50 Shades of Frumpy

So I just finished reading this "momblog" written by a beautiful (yet humble) 27-year-old Christian woman with 3 kids. In her blog, she uses terms like "hot mess" and "tragic" to describe herself, all while looking glamorous in her size 4 jeans alongside her GQ-esque husband and J.Crew model children. 

Girlfriend, let me tell you about tragic. 

Please hear me out first - I believe comparison is the #1 self-esteem killer for all women, especially new moms. We have the habit of trying to measure up to the breast-feeder, the cloth-diaperer, the coupon-cutter, the homemade everything-er, the stay-at-home caregiver, the "I lost all my baby-weight in two weeks while sitting on the couch eating bon-bons"-er. Everything we do is met with criticism. We can never be good enough for everyone. 

I wholeheartedly believe in the healing power of honesty. For years I have fought the battle of trying to be what others wanted me to be, only to end up stressed, disappointed, and exhausted. I'm learning to let go of my impossibly high standards and accept my hot mess for what it is. 

For example?

• 5+ months postpartum and I still wear maternity clothes on occasion.  Yes, I do have real pants with a zipper, but sometimes I just need an elastic waist. My clothes still don't fit correctly despite my workouts, but we cannot afford to buy a new wardrobe so I make do. 
• Stretch marks are a pain in my tookus (which is also covered in stretch marks). Whoever said stretchmarks are a badge of mommy honor needs to be punched in the face. They're hideous and I am incredibly self-conscious about them. 
• Being a full-time working mom is the best decision for our family. I am not cut out to be a stay-at-home mom and I feel no shame admitting that I enjoy going to work each day. In fact, I am a better mom because I work. My fuse is longer, my compassion is deeper, and my time spent with the Bear Cub is not taken for granted. 
• Yoga pants accentuate my lack of a butt. I can say with confidence that I am NOT the reason for all of the "yoga pants aren't modest" articles. 
• I don't pluck my eyebrows. If people want to focus on the condition of my eyebrows, they're missing out on life. 
• Because I am a working mom, I have supplemented with formula and the Bear Cub is doing just fine. 
• I had an epidural and GOD BLESS IT! I tried to go naturally, but my body wasn't having it. My mind wasn't having it. The Man wasn't having it. No shame. 
• I am terrible at keeping track of the Bear Cub's milestones. First smile? Not sure. First time he rolled over? No idea. First laugh? No clue. First tooth? Not yet. Poor kid is only going to have a handful of Facebook posts to remind him of his first year of life. 

I say all of this in hopes that you'll cut yourself some slack and find contentment in the woman God has made you. We aren't meant to be anyone else - we are meant to be the best mom, wife, sister, daughter and friend to those around us. So to the rail-thin, Jessica Alba look-alike? We are on the same team. I was just picked last. :)

Black Friday

Who would have thought that two little blue lines would freak me out so much? The Man was ever so confident that we would be great parents and this was the start of an epic adventure. Through some investigative research and educated guessing, we were pretty sure I was 6-8 weeks along. (Side note: I am THE most ignorant person when it comes to cycles/ovulation/tracking. Seriously. I think I missed that day in 5th grade. We didn't "try." We watched the Notebook and lit a candle.) My family was coming down for Thanksgiving the next week, so we thought it would make the perfect holiday surprise.

Fast forward to Thanksgiving weekend. Announcements were made, tears were shed, hugs were shared, fears were confessed - and then it happened. Black Friday. When the Man came home from work early that morning, I met him in the hallway with yet even more tears. He didn't say a word. Maybe it was the look on my face. Maybe God gave him divine intuition to spare my admission. Either way, we didn't have to say anything. We stood there for what seemed like hours, just holding each other - neither of us wanting to admit what was happening.

When the miscarriage was confirmed, the Man took it a lot harder than I expected. I knew what was happening to my body, but my sweet husband held out hope that things would be fine. My heart broke as I watched this incredibly strong and stoic man openly weep in the ER after the nurse gave us the news. I felt helpless. Guilty. A failure.

The lies that followed were abundant and harsh:
God knew I would be a horrible mom so He fixed my mistake. Served me right. I failed so many times in the past, why would God bless me now? I deserved this. I was too selfish. And on and on...

With the support of my incredible family, I clung to the truth that this wasn't my fault. God wasn't punishing me for the sins of my past. He wasn't blaming me. He wasn't disappointed in me. He didn't think I was incompetent. He has my life in His hands and nothing happens outside of His will. Overwhelming peace triumphed over the lies.

The Man and I decided that we would try again (read: P.S. I Love You and Kenny G) as soon as we could and I vowed that the next time around, I was NOT going to be such a hot mess. I was going to be prepared. Ready. In control.

