Through Gritted Teeth I Play Ana

Guest submission by Alisha.

Dear Diary,

At 6 in the morning, Rayne will wake up with 11 demands, not realizing that her Mommy was up every hour nursing her baby brother since midnight. After cooking breakfast for her, I will feed Silas, who will then spit up in my hair, on the couch, on the dog, or all of the above. After cleaning the dog/couch/eggs from the dining room table, I will battle with my daughter to brush her teeth and hair and get dressed ("I don't like pants! I don't like shorts!"). I would have laid the baby in one of the play apparatuses we purchased that he despises, so I have about 10 seconds before he screams bloody murder to brush my teeth and hair, put on deodorant, and find an outfit that both fits me and allows me to nurse in until the next time I'm spit up on and am forced to change. Next, I will read 10 stories with my daughter who interrupts and corrects me on every page. A sip of ice cold coffee that was once upon a time hot will get me through the hardest part of the day: Rayne's free play time. I will attempt to feed/cuddle/play with the baby all the while remaining patient with her couch acrobats, high pitched screams, and dumping her toys all over the living room. After all, I am supposed to "not say no", "say yes more", "ignore the mess", or any other phrase used to guilt moms. One of the flips Rayne did will undoubtedly result in an injury and require lots of kisses and wiped off tears, which will mean independent play is done, I guess. Next, we will transition to one of the art or science activities I prepared the night before in my free time, in which Rayne will most likely complain about, causing another discussion on being grateful. "What is grateful?" "Oh, you mean that thing we talk about every single day?" Forget about pooping alone. I will nurse Silas while pooping. Then, on this particular day, it is ballet class, a notion that I am entirely too thrilled about getting out of the house for. After lugging the 30 pounds of baby + car seat, the slowpoke 3-year-old, and diaper bag a mile from the parking lot, I feel relief. This is where I get a break, where Rayne will be safe inside a dance studio, interacting with children, and I get to sit down! Wait, no. Silas will wake up screaming (after screaming the entire time in the car, of course), wanting to nurse, so I will seek out a deserted hallway to pull my boob out while the ballet moms rally against Planned Parenthood or gay marriage or human rights. Passersby will shoot me dirty looks at me FEEDING MY CHILD, as I'm sure they would rather me go in a bathroom and do it. After ballet, we will make the trek back to the car with the howling baby while Rayne asks me where I'm taking her for lunch (for the record, I've never taken her to lunch after ballet), and feels cheated at the idea of eating lunch at home. Once home, after trying to prepare her lunch in 30 seconds while the baby cries out in starvation, I will find myself saying "Please keep your fork out of your pants" and other sentences I never thought I would utter. Even though Rayne will take an extraordinary amount of time to finish her lunch, it is still too early for nap, so we will do a math or writing activity. Silas will wake up in the middle of the activity and require being held, so I will somehow bounce him on my knees while counting/sorting/making patterns with Rayne.

Then, finally, it has arrived. Nap time! After cleaning the booger stained toilet paper all over the bathroom floor and calling insurance companies, I will pee for the first time in hours. Upon settling on the couch comfortably with a sleeping baby, the dog will bark. Or - my personal favorite - Rayne somehow won't be feeling tired on this day, so she will get up constantly or shout at the top of her lungs and kick the wall, any of which will wake her brother. This will go on for about an hour until I finally give up hope of her taking a nap. Daddy will call (yes! a grownup) with the dreaded news that he won't be home until around 6, another 12-hour day. Rayne will come out of her room asking if she gets candy (huh?) and throwing her Barbie at me, proclaiming that I'm Ana and she's Elsa. Remembering all the studies I've read about the importance of make-believe play, through gritted teeth I play Ana trapped in the ice castle, attempting to create scenarios from my sleep and caffeine deprived brain that will simultaneously meet the master's approval. I will then suggest outside time, which includes two options: 1) chalk on the 6 foot slab of concrete that we call a front porch or 2) strap a flailing Silas to me and take Rayne for a bike ride around the complex. The backyard (a.k.a. Poop Graveyard) is not an option. Due to the amount of crackheads asking for money or fighting in the street, I will suggest going inside. This will be matched by the always bi-polar Rayne, who will either tell me that I'm mean or say "Ok, Mommy" so sweetly. It will be time to prepare dinner, so naturally, it will have to wait until I feed Silas. After pooping up his back, he will happily sit in his jungle chair long enough for me to pull the meat out of the fridge. He will cry while Rayne climbs the armoire or presses buttons repeatedly on the cooler. She will help me get dinner started but will be mad at me for not allowing her to stir boiling hot rice or veggies by herself. Dinner will be ready, which means I get to eat on the couch while nursing Silas and feeling guilty for Rayne sitting by herself. Then, my favorite sound on planet earth will ring through the air: Daddy's work truck reversing into his parking spot! After dinner, it will be shower time for Rayne and I, which means meltdown city. I will floss/brush her teeth, wash her body/hair, leaving me 3 inches of shower to stand in and scrub food, dirt, spit up, pee, poop, and sweat off of my post partum body, the same body that Rayne asks if still pregnant every day. Once I get Rayne dressed and brush her hair, Daddy will read and I will either do the dishes or - you guessed it - feed the baby! We will tuck Rayne in with two songs and 4 "I need a hug"s, after which I will alternate feeding Silas and folding laundry for the following hour. I will finally get to put on that TV show I've been wanting to watch, but I will pass out within the first 7 minutes. Don't worry, though, I will catch the ending spoiler when Silas wakes me up by punching me in the eye.

