I have a few rules for this blog. 

I don’t write about my family, outside of telling stories or showing my appreciation for them.  I know that as good as it would feel to open up this editor and pound out a post about a fight or an annoyance (like when Craig says he’s going to get up at 5:30AM and I spend an hour that I could be sleeping trying to wake him up… Oh, wait.  That doesn’t happen much anymore now that we have a baby alarm clock.)  I would inevitably regret posting it. 

I don’t use my child’s name.  I’m not sure where this started or if it will always continue this way.  I just sort of started using her initial.   

And, I don’t blog about work. Because?  Well, I’m not stupid. 

Except sometimes these rules get in the way of me sharing “me” with you.  Sometimes for months on end, you get sappy stories and funny pictures written at arms length because I can’t write about what’s going on in my 9-5 life.  I can’t write about upheavals that are happening at work.  Changes that have me wondering whether it’s time to make a career move.  Wondering if I have the stamina to undergo a second organizational change in 20-some months.  Wondering what I want to be when I grow up. 

I feel like I’m here, in this job, for a while yet.  And while the changes that have occurred have put me in a place where I’m far more uncertain about my job than I was three months ago, I still have a job.  I have a boss who is supportive and flexible and who constantly reminds me that my family comes first.  I still get to pay the mortgage, keep Pampers on C’s butt and wear cute shoes almost every day. 

If I’m honest, I feel a little lost at work.  But at the same time, I’m trying to embrace this new reality and enjoy the down time.  I’m thinking about working on my PR accreditation.  I’m grateful to get my nights and weekends back and not feel guilty for napping on weekends instead of working while the baby naps.  I’m beyond thrilled that I turned off work email on my phone and no longer feel like I have to check email at 8:00 at night. 

It’s still a work in  progress.  I still have moments where I search Monster and browse the newspapers.  (Anyone looking for a reasonably decent writer/marketer/PR professional with an affection for social media?  Anyone?) But I’m working on it. 

So, wish me luck.  I’m gonna need it. 

And if you work with me and you read this?  Well, you understand.

July 4 – 10:00 AM

Dear Other guests of the Courtyard,

I’m sorry.  I’m really, really sorry.  I know the screaming you heard coming from our room for an hour at bedtime last night was a big inconvenience.  I know that you were gritting your teeth looking at your wife, saying “can’t they get that kid to shut up?!”  I know that you were hoping for some peace and quiet around 8PM last Saturday, but instead you heard a baby wailing like someone was holding her down and cut her fingernails. 

I wasn’t. I promise.  I was really just trying to get my child to go to sleep.  You see?  At home we have a little itty bit of fussing and then glorious sleep.  But in a hotel, a strange place, with other people in the room.  Nope, she just wasn’t having it. 

Thank you for not having us kicked out of the hotel. 

Love,
The crazy lady with the cranky (but cute) kid. 

* * * * * * *

Juy 4 – 2:45 PM

Dear State Troopers in Maryland, Virginia and North Carolina,

I’m sure having a passenger extend her seat and scooch backwards so that she can feed the baby, check her diaper or just otherwise entertain a bored-out-of-her-mind nin- month-old child who didn’t want to sleep is not particularly safe.  I understand that had we been in an accident at that (any of those many) moments I could have been seriously hurt.  But, a cranky crying baby is not conducive to save travels either.  Because whining and screaming from the back seat tends to make the driver a little uptight and flustered.  So, really, I’m taking one for the team and for the safety of your interstates.

Thank you for not arresting us. 

Best,
The contortionist driving down I-95. 

* * * * * * *

July 5 – 5:15AM

Dear People who set off fireworks ALL NIGHT LONG,

Go to hell. 

Hugs & Kisses,
The crazy chick who was two seconds from finding you when woke up my kid. 

* * * * * * *

July 6 – 6:15 AM

Dear In-Laws,

I’m sorry C woke you up for the past two nights at 3:15.  But, you invited us and I warned you.  And she made up for it with smiles and kisses. 

God bless you for taking her from me when after two hours, I couldn’t get her back to sleep.  I was about to lose my damn mind. 

XOXO
Your Grateful Daughter (& Sister)-In-Law

PS.  She will do it again tonight.

