Motherhood

Ten things my mother taught me

I may be biased, but my mother is pretty great. And as a part of a new series - Ten Things Tuesday - I want to start with ten things that my mother has taught me over the years. 

Family is who you make it. 

Family is so important to my mother. She will drop everything to help a family member in need (she even hopped on a plane to be with me during labor - even when the first labor was a false alarm). She also believes that family is not just who you are related to. She values friends like sisters, my husband like her son, and her students like children. She'd do anything for her family and I have come to expand the definition of family because of her. 

Pour love into your work.

My mother is one of the hardest workers I know and she absolutely pours her heart into what she does. She treats her students like they can do anything even when they are dealt bad hands. No matter the task or job, she does it with the same energy and devotion as she does everything.

Foster your creativity.

I think my mother is on to something. She has always encouraged our creative as well as our analytical sides. We have always been surrounded by paints and markers and crayons and yarn and fabric. We got to dance and play musical instruments and play outside. I truly believe that I am where I am today because of her devotion to creativity.

Wear sunscreen.

Simply put, sunscreen is important for every day. She always told us stories about how she used to tan with baby oil until she was burnt to a crisp. Now she has to deal with annual skin cancer screenings and occasional laser removal of pre-cancerous spots on her skin. We were slathered with sunscreen growing up and it is a habit I have prioritized today. SPFantastic. 

Dance like no one is watching.

My mother is the type of person to dance in the middle of a crowded store when a good song comes on. As a child, it mortified me, but as an adult, I do the same exact thing. She taught me to be myself no matter what. She taught me that my interests are important and I should do what I love, watch the movies I want to, read the books that interest me, and do not compromise.

Insurance is worth it.

My mother has always stressed the importance of insurance - medical, dental, car, liability, home, etc. Even though it may seem tough to make those steep monthly payments, insurance is incredibly important. There have been times where the proper insurance has saved us financially. Paul and I now make sure we have all we need to protect ourselves. 

Don't neglect your relationship.

My mother and father have always said, "the D-Word is not an option." They have prioritized their relationship over the years and fostered their marriage. They show affection, go on dates, and love unconditionally. They have shown me that marriage is forever but that it also takes work. 

Dessert is not optional.

I grew up surrounded by candy, chocolate, and treats of all shapes and sizes. My mother firmly believes that if you don't make something forbidden, then you can learn to just enjoy a small portion and move on. Dessert is my favorite meal of the day, but I never overdo it on dessert. I have learned to enjoy sweets without feeling guilty. I have treated every thing the same way - and it's okay to indulge sometimes. 

Laugh often.

Laughter was a staple in my house growing up. My mother laughed at herself and made our home fun. Learning to see the humor in every day is one of the most valuable lessons she has taught me. Sometimes life is really, REALLY hard, but finding a little joy can make everything just a little brighter. 

Special occasions are to be celebrated.

We celebrate everything in my family - birthdays, graduations, milestones of all shapes and sizes. She never forgets to send a card and she always has some sort of holiday decorations in her house. I, too, believe that even the smallest things should be celebrated. Today, I hope that I can celebrate her just for being my mom and for all the amazing things she has taught me. 

 

This is one

Night and day. Black and white. Apples and oranges. Fresh manicures and car keys. I have come to find that some things are just notably different and the transition between those things is extremely obvious... 

So there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. We have a one year-old.

For her birthday, she picked out this specific book. She was surrounded by mountains of novellas and encyclopedias and selected this dog book. It has not left her side since. 

Emma is no longer a baby. She is no longer an infant. She is no longer babying but toddlering. 

This past week has been one of the most exciting times for me in her little life. I am in complete amazement by her and all of her new tricks.

Side note: I am sure that she was doing most of these things when she was 11 months and 30 days old, but it just seems like her development has taken one giant leap forward. I guess we are going to go with it. Why not?

On Tuesday evening, Emma and I were playing in our toy-nado formerly known as the living room when my mom called us on FaceTime. We did our typical hellos and how are you doings and what's crack-a-lackings with Emma trying to reach through the phone screen and grab my mom's face. Emma was sitting on my lap, showing off her three shark teeth, and pointing directly at my mom's nostrils. She eventually hopped off my lap and proceeded to point out all her goodies so I flipped the camera to face Emma while she did her thing and something amazing happened.

