Fears of a Kindergarten Mom

Learn the story behind this picture here.

It happened.  I don't know how.  I don't know when.  But my baby has become a boy, strong and smart and caring.  He has his own ideas, his own style, his own way (boy does he ever have his own way ;).  And now he has his own space.  A space separate from me, from our home.  I love his new space.  I know he will thrive and flourish in this space, but we were inseparable for 9 months and then seldom apart for nearly 5 years after that and now we spend large parts of our everyday with little knowledge of what the other is doing, thinking or feeling.  On the car ride home from school he giggles and rolls his eyes as I grill him like a drill sergeant about what he did, who he played with, how he felt during the day, etc.

As we begin our school journey I am surprised by my comfort in it all.  I believe that he is where he is meant to be.  You see, there was a very small chance (18 spots for 198 applicants) that he would literally win the lottery and be admitted into this loving school family.  But win the lottery he did, we did.  And now he is right where he is supposed to be - in kindergarten.

I enter this chapter with a smile in my heart because I know that he is ready and strong and able.  I know that he is being nurtured and respected while he is away from me.  Still, I think it is only natural that I have fears.  I have the normal fears about safety and mean kids and long days, but I am just now realizing that my biggest fear lies within myself.  My biggest fear is that I will fail my kindergartner.  That I am not ready for this responsibility.  That I will not know how to support him at the end of those very long days.  That I will not spend enough time in his classroom because I have two other babies at home.  Or that I will forget an important school assignment or event.  This is not his journey it is our journey and he will need my love, my embrace and my steady hand to help guide him.  I'm sure I will drop the ball now and then, but he has the support of his siblings, his incredible father, and some really caring friends and family to lift him up and walk beside him when he needs it most.  I love you, Leon.  You are bright and empathetic and strong-willed and athletic.  You are a part of me, and I you, and I am with you every morning when you walk through those big glass doors.

I know I owe you a birth story, but I just haven't had a chance to polish it yet between starting kindergarten, the hubby being sick, and preparing for this weekend's craft fair.  I'll post it next week polished or not.

Ada Marie's Water Birth Story Part 2

Now where were we?  Oh, yes, part 1 of Ada Marie's birth story concluded a few hours short of 38 weeks, 2 cm dilated, 50% effaced, with mild preeclampsia and low amniotic fluid.  As I mentioned, I was really surprised that the ultrasound revealed anything out of the ordinary.  I was prepared to take castor oil.  I was prepared to be induced on Monday.  I was prepared to go home and wait.  I was NOT prepared to stay at the hospital for an immediate induction.  I was feeling anxious.  For us, birth had never unfolded exactly the way we thought it would, but somehow this felt very different.

Shortly after we got settled into our room our doula arrived.  We talked through some of my anxieties while we waited for our midwife.  Our midwife brought such a calm, soothing presence to the situation.  She sat with us and explained the decisions that were being made, patiently answered all of our questions and told us we could try nipple stimulation with a breast pump to see if that would be enough to start labor.  We tried that for about 45 minutes.  It didn't start labor, but it did cause contractions and I was able to collect some colostrum that I was able to give to a gay couple who had a baby the day before and were looking for breast milk.  When the nipple stimulation didn't work our midwife explained that we would use cervidil to get labor started and then remove it once I was in labor.  I was nervous because we'd never used cervidil and because it was getting late and I was getting tired.  They inserted the cervidil around 10:30 p.m. and I was able to sleep for a bit.

I woke around 1 a.m. to use the bathroom.  I'm not sure if I was conscious of it or not, but I began to pace from one corner of the room to the other while chatting with Steve and our doula.  I was cold so I wrapped a blanket around my shoulders as I paced.  Steve and our doula knew I was in labor at that point, but I don't think I had realized it yet.  I started to feel like our baby girl was very low - like ready to fall out kinda low.  The nurse checked me and said that baby was very low, but that I was only 3 cm and she could feel some scar tissue and we'd probably need to manually break up the scar tissue.  Whaaa?  That didn't sound like fun and it didn't make sense to me because the procedure causing the scar tissue was from way before my pregnancies and hadn't caused any problems with the other two.

Our camera stopped working just moments before her birth.  These were all taken with our cell phone.  At first I was really disappointed, but now I kind of like them.  They are dark, like the room was and not completely clear kind of  like the mental state (aka labor land) that mamas enter during active labor.

