itself, deserving of an Olympic medal.
  When Beau was born he had a high Bilirubin count so the two of us were in the hospital for an extra day. Meanwhile, Brian was moving all of our earthly possessions from one apartment to another.  I can't remember another time when I was so stressed out. We were released late in the afternoon, after stopping to get my prescriptions we got home. I was walking into a brand new apartment with a brand new baby, and despite Brian's best efforts our stuff was everywhere. We were all exhausted and scared and excited. And then I had the next most stressful day when Brian went to work the next morning. It was just me and this little, bitty baby. But it all worked out. I will say that everything came naturally, with the exception of nursing, which is another story all together. The fear and stress melted away by the end of the day and I was comfortable with our little boy.
  It has been six months almost to the day since Beau was born, and every day has been an adventure. Good or bad, laughter or tears, I would not trade any of it. It is amazing to watch Brian with Beau, he is an amazing father and Beau adores him. Being home to see Beau grow and develop is wonderful. The first time he rolled over, the first time he sat up, and now he's trying to crawl! Beau loves the dogs and they love him. Crockett, our lab-boxer mix is Beau's constant companion and guardian. Ruby, a true mutt, is right next to Beau when he cries, looking at me, saying 'you're not moving fast enough, he's crying!'.
  This is not what I pictured for myself five years ago. It is better and more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. It is my family, my love, my life.

I've never been so excited to meet someone!

Beau and I having some play time on the floor

Brian and Beau. I wonder where Beau got those eyes...

My dear, amazing husband sleeping in the hospital chair after a day of moving

Crockett (front), Brian and Beau and Ruby (in the middle of it all).