I asked her to grab her Minnie Mouse stuffed animal and she went right on over, grabbed it, and gave Minnie a big old hug. I asked her to grab her book and she scooted over to her animal book and started perusing the pages. She opened to a page filled with different domestic pets and I asked her where the dog was and she pointed right to the dalmatian. Fluke right? Good guess right? She loves dogs so that had to be a lucky guess. Right? Right. She then turned to another page with different birds, about 15 or so, and I asked her to point out which one was a penguin. And you know what? She pointed right to it. My jaw dropped. Finally, she turned the page to the farm animals and I thought I'd try it again. I asked her where the cow was and she pointed right to it! WHATTTTTTT?

If you followed that very long mommybrag moment, you should know that I am just completely overwhelmed at her development. I no longer feel like I have a flailing little potato here but a cerebral tiny human soaking in her surroundings and putting her giant brain to work. She is mesmerizing. She is magnificent. I am in awe.

This is one. 

What is in store for us next? 

 

A tale of the weekend

An alternative title to this post would be - someone get me some new sinuses - but I thought that would be a little self-serving. And you know, selfless Samantha is at your service. 

Paul, Emma, and I are all sick. It started a fewish days (feels like forever) ago with Emma. I'm convinced she picked something up from the viral incubator, otherwise known as daycare. I had to pick her up early on Friday afternoon following a call (desperate plea) from her teachers telling tales of woe due to Emma's inconsolable screaming. Super Samantha swooped in to have an afternoon with the walking snot fountain at home. 

Well doesn't she just look like a ball of sunshine?

We had planned a quiet weekend at home but our shopping list was getting longer than Dumbledore's beard so I definitely needed to do a Target and Trader Joe's run at some point.

Saturday morning Paul was feeling all kinds of awful so he needed some serious alone/recovery time sans screeching tiny human so off to errand-running we went. Deep breaths everyone.

How do you moms with multiple kittens do it? I was struggling with just the one. But any who... When parents are sick, all rules are out the window. It's a madhouse, MADHOUSE.

Between Target and TJ's, Emma and I stopped at In N Out where I am sure we got some horrified looks as she scarfed down one half of a cheeseburger without blinking. 

My glutinous alter ego was so proud. I think my devil horns should be coming in any day now... 

...Yup definitely growing in. 

I'll save you the train wreck that is Emma's chocolate and sprinkle covered face post this doughnut. Remember the whole no rules thing. I enjoyed a glazed and my elevated blood sugar made my pancreas heave a sigh of despair.

Thanks to the generosity of our friends and family, Emma's toy corner has grown to Everest proportions. I clean, she tornadoes, I clean, she pounces. Typhoon Emma does not care.

Out trip to Target was in search of sippy cups. Yes, Emma must transition to sippy cups and she's having none of that. 

What's the baby sign language for L O L? 

She will literally throw the sippy cup across the room and the mother sucker that I am pours the milk back into her beloved bottle. MOMS, tell me your secrets for sippy cup transitions!!

Paul and I have also been trying our darnedest to get her to eat more solids (doc's orders) and while most of it makes its way on to our immaculate floor (J to the K), she has managed to try some more foods this weekend. 

She enjoyed a gourmet meal of eggs, avocado, and extra butter on Sunday morning. And God smiled. I wish we had a doggie shaped vacuum for the mess. But she did manage to feed herself with her spoon for the first time. Color me proud. Now if only she could change her own diapers and get herself dressed then we're talking.

Speaking of her toy corner, miss Emma is equally (if not more) happy to play with non-toy items in her new favorite play room, our kitchen. Because what doesn't scream fun like the knife block and finger-slamming cabinets? 

Typhoon Emma.

As the dreaded cabin fever began to set in, I desperately pleaded with Paul to take Emma outside for a walk while I did our laundry. Our apartment's laundry room looks out on our courtyard so thankfully, I had a lovely view of the tornado as she tormented the pigeons. From safely behind the wall of glass. 

Mwahahaha. 

Well clearly our weekend adventures are the stuff of great novels. Or you know, mediocre blogs. Carry on tiny dancer. 

She's so adorable when she's horizontal. 

How were your weekends warriors? Happy Mondayyyyy. 

 

Thoughts on this whole motherhood thing - year one

Emma was born one year ago. Well, one year ago plus two days. So like, 365 days plus two. So 367 days. But who is counting. Obviously me. But it feels like it was just yesterday. Wait. Where was I? Oh yes.

I would do it all again. And again. And again.

