May Is For Birthday

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 14, 2012 in Marriage, Motherhood | 1 comment

May is a pretty big month around here.

Not only do I have a special appreciation for the month of May–the flowers, the warm weather, summer just around the corner–but I happen to have brought two children into the world in May.

As well as been birthed myself.

And then there’s Mother’s Day, which sometimes falls on my birthday, making it a two-for-one and a special excitement for my husband.

And then there’s the remembrance of another special birthday in May–Lily’s birthday, a little girl who should have turned four today–now celebrating her birthday, as Ada described, “flying back home to see her mommy.” Justice for Lily has a new website up, so be sure to check it out and leave Lily a birthday message today. There are no words to express how much I, and I’m sure every mom who takes a minute of her day to read my blog, wishes Lily could be back in her mom’s arms. She was such as special little girl and Lauren has always been, and will continue to be, the most amazing mother I have ever met. Happy Birthday little Lily!

In other news, I haven’t really kept up on blogging lately because I’ve been working my pregnant buns off at the hospital, so here are some updates:

• I spent my birthday as a “free day,” courtesy of my mother-in-law. She picked up the girls for me and I had a whole day to do whatever I wanted. And the curious thing was–I couldn’t think of a darn thing to do. Isn’t that weird? How we mothers beg and hope for a day to ourselves, only to feel lost and miss the kids when they’re gone? I drove over to get a massage, only to have them tell me I wasn’t booked, even though I had called a few weeks ago. So I wandered around the mall, pretending my feet weren’t swollen so bad I could barely walk, and ended up buying clothes for the girls.

I know, it was kind of pathetic.

Things picked up after that though, when I got in for a glorious massage later in the afternoon,  followed by Ben standing me up for our half-off frappachino date at Starbucks. We hit up a movie, just because I haven’t been in like five years, and then had a lovely dinner with my parents and sister.

All in all, a very nice birthday. And I must say, turning 26 is the first time in my life I felt the creeping of age upon me. I know that I’m not really that old yet…but still, it’s like I’ve rounded a corner. Kind of like hitting the third trimester in pregnancy, I feel like I’m no longer counting up when it comes to birthdays….

Not to mention, it really puts the pressure on this whole “writing a book on young moms” thing–because I’d really like to get it out before I’m no longer a young mom!!

• I’m gearing up for the girls’ birthday party this weekend!We’re throwing a big pirate-themed birthday for them and I’m so excited. We have pirate hats, ring pop treasures, games, and an awesome treasure chest cake I am hoping I can pull off. It’s supposed to be gorgeous weather too, so I’m hoping it all turns out.
  

  Huh, huh?

• Still working on my book deal. This has turned out (surprise, surprise) to be a bit harder than I anticipated. The publisher wants a commitment of 4,000 sales before they will take me on….which feels, well, impossible. And slightly like begging. I am grateful to everyone who has supported me this far, so thank you everyone!
• I’m still pregnant. This probably doesn’t shock you, because you are on your computer and can’t see me, but if you were every other person that sees me at work or in the hospital, you would be just as shocked as they all are that 1) I am not due to July and 2) I am not having twins. Stupid people.
• I’m working hard to be more patient mom and wife. Lately, I just felt a little blah. I’m just tired and cranky more than usual, and sometimes, it’s hard to wake up and face the feeling of “what am I going to do all day with them” horror that seems to dawn. (Don’t lie–you know what I’m talking about!) Luckily, the girls have been getting a lot better at playing independently, which I was working towards, but in a strange twist of fate, I now feel guilty that I’m not playing with them enough. Sometimes I think there’s something wrong with me.
• We’re looking for a car. Like, now. I know I said I don’t want to be a mini-van mom. And I really don’t. At all, even though a lot of people think that’s ignorant. And it probably is. But there’s something about driving a minivan through high school that has scarred me forever. However, it’s getting to the point of desperation. We.just.need.a.car. Any car that will fit 3 car seats. If anyone knows of a good model, or if anyone is selling a car, please let me know!!

What are you plans for May? Anyone planning anything special? It just feels like a month to make things happen!

Early Mama’s 15 Ways To Better Wifedom

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 10, 2012 in Marriage | 3 comments

Remember my slightly rant-like posts on how my husband won’t change the toilet paper and my frustration with having to ask him for seemingly obvious things, like oh, hey–that naked child needs some clothes?