                              Honestly, Mommy

**About Alisha**
My name is Alisha. I'm 26, married, and have a almost 4-year-old and a 4 month old. Currently, I'm a SAHM, but my background is in early childhood education and speech/language development. I've recently taken up wine and fleeing to my bedroom to count to 10, but the kids always find me there!

Thank God they gave me Xanax

Guest submission by Jessica Berard.
Jan 12, 2016

Dear Diary,

Where do I even begin? The twins are almost 4 months old and holy shit has time gone by...way...too...fast!! I feel like it was just yesterday I was going to my 35 week OB appt and heard my doctor mutter the words "you have developed pre eclampsia and need to have these babies today!"  Do you know how freaking scary it is going in for a routine appointment, to then find out you'll be ending up in the hospital where your life is about to change?! Not many people know my delivery story, why? Because it's dramatic, and scary, and NOT picture perfect like all moms wish for.

I got to triage just minutes after my doctor muttered those awful words (thank goodness the hospital was right across the street) and had to sit there for 8 long hours.  Everyyyy single room in L&D was full, I mean come on, I was terrified as shit, and couldn't even be in a nice big delivery room.  I had eaten breakfast that morning so my doctor had me wait 8 hours before my surgery in the event I needed general anesthesia - those were the LONGEST 8 hours I have ever experienced.  Anxious that my blood pressure was high, anxious that I would become paralyzed from the spinal, anxious that my babies would come out and need NICU time since they were preterm.  On top of those fears, I started having contractions and holy shit balls, they were painful. I do NOT know how women give birth naturally, I'd probably pass out from the pain, and I give you natural birth mamas MAJOR props.

Around 3:30pm the nurses wheeled me into OR prep, hooked me up to tons of fluids, put the compression machine on my calves to prevent clots, and proceeded asked me a million questions.  Nurses kept coming in and out like I was a damn celebrity.  The anesthesiologist finally came in {thank goodness because I had a million questions} and in my fear mode I asked him how many times he'd done this and if anyone had ever become paralyzed (< was such a legit fear of mine). Apparently that was an amusing question because he instantly started laughing like I was some dramatic idiot lol Once he explained everything and reassured me he was a pro, they wheeled me into the OR (which for the record is small as shit unlike what you see on TV shows - can you say claustrophobic?!?) and prepped me for my spinal...and guess what?! I survived the spinal and didn't die or become paralyzed like I thought - although once it kicks in it's the scariest feeling in the world being numb from the chest down.  They finally let my husband in the OR, and then the swarm of help arrived.  There could very well have been more that I didn't see, but there was for sure: one NICU doctor, 4 NICU nurses, two surgical nurses, three OBs, the anesthesiologist, and a nurse who was shadowing.  The procedure begin and took what felt like forever for me to hear baby cries.  Kenneth came out first screaming balls to the wall, and a minute later I saw little Alice..but there was no sound.  I have never been more scared in my life.  So helpless.  She had swallowed fluid on the way out and was born not breathing, but within a minute (or less) the NICU doctor had her breathing (and screaming!) thank goodness.  And yes, it's true, you do bawl when you hear your babies cry for the first time - it's pure joy! I will say, the c section was NOT easy though - I got violently sick from low blood pressure, couldn't feel myself dry heaving (attractive huh?) and even after four anti-nausea injections nothing helped so the doctor was use suction in my mouth like dentists use lol. The NICU Doctor took the babies and then my doctors finished and wheeled me into recovery where I got MORE anti nausea medication and something to stop me from shaking uncontrollably.