When I found out that I was pregnant, I think my eyes bulged out of my head. It took me all of 0.34 seconds to run into the room, jump on top of a sleeping Paul-shaped body, and shove an oh-so-hygienic pregnancy test in his face screaming, "We're pregnant!!!!" I thought that was the beginning of the toughest months of my life (I still hate you morning sickness), but OH NO I was OH SO wrong. 

Those early days with the tiniest human I have ever held were incredibly scary, exhilarating, nerve-wracking, crazy, hectic, and positively perfect. And hard. Oh so hard. Like the hardest.

So tiny. The tiniest. But actually felt pretty huge en route. 

Here she was, in my arms, and I still remember that moment perfectly. Not only did my eyes bulge out of my face again, but I felt that my heart was now on the outside of my body, residing in this little bundle of chunk and angel kisses. And all the thoughts came rolling around. Would I break her? What if I stepped on her? Am I ready for this? I am, or are I, or will I be? Wait, I am. 

So today I would like to share with you what it's really been like during year one of the whole motherhood thing. It's a tell-all. An E! True Hollywood story. Except kind of weird, mostly crazy, sometimes tough (okay, really tough), but one hundred percent amazing. 

Hello world, this is Emma Grace. You're welcome.

In The Beginning

Those first few weeks. HOLY CARROTS. Those weeks. Those crazy weeks. How did I even survive them? Oh yes, wine. Just kidding. Kind of. They were hard. Like really hard. Like really, REALLY hard. I constantly worried. I didn't sleep. She cried and I thought the sky was falling. I worried about everything from if her diaper was too tight to if she had the right number of blankets to if her socks matched her onesie. I am a woman of odd obsessions. 

But really, I felt kind of numb to it. I think I went into survival mode. It was just eat, sleep, poop. For her, not me. Subtract the sleep part for me. Paul and I had to just figure it out. Our families were only able to stick around for a few days then it was just us verses the tiny human. She is still winning that double-team. 

I am not even going to go into the post-human expulsion healing that needed to occur. That was all kinds of icky. So sore. The sorest. 

I am fairly certain that between the post-partum hormone drop, the sleep-deprivation, and the stress of my new guardianship role, I was going a little stir crazy. However, I found that diving into the mommyhood Instagram world on the daily helped with the sanity issue. Mamarazzi, at your service. 

Breastfeeding

Oh yes, the B-word. I have a bone to pick about that one. I have heard for literally years about the challenges of pregnancy, morning sickness, weight gain, and overactive bladder. I thought the hard part was over. But oh no. Breastfeeding is a beast. 

Everyone was like, it's so natural and you and your baby will just get it and it's genetically encoded, hashtag mammals, hashtag evolution. Well I have two words for you. YEAH RIGHT. (And maybe a few other choice, four-letter words.) Breastfeeding had to be the hardest thing about new motherhood.

Emma didn't latch properly, I was filling up with milk with no where for it to go, and she lost a pound of her birth weight. Queue the freak out and an emergency call to a lactation consultant where I cried like the failure I felt and Paul felt all kinds of helpless. 

Those were cheeks full of milky goodness.

But......... we figured it out eventually, thank the sweet Lord. But then... pumping happened. I had to pump like crazy when I finally went back to school and never felt like I had enough milk for her hungry eyes. After buckets of tears, I finally accepted what I was capable of and importantly, what I couldn't do, and we began supplementing with formula and never looked back. 

Here's how I see it. You do you and Imma do me. Ya dig? Let me de-gangsterfy that for you. While we love breastfeeding. We also love full tummies. Enter, formula. Each family needs to figure out what works best for them. Your baby picks up on your vibes and my high-stress-not-making-enough-milk vibe was no bueno. The second I decided to supplement, a weight was lifted off my body and what do ya know, the milk flowed freely and we were all happy campers.

We did a combo of breastfeeding, pumping, and formula for the first 10 months of her life and now we are occasionally nursing for comfort and on our way to weaning.

"Make it work." - Tim Gunn 

Sleeping

Remember when I used to sleep through the night and sleep in until 10am then wake up casually and make pancakes? No, I don't either. Emma has always had a tough time with those long stretches of sleep. In the beginning, she would nap for only one-ish hour stretches and sleep for two to three-ish hours at a time at night before wanting to chug that milk again. Even now, her naps require the perfect conditions and she has a love-hate relationship with her crib. 