By 2 a.m. I was fully aware that I was in labor.  I had hoped for a water birth with my other two children, but the first time I was monitored heavily and the second was too fast.  So our doula began filling the large birthing tub.  While it was filling I sat on a birthing ball in the tub and she ran water on my shoulders, back and belly.  It was so soothing.  Then I got down into the tub on my knees.  I felt my body relax into the contractions that were now fast and furious.  I knew we'd be meeting our little girl very soon and I was filled with emotion.  Needless to say the scar tissue on my cervix did not present a problem.

The midwife had given us space to sleep and relax while we waited for the pitocin to kick in.  She asked to be informed immediately when labor started because my second labor was so fast (1 hr. 45 mins. from 1cm to birth).  Somehow she wasn't told, but I was fully supported by my husband, doula and nurse.  She came in just in to check on us and immediately realized that birth was imminent.  She removed the cervidil.  I had a hard time staying low in the water during the contractions so she turned me around to sit and lean against the tub the way you might take a bath at home.  When I turned my water broke.  I pushed once and her head was born.  And, oh the sweet relief.  I didn't feel the need to push again for what seemed like a long time, but was probably about 20 - 30 seconds.  They told me I could reach down to touch her head.  At the time it seemed like so much effort, but I'm so glad that I did.  It felt like a freshly washed peach.  One more push for her shoulders and a last one for her bum and she was born.  She was born with her hand up under her chin as if deep in thought.  Our midwife joked that she almost came out holding the cervidil.  I reached down and pulled her up out of the water.  She was tiny and perfect.

At some point in the tub I remember saying to my husband, "I think this is the part where I say, 'you did this to me' and 'we're never doing this again'".  But I never even thought about drugs.  There was no doubt in my mind that I could bring my baby into this world exactly the way I wanted and needed to.

Nursing my sweet girl about half an hour after birth.

Ada Marie was born in the water and into my arms at 2:57 a.m. on Saturday, August 6, 2011, exactly 38 weeks.  She was an itty bitty thing weighing 6 lbs. 1 oz. and measuring 17 1/4".  And she was loved instantly.

Ada Marie's Water Birth Story Part 1

One year ago today our family and our hearts grew as we welcomed our little girl into this world.  Here is the story of her beautiful birth.

36 weeks pregnant and on a date with the hubby thanks to our fabulous friends who watched the boys.

First the backstory:
At 32 weeks my blood pressure (BP) started to rise. My blood pressure is normally on the low side so when it hit 130/80 I knew we were headed down a familiar, yet still bumpy and sometimes scary road.  You see, my first two pregnancies were very similar.  The first time it came out of the blue and took me completely by surprise.  First the high blood pressure and then the protein in my urine.  I felt fine so how could I have this potentially serious condition known as preeclampsia? And I had no swelling, headaches, upper abdominal pain or funny spots in my vision. But I was induced at 37 weeks the first time and went into labor while waiting to be induced at 37 weeks the second time.  And now I found myself in the same position and while I was not surprised I was still frustrated that there seemed to be nothing I could do to change my fate.  I took comfort in the fact that my first two children were born perfectly healthy at 37 weeks and I was still able to have beautiful, unmedicated births with both of them.

The first high reading at 32 weeks was cause for awareness, but not alarm.  Then at about 35 1/2 weeks I was running errands and my heart began to race, I felt flush and dizzy.  I was in a store that had a blood pressure machine and though I know they can be unreliable I had checked it at that location before and felt it was better than nothing.  My BP reading was 142/92.  I informed the midwives of my high BP reading and waited for an official reading at my appointment 2 days later, 146/104, argh.  The midwife didn't want to tell me, but I believe in making decisions based on all the facts, not just the ones I like.  I had her note that reading along with the second reading, 135/96.  I had blood work done and was sent home to collect 24 hours worth of urine, not my favorite thing to do, but relatively simple in the scheme of things.  I cannot remember what the results of this test were.