At 7pm the nurses had turnover, and at 730pm I was wheeled into the NICU where the babies were being monitored.  There is nothing scarier than the NICU by the way - babies everywhere that were so small and helpless, & parents who were exhausted and emotionally drained.  The nurses wheeled me up to Alice first and all I could do was smile from ear to ear (I didn't even cry which was surprising).  She was only hooked up to a BP cuff and ekg leads and was perfect, I mean there is no words to describe how she looked.  The nurse asked if I wanted to hold her and I was so scared of "breaking" her - she was only 4lb12oz and 18" at birth.  BEST moment of my life and I did not want to give her back to the NICU nurse.  Kenneth was in the next room over and was just as perfect - 6lb8oz and 20.5" of perfection!  Let me tell you too...you love your husband a lot before children, but that love grows substantially when you see him hold his children for the first time! ❤.

They made me leave to go into my postpartum recovery room, but assured me the babies were well enough to be transferred to my room later that night.  Do you know how amazing that is?! They were born at 35w2d and only needed 7 hours of NICU monitoring...that almost NEVER happens to preterm babies! Go me for growing them so well ahaha 😊

They brought them to our room around 11pm that night and I was freaking exhausted but my husband and I held them like the night would last forever.  We got absolutely ZERO sleep, and it sucked to function, but it was all worth it.  We had visitors starting the next day (in laws and my parents) and it was overwhelming as hell.  The mamma bear in me kicked in and I didn't want ANYONE holding the babies.  I know that sounds so f*ed up but they were mine and I didn't want to share.

Wednesday (two days post delivery) all was fine and well until I got up to walk the halls.  I made it to the end of the hallway, and then felt like I was going to pass out.  Went back to my room where I had visitors and the nurse checked my BP.  Guess what?! It was back up to the 160s/100.  I instantly went into panic mode.  In my mind, I was about to die - okay, that may be a bit dramatic, but really, I thought for sure I was going to die.  My blood pressure had not only spiked, I was starting to become hyper-reflexive, was shaking uncontrollably (from the nerves and high BP) andddd after bloodwork, found out my liver/kidney values were screwed up.  The nurses consulted with my OB and attempted oral blood pressure meds, which weren't working, then turned to IV blood pressure meds which worked for like an hour.  I tried so hard to remain calm until the next morning when they said my OB would stop by.  When you're in that state you want to see you OB calm.  Well, holy shit, when even your OB is worried who wouldn't freak the f out! 😕. She increased my meds, and told me she'd check back on Friday, and that's just what happened...

She came back Friday morning and my BP was not coming down and I was having bad side effects of the pre eclampsia.  I was sent immediately to L&D where I had a catheter placed and was started on the dreaded magnesium sulfate for 24 longgggg hours.  It's serious when they start that...why you ask?! It's the drug they turn to to prevent seizures which can lead to...DEATH 😞 For those that have never experienced it - be glad, VERY glad! That shit messes you up big time...you can't walk, can't comprehend anything happening around you, can hardly open your eyes, and you feel shitfaced drunk.  That's NOT how I imagined spending my time in the hospital and I was scared to death.  I couldn't stop crying, and was so anxious (thank god they gave me Xanax lol).  I couldn't even hold my newborn babies for fear of dropping them.  Thank the lord for my husband.  That man did EVERYTHING for those babies while I was praying {hard} that I wasn't going to die and leave my husband a single dad.

Saturday morning they checked my BP and it had come down (although still high) so they shut off the magnesium, rechecked labs (which hadn't gone up, but also had not changed) and told me I wasn't going home!! This was day 6 for me in the hospital and I wanted to get the hell out of there!!  I kept taking my meds as directed and late that afternoon my BP had somewhat stabilized. I begged my doctor to let me leave - I'm pretty sure she felt sorry for me, because she ACTUALLY approved me to be discharged.  It was lateeeee Saturday night that we left but lordy lord it was amazing to see the outside of a hospital and be on our way home.