Well, as in many things, the wise Michelle Horton over at Early Mama inspired me with some great solutions to improve my marriage. Michelle ran a couple of great marriage-improvement posts, so I encourage you (and myself, ahem) to check them out. Michelle allowed me to post her simple, yet profound 15 Ways To Better Wifedom here, so enjoy!

 15 Ways To Better Wifedom by Michelle Horton

As I alluded to in my last post, being a wife is a lot different than I had imagined — 22 years old, standing in the courthouse with my 8-month-pregnant belly bulging from my brown dress. Just as every little girl dreams.

Three years later, I’ve learned a lot. Mostly that I still have a lot to learn.

As a girlfriend, you want to get comfortable, right? To make sure he’ll love you no matter what. He’ll say you look cute in sweats. He prefers you without makeup. You ask about exes and maybe even let your jealousy (or anger or any other unattractive emotion) go unchecked, juuuust to see what happens.

But as a wife, you suddenly realize that you’re going to grow old with this person — in all its wrinkled, sagging, grey-streaked glory. So why waste your youth in sweats? You suddenly realize that this person will be sitting across from you at the dining room table for the rest of your everloving life, so it’s more important to keep the peace than test your limits.

It’s hard to tell whether I’m learning how to be in a marriage or I’m learning how to be in an adult relationship — because they’re one in the same for me. And the pair of little eyes looking up at us, absorbing our words and habits as social norms, is even more reason to grow up. And fast.

At the risk of publishing something that I’ll laugh at it in 10 years (oh the naivety!), here are 15 things I do or think, in an effort to sustain my young marriage:

1. I freshen up my makeup before he comes home.

2. I’m very conscious not to say harsh, mean comments to him — even in the heat of the moment. Damaging his self-esteem has no place in our marriage, and I expect the same in return.

3. I’m also conscious not to say mean things about him to other people — especially friends. Girlfriends have a tendency to vent about their boyfriends, and then feel conflicted when their friends then hate their boyfriends. More than that, it’s a matter of respect.

4. Justin and I are very clear on being a United Front when it comes to Noah. No undermining, no badmouthing each other, no questioning the other’s authority, etc. I took this example from the Huxtables. I’m not even kidding.

5. I’m starting to accept his faults rather than dwell on them. There’s an interesting shift that happens when you realize that a situation isn’t going to change: you change the way you deal with the situation — proactively and logically. For me, that’s marriage. Quickly finding a solution instead of bitching and nagging. Or maybe that’s just growing up. Regardless, this has been a game changer for me.

6. I save my pretty dresses for when he’s home on the weekends. Not to impress him, but because I want to feel pretty around him. Looking good makes me feel good, which makes me a happier person to be with.

7. I make sure he’s heard. For a while Justin felt like his voice didn’t matter — especially when raising our son. Maybe it’s because we’re young, or maybe it’s just the personalities in my family, or maybe it’s just the realities of being a parent, but people haven’t been shy about voicing their opinions— whether it’s what kind of diapers we use or where we spend holidays. But it’s important that my loyalty is to my husband over my other family members, and to remember that we’re a partnership inside of the village-like team that’s taken to help us out. His voice needs to have just as much weight as my own. Period.

8. To keep our separate identities, separate interests, and separate opinions. I never want either of us to lose ourselves in the other, or to invest all of our happiness in each other. My happiness is entirely up to me. (So, so true! This one took me a few years to learn…)

9. One of the biggest changes happened when I stopped expecting things from him. I stopped expecting him to pick up his godforsaken clothes off the floor when the hamper is four steps to the left. I stopped expecting him to compliment me on my housework efforts. I stopped expecting him to split all of the chores and parenting responsibilities 50-50 down the middle. I do things for myself. (And the aha moment for me….can we get an amen??)

10. Along the same lines, I finally accepted that just because he doesn’t do things the way I want them done, or at the exact moment I want them done, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t do them well. This has been a huge thing for me to learn and accept, and it’s still an ongoing effort on my part.

11. I buy prettier things to wear to bed.

A little lace never hurt anyone, right?

12. He has strengths and I have strengths — in parenting as well as marriage — and just because they’re not the same doesn’t make them any less valid.