We continued to go into the office twice a week to monitor things closely, but I was fairly certain we'd coninue the rest of the pregnancy status quo like the first two and thought we might even have a chance at going full term.  Then, on 8/2, at 37 1/2 weeks the headache hit me.  It was intense and unrelenting.  I drank water like a fish, downed a few acetaminaphin and layed down.  I was home alone with the boys and they knew something wasn't right.  They were patient and quiet and allowed me to try to rest.  My neighbor made it home to watch the boys just as my husband arrived to take me to the midwives' office.  BP was 150/110 - the highest of any of my pregnancies.  We were sent on to Mission for non-stress test (NST) and blood work.  Baby seemed to be doing well so we were sent home with another jug for collecting urine. We were expecting to hear results of our urine collection sometime, hopefully early, on 8/4.  When I heard nothing I thought it was odd, but assumed that no news was good news.  Not so.  Steve and I were driving home separately from a swim at a friend's pool when one of the midwives called to tell me that the 24 hour urine results were in, 364.  Not super high, but anything over 300 plus the high BP is preeclampsia.  So we had two choices 1) come in for an induction, um, now or 2) go in for testing in the morning and then decide.  That hit me like a brick.  It was like 8 or 9 p.m. and I wasn't with Steve and I was just completely caught off guard so I decided to keep my appointment for the following day.

I called our fabulous doula and she was able to calm me down and we talked through all the questions I had so that I could be prepared for our appointment.  Like I said, this was familiar so while I was a little disappointed and caught off guard because of the time that we received the news, I was still confident that our baby girl would be healthy and that we could have another wonderful birth.  Our bags were packed and in the car just in case, but we had a busy weekend with our small business so I assumed that the tests would be fine and we'd either take castor oil or be induced on Monday.

Just before the big event:
At my appointment my belly was measuring 36, which alone didn't seem to concern anyone. Baby was slow to react during the non-stress test, but once she got going she was strong (the test occurred at at time when she was normally less active).  Then they led us to the ultrasound room for the rest of the biophysical profile.  It's amazing to see your baby so far along in pregnancy, but the lights were dim, the fan was humming quietly and it had been an emotional few days.  Those are all the excuses I use for both hubby and I falling asleep. Seriously, who falls asleep during an ultrasound of their baby?  When I woke up the tech told us that baby didn't do the practice breathing but that was all she said.  We headed back to labor and delivery outpatient area and prepared to leave as the nurses phoned the midwives with the results.  We could hear them talking on the phone but couldn't exactly tell how it was going.  Our wonderful midwife called our room and told us the news.  We were not going home.  Whaaa????    She would be heading to the hospital and we would begin an induction immediately.  I didn't see that coming.  With my other pregnancies our tests had always come back fine.  I was surprised to learn that our amniotic fluid appeared to be pretty low.  Average is about 12, 6 is on the lowest side of normal, mine was 4.  I realize this is not an exact thing because they are limited by what they can see, but it is a part of the big picture.  If it was just that the fluid was low they said they probably would have had us drink a lot of water over the weekend and come back on Monday, but with the other symptoms they felt it was safest to induce.  I was one day shy of 38 weeks, 2 cm dilated and 50% effaced.  We phoned our doula and she was on her way.

Tomorrow I'll post about the labor and birth.

Feeling Down and Getting Dirty

Yesterday was rough. Some days are just like that. And I was starting to feel pretty low about my abilities as a parent.  So, while my kids were napping (yes, all three of them) I finished making the blueberry sorbet we had started (before the youknowhat hit the fan and I declared nap time for all) and then I sat on my butt with the computer. I turned to one of my favorite blogs, Here We Are Together, for calmness, clarity and inspiration.  And I found it.  I'm not a neat freak, not even close, but I still feel like I spend a lot of time telling my kids to keep things clean.  They don't often get an opportunity to really let lose and get dirty.  So, I took a page from Miri's book (or technically a post from her blog :) and we set out to build a mud pit.

I let them help dig the hole because hard work is good for them and it was part of the fun.  They took turns carrying water in buckets (and causing some grief threatening to spray each other with the hose, argh) and pretty soon we had a nice mud pit to play in.  The kids looked at me with impish smirks and wide eyes when I told them to jump in - a sign that we need to do this more often.  The hubby's response, "Oh my.  What are you doing?  And why?"  Always good to keep him on his toes.

Worm!

Where was Ada during all of this?  Right there with us of course.  By the time her knight in shining armor arrived to rescue her she had a few mud splatters on her bald head and a big one on her cheek.  And she didn't mind a bit.

I can honestly say that the day ended about as rough as it began, but this middle part, where we all got down and dirty, was pretty fun.  I can understand why people go to spas to take mud baths, it's pretty therapeutic, but we'll save our dough and use the dirt that nature provided in our own backyard.  What soothes you and your kiddos when you're having a tough day?

I linked up with Capri +3: Artsy Play Wednesday.  Stop by and check out the other great ideas.