The first month at home with the twins was so fucking hard (excuse my language).  They were never on the same schedule, slept for what felt like 5 minutes, were sooooo clingy and I was overwhelmed.  I'd go in the bedroom and just bawl hysterically.  Thank goodness my husband had 40 days off or I truly would've had a mental breakdown and developed PPD.

Like I said earlier, they're almost four months old now and they're starting to get fun.  They're not just blobs anymore - they smile and coo when you talk to them, play on their activity mats, and {for the most part} we've been lucky enough to have them sleeping ~6 hours straight at night.

Looking back, I hated my delivery story and those first moments the babies were born, but I have God to thank because he brought them into this world with grace, made sure they were healthy, and most of all, made sure I pulled through my recovery safely.  My story isn't picture perfect, and some will feel sorry for me, but don't, it's a huge part of my life that I'll never get to experience again so I take it now with a grain of salt.

Here's to good, bad, happy, and sad of motherhood!! <3
                            Honestly, Mommy

I just want to be left alone..

Guest submission by Olivia Wilkes

January 9, 2016

Dear Diary,

Another glorious morning…makes me sick!” Seriously, my mantra of the morning. Having to wake up before the ass crack of dawn is getting really fucking old. We need a new vehicle. W2’s hurry your ass up. Not to mention my head has been killing me since last night. I thought sleep was supposed to help that? Apparently not because all day I have felt like I have an elephant inside of my head slowly crushing every inch of my brain. After we dropped Garrett off the kids and I came home and I cocooned myself in my heated blanket and vowed to not emerge for the rest of the day. Then it hit me: I’m a mom. There is no break, there is no peace, there is no crawling into a dark place and sleeping off the major migraine. In fact, after letting me doze in and out of consciousness for a good 45 minutes, the trio decided it would be a great idea to throw me a concert. With every noisy ass toy we own; right next to my head. What.the.fuck?! Luckily my kids can be pacified with food. Making them a snack bought me 15 minutes of silence..well at least the closest thing to silence I could get. Then, the unthinkable happened. BOTH boys went down for a nap. B.O.T.H boys. Chubba hasn’t napped since we left Tucson, it was a fucking miracle, and just to prove the napping God’s were shining down on me singing ‘Hallelujah!’ the boys slept for three and a half hours. OVER.THREE.HOURS. I’m almost scared to say it out loud, for fear that it may be a dream. Princess on the other hand. She puts the fucking Energizer Bunny to shame. People always joke that children siphon their energy from their parents, but with this child I seriously think it’s true. I love her to death, but some days (especially days like today), she is like that overly preppy girl in the movies (like Patty Simcox from Grease) that you just want to punch in the face. I couldn’t do it. I guess my saving grace was that I was in so much damn pain that I didn’t have the energy to lose my shit on her. So, that made two good things for the day: nap for the boys, and I actually held my composure and didn’t lose my shit. When Chubba and the Boob Monster finally woke up, Chubbs still wasn’t feeling well. Poor kid has been sick for the last few days. So when he wanted to cuddle I was all over it, especially since it meant I didn’t have to leave my beloved spot on the couch that I had pretty much melted into.

After an hour or so of cuddling I realized I had totally failed at life today, and didn’t accomplish any sort of house work. Sometimes, being anal retentive about how my house looks gets really fucking old. Can I just take one fucking day and be a lazy sack of shit?! Nope. After unloading the dishwasher and washing the few dishes in the sink, I realized I had only fed Princess lunch today. Fuck, mommy fail. Looking at the clock on the stove I realized it was already 3:30, too late to feed the boys lunch. Food: SHIT, I didn’t plan anything for dinner either. Parenting Level: fucking awful. Thankfully I had ground beef that I needed to cook, but what to make with it? I didn’t want to spend any significant amount of time in the kitchen cooking. Tater tot casserole. Sold! I even made a healthy version of it, because, again, I’m so fucking neurotic sometimes I can’t just make a meal full of chemicals for my kids. Organic it was (well, mostly. **Note to self, find organic tater tots). Dinner made and cleaned up, magic popcorn made, and the older two kids in bed; I saw freedom. Made myself a hot tottie and curled back into my spot on the couch with the Boob Monster and tried to get him to sleep. Fifteen minutes. That’s all it took for Boob Monster to decide he was exhausted but didn’t want to sleep. WHY!? I.WANT.TO.BE.ALONE. GO THE FUCK TO SLEEEEEEP KID! So now, here I sit, boob in Boob Monsters mouth, yet again- for the 10th time in an hour, trying-begging-pleading-bribing, to get him to go to sleep. I tell myself he is only nursing so much because he is teething, and it won’t last forever. I wanted him to make it a year, and we’ve gone past that. But, damn, I just want to be left alone for a bit. I need time to decompress. But that doesn’t seem like it will happen today. So here I sit bitching to you, diary, crying on the inside from being touched out, and mentally fist pumping the fact that Chubba took a long nap, and the fact that all three kids survived today. Maybe tomorrow my Parenting Level will be raised to amateur. Here’s to hoping.

