Creative Mommyhood

That’s my favorite line from Pretty Woman and it applies fantastically to my new-found need to feel pretty again. 

The postpartum period is the cruelest joke ever. We talked about the hair loss before, but come on - acne? I barely had a single pimple my whole life, and now I have ACNE?

And stretch marks, you will be my bitch! I didn’t get stretch marks in NORMAL places, that could be hidden - like my belly, or my ass…nooooo, I got them behind my knees! Who gets stretch marks behind their knees??

This kid.

So, due to postpartum flab, acne, hair loss and those pesky stretch marks, I’ve been feeling pretty down about myself. And, I don’t like that feeling. I want to be a proud, sexy mama, strutting my stuff through the playground. But, it’s not just going to happen on it’s own. If I’m unhappy, the only person who can change that is ME. So here’s what I’m doing to fix it:

1) I am back on Weight Watchers. I’m too proud to post my weight, but I have 50lbs to lose. It’s not going to be easy, in fact it’s going to be damn hard, but I want it bad enough that I can do it.

2) I bought Proactiv. It’s expensive, but it WORKS, no joke…my skin is clearing up and my tone is evening out.

3) I bought expensive make-up. I’ve never been one to spend a lot on make-up. It’s all the same, right? Wrong. Clinique is amazing! The foundation is so creamy, my face is never dry or peeling! Love, love, love it!

4) I started running. Well, I don’t even know if you would consider it running, I’m so slow…but my goal is a 5k, and I signed up for one in June to keep me motivated. I am one of those weirdos that actually enjoys exercise, I love to sweat, so this is great…but running is HARD! I’m doing the Couch to 5k Program to get started, so I will keep you posted!

So, mamas, if you’re feeling down about yourself, GET WITH ME! We can do this! There’s no reason that just because we’re moms we also have to be frumpy. We can have it all!

MILF status come Hell or high water! Who’s with me??

…where did you get your term life insurance?

In the months before Finley was born, I remember the overwhelming anxiety I had regarding impending motherhood. I would lay in bed at night, eyes wide open and fixed on the ceiling, listening to Geoff’s sleepy breathing and wondering about what kind of mother I would be.

My biggest fear was that I would not love my child enough. 

When I would vocalize my feelings, it would bring me to tears. The people around me told me that I would love my child plenty and that I would be an excellent mother, and that just by worrying about this showed how much I already loved her. But how could they be so sure? What if I resented her? What if I got sick of her and didn’t want her anymore?

These are the fears that kept me up at night for months.

Today I sat and just watched my baby play. She chattered at her monkey, focused on her little, perfectly formed fingers, and happily kicked her piano. And the whole time I watched her, my heart swelled with love and pride. Before I was a mother, I didn’t know a love like this existed. I couldn’t wrap my head around how much I would love my daughter because I had nothing to compare it to. There was no way I could possibly know that just watching her play could make me so happy and teary.

I’ve always been a bit of loner - I don’t let myself get close to too many people, I don’t let them see anything other than the happy, goofy version of myself. There are very few people that I feel connected to. So it’s odd to me how connected and close I feel to my daughter. She’s become the light of my life and I cannot wait to see our relationship grow.

The day is here, dear friends. 

I woke up this morning with two thoughts: 1) God, my daughter is damn cute, and 2) I will be a MILF by summertime come hell or high water.

For the past three months I’ve been focusing so hard on Finley, that I have been neglecting myself and my health. I live in sweats and maternity t-shirts. I eat whatever is quick, easy and comes in a wrapper. I sometimes (ok, all the time) wish coffee could be dispensed via IV. Basically, I feel like a sloth. And let’s be honest, that kinda sucks.

So, today I’m committing myself to…well, myself. I vow to take the time needed to make healthy meals, drink my water, and get my butt off the couch (does cleaning count as exercise?). I want to set a good example for my daughter and I want to feel good about my body again. 

So, here’s to MILF status…I’m on my way! Feel free to send me your healthspiration, mamas!

Grin.

So, PF (Pre-Finley), I had very  clear cut ideas of what I would and would not do as a mother.