Summer Bucket List

With our oldest son about to enter kindergarten, this summer feels a bit like our last hurrah.  Realistically, I know that there is much more fun ahead, but emotionally I can't help but wonder if we've done everything we want to do.  Have we made the most of our time together during these pre-school years?  So, in an effort to make sure we got out and had some serious fun this summer we made a summer bucket list.  The list really helped us prioritize all the things we wanted to do.

Our Summer Bucket List:
Mom

1. Lakeside camping
2. Date with each of the boys
3. Movie with my hubby
4. Craft retreat

Leon

1. Canoeing
2. Slot car racing
3. Baseball at the park with hard bat and ball (so easy to please)
4. Fishing

Dad

1. Canoeing
2. Playing music with some guys in the hood
3. Mountain biking
4. Camping

Eli

1. Go to the girls' house - the girls are our neighbors, whom he adores.  (Another easy one to check off the list - done)

There's some nice overlap between our lists so those are definitely the biggest priorities.  In fact, we've already been able to cross a few of these off our list.  We've managed to fit in lots of baseball and we've booked a lakeside campsite for later this summer.  Actually, we booked two as we're going during the week so there was lots of availability and it will give us added privacy and flexibility with naps and sleeping.  We're planning on having our fire at the second campsite so that the hubby and I can hang out by the fire after the kids go to sleep.

Last weekend we took all three kids to Devils Fork State Park and paddled to a great swimming spot.  There are no pics of all of us in the canoe as Ada was miserable in her life jacket so we canoed as fast as possible to our destination and got her out of that bulky, thumb-sucking preventer super necessary life-saving vest.  We had a great time, Ada included, and we managed to get some cute pics even thought our camera is on the fritz so we only had our plain old basic cell phone.

Ada kept sticking her head in the water to drink it so we took it as a sign that she was thirsty. 

We totally canoed with the stroller - you know, just in case we wanted stroll through the red clay or sandy hills, lol. 

Leon loves life under the water.  He spent most of his time searching for fish. 

The boys enjoyed a snack break in the canoe. 

You can barely make out the boys in the distance canoeing back to the boat ramp.  Ada and I returned on foot.

Leon finally caught a fish!  We didn't see a single fish (unless you count the dead one on the shore) until we returned to the boat ramp and then he caught one in a ziploc!  He was thrilled and then heartbroken when we had to leave.

Since our life got a little less crazy (read about our -or my - craziness here) we've really been trying to focus on our family and spending lots of time together doing the things we love.  Our bucket list has helped and the kids felt like they had a say in our summer plans.  Why shouldn't they?  So, what's on your family's summer bucket list?

The Freedom of Parenthood

I am sometimes guilty of focusing on the the restrictions of parenthood - we can't come and go as easily, the bedtime hours are shot (lately that seems to be from 8 - 11, argh), vacation is expensive, the cost of eating out adds up and our two-year-old often struggles in such settings so why bother, laundry is an endless chore, naps restrict us to the house during certain hours (not that I'm complaining about nap time - trust me), and so on.  So, in keeping with the spirit of the Fourth of July holiday I am reflecting on the many freedoms of parenthood.

My awesome baby-daddy doing some serious puddle jumping with the boys on  Mother's day.

