Sunday, March 30, 2014

Life is so much nicer when we are fighting.

When Kurt gets mad, he stays up all night cleaning.

When I get mad, I stop cleaning indefinitely.

In this way, we are very compatible.

Friday, March 28, 2014

Nap schedule changes need to be submitted 12 hours in advance.

I ran away to the post office today. 

After a few hours of not-napping in her crib, Syndil was just too much for me to handle. 

I was trying to figure out what to do. Leave her in there for 2 more hours? Give in, and deal with a super cranky toddler for the rest of the day? Run away?

I chose option #3.

I took her with me, mostly because I was craving those amazing harmonies she produces while screaming along to the radio. 

A tired toddler's scream is just so soothing in an enclosed space.

And tonight, when Kurt gets home? I am going to smile, hand him his daughter, and hit the road. I'm not sure where I'll go, but I will go alone. And I will probably spend money. And pee without her sitting on my lap in the stall.

Anybody else need a break?

Wednesday, March 26, 2014

Silence is suspicious. But a mischevious giggle- that can be worse.

You know that moment when you've added almost all the ingredients, and you realize your pot is too small to fit any more? 

So you have to find a bigger one, and scoop everything out carefully (since the first few ingredients have already been boiling), and try not to spill it on yourself? 

And then you hear a suspicious giggle, and look over just in time to see your toddler run out of the room clutching your wallet- which she loves to open and empty and hide everything she finds? 

Yeah, that is not my favorite moment.

 Participating in a fun parenting link up:

Perfection Pending

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

3 months later, I still didn't know his name.

In college, I took a dance class.

I took a lot of dance classes, actually. But one time I decided to try Latin Ballroom.

There were almost always more girls than boys, and so the girls would all take turns being the boy. Especially the tall girls- they got a lot of turns. But they could gain 5 lbs without anyone noticing, and could reach things in the cupboards without climbing on the counters, so it was fair.

At the beginning of the class, the teachers would show a dance move, usually some kind of hip swivel, and then the class would try to copy them.

(recently returned missionaries doing a hip swivel- you have never seen such an awkward sight)

Then they had us line up in two circles, "boys" on the inside, girls on the outside, and we would practice that move with a partner. Sometimes the results were funny, and sometimes they were painful.

Then, just when you almost had it, they would rotate the girls one spot, and you'd have to try and learn all over again.

Conversations are always awkward when you are just meeting someone for the first time, and they are already breathing on your neck.

They are even more awkward the next week, when they remember your name and try to continue that 3 minute conversation, but you honestly have no memory of ever seeing them before in your life. Because by then so many guys had breathed on your neck, it wasn't even special anymore.

For the class final, we had to compete in a region-wide dance competition. One where people came from places like Las Vegas and Idaho, and had costumes worth more than 3 months of rent combined. We weren't competing in those levels (ha!), but in front of those judges. So there was pressure to not be awful.

One day in class, they told us to start thinking about who we wanted to be partners with. The tall girls couldn't compete as boys, so some of the tall boys would have more than one partner. In this kind of thing, people generally partner up with somebody about their own size, so I was looking at the shorter guys in the class. And none of them were amazing dancers. Except one.

That one had already been picked by the time I approached him (about 30 seconds after they told us to start considering). And it turns out the girl who got there first was very serious about it, because she even got engaged to him to secure her spot as his dance partner (I assume).

It was really awkward when I asked him, because he blushed bright red, coughed a little, and explained that he had already promised Shelly that he would be her partner for this competition and for life. He said it like he was letting me down easy, and was worried I would cry.

Silly boy. I'd been at BYU for 5 years. If half the class wasn't engaged by the end of the semester, to people they hadn't even met at the beginning of the term, then I wouldn't have recognized the place.

I turned away from that conversation ("No really, congratulations!!" mostly aimed at the fiance glaring at me from 5 feet away) and almost ran into that awkward guy from picture #2. Super nice, very funny, not a good dancer.

"So, Helena, I heard you don't have a partner? Want to dance with me?"