* * * * * * *

July 7 – 3:30 PM

Dear All the people along the way who smiled at my kid,

I know, right?  She’s so cute you can hardly stand it.  Go ahead make faces at her and wave bye-bye.  It’s her newest trick and she loves to show it off.  And, when strangers coo over my kid, it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

Smootchies,
The person who was holding that cute kid in Target

* * * * * * *

Yep!  I’m back and I’m still begging asking for votes.  Would you be so kind to click that link and help us claw back onto page 1? 

 XOXO!
The semi competitive person who writes this blog

My poor family.  Because of my chosen career path they often get strong armed, guilted, persuaded into attending events that I’m planning.  In fact, Craig and I met at one of these very events just over eight years ago.  Remind me to tell you how he brought a girl to what I thought might have been our first date, mmkay? 

But that’s beside the point.

Over the years, my friends, parents, husband and in-laws have attended and been volunteered for all star football games, dances, craft fairs, golf tournaments and silent auctions. When I left my last job, they probably all did a happy dance thinking that their days of showing up for events they had no interest in were behind them.  But not so.  Turns out, I sort of missed event planning.  So I used my corporate marketing hat last year to pitch an employee-based 5K that would raise money for charity. 

And, once again, my parents and in-laws found themselves volunteering, Craig signed up his football players for service hours and I ran around like a chicken with my head cut off the morning of the run.  There’s something about that excitement the day of the event.  There’s a nervous feeling hoping that the weather holds out.  My mind spins, running through my lists of things to do, wondering what I missed.  And I hear “ka-ching, ka-ching” every time a car pulls in the driveway.  I love it. 

This year, the best part was not the couple thousand dollars we raised or the more than 150 people that showed up.  ::Fist bump to all the people that helped me pull this off::  No.  Instead it was looking out into the crowd and seeing this: 

Because with my mom and dad, my husband and my mother-in-law was my little girl. Smiling, giggling and acting shy when friends and coworkers tried to talk to her.   And it was the happiest I’ve ever been to see familiar faces in the audience.  I’ma working mom.  It’s who I am.  But seeing the face that I’m working for, having her be a (small) part of my “work day” made it so much better.  I know she won’t remember this, but I will.

I’m gonna talk about sports for just a second, mmkay? I know, this is a baby blog. I’m not supposed to talk about sports.  If you wanted to talk x’s and o’s you could talk to your husbands.  But, well, even though I find major league baseball about as entertaining as cleaning my base boards, it’s my blog and with a high school football coach as a husband sports are a big part of my life, so I’m gonna go there and talk sports. 

Did you all hear about the pitcher from the Detroit Tigers who wasthiseffingclose to throwing a perfect game, only have a batter called safe when in fact the ball beat the foot to the bag?  No?  OK, well then go read the article and then come back. 

So, Armando Galarraga, is within inches of achieving one of the biggest accomplishments of his professional career.  And then Jim Joyce makes the wrong call at first base and costs the pitcher his perfect game.  That’s bad, right?  Really bad.  And the perfect opportunity for a shit storm from Galarraga, his team, his coach and fans.  They could have bashed him in the media and would have gotten away with it.  They could have thrown temper tantrums for weeks over the missed chance to be in the record books.  To have THAT FEELING of accomplishing something so monumental ripped from their grasp. 

But they didn’t.  Joyce, the umpire, immediately and sincerely apologized when he realized his mistake.  Galarraga and his team accepted and provided Joyce with support in the following days.  And they moved on. 

It was a perfect display of sportsmanship. 

I go to a lot of football games.  I sit in the stands with parents and fans and my dad.  More times than not one side of the field is complaining about the call on the field.  I’ve done it too. I’ve yelled “Are you BLIND” with the rest of them.  You can’t possibly understand how they missed an illegial block or didn’t call pass interference (are ya’ll impressed with my use of football terms?)   Their calls can mean the difference between a touchdown and field goal.  Can cost a game.  Can impact a season. 