                                             Honestly, Mommy

**a little about Olivia**
I am a mom to three: Princess: age 4, Chubba: age 2, and Boob Monster: age 1 (yes, they are nicknames: no, I am not one of 'those people' who give my kids weird ass names). As of now I am a stay at home mom, however, I just finished my Bachelors Degree- so I suppose I need to join the adult world and find a job soon. I love crafting: using my silhouette, sewing, embroidery, etc. Which mainly consists of me cursing out my machines for not being able to figure out exactly what I am doing. Reading is another hobby, it allows me to escape. I am neurotic about cleaning and my house being clean, it sucks. My family has recently moved to Montana, for my husband's job, which takes him away for four days at a time. Upside to this: my alcohol tolerance is becoming a champ! Even though I like seeing how my liver can withstand different concoctions, I like to hook mostly healthy. Non-processed foods, organic, and as natural as I can find it...unless it's chocolate, then I don't care, I'll eat Hershey's all day!

"Bye Felicia" - JJ

Dear Diary,

JJ is 2 now. TWO. He’s a badass little dude. He’s also a little shit. Everyone says 3 is worse than 2 and I just cannot handle that information right now. Where did my sweet baby go?! I now have this little boy with a big attitude, a big vocabulary, and a banshee scream that makes anyone within ear shot want to claw their eyes out. I really feel like I need to write about this right now.  I have been “bye Felicia’d” by my own child! I tried to get him to come in the house while Josh was grilling, he pushed me in side, told me “bye” and then shut the door..in my face. Is this real life? What the fuck. If you tell him not to do something he looks at you, nods his head, and says “ok?” Not cute, “yes, I understand mama.” It’s a mocking, finishing my sentence, neck role, “ooookaaaayy?” Asshole.  Nothing makes you feel as low as a toddler smacking you across the face. Parental abuse is real. I am a victim. He likes to test the limits. He likes to see how close he can get his feet to Rowan before I tell him not to kick, how hard he can “honk” her nose before I tell him to stop, how loud he can scream in her face before I grab him and tell him to stop being a little shit head to his sister. Yes, I cuss at my kids. I have no shame. Toddlerhood has been a challenge for me. I specifically remember disliking kids at this age when I was not a mom. Sadly, that dislike has not completely gone away. Don’t judge me, this is my diary. I love him, duh. And I like him most of the time. If you have a toddler then don’t kid yourself, these feelings are familiar to you. I will say, I’m proud of the little boy JJ is becoming. He’s smart, and head strong. He knows what he wants and when he wants it. These are amazing qualities to have when he’s older. Right now, it’s a huge pain in the tit.

                                                  Honestly, Mommy

Sometimes I get this JJ

Most of the time it's this JJ. This was Christmas morning by the way. Yea.

Cloth Diaper experience

Some of you were following my journey into the cloth diaper world a.k.a. the dark side, so I wanted to give an update.

IT'S AMAZING! I thought we were just going to dabble and cloth part time. We quickly switched to full time and use a disposable at night. I am a little intimidated by cloth diapering overnight, but I've been looking into combinations that will reduce the chance of leaks. Disposables can hold a lot more than a cloth diaper can unless you can figure out a perfect combo. Right now, I'm in no mood to change pjs at 3 am because she leaked through her diaper.. im too tired.

 I sold most of my disposables, I kept enough diapers to go a few months in each size if I just use them at night. Letting those diapers go was sooo fucking hard. I cried. I worked so hard couponing and working deals to build that stash and it was spectacular. I now realize I had an unhealthy attachment to my sposies (term used by cloth diaper moms for disposables)

I have had to learn a lot of new lingo in order to understand what the hell everyone was talking about when I started asking questions. It was an insane couple of days when I first started looking into it. I asked questions in mommy groups, watched a million YouTube videos, read some blogs.. I quickly became obsessed.