No. I didn't. Because as much as I like social dancing for the social part, I really love performing and doing well. But, what could I say? That my second choice was standing 10 feet behind him?

"Oh! Um, yeah. Totally." Crap.

For the next 5 weeks, we danced pretty much exclusively with our partner.

And I didn't know his name.

The first few months of class, I had been meeting and remeeting guys (and "guys") every 3 minutes. After the first few weeks, I didn't bother trying to remember names. Plus, I'm just bad with names in general. And sometimes faces. Remember the office intern?

But my partner remembered my name, and lots of details about me that I had probably mentioned in conversations (but as I had no memory of these conversation, he could have learned them through extensive stalking). I meant to ask his in the beginning, but it just never came up naturally. And no one ever said his name nearby. So week after week, this nameless partner continued to breath on my neck while I desperately tried to think of ways to get him to say his name.

When it started getting close to the competition, I suggested we meet outside class to practice. He had been improving, but not as fast as I needed him to.

"Here, put your info in my phone, so we can get together."

A few minutes later, he handed my phone back.


When I ran into him with a friend, I tried the old "Hi! This is my friend Caroline." And then waited for him to finish the introduction.

"Hi! I'm Helena's dance partner. You should come see us dance!" Then he ran off to class.

"Maybe we could have a team name! Let's combine ours!"

"Yeah, we can call it Herlanis!"


It was so, so awkward.

We got second place in the competition. They asked me to try out for the beginning ballroom team (but I was already winding down my college experience). I was really proud of how well we did.

But the thing that stands out the most? Is the fact that I danced with my partner every day for 3 months, and never learned his name.

Beat that, you guys. Beat that.

Friday, March 21, 2014

Dance party in my belly!

Yup, definitely 2am around here. This little guy is an all-night partier!

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Growls in both ears

The best part of sleeping with my girl is usually the cuddles. 

Tonight it was listening to her try and snore back at daddy. 

Growls in both ears. All night long.


Do your significant other's melodious noises keep you up at night? Or is there something else that drives you crazy?

Saturday, March 15, 2014

Nursing Aversion

I didn't get it. When people said they hated breastfeeding, and chose formula, I just couldn't understand. Even with all the painful issues we had to work through, bfing was always worth it for me. The bond, the health benefits, the convenience. I would not have traded that for anything.

(I debating posting this image. It's one of my favorites- but it features my boob. 
Awkward. Or not awkward? Maybe it shouldn't be awkward? 
So, to help normalize bf'ing, (as these ladies are trying to do) I decided to post it. 
And you can even pin it if you want to.)

But then she was 16 months old, and I was pregnant. I was shooting for 18m+, possibly going to try and tandem.

And I developed an aversion.

This wasn't like anything I could have imagined. On a chemical level, I absolutely abhorred nursing her. Every second. Every time. And I could not talk my way out of it. It became one of the worst experiences I've ever had.

I started resenting her in those moments, and neither of us deserved that- but especially not her.

So, we weaned.

It took a few hard weeks, but by the time she was 17 months or so, she never even asked for it anymore. 

She saw me topless today, and didn't care. And I love that. The pressure is gone. The dread and the revulsion that I had never expected to feel has been replaced with relief and happiness.

Hopefully in May my body will be ready again. And if it is, I will nurse for as long as I can- whether that's 4 months or 24.

But I will never again judge a mom who gives up on breastfeeding. If their bodies are reacting like that, if they hate it with every cell in them...then formula could save that relationship.

Or maybe their reasons for not nursing? The ones I was so quick to condemn? Are just something else that I can't understand. Too complicated, too different than my own experiences. Too foreign to me.

But not wrong.

The more I learn about being a mom, the more I realize I just don't know. I used to have all the answers- or if I didn't, it wasn't hard to find them. The answers used to be so obvious, I didn't understand how anyone could choose differently.

Now I look at moms whose kids are happy and loved, and I think "That? That is not easy." That is hard work and sacrifice and trying a million things until you figure out what is right for your family. And then facing a hundred people who think you've made the wrong choice, even though they are not you, and they just don't know.