[snicker]

To be continued...

Long Lost Love

Let's just start with the obvious - life has gotten immeasurably more complex since 2013 (new house, unexpected pregnancy, miscarriage, sorta-unexpected pregnancy, new baby, postpartum depression, and so on).

When I found out I was pregnant the second time around, I wanted to revive my blog. Pregnancy and motherhood opens the door to a whole new level of crazy and so of course, I feel the need to share my mess with y'all. (Remember, I'm country now so the use of "y'all," is obligatory.)  So here you can read all about my mishaps, foibles, triumphs, frustrations, and hopes that accompany my journey as a city-girl-turned-country-turned-new-mom.

Disclaimer: I am not an expert at anything, especially parenting. In fact, I'm pretty confident in my lack of parenting skills. I've come to embrace my ignorance, and I'm convinced it's what makes life so dang entertaining. But I know how to love and I know how to make people laugh. That's what counts, right?

My story begins with the fact that I actually had a baby. Willingly. For years, I had no ardent desire to reproduce, for no reason other than children are a LOT of work. And they're expensive. And they have sticky fingers. And they throw up without warning. And they always smell like maple syrup. And they require my attention before 8am on any given day. I digress.

Going into our marriage, I knew that the Man wanted kids so I kept the idea on the distant radar. A little over a year ago, I was pushing 28, 29, 30 and we realized that if we wanted to start a family without an AARP membership, we had to get started.

Two months later, I was crumpled on the floor of our bathroom with a positive pregnancy test in my hand sobbing hysterically. I was in shock that it happened so dang quickly. (Thanks, Mom for your awesome fertility genes. Really helped me ease into this.) I was scared, nervous, mad...anything but joyful. Then I felt incredibly guilty for not being joyful, when so many women struggle with infertility. I was a wreck. I immediately drove to the school where the Man was in the middle of coaching wrestling practice, stormed across the mat with the pee-soaked stick in hand, and proceeded to cry that my life was over.

In typical Man fashion he got a huge grin on his face, held me close and thanked God there was a reason why I was bat-crap crazy.

There's a lot more to this story, but the Bear Cub is requiring my services immediately. To be continued!

Epic Blogging Fail

Ahem.

Hi.

I feel as though I should begin this post with an apology. I can give several excuses as to why I haven't been blogging, but truth be told (and I hate admitting this), I've been lazy.

I'm sorry.

Reality is, you make time and sacrifices for the things that are important to you. Apparently, jumping into a new job with both feet and watching the entire series of Frasier on Netflix have been more important than blogging. I've been convicted for giving up writing. For not spending time doing things that mean something. For not taking small steps to make my life count.

At this point, I'm not sure if anyone stumbles across this site anymore. At least I will be doing something other than lifting heavy things and finding the perfect filter on Instagram.

We'll see though....

You Asked For It....

As a new year begins, I figured it would be appropriate to write a "year in review" post. A lot has happened, so here are some highlights in bulleted-form, organized by month (just the way I like it).

-January: I resigned from my position at Olivet Nazarene University, packed all of my earthly possessions, and moved to Jeffersonville, Indiana to be with the Man as he completed police academy. I could probably end the list here, as this was the be-all, end-all of my year. So it seemed.

-February: I spent my days in sweats watching Lonesome Dove while attempting to organize our impossibly small apartment. I gained 10lbs and cried on a daily basis. The highlight was my mom's first trip down here since I moved in, and we spent the whole weekend attached at the hip. I cried when she left. And gained another pound.

-March: My sweatpants went into early retirement as I was hired as a part-time Team Sports associate at the local Dick's Sporting Goods. I also learned how to bake a loaf of bread from scratch. Oh and we went to the Arnold Fitness Expo in Columbus, OH. Exciting, eh?

-April: Mom & Dad came down for Family Day at the Man's police academy. The Man made cheesecakes and I got tased.

-May: We survived our first Kentucky Derby. The Man decided we needed a dog; enter Dakota. I had several nervous breakdowns. Dakota stayed. I was promoted to the full-time Sales Leader at Dick's Sporting Goods.

-June: The Man graduated valedictorian from police academy! He also won the IronMan Fitness award, because he's a stud. My entire family came down & most stayed with us in our tiny 2-bedroom place. It was a blast.

-July: My little, annoying, punk-brother tied the knot to sweet, caring, adorable Jessica. I spent 4+ hours on the dance floor in celebration. So happy for them.

-August: My entire extended family took a week-long trip to Gatlinburg, TN. 15 people in 1 cabin for 8 days. Enough said.