But when we start constantly blaming and badgering officials, it burns my ass a little.  Maybe it’s because it’s just a game.  Maybe because it’s part of life.  You practice hard and you do everything right and the call still doesn’t go your way.  And so you man up, and you go back to the line of scrimmage and you go again.  You don’t stand up and stomp your feet and yell.  You don’t kick the sand and walk off the field saying “we would have won that game if it wasn’t for the officials.” In doing so, you’re forgetting about all the passes you dropped, all the blocks you missed and the quarterback who was just quicker than your secondary. (Seriously, I’m killing myself with these football terms.  Craig would be so proud.  Or not.  Because I might not be using them right.) 

The situation I referred to earlier is a perfect teachable moment for athletes and coaches everywhere.  Sometimes the call doesn’t go your way.  Sometimes you miss an opportunity because of it.  But you get up, you move on and you go again. 

Now, maybe if more officials admitted their mistakes there could also be world peace?

Today this working mother thing is not working out.  I have IMs flashing at me from coworkers who want to know why their projects aren’t complete and missed phone calls from other staff members who have questions or problems to be addressed.  I chose to ask for forgiveness not permission this morning and forgiveness did not come easy.  But, I am picking my battles today.

My vow to not work on weekends has led to deadlines that are so far passed they’re wearing high tops and scrunchies.  I feel overwhelmed looking at my to do list. There is not enough of me to go around.  I am treading water today.

Or I was until someone scheduled a meeting that will put me home after C should have been fed and halfway to bed.  I don’t want to go to the meeting and miss half of the two hours I get with her a night.  And instead of handling it like a grown up or sucking it up and doing it anyway, I fight back tears and pray that no one walks in my office. Thus becoming the working mother I never wanted to be. 

So, someone tell me.  Drinking at lunch?  Surely it has saved someone’s sanity, right?

Once upon a time, there was a childless woman who loved to read.  There was nothing better than curling up with a good book and a cup of tea.  I loved books of fiction that varied from suspense to tear-jerking, funny to aspirational and always had one within arms reach.  Only one because I liked to dive right into another life within the pages and be immersed in it.  Put myself in the main characters shoes and live their lives for a while. 

Now? 

My nightstand looks like this: 

From the bottom: 

• Baby 411:  My favorite what to expect about keeping a baby alive book.  I love that it covers all of the basic parenting functions like keeping a child fed, diaper rash away and when to call the doctor.  I use it All.The.Time. 
• The Good Night, Sleep Tight Workbook:  I’m reading it for an upcoming book review with TLC book tours and because I’m desperate for something that will help me with C’s naps. 
• Such a Pretty Fat:  I’m borrowing this from a friend who gave it to me in July.  JULY, folks.  I was finishing up my last fiction novel in the summer and she gave me this one.  Swears that it’s a laugh out loud funny book and I can’t back her up because the last time I picked up an easy read book was in JULY. 
• The Silent Language:  The “required for work” reading I mentioned before.  And what I learned from reading this book is that I am not an academic kind of person.  I do not read books written about overseas cultures and the different perceptions of time and change and draw inferences to my everyday life.  My mind does just not work that way.
• Babyproofing Your Marriage:  After reading rave reviews on this book and a recommendation from my friend that swears by date nights, I jumped on the bandwagon.  Not because I think my marriage needs saving, but because I think I have some things to learn about being a  better wife while I try to find my footing as a mother. 

Apparently, along with the days that I could button my jeans, gone are the days that I could blow through a book in a weekend.  Quite honestly most of my free time (haha!) these days is spent reading blogs, writing this one, and chatting on Twitter.  I glance through the occasional magazine on a Saturday morning but I’ve found that my time for leisure reading has been replaced by reading books that I think will improve my parenting, my relationships or my career and losing myself in a smutty romance is a rarity.   

Am I the only one or have your reading habits changed since becoming a parent? 

If there had been a tooth when she woke up this morning I would be able to make sense of the two hours we spent walking and rocking in the middle of the night.   I would understand why my child didn’t want to be held and didn’t want to lay down.

If there had been just a little spec of white or a piercing on my finger when I rubbed her gums this morning, I would be telling my coworkers that my baby had teeth instead of mumbling hello and pushing towards the microwave to heat my second cup of tea, all the while wondering if maybe an injection of caffeine would be more effective. 

