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Remember when I was expecting? Me neither. Now it’s all baby baby baby. I had the distinct pleasure of guest posting for What to Expect’s “real mom advice” blog. They contacted me and I got carte blanche to dish about a topic near & dear to my heart. Pregnancy. Expectations. Near & dear. It seems as though pregnancy is a time of insane material consumption paired with insane stress about doing everything right. Especially when it’s your first time around. You’re supposed to follow an insanely long list of does & don’ts, as well as heed everyone and their mother (and mother-in-law’s) advice. Also, don’t read the internet, but do read anything germane to your insane fears and concerns. Contradictions galore. I address needless baby…
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Not my little boy–whine? Never. (oh, yeah, she does too but a 2 year old has nothing on a 4 year old.) Lies. Total lies. He’s almost 4 and has discovered whining a-new. It’s like the cloud burst open, the sun shone down, it’s baseball season, and whining is freshly on his palate. It’s killing me. The tone. The looks. The crocodile tears. The insistence of it. The solemn assurance that this one instance is the worst in his life. ABSOLUTE WORST THING THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN to him. She touched his book? I can’t take it. Besides the fact that it’s a terrible unappealing habit for a little boy, I’m wearing our newborn BabyLoves in the carrier and chasing down the big kids. It’s (duh)…
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Today is our FIFTH anniversary. It’s hard to remember life before eye lines, sleepless nights, nursing babies and snuggly big kids. But once upon a time we were young and easy under the boughs, to quote the poet. (Does that mean something ahem not quite puritan?) Engaged couple. So young! I love my dress. Who doesn’t just want to wear it a million times?? Loved our wedding mass. So much. But the reception at our house? The very best time of my life. Looking back at four years. And three years. /// SuperBoy turns four at the end of June. But until then, I’m proudly proclaiming myself to be the <victim?? hostage?> mother to three children under the age of four. Our…
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When I finally gave up any expectations, planned activities again, left the house wearing yoga pants, this little baby boy decided to come out, join us, release me from the bonds of pregnancy, birth, whatever you want to call it. Nearly 42 weeks, and yet his arrival wasn’t even the biggest surprise of all . . . that would be his size! Nine pounds, 15 ounces, almost a 15 inch head, and almost 22 inches long. Big. Beautiful. Baby. I’ve shared SuperBoy and SweetPea‘s birth biopics. Now that you’ve braced yourself for another rendition of unmediated labor, his story: ////// As I had given up on ever giving birth, late last week I decided it was time to resume life. I scheduled playdates, knit dates,…
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This is our 23rd guest post in the Birth & Parenting Series! The other 22 guest writers’ stories may be found here. Contact me (wholeparenting@gmail.com) anytime if you’d like to share your story of your child’s arrival, or a parenting perspective. This girlfriend shares her story of her harrowing birth experience of her sweet daughter. My heart races along as I read it and is filled with relief and joy at the ending. I hope you find the beauty in her story as well. I feel blessed to be able to share it! She blogs over at Mom of My Word–follow her and hear her journey. —- One year ago, the Lord gave us the gift of sweet Cadence. When I first began to write…
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A girlfriend from the natural birthing & parenting community around here shares her incredibly interesting perspective on how her little one is such a communicator. Love this revival of our Birth & Parenting Series. This is our 22nd guest post in the Birth & Parenting Series! The other 22 guest writers’ stories may be found here. Contact me (wholeparenting@gmail.com) anytime if you’d like to share your story of your child’s arrival, or a parenting perspective. Maybe it’s because he’s part Italian, probably because we talk a lot? Sam, our 15 month old boy is definitely a communicator. A typical day with Sam does not leave room for much guessing of what he needs. He will be clapping his hands, meaning… I want: … point (this); hands…
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