The hardest part of cloth diapering is figuring out a wash routine to keep your diapers clean, without smell, and so they last until potty training. It's not as simple as just throwing them in the wash. I have had to test my water for hardness (my water is basically rocks) so that I could find a detergent and booster that will get my diapers clean and keep Rowan from getting rashes. Thanks to the help from a "professor" at Fluff Love University my wash routine is easy and simple. Prewash with 1/2 cup borax & line one of Tide powder, main wash 1/2 cup borax & line 3 of Tide. Another tricky part was getting my water- to-cloth ratio correct. It's called a "stew". I need to make sure I don't have too much water and my diapers are swimming (soup) or too little water that the diapers arnt moving (chili). I need a perfect amount of water (stew) so that my diapers are agitating properly and rubbing each other clean. Come to find out I've been over sizing my regular laundry as well and wasting water! Who knew?!

Diaper stew

My favorite type of cloth diapers are prefolds and flats with a cover which are the more traditional or old school type of cloth. I really enjoy the different types of folds and that I can use just 2 covers all day. I can also push a diaper change to 3 hours if she's in a prefold. It holds way more than a pocket diaper. I was really surprised that i like prefolds and flats so much because it is the polar opposite of disposables. I thought for sure I'd prefer a pocket diaper or all in one system. I do really like pockets for quick changes and when leaving the house  and they are easy for Josh to change. I have also noticed that there are waaaay more cute prints in pockets than in covers.

I haven't noticed a difference in effectiveness between the brands I have tried. We haven't had any leak issues with bumGenius  (high end expensive) or with SunBaby or Alva (China cheapies) I prefer the SunBaby brand because of affordability and they are sooo freaking cute! They also have a strip of PUL on the inside which keeps Rowan's onsies from wicking up pee while she sleeps on her tummy. All of my covers are Alva and I think they are better than the Thirsties brand. They are thicker and the double gusset around the thighs looks more comfortable for Rowan's chunkiness! If you arnt familiar with cloth diapers you probably have no fucking clue what I just said. Haha!


My stash consists of 6 cloth-eez small prefolds, 5 flour sack towels  (flats), 5 Alva covers, 3 Alva pockets, 15 SunBaby pockets, and one bumGenius pocket. I have 2 pail liners, 2 wet bags, and a few snappies (modern version of a safety pin for flats and prefolds). I also have extra microfiber/Bambi blended inserts and charcoal inserts.

Just missing a few dirties. 

 I will need medium prefolds soon and plan to get a few more flats and covers. When Rowan starts solids I'll need a diaper sprayer which i plan on making myself. Right now her breastmilk poo is water soluble and doesn't need to be rinsed before washing. I know it sounds gross but that's what the pre wash is for. It's a light wash with a little detergent to get the pee and poop all rinsed away so that your main wash can be done in clean water. You can't expect your diapers to be clean if you wash them in shitty pee water. Ew.

I have spent roughly $200 on my stash so far. Which none of it came out of pocket since I had $300 worth of disposables that I sold and used to buy my diapers. Hold on... 😭 ok. Im over it. My cloth diapers are much prettier and i actually find some satisfaction in washing them and putting them away instead of throwing them away. With my sposies (such a cute name!) I would throw them away and watch my supply dwindle and feel so much anxiety at the end of a pack. Like I said, unhealthy attachement. With my cloth I get to stare at them and know they won't ever leave me! I have enough diapers to cloth full time and go 2.5-3 days without washing. Im told you don't want to go more than 3 days between washing no matter how many diapers you have. 

Sooooo pretty

Overall, I'm kicking myself for not knowing about Facebook groups when pregnant with JJ. I just Googled it and was so overwhelmed with all the information so I just said fuck it. I've always wanted to cloth and after meeting some other mamas who clothed and seemed to really love it I started to think about it again. I reached out and was walked through the process by other cloth diapering mamas. I am so appreciative of all the mamas who have been holding my hand through this transition and making it less scary.
I'm so glad I didn't wait any longer to switch!

I mean.. look at this!

The ONLY down side to cloth that I have run into is that it's really hard not to buy all the diapers! They are so cute and I love Rowan's fluff butt! I definitely see how women get addicted and end up with over 100 diapers... which is ridiculous. Totally understandable, but still ridiculous.

Final thoughts. If you're thinking about switching, try it out! You can borrow from a local cloth diaper library if your town has one (tucson does!) Or buy a few used ones. I guarantee you will be hooked in a week!