13. I’ve been recognizing my faults and working hard to be a better person — not just as a wife, or as a mother, but as a person. They mostly center on my control and stress issues, so I’m making a genuine effort — and that’s the best I can do.

14. I don’t care how much work I have to do, I can always spare time for some trashy Bravo with him. Always and forever. (Alone time in general is a top priority.)

15.  Be kind.

Of course I’m not a perfect wife or a perfect person. Some of these are works in progress — goals that I strive toward. But I’m trying. And even though marriage requires more of a conscious effort than I ever imagined, I think it ultimately can result in a healthier relationship and a healthier self. At least I’m hoping.

Genius, right? I loved this post, and I’m so happy to share it with you–thanks Michelle! Add your thoughts here–any advice on the marriage front?

Wanted: Housewife To Sort Pickles

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 8, 2012 in Feminisim | 0 comments

As seen in my local Sunday newspaper….no joke.

Part-Time Seasonal Workers Wanted

Part-time seasonal workers wanted for Hasbros Cucumber Products in assisting with sorting of cucumber products. Work is seasonal and will vary from week to week. We will call you the day before for your availability. We understand if you are unable to come every day and will call you again the next time. Wage is $9/hr. Job duties are sorting cucumber products and picking out the imperfect ones. Perfect opportunity for housewives.

Ah, but of course. Because there is no one better at brainless, low-paid, unpredictable and awful-smelling work than a housewife.

Classic.

Or should I say, Vlasic?

Ha.

Sort those pickles, ladies!

Do You Ask Your Husband For Help?

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 5, 2012 in Motherhood | 3 comments

In response to yesterday’s post, (which, yes, ok, I did feel a teensy bit guilty about writing. I love my husband, really, I do) a lot of people responded with that simple, age-old advice when it comes to husbands:

Tell him what you need. 

As one reader put it, “I agree with what Tara was suggesting about the whole asking him to do things for you. Because as much as we’d love for them to just know or assume they’ll pick up on something, it just isn’t going to happen.”

Now, I get this advice. I even agree with it. And I’ve gotten a lot better at just asking for what I need instead of stewing in steamed silence until I’d crack.

I’ll admit that when I first got married, I was terrible at this. I was terrible at communicating and “fighting fair.” My style of working things out was to break down into stony silence, denying anything was wrong, taking on the “poor me” martyr stance. Eventually, of course, that would backfire, as I’d blow up, we’d have a huge fight, and everything would come poring out at once, making no sense, and solving nothing.

So, I’ve learned, albeit slowly, to communicate better with my husband. To tell him, honestly and calmly, how I’m feeling about something, before it becomes an issue.

But I will also admit that I still struggle with the whole “asking for help” thing. 

Because honestly?

A part of me feels like I spend all day directing small people and asking them to do things (please don’t jump on the chair, please help Mama pick up your toys, please don’t stuff your sister in that closet) and trying to guide their behavior.

So sometimes, when he comes home, the last thing I feel like doing is acting the same with him. 

I find myself wanting a partner in all of this, and not someone who I have to remind to replace the toilet paper, or ask to change the baby’s diaper, or direct to fetch this or that for dinner.

It just feels a bit too much like mothering, you know? And those things–those small things that make up our daily life–clothing children, picking up the house, filling empty soap dispensers–don’t feel like they should be necessarily “my” things that I need to “ask help” for.

But, as we all know, they are.

Deep down, I get it. I get that we all know that men just won’t realize that the baby has just pooped, and the toddler has stripped naked and that dinner is burning and that the babysitter cancelled and we both have to work tomorrow and that we have no food left in the house.

Believe me, I get it.

But then another part of me wonders–are they like that because we let them be?

Because they simply don’t have to worry about all of that stuff–because we always do it? Or direct them to do it?

Perhaps, like a lot of things, I am thinking too deeply about this. Realistically, I know I’d probably be a lot happier if I just let it all go and asked for the stinken toilet paper next time. And I’m sure I probably will. I’ll get over it.

But sometimes, I just can’t help but wonder….

Maybe these men folk are a lot smarter than they let on…

See what I mean? Watching children while enjoying a cool beverage...genius.