1. The freedom to be silly
   We adults tend to worry a bit too much about what other people think.  Kids, especially young ones, don't really care.  Not so great when they bust out a full blown tantrum in line at the grocery store (candy at the checkout should be illegal), but pretty fabulous when it comes to their imagination and playfulness and some of this rubs off on us adults.  I've seen some really awesome dads playing various roles during rousing games of princess, moms pretending to be evil villains so their miniature super heroes can defeat them, puddle jumping, hill rolling, bad-basketball-playing, mud fighting, and everything in between.  You never have to worry about looking foolish because you're doing it for your kids (and you know you're having a blast), so go on and be silly.
2. The freedom to be frumpy
   Don't get me wrong, I love dressing up and looking my best, but parenthood does not lend itself to that everyday.  I know some mamas will disagree and say that you should look your best everyday, but that's just not for me.  Some days I like to steal those extra minutes of sleep, role out of bed and into a full blown kid-centered day.  And I'm pretty confident that when I roll into the grocery store corralling my three kiddos with my hair looking a bit too greasy shiny, not-so-slight circles under my eyes, and more than one spit up, paint or obvious food stain on my clothing ain't nobody gonna say nothin.  And I like it that way because for me that's real.
3. The freedom to see things through the eyes of a child
   In the time between being a kid and having kids how many times did you stop to watch a deer by the side of the road or watch the ripples when you threw a rock into the water?  How many times did you strike up a conversation with the garbage man because his truck and his job are fascinating?  Or try for hours to catch minnows in a stream?  Everyday I see things in a different, more colorful and more beautiful way because of my children and I am so grateful.
4. The freedom to be a big dork
   Remember in high school when you would purposefully not wear pink on Valentine's Day or orange on Halloween or red, white or blue on the fourth of July?  Well, I do.  And now I stress just a little if I don't have something festive to wear.  For Valentine's Day this year I made my own heart sweater from this super simple tutorial.  For real, I didn't just wear pink or red I rocked a homemade heart sweater (sweater itself was from Goodwill, but I DIYed the heart).  And I got lots of compliments from other moms, my kids loved it, and so did I.  For St. Patrick's Day I upcycled a too tight green tank top (see picture below) by adding some shamrock print to the sides and bottom and you better believe I wore it in public.  It's fun to get just a little too into the holidays and right now my kids think it's great.
5. The freedom to be assertive
   I've never been the most assertive person, but now that I have kids I really don't have a choice.  I need to teach my kids to stand up for themselves so when there is a wrong we point it out, talk about it and try to make it right, if it's within our control.  It can be taking from others, cutting in line, or speaking up for those who can't speak for themselves.  I distinctly remember waiting in line at the gas station with my brother to buy a pack of gum.  We must have been about 8 and 6.  As we started to step up to the counter a man, more than old enough to know better, stepped right in front of us and began to checkout.  The cashier said nothing, but I remember her looking at us.  My mom must have walked through the door just in time to see it because she marched right up to him and said, "Excuse me. My children have been waiting patiently and you cut in front of them."  He grumbled, but moved out of the way.  I will never forget her standing up for us like that.  Of course, there are many more dramatic examples of her standing up for us - it's just what you do for your kids - but this example illustrates how even the smallest situations can have a big impact.  Thanks, Mom!
6. The freedom to find myself
   I studied marketing in college, went on to work as a marketing assistant at a local mall, and then became the communications director for our local chamber of commerce.  It was all great, but it was what I did, not who I was.  After my first son was born I went back to work at 3 months but my heart wasn't in it.  I didn't feel like I was giving 100% to my job or my sweet babe.  I decided to quit my job, start a super small business that I could do with my son and try to eek out every precious moment of his infanthood.  That started me on this journey.  The journey to discover who I am and who I want to be.  To discover what is important to me and what is worth my precious time.  My children led me back to my sewing machine, deeper into my roots and on this road to become a DONA certified birth doula.  I can't imagine going back to the work I used to do.  Not because it's not important or not fun, but it's just not me.  A birth-loving, breastfeeding, scatterbrained, craftaholic mama to three amazing kiddos - yup, that's me.

The plain-tank-turned-festive-shamrock-shirt, lol.

So, while it is true that parenthood can be restrictive, today (technically yesterday, but I have yet to go to bed so it's still July 4th in my book) I am celebrating all the ways that my kids have set me free.  Thanks, my brilliant babies.  I'd love to hear how your kids set you free?

Welcome Home Baby

There we were, two midwives and I, the doula, sitting around a beautifully inviting circular table inside an obviously loved and cherished home.  As we contemplated stages of labor and who would be the first to sample the just-sweet-enough smelling muffins the couple had baked in the earliest stages of labor, it seemed fitting that we were seated at this open, welcoming, soft, yet strong table surrounded by sturdy walls and protected by the dark of night.  It seemed fitting that this, my first home birth experience, would begin in this way and so I asked, "Other than the obvious, how is a home birth different from a hospital birth?"  I originally thought I meant the logistics, where supplies are kept, who does what, who cleans what, etc.  But I now know that the answer I was looking for was something more of a feeling and it all became clear shortly after the clock signaled the start of a new day on June 27, 2012.

I sat barefoot in the soft, creaky glider used countless times to rock her first son to sleep and watched the immediate bond form with her second son while they snuggled and cooed in her bed just moments after his birth.  She rubbed the feet that only minutes earlier had fluttered and kicked inside her as he made his journey from the world that only they shared and into his home, his little place on this big earth.  To be born into that place where he belongs unconditionally, into that place where his arrival has been anticipated with hope and joy since his conception is something words cannot explain.  You have to be present to feel and appreciate the beauty and the rightness of starting his life right where he is meant to be.

