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I have been thinking about birth a lot lately. It’s probably because I am about to give birth, and every time I try to look at the floor, I can’t see it because my belly is in the way. The computer I am typing on right now is balancing on my belly as well. I can feel Milam rolling around in my womb, punching my organs, and bringing on an uncomfortable but not painful tightness called Braxton Hicks contractions. Birth is all around me. Literally. All around my middle. But I woke up this morning wondering if birth was a…

Let me just state for the record: being pregnant and having a toddler is hard. More like HARD. More like I-am-not-sure-how-I-am-still-alive-right-now-HARD. And I know I am not alone in this sentiment. There have been many mothers before me and will be many after who lovingly and graciously endure this season of life. They drag themselves out of pregnant-comasleep to the sounds of am 18 month old ripping off her diaper and smearing its contents all over her crib at 2am. They look in the mirror and laughed as they carry a 20 month old in one arm, her babydoll collection…

I have always known life isn’t fair. I probably learned that the first time I was ever around a group of my contemporaries in nursery school. Inevitably somebody got to have the last juicebox because they pooped in their pants and needed high fructose corn syrup to ease over their embarrassment. “It’s not fair! I wanted the last juicebox!” I would wail at the pooper, as they sucked happily on their plastic straw. ” I deserve it because I didn’t poop in my pants! What kind of treat do I get for not pooping in my pants? Nothing? Well that’s…

Time. It’s a complex thing. It passes. It waits for no man. It stands still. Einstein says its relative. Rod Stewart says it’s on our side. I’ve decided it’s not my friend. After spending the first 20ish years of my life welcoming time and the change it brings, I have seen it for what it truly is- the enemy of motherhood. I feel like I have finally pulled back the curtain of the great and powerful Oz of time, but instead of a little bald man like in the Wizzard of Oz movie, all there really is is a pile…

On the reg. It’s a term you may or may not have heard, depending on how much hip-hop music you listen to.  Rappers use this term to describe something they do regularly. For instance, “My clique rep Compton on the reg” means that your friends regularly support the community of Compton. “I drop phat beats on the reg” means that you create fun music for people to enjoy on a consistent basis. Since I am not a rapper and rep Compton or drop phat beats on any sort of consistent basis, I thought it might be fun to divulge a…

One of the many truths about babies is that they have to eat every day. One of the many truths about mothers is that they provide the food that babies eat every day. From their boobs. And as weird as that second fact is on paper, it is even weirder in real life. Weird and sorta wonderful at the same time. Now let me preface all of this by saying that I’m not one of these women who really loves the magical art of breastfeeding. I breastfeed because my baby is hungry and this is the best and cheapest foodsource…

I’m not a very supernatural sort of person, but I think I saw an angel this Sunday. The day had been a little stressful, as many of my days are now. We went to church and after lunch, I tried to install the cloth diaper toilet sprayer attachment to my toilet. I am using cloth diapers now and this little gem of an appliance allows you to spray the poop off of the diapers and into the toilet before they go into the wash. I decided to install it Sunday, when I should have been taking a nap, because I…

This week, my dream of being in an episode of Gilmore Girls came true. No, not really. But for all intents and purposes, my experience tonight came straight from the fictional town square of Star’s Hollow, CT. It all started a week or so ago, when I received the following invitation in my mailbox: I had not had the pleasure of meeting Tom and Jacquie Osborne, but the invitation just seemed kooky enough to be at least entertaining, if not actually enjoyable, and there was going to be cake at the end, so I decided that I would add it…

Naming a human you don’t know is probably one of the hardest things I have ever tried to do. Some people, when you meet them, instantly seem like a certain name. Chris is especially good at figuring this out about people. We play that game sometimes when we are out and about. We’ll see people and try to guess what their name is. For example: This guy’s name is Chuck or Randy. Here’s Betty and Roger. Tami. And she always puts a heart over the i. You get the idea. But how do you name someone who you have never…

So blogs are hard… And I am not good at keeping up with them. But here is the latest update on the tiny human growing inside of me: Chris and I have been undecided as to whether we want to know the sex of our child before it’s born or not. By undecided, I mean that he wanted to and I did not. It’s not that I didn’t care, but something as special as the sex of your child seems like a heavy load of information to dump on a future mother when she has her pants down around her…