What can I say? The girl likes to snuggle. 

That's right. I'm talking about you.

What about that taboo co-sleeping? Oooooo, spooky sounds. While I was aware of the recommendations and risk factors associated with co-sleeping. That was quite often the only way any of us would get any sleep. At first, she slept on one of our chests while we sat up in bed and took turns getting that elusive shut-eye. Then we moved to her sleeping in the basinet next to us while she was all swaddled up (speaking of swaddling, DO IT), then she slept between us for a long time and nursed while we slept (praise GOD). Right now we are on to crib sleeping most of the night then moving her in with us when she fusses at 3 or 4 am.

This one is still pending. 

Milestones

When will she laugh? When will she sit up? When will she roll over? When will she perform the can-can? When will she recite the Gettysburg address? So many things to consider. 

Everyone always says, just treasure those early days because they go by so fast! Yada, yada. It has been interesting to juggle those feelings of treasuring the moment and wondering what she'll do next. Not to brag or anything (but I totally am, momma gotta do what momma gotta do) but she hit those milestones early and often.

The day she picks up a book, sits on my lap, and starts reading to me, I will just explode. You've been warned.

This is one of my favorite photos of all of ever.

The Juggling Act

I am constantly asked about how I manage to juggle motherhood, wifelyhood, and dental studenthood. Well I'll tell you - wine. Just kidding. Sort of. But really, I don't know how I do it, not really. Like, I have no specifics. Well wine does help. And so does an incredibly hands-on and supportive husband. He's my rock. He's my fella. He's father-extraordinaire. 

A few things have become glaringly obvious though. Well quite a few. Priorities shift. Habits change. Your reality is now connected to a tiny, needy human. 

Here comes trouble. Wrapped in a sugary coating. 

One. Nothing will be clean again. Like ever. (Screams of agony are heard in the distance.) I have had to accept two notches down from my normal obsessive uncluttered space and allow the dust motes to settle in all nice and permanent like. C'est la vie. 

Two. Things will jiggle. I have a nice little layer of squishiness all up and down this baby-making body of mine. While I continue to work on that whole "fitness" thing, I have come to love my insulation. I've named my right love handle Margaret and my left love handle Thatcher. The gang's all here.

Three. Identity crisis. This is back to that whole juggling thing. For a while, I felt like just a milk machine, destined to live with a nursing pillow glued to my torso. But after some time, I started to feel like myself again, just a slightly different version of myself. Samantha 2.0. Samantha part 2. The mother formerly known as Samantha the single. Say my name, say my name.

And suddenly I see what her teenage years will look like. 

Relationship Status

They say marriage after baby is tough. Well whoever they are, they are right. It's tough. But it's also pretty damn amazing. You become a team. You become even more connected because you have created this beautiful little thing who relies totally on you for everything. I have never run a relay race before, but I assume it was modeled after new parenthood. We tag out when we have had it up to our eyeballs. We pick up the slack. He's the Yin to my Yang.

"She's our lobster." - Phoebe Buffay

Marriage is a challenge in and of itself. But add in a screaming, needy, hungry person (meaning me) and things can get rough. We have cried. We have yelled. And we have pushed each other to the limits. But we are still a team. And now we have a ball girl. A caddy? A water girl? Who am I kidding? She's the star and we are on the bench.

Yes we are those people. The matching ones. You can roll your eyes now. 

We have made it a priority to check in with one another in our marriage. Yes we have this special person who needs us all the time but we also have people in our lives who love to watch her while we slip off on a date night. Or date day, because our bedtime is 8 pm. We trust that God will provide for our family and we just focus on getting through the day-to-day craziness. Living la vida loca.

This was one of those day dates that we let her tag along. She bought the first round of drinks.

Odds and Ends 

Motherhood is just so darn wonderful. We made this little person and I get to be her mother forever. And ever and ever. Looking at her little adorable face while she looks back at you and loving her so much that it almost kills you. Wow. It's powerful stuff. 

Just call her smiles for days Wetterholm. 

With it, you get the sweetest smiles, the giggles that sound like music, the tiny whispers of mama while she drifts off to sleep. It's worth it all. It's worth everything. Every last diaper bomb. Every last milk spill. Every last splatter of oatmeal on the floor. Every tear. Every smile. Everything. 

If you need me, I'll be smothering this one with kisses and hugs. 

Because you're her mom. Her momma. Her mother. Her mommy. Forever.

And ever.