When Your Husband Is Too Comfy With You At Home…

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 4, 2012 in Motherhood | 5 comments

So lately I haven’t been working at the hospital all that much. I’ve been picking up a lot of “on-call” shifts, meaning I agree to be available if they need me, and they agree to pay me extra to come within an hour’s notice. It’s a nice arrangement if I can arrange the right babysitter. But of the past 4 days I picked up call, I’ve only been called in once. Which means…

I’ve been at home a lot the past weeks.

And I’m seeming to notice–and feel free to correct me if I’m wrong here–that my husband tends to get pretty comfy pretty quickly with me being a “stay at home” mom. Like he gets pretty comfortable with the house always being clean, dinner always ready, cupboards and pantries always stocked, with me being available 24/7 for him to get his work done.

It seems he is pretty quick to forget what life is “normally” like with me working more.

You know what I mean? When we are both working, we are both pitching in on all the household and kid stuff, simply because we have to.

But as soon as I’m home…

Everything is done for him.

Take last night, for instance. He had to take his daily bathroom break (which, conveniently, is always immediately following dinner, precisely when clean-up occurs. Whadya make of that??) but there was no toilet paper left downstairs. He trekked upstairs and returned in what felt like two hours later…empty handed. By that time, of course, I had to pee, as it had been precisely 0.2 seconds since I last peed, so I asked him,

“Oh, did you bring some toilet paper down?”

He stared at me.

“No, it was out, so I went upstairs.”

I stared at him.

“Right, which is why I asked if you brought some down on your way down…”

Comprehension dawned.

“Oh. Yeah, no I didn’t.” He scratched his head. “Sorry.”

It’s a little thing, I know. But last night, at that moment, it felt like an example of the two world we live in. The worlds of him doing his “part” by working and me taking care of the rest…

I know part of my disgruntlement has been bad weather and grumpy kids and me feeling like total crap. But tell me–does anyone else ever feel this way? Like how hard is it to refill the toilet paper when it’s out? Especially for your pregnant wife who 1) has to pee all the time and 2) so she doesn’t have to climb the stairs to go and get it?

Which brings me to my other point of frustration–

I feel like my husband totally forgets I’m pregnant.

Last night, after I got the kids cleaned up in the shower with me (don’t judge me, I was tired, ok?) I hunched over on our bed and asked if he would rub a sore spot on my back. I’ve been having some kind of horrible hip/back pain and it makes it hard to walk…last night I was virtually in tears it was hurting so bad.

So I asked if he would rub it for me. He ignored me, which just ignited my grumpiness.

I thought of all of the times he has sat on the couch while I bent over, vacuuming up the remnants of dinner with the little hose thingy, the sighs he lets out if I ask him to fetch me something so I don’t have to get up, the instances when something would drop between us, and he would stare at me, waiting for me to bend over and pick it up.

I felt myself growing angrier and angrier. 

Then I thought of his brother, expecting his first baby with my sister-in-law, who at 21 weeks, looks like she has eaten a large sandwich, and how I watched him tenderly help her up each and every time she had to stand during church; meanwhile, my husband stood by in blissful ignorance as I tried to kneel while simultaneously holding Mya and trying to keep her from jumping over the balcony.

I thought of all the husbands and partners I have seen at the hospital, lovingly rubbing their feet and backs, involved in every aspect of their labor–in contrast to my husband’s farm upbringing and his comparisons of me to a cow about to birth.

I thought of the other night, when I was (again) complaining of how much this spot on my hip/back area hurt, and he, in response, asked,

“Well, honey, how do older women do this? You’re like falling apart and your body is meant to do this like every year.”

So I did as any rational, tired, fat, pregnant woman would do and burst into tears.

And he laughed at me.

It doesn’t seem fair that I should have to go to work in order to fix things, does it? Being here with the kids and taking care of the house (and stocking toilet paper) is just as hard at working at the hospital….so why the subtle shift in our marriage when I’m not working as much?

Sure doesn't feel like this anymore....

Any other moms notice this in their marriage? Am I imagining things in my hormonal brain? I know it doesn’t help things to feel sorry for myself or compare my life, but I am struggling a bit with this right now…something just feels off, you know?

Anyone have any advice on this?

Make Your Own Super-Easy Bath Paint

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 3, 2012 in Arts & Crafts Corner | 2 comments

I have another Pinterest great for ya.

Easter Bunny searched around for some bath paint for the girls for Easter. And by “searched around” I mean quickly cast a glance over the bath/arts aisles while grocery shopping for them, quite unsuccessfully.