A tooth would make it OK that at midnight, I was downstairs shaking up a bottle for my child and that if the neighbors were out, they got a good look at my bedroom attire of a t-shirt and undies. 

If the tooth had made it’s appearance, I would not have this sick feeling in my stomach because it’s only Tuesday and I’m tired.  That does not mean that good things are coming for Wednesday and Thursday. 

The tiniest feeling of a tooth just about to break the gum would give me a reason for the child who barely slept from 11PM until 3AM last night and maybe it would take away some of the frustration I feel about not being able to soothe her.  It would erase my doubts that she didn’t have enough to eat during the day or that rocking her to sleep last night made her wake up hours later, pissed that she wasn’t still in my arms.  I wouldn’t be questioning whether I shouldn’t have given her the Tylenol or maybe I should I have tried the Orajel.

I know that whether it was tooth or just an off night that waking up in the middle of the night is not my baby’s fault.  I also know that it’s OK that I was frustrated.  That I was looking at the clock thinking, ”if she goes to sleep right now, I will be able to sleep for four hours before the alarm goes off.” That when I mumbled, ”For the love of God, kid.  What the hell do you want,” that she didn’t know what I meant and doesn’t remember it this morning.    

But if it were teeth, I would somehow feel like it was all worth it.  That my frustration was nothing compared to her pain and that shiny little fleck of white would be badge of accomplishment for both of us.  If only there had been a tooth. 

PS.  When teething starts, it can last for days? weeks? years? right?  Someone send wine.  and caffeine.   

People warn you about all the ways your life will change when you bring a baby home from the hospital.  They forecast sleepless nights, missing out on happy hour and having spit up on your suit jacket.  They joke about toddlers coming into your room because they’re scared at 4AM and pacing the floor when your teenager is five minutes past curfew. What they don’t tell you is that all of a sudden your television habits will change as well. 

“Oh, Krista,” you’re thinking.  “Are you watching Mickey Mouse Club already?”  Well, yes.  But that’s not the point.  I’m talking about the entertainment I used to watch – crime and drama during prime time, daytime soap operas, news and suspense movies.  All of these former mindless escapes from reality are now a glimpse into someone else’s reality.  Instead of being situations that would never happen to me, they become something else to fear. 

Whether it’s a toddler being taken from her parents, a father in the middle of an international custody battle, a gunman on a yacht shooting into a crowd of elite snobs or an out of control subway car, I can’t stop thinking “what if that was happening to my child, or my husband, or me.” And then my throat gets tight, the hair on the back of my neck raises and I get up to make sure all of our doors are locked, keeping the imaginary bad guys out and my family safe and sound. 

I asked Craig the other night after a particularly disturbing episode of Criminal Minds how he could watch those kinds of TV shows.  He chuckled and said that he’s a grown up who is able to separate what’s real and what’s not.  I guess when I gave birth I lost my ability to distinguish reality from something written by creative types with messed up imaginations and too much internet access.  So while he is enjoying a suspenseful plot line I’m planning my course of action for the next time I’m at a swanky party on a yacht that gets hijacked by drug dealers with a bug up their ass.  What? It could happen. 

And in the meantime I’ve gained a further appreciation for sit-coms, HGTV and the Disney Channel.

You know?  I want to put new content up on this blog every day, or at least more often, but some days in midst of the constant whirl of diapers, bottles, deadlines, email, and bath time, I can’t think of a topic that would anyone would want to read.  So, today… Mama Kat is at least making that part easier for me with her Writing Workshop.  After I got over reminiscing about my 11^th grade English class with Mrs. G, I looked at her list of selections and chose this one to write about: 

1.)  Baby fever is in the air. Describe what you would do differently as a first time mom.

Baby fever is in the air?  Really?  Hm… uh… gee… I hadn’t notice.  Certainly, it is not in the air around here.  I haven’t found myself missing the days when C was itty bitty.  Nope.  And I haven’t looked at pictures of pregnant women with a touch, just a touch, of jealousy.  Not at ALL.  And I definitely didn’t get out my calculator to think about things like: how old C would be when #2 came if I got pregnant now or if we were in a financial position to afford another wee one or to count the days since my last period, you know… just in case. 