Sometimes being a mom kinda sucks

Dear Diary,

Sometimes being a mom kinda sucks. I love my children don't get me wrong. But the expectation of motherhood being all rainbows and sunshine is total bullshit. Sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it feels unfair. Sometimes I wish my kids didn't have vocal cords. Sometimes JJ eats hotdogs for breakfast lunch and dinner. Sometimes I don't shower. Sometimes I don't even change my clothes. Sometimes I want to hire a lactating nanny because sometimes I don't want to nurse my son to sleep. And sometimes, I don't want to nurse my daughter 5 minutes after she was 'done'. Sometimes I wonder if I really am doing my best. Sometimes my patience runs thin. Sometimes I yell. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I feel like the worst mom ever. Sometimes I don't want to do the dishes for the 3rd time today. Sometimes I don't want to cook dinner. Sometimes I don't even want to THINK about what I should make. Sometimes I don't want to pick up the toys again. Sometimes it's hard and that sucks. But I ALWAYS love my family. I ALWAYS nurse my son to sleep. I ALWAYS nurse Rowan on demand. I ALWAYS say I'm sorry if I yell and lose temper. And to be honest I'd be super jealous if I used a lactating nanny. These are my babies! MINE! I ALWAYS get a shower, eventually. I ALWAYS stop whatever I'm doing to listen to Rowan coo or hear JJs broken rendition of twinkle twinkle little star. And I ALWAYS do my best. And my babies will ALWAYS love me and forgive me for my short comings. Because I am ALWAYS their mommy. Sometimes being a mom is hard and that sucks...but not always.

                                  Honestly, Mommy

I Don't Like My Baby

Dear Diary,

I don't like my baby that much. Ugh. I love her, of course. But like? Not so much. She cries constantly. It's like she's broken. I feel broken. Why can't I fix her? It breaks my heart. I know something must be wrong, no baby just cries like this for no reason. I just can't figure it out. She only wants to be held, I can't put her down. She nurses so much in the evening for comfort and then just spits it all up. She is demanding so much of my energy I don't have anything left. I miss my son. Josh is home and JJ loves playing with him. I want to play too but I can't get off the couch! I take a shower only to cry alone. I'm afraid for Josh to see me like this. I don't want him to think I'm crazy. I'm so fucking sad. All day. I can't figure out if this is baby blues or if I'm battling depression. I wonder if it's depression or just the toll my daughter is taking on me. I feel like she's killing my soul. I want to set my uterus on fire. The thought of ever having another baby like her is horrifying. Josh and I joke that we should give her away and try again. We joke, but it breaks heart. I want to like her, I want to enjoy her, I don't want to feel this way about my child. I need to find out what's wrong.. I can't live like this, I can't just let her cry.. I'm afraid to ask for help, maybe people will think I'm whining or just being a pussy about having a newborn again. But this isn't normal. JJ never cried like this. I keep praying for mercy. God please! Have mercy, give me a break. Just one hour of her not crying! Her cry makes me sweat, makes my heart race, makes me angry, makes me sad. I know a baby crying is supposed to have that effect on me. I'm supposed to come to her, to help her, comfort her. I'm so lost. All my efforts have failed. Josh and I alternate turns bouncing her on the yoga ball.. when i don't have her i try to play with JJ but he wants nothing to do with me.. I feel my little girl has put a wedge between me and my sweet boy. That also breaks my heart. I miss him. When I look at him now he seems so different, I haven't had a chance to just play, read a book, or anything, just him and I in 3 weeks and it sucks so bad! I wish Rowan would let me put her down even just for 15 minutes so I can read him a book or just hug him. I'm so fucking tired. So. Tired. Emotionally, physically, mentally. After caring for Rowan I have nothing left. How can this tiny baby suck the life out of me. She's so beautiful though. I just stare at her. She looks so much like her brother. I just need her to get her shit together. I don't know how much of this I can handle before I let this depression swallow me up. I need to help her. I need to fix her. Jesus give me patience, show me how to be merciful, give me strength to endure this, give me a new baby. I'm joking, unless that's an option.. thank you for my baby. Keep her safe when I can not.

                                              Honestly, Mommy

Update* Rowan is now 2 months old and we are doing amazing!! She's a happy girl now after being diagnosed with reflux and lip/tongue ties. I finally helped my baby, and we fixed her.