So it’s been something on the back of mind for them. (That Easter Bunny is so smart!) I saw some pictures on Pinterest and thought it looked like fun. Although I didn’t actually read any of the instructions, (the Easter Bunny is also a little short on time) I figured it couldn’t really be that hard.

The secret ingredient of the Pinterest bath paint?

Shaving cream!

Genius, as all Pinterest products are.

So we took some old plastic containers, the girls sprayed generous amounts of shaving cream into them, and then we mixed in some food coloring–and voila! Instant, washable bath paint. Love it!

The girls had a blast, and it was so easy.

A few drops and mix!

The final products. Ada is so thrilled.

We made ours in the morning and stashed them into the fridge until bath time. Great fun had by all!

My Husband Thinks I’m Beautiful. Why Don’t I?

Posted by Tiny Blue Lines on May 2, 2012 in Motherhood | 4 comments

I’m working hard today on my book proposal (woohoo!), so here’s a little re-run for you–my guest post from Side of Sneakers, an awesome blog with a mom who can seriously leave some dust on the road (she’s a runner!). Be sure to check her out!

The other day, I stood in the bathroom, getting ready to hop in the shower before I turned into bed for the night. As I turned to remove my earrings, my husband happened in.

Stopping dead in his tracks at all my naked pregnant glory, he kissed my shoulder and said simply, “Wow. You’re beautiful.”

Disdainfully, I shrugged him off. “Yeah, right. Stop it.”

Sighing at this all-too-typical exchange, he trudged out of the bathroom, leaving me alone and feeling guilty.

Why is my response to my husband always the same? I am lucky enough to have a husband who tells me, almost daily, that he thinks my six-month pregnant self is beautiful—so why can’t I believe him?

The simple truth of the matter is, my husband thinks I’m beautiful.

But I don’t.

Sexy mama? Um, no...

I know it’s bad for our marriage. With every kiss I brush off or compliment I vehemently deny, I am hurting not only my husband, but myself, and my daughters too.

Why is it so hard? Why can’t I believe that he thinks I’m beautiful? I know he is sincere. For some crazy reason, he really thinks I am the most beautiful woman in the world. I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me, but it certainly isn’t the mess of stretch marks, back fat, and loose, saggy skin that I see when I look in the mirror.

I grew up with a mother with chronically low self-esteem. In fact, I’m pretty sure almost every single female member of my family has displayed the same behavior I now exhibit. My childhood was filled with a litany of bodily complains from my mother and aunts…

“I’m so fat.”
“Oh, stop, no you’re not, I’m the fat one! Look at these rolls!”
“Please. Do you know how much I weigh right now? Do you??”

It was a constant, constant back-and-forth. A sworn oath to diet and exercise one day, a binge and remorseful body bashing the next.

There was never a healthy body image or appreciation for the female form in my household. And while I’ve tried to combat that now as a grown woman and mother, with exercising (I just ran my first 10 mile race this summer!) and introducing fresh and healthy foods to the girls, I still find myself focusing, over and over, on the flaws of my body.

-My arms are too big.
-My stomach, no matter what I do, or how much weight I lose, will never shake its bariatric-surgery-rolls of loose-flesh-hanging look.
-My legs have cellulite for the first time in my life.
-My hair is flat and thin.
-I’m pretty sure I have a double chin.
-I have one black hair that insists on growing right on the bottom of my chin, threatening to turn me into that old lady in the nursing home, sporting whiskers and yelling at people from my wheelchair.

Why can’t I see past the imperfections of who I am?

I am not my arms, or my stomach, or my cellulite-y legs; I am not even the whisker on my chin.

I am more than that.

I am a mother.

I am a sister.

I am a daughter.

I am a wife who is beautiful in her husband’s eyes.

Maybe you’re not like me; maybe you always believe it when someone compliments you. Maybe you don’t push your husband away when he comes home and you’re covered in milk, baby poop, spit-up and the remnants of your toddler’s lunch.

But just in case…

Here is my challenge to you:

The next time your husband, your boyfriend, your partner, or even a stranger compliments you, do not, I repeat, do not, deny, protest, or otherwise reject the compliment. Instead, I want you to try the two following simple tasks:

1. Say “thank you.”
2. Believe it.

Because we all really are beautiful. Whiskers and all.