-September: I'm sure something really important and exciting happened in September, but I can't remember at the moment. Probably that Dakota learned how to roll over. Oh, Mom came down to visit again and we ate our way across Louisville.

-October: I turned 27. Bah-humbug.

-November: My parents came down for a whirlwind Thanksgiving consisting of dinner at Cracker Barrel and seeing the Muppets movie. I survived my first Black Friday working retail. Ridiculous.

-December: The Man & I competed in our first power lifting meet in Chicago. We decided to move to a bigger apartment across town. I was promoted to Sales Manager at Dick's Sporting Goods. The Man turned 26. I spent 36 hours in Chicago to celebrate Christmas while the Man worked. Dakota continued to chase her tail.

WHEW! What a year, indeed. It has been, without a doubt, one of the most challenging years of my life. It hasn't been easy; packing up and moving 275+ miles away from everyone and everything I've ever known. There were nights when I would simply cry because my heart ached for familiarity. But then there are times when the Man and I are sitting together on the couch, watching endless Friends reruns with our snarky dog at our feet, and my soul is at peace. This is our home -- and I am infinitely blessed.

Happy new year!

Most Disturbing Conversation with The Man

Quick Kentuckiana geographical lesson:

There are 3 main bridges connecting southern Indiana to Louisville, Kentucky: the Kennedy (I-65), the 2nd Street bridge (downtown), and the Sherman Minton bridge (near New Albany, IN). Recent construction on the Sherman Minton unveiled a few cracks in the foundation, causing officials to shut it down indefinitely. Needless to say, this has caused a LOT of traffic issues as over 80,000 cars travel across the Sherman Minton every day.

All of THAT is to say, the Man has been put on traffic detail for the Sherman Minton bridge, making sure that no crazies try to drive across it. And THAT is to say, he has been rather bored lately so he calls me. A lot.

Whenever we talk, I ask him how work went and if anything interesting happened. Usually he tells me about the crazy homeless man or the 3 prostitutes he arrested, but lately he said nothing interesting has happened. Yesterday he casually mentioned how he had to put his gun away before putting handcuffs on this one dude. To me, pulling a gun is a pretty big deal and I asked the Man why he didn't tell me about this earlier. He replied, "I pull my gun so often, it doesn't really seem like a big deal to me anymore."

Later on that night, we were talking about our work weeks when the Man looked at me and said, "There's one other incident that happened, and I'm ok, but I'm not going to tell you about it. All you need to know is I'm home and I'm safe. I'm trying to protect you from worrying."

Whoa. Hold up.

I know that the Man is a cop and cops sometimes run into very dangerous & sketchy situations. I'm not naive about what my husband does, but sometimes I choose to not think about what could happen. It's my way of coping. So when the Man comes home and I'm face to face with reality, it's a bit shocking. I trust the Man's training and instinct, but in moments like this I have to put my faith in the God who brought us here. When the Man walks out the door, we can't rely on his training or strength to get him through the night -- but rather the One who guides, protects, and provides.

Talk about a test of faith.

Conversations With the Man (Part ?)

The Man: "How much lemon juice should I put in the tuna salad?"
Me: "Just a squirt."
The Man: "How much is a squirt? I only measure in pinches & dollops."
*EDIT*
After posting, the Man informed me that I misquoted him in the above conversation. He does not measure in pinches & dollops, but rather hints & dashes. My apologies.

Me [referring to our neighbor who just had a baby]: "She is so cute!"
The Man: "I'm not usually a fan of those flat shoes, but...."
Me: "What are you talking about?"
The Man: "You didn't notice her shoes? She was wearing those flat ballerina-like shoes. I don't normally like those, but hers were really cute."
Me: "Are you kidding me with this?"
The Man: "You're just not observant. I notice such things."
Me: "You can't remember what you just ate for lunch, but her shoes you notice."
The Man: "That's what makes me a good cop."

The Man [pulling a burnt piece of toast out of the toaster]: "There! That's how you make toast."
Me: "It's completely burned. That's gross."
The Man: "Charcoal is good for the stomach, my grandma used to say."
Me: "You know that's not charcoal."
The Man: "Same difference."

Me: "What did you have for dinner tonight?"
The Man: "We went to some weird European place called The Blind Pig. All they served was pork and ham and bacon and stuff."
Me: "So a good place to take a Jew?"
The Man: "Exactly. Except everything was in French and I couldn't understand anything, so I just ordered a hamburger. It was the only thing I could pronounce. That and french fries. And a coke."

The Man: "When you eat Qdoba, do you feel like your insides are going to fall out?"
Me: "Not exactly."
The Man: "Must just be me then."