Before anyone gets all anxious or excited, I am not pregnant.  But I am starting to entertain the idea again.  Am I insane to think about it this soon?  Probably.  But I had an easy delivery and, mostly, an easy baby that gets me thinking I’m super mom and I can do this again.  But, with six whole months of motherhood behind me and still being focused on survival, not necessarily parenting (subtle difference, my friends) I think I can say that there are at least a few things I would do differently in those first few months. 

1. Learn about the secret of the 5 S’s from Happiest Baby on the Block BEFORE the baby arrives.  And then, I would use them.  Immediately. As soon as I realized that putting my baby on her side, holding her close to me and bouncing her would calm her down or put her to sleep, life as a first time mom got MUCH easier. 
2. I would attempt to not have the baby during football season.  Thankfully we live close to the high school and Craig was great about coming home as often as he could to see us, but it was still me, all day long.  And I had to figure it out.  There were times of tears and frustration and begging her to stop crying. There were six very intense weeks of hands on training. And, I wish that we had gotten to experience that insecurity of not knowing what to do together.  And thus, figured it out together. 
3. I wouldn’t buy a single piece of clothing.  We received so many cute outfits from wonderful friends and family that we ended up packing away outfits that she grew out of before she even had a chance to wear it. 
4. I would only buy/clothe my child in pants with the feet in them.  Keeping socks on a baby should be an olympic event. 
5. I would have cabinets full of medication to help with post-delivery recovery.  Cause it effing hurts.  I was prepared for the pain of labor.  I swear I was, even though I begged for an epi after 3 hours.  I was not, prepared for the pain of stitches and other fun delivery recovery. 
6. I would try to remember that the 4AM wakeup calls will not last forever and hang onto those moments when she is a squishy newborn that wants to be cuddled and snuggled.
7. I would accept that I was not going to be in my pre-pregnancy clothes when my six-week maternity leave was over. 

I’m sure as C starts to get older and I have to worry about things like teething, walking, a healthy diet, and discipline ( ::shudder:: ) I will have a list that’s miles long about all the things I would do differently, but for now, I think we’re doing OK here. 

What would you do differently?  Leave a comment and share it with me, or join the Writer’s Workshop and blog about it. 

You know those times when you imagine what your life will look like in 2, 5 or 10 years?  It’s the picture you saw before you were married and before you had kids.  As the pieces start to fall into place and you come up on those milestones of your wedding day, or seeing the two pink lines on the pregnancy test, the picture starts to get a little clearer.  You hear the voices of the people who tell you that your life is about to change and you see this picture in your head and you sigh, start to smile and think, “yes, yes it is going to change.” 

Because this picture?  It is good.  There is sunshine and happiness, hugs and slobbery kisses.  There is a weekend that ends as quickly as it started because it’s full of laughter and time with family and friends.  This was my weekend.  And it came not a moment too soon. 

Before I had a baby I knew that being a working mom would be tough Monday through Friday.  I understood that my quality time with my child would be limited on work days and that she would spend more time with her grandmother than with me.  I expected that my weekends would be all about my baby and my family.  Instead I’ve found myself frustrated over napping and schedules and being cooped up in the house.  I’ve spent hours trying to get her to sleep, then the half hour that she sleeps analyzing spreadsheets, proofreading and catching up on email. 

Pre-baby I pictured my weekends as a time to relax and get ready for another week.  Maybe I would even cook something or clean my house.  Instead, Saturdays and Sundays fly by with no meals for the week being prepared and my house still a mess. 

But not this weekend.  This weekend I shut off the laptop and ignored email.  (Not that I was getting any, it was a holiday weekend.)  For two days, 48 hours, I stepped away.  I didn’t worry about naps – good thing, since they were boycotted on Saturday.  My daughter and I went for a walk, met a friend for brunch and shopped.  Our families threw parties to celebrate birthdays and an anniversary and, of course, Easter dinner.  It was exactly what I imagined a weekend with my family would look like. 

On Monday, I went back to work with a messy house, nothing cooked and slightly exhausted.  But with the memories of a little girl in her pink dress dancing to the music in church, reaching for Easter eggs and squealing with her daddy.