It was around midnight on this fresh, dark night when we heard the unmistakable sounds of a woman nearing the end of her labor.  We went quickly, but gently to where the mama clung tightly to her husband as the waves compounded and released the ocean inside her.  I was completely present in both mind and body, applying counter pressure and using affirmations, but make no mistake I was a guest on this journey.  Mama and papa were in a world by themselves, she rocking and moaning and bearing the weight of the final stages of labor and he, genuinely in awe of this strong, courageous woman who would soon bless him with their fourth child.  I was simply there in case they lost their rhythm or in case fear briefly took over I would help lead them back.  But they walked through it in complete synchronicity - papa guiding and reassuring mama - and they were rewarded for their hard work with a babe who knew just when to arrive.  He knew just what his mama could handle and before his head had been completely born he let out a small, muffled cry to greet his parents.

Look at their faces - papa's filled with pride and joy and mama's filled with relief, both filled with love.

And as these parents bonded and loved each other and their new babe, we visitors returned to that welcoming round table and sat in tired and contented silence until the elder midwife looked up from her just-sweet-enough tasting muffin and asked me, "So, how is a home birth different?"

My three perfect miracles were all born with the support of my husband, a midwife and a doula, without pain medication, in the hospital and each birth was beautiful, peaceful and perfect.  I've attended several serene hospital births as a doula, but this experience was life-changing and left my womb aching, just a little, to bring forth life in our home with complete and pure love and acceptance.  And since some of you will ask, no, there are no current plans to do so.

Leave a comment and let us know where we can read your birth story.

I Run

Or maybe I Ran would be a more appropriate title. I wouldn't call myself a runner, afterall, I've only run twice, but I can say with confidence that I did run and hope to do it some more. The first day I ran about 2 miles and the second day I ran 3 miles and I ran, like didn't walk (okay, I walked once the first day, but only for 2 or 3 minutes). We are blessed to have a trail head leading to acres of forest very close to our house so the possibilities are endless. I am also blessed with an incredible neighbor who watched my children so that I could run.

In the interest of full disclosure, I've always despised running for running's sake. Give me a ball to chase and I'm in, but to run just because? No, thanks. Or at least that's how I felt back in the day when I could poo solo and speak with other adults without hearing "Mom" a dozen times. Yes, back in the day running was work. Now, those quiet mornings on the trails - yes all two of them - are more reminiscent of vacation, giving me time to breathe, albeit heavily, and to retreat into myself. It's a time when I can worry only about taking care of me, which I believe will help me to be a better mother, wife, friend, doula and certainly a better woman.

This newfound hobby has also inspired me to create something using one of my other hobbies, sewing. You see, I have to carry a trail map and my phone when I run so that if my directionally challenged self should suddenly become lost and all the trees look the same (I'm a landmark kinda gal), I'd be able to make a desperate call for help. So, while I completely understand the practicality of the fanny pack, as a child of the 80's I just cannot wave the white flag and surrender to this method of toting necessities. Hopefully I'll get this fanny pack alternative put together soon and, if it works the way I imagine it will, I'll post a tutorial soon.

So, it has actually been two weeks since I ran. Will I continue? I don't know. It's hard to find time with three kids and our other responsibilities (only a few of which I mention in this post). I do know that I felt stronger, more confident and even happier after I ran. I think just knowing that I can do it makes me feel better about myself. Hopefully I will be able to find time to fit running into my life, at least occasionally. It's just one more piece of the puzzle, also known as me.

The Birth of a Blog

Welcome to Birthing Me! I'm just a stay-at-home mom to three wee ones under the age of four, which means that I spend my days wiping poop and tears, preparing meals and snacks, finding creative ways to learn, baby-proofing (and kissing and bandaging boo boos when it fails) , juggling play dates, rationalizing with non-rational mini teenagers, cleaning a house that will never be completely clean, organizing and reorganizing to make space for us in our small house, helping run our small business and enjoying every minute - ok not every minute, but we have a good time and lots of love and laughter.

In my "spare time" (is there really such a thing?) I enjoying sewing, crafting, spending time with my hubby and finding my place as a birth doula in my city's amazing birth community. Oh, and I serve on the board of an incredible non-profit. So I'm over-loved and under-slept - is that a phrase? It is to my sleep deprived brain. I don't need more hours in the day, but a few more at night for some needed zzzz's couldn't hurt. This is my first attempt at blogging (please be kind). I intend for it to be a place to document my journey, share some fun ideas, and hopefully learn a little something about myself. Thanks for joining me!