I just knew she would be sleeping in her crib the first night home. I didn’t want to create bad sleep habits. I wanted her to know that her room was her room, and my room was my room. I wanted to make sure I got the most decent night’s sleep possible with a new baby. I thought mothers who kept their babies in the master bedroom were setting themselves up for a disastrous transition period when they finally moved their little ones into a crib.

I knew I would never co-sleep. I thought mothers who co-slept were lazy and selfish and putting their babies at unnecessary risk. All I ever heard were horror stories about co-sleeping…whether a baby was actually injured or they just never wanted to leave the parents’ bed.

I swore I would never breastfeed. No matter the circumstance. It freaked me out, it seemed weird, and I did not want to be a milking cow for 12 months. Babies for decades have survived well on formula, and dammit, my kid would too.

Fast forward to today. Finley still sleeps in her bouncer in our bedroom. At first it started out that I was just a nervous new mom who was afraid to sleep at night - God forbid something happened - without her baby next to her. Then I realized how much freaking easier it was to do nighttime feedings if she was there. Who was I to think that trucking up and down a hallway every two hours was going to be better than just snatching her out of her pack n’ play? Dumb. Then Finley developed some pretty severe reflux and would choke in her sleep. Now, the kid won’t be leaving until preschool (or, you know, whenever the reflux subsides…). And I’m not worried. She naps everywhere, even in her crib, and I don’t think the transition will be as hard as I anticipated.

I also sometimes sneak her into my bed at night. If she’s fussy or sick, she will only sleep peacefully (meaning, we ALL only sleep peacefully) if she is snuggled up in the crook of my arm. And I won’t lie, I kinda love the extra snuggle time. I position myself so that it’s impossible for her to roll off the bed, and it’s impossible for me to roll on top of her. My husband sleeps like the dead, so we stay far away from him…he’s elbowed me in the nose a few times in his sleep…passive/aggressive maybe? 

And as far as breastfeeding, I actually don’t. I do formula feed Finley, but I’ve seen some babies so allergic to formula that I know, if that were the case, I would have breastfed. If it was the only way to nourish my child, it wouldn’t be creepy or gross, it would be a lifesaver.

So here I am, bowing down to all of the other mothers of the world. Now I know we all make the best decisions for us and our families. We all have to do what works.

And here I am, sort of giggling at new mothers to come, who I know will be as judgemental and see things as black and white as I did.

Good luck to ya, ladies…

Wink.

I went to bed last night hoping for a little inspiration.

Lately I’ve felt a little…adrift. I’ve always felt like I was meant for something MAJOR and that I just sort of lost my way. So I thought to myself: Self, I need to keep my mind, eyes, heart, and ears open for an opportunity.

I have zero idea what this opportunity might actually be. I mean, let’s be honest, I’m a little flighty. I can admit it. I tried getting my husband to move to Oregon last night. Why? Because it looked pretty in the pictures!

When I was a wee lass, I dreamt of becoming a lawyer. Then a hairstylist. Then an actress. Then a jockey. Then a doctor. Then a CEO. Then a writer (which is pretty much where I landed for good). One day, I wanted to be an architect, the next an animal trainer. On Tuesday a chef, on Wednesday a teacher. 

I’m a Gemini, and being a Gemini means two things: 

1. I’m super cool, and
2. I’m a jack of all trades, a master of none.

I want to have my hands in everything. I don’t want to be tied down. I’ll move anywhere and try anything. Why pick just one thing, when I can pick a MILLION. It sounds cool, until it’s not. I just want to find my thing and my place and stay there.

So here’s to hoping some little glimmer of inspiration or an earth-shattering epiphany is headed my way.

And it is. I feel it.

So my husband, Geoff, is a pediatric nurse by trade. And he’s AWESOME at it. Kids love him.

But…he’s also been in, like, seven movies. Yep. He’s a little bit of a superstar. I guess you’d say he’s kind of a big deal.

He’s featured most prominently in 27 Dresses (you can see him busting a move in the white shirt behind Katherine Heigl here starting at 1:02. He’s in about 15 - 20 shots throughout the movie.)

Isn’t he dreamy?