Even the "right" answers aren't right for every family.


Did you give up on nursing? Or maybe you still breastfeed- and you are feeling pressured to stop?

What are the things you've had to let go of, that you always thought you would do differently- but the real life version of them just didn't work for you?

How has being a parent (or an aunt/uncle, or a friend to someone with a little kid) changed your perspective on parenting?

Thursday, March 13, 2014

Are You Pregnant??

Ha, I found this post in my drafts folder! I wrote it back in November.

It definitely isn't the worst story I have about this question. Remember that time the guy at church refused to believe I wasn't pregnant, even though I had only been married for a few months and was still years away from getting knocked up? Well, this is nowhere near as bad.

But still, pretty darn irritating.


Wow, I don't know how to feel about this question right now. I am, but I'm only 7 weeks- it isn't the baby making me look like that! A big burrito and a large soda would have had the same effect.

Last time I was about 17 weeks when my tummy had this shape. So, I get why you asked. But it's still frustrating.

Let's make a pact, you guys. Stop asking this. Unless you see the baby kicking, or the mother is standing in one of those classic pregnancy poses, or you can see the baby crowning.

Especially that last one.

Next time I'm going to say "Oh, no, I'm just bloated and really gassy."

And then we can all feel awkward together.


What are your experiences with this question? Have you ever been the one who asked, and then regretted it? Because, honestly, I have too.

Or do you have a question you dread more?

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

Scream It Out

I don't think "Cry It Out" really describes what just happened during nap time.

Saturday, March 8, 2014

Bums are ALWAYS funny

I didn't realize I was having a plumber moment, until I felt two little hands and heard her yell "Bummm!" 

Then she collapsed in a fit of giggles.

How are bums funny already? And who taught her that?

Kurt thinks maybe it's just a universal truth. "Bums are always funny."


Do you guys have any funny bum-related stories? I'd love to hear them!

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

Gender Disappointment

It was a crazy moment. He wasn't shy at all.


"Well...that's a boy all right."

I walked Kurt back to his office, and the whole way we were both just in shock.

"We are going to love him...right?"

"Yeah. We will. Probably?"

First of all, we are super grateful for this little guy. And he looks healthy, which is such a blessing.

But, you know how some moms just "know" what they are having? That was me. On a deep, instinctive, apparently non-existant level, I just "knew" we were having a girl.

People are so excited for us. Especially for Kurt. But really? He wanted a girl, too. A few weeks before we found out that this baby even existed, he had made this offhand comment:

"Syndil is so great. Let's just try to have only girls."

And he meant it.

"Ok, deal. I'll provide one x chromosome, if you provide the other."

Then we shook hands. With spit. 

I held up my end of the bargain.

Back when we found out that Syndil was a girl, Kurt was in shock for a few days.

"But... I don't know anything about little girls. I don't know how to be a dad to a little girl."

It didn't take her long to win him over.

So, we were in agreement. All girls, from now on. I was thinking somewhere from 3-5 of them. And he was open to that idea.

But now, those dreams have been scattered in the wind like tiny drops of boy-pee, shooting in every direction during a diaper change.

Not only will Syndil not have a sister close in age to her, but we are faced with the reality that she may never have a sister at all. It's possible, but not guaranteed. And that is a hard thing to think about.

Kurt and I are both sad. I know we will be happy once we get used to thinking about him as, well, him. And after he is born we won't be able to imagine our lives without him.

But for today? I miss the little girl I thought I was carrying.

Have you guys ever experienced gender disappointment?

If so, you might relate to this post about Gender Disappointment by The Badass Breastfeeder. I know I really did.

Monday, March 3, 2014

Code Red

Nothing like hearing "Code Red! Building ten!" over the loudspeaker during your Ob appointment- while you are IN building ten- to wake you up in the morning. It worked better than a shot of straight caffeine.

Kurt's response text:

"Code Red just means there is a fire. It happens like twice a week here."

Hospitals are never boring.


What is the weirdest thing that's ever happened to you in a hospital?

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...