Category Archive

Sometimes shit happens. And sometimes the kind of shit happens that flips your whole world upside down. And because of said shit you realize you have been living in a depressed daydream formerly known as life for years with no other explanation than you had no freaking clue what you were doing, what you were missing and what it was all doing to those around you. No clue that in your blindness you’d become bits and pieces of the thing you hate. The one thing you swore you’d never be.

DAMN if feels great to wake up and be alive, but it also kills. It sucks, it’s sad, and it’s a knife turn in the heart to see the destruction, the pain, the brokenness you’ve left behind. Every bit of those shattered pieces are all I am, all I have. So far gone and so important. It needs to be fixed, mended, and nursed back to health and it will. I have faith it will be fixed, I have to.

Through I’ll I’ve endured, I’ve never been so low, so powerless. Yet to be in that place and not feel hopeless, not feel like the victim is a strange thing for me. And while I am embarrassed and enraged that a portion of that is because I was on the other side, it is also my solid proof that I’ve let go of the cause. That I am finally laying the hurt to rest and unearthing me. I wish I could grab so much and take it back, stuff it all away, rewind the hands of time and replay it all through the lens I see now. With clarity and love and life rather the clouds, the hurt. It would all be so different. Sure there would be pock marks and bumpy roads, maybe even a few landslides, but it would be ideal, it would be us.

I know now that I can’t promise perfection, that if I strive for that I’ll go the other way but I can promise to be present and I’m learning now that’s more important than anything. My hope of all hopes is that it really isn’t too little too late.

I’ve been busy, too busy. This week has been filled with catching up on orders at nest, preparing for an awesome spa day sleep over with a couple of my Mama Speaks ladies (read: cleaning, cleaning, and more cleaning) and a couple of days that disappeared into thin air thanks to the MINI having a crisis again.

But today, begins summer. Oh, summer my love. How can anything be crappy when the sun is shining and blue skies abound? So I’m taking the path of cheese and asking you to play along in a wee little summer time meme. Easy enough. top 10 things you love about the season. (and don’t forget to sign the linky)

Here goes my Summertime Top 10:

1. See above comment about sun and blue skies

2. Warmth (after 9 months of winter, I’m reeeeeady!)

3. Bare feet (I ALWAYS have bare feet, so maybe I should say bare feet minus the stares?)

4. Tank tops and hoodied nights

5. Beach. Beach. More Beach.

6. Walks, bike rides, skateboarding and endless other excuses to be outside.

7. Food on the grill. (did I mention, we don’t actually own a grill)

8. Watching my baby turn brown. Don’t worry we use sunscreen. It’s just fascinating to see the offspring of pale, burnable ol’ me turn golden.

9. Sweat. I’m weird. I actually like to sweat. One of those things that make me feel alive.

10. Outdoor concerts. Music is my muse and nothing beats a show outside. City festivals, amphitheaters, parks and more, here we come.

Speaking is not my thing. Well, to clarify, I can happily talk an ear off, but ask me to share my two cents in front of a group of people, grown people, grown important people and I’ll be in the corner shivering (I could totally rock it if my audience were say field mice or small children, just so you, you know, know) And so when I was invited to be a panel member for the Mommy Blogger Monologues my initial reaction was thanks, but no thanks. Not my thing.

Thankfully I thought about it a bit before sending in my gut response and realized that this IS EXACTLY my thing. I deal with PR folks and blogging relations daily with Mama Speaks, and with so much controversy in the blogosphere lately, regarding these relations, I realized that my not so humble opinions and I were being offered an opportunity to talk about something I am passionate about. I won’t say that I suddenly decided said opportunity was any less terrifying but I did decide to jump in. And I’m so glad I did.

I was honored to be one of nine amazing Mama’s who spent the morning talking about what we know best. Ourselves. Why we blog (and tweet!) and how this passion of ours has morphed into somewhat of an accidental career. Most importantly we were able to tell some amazing companies and PR folks the best ways to approach us (and you!). The best way to use us, to work together.

The morning was amazing. Successful. Thanks to Maria for the opportunity and all the other amazing Mamas; Arianne from To Think is To Create, Steph from Adventures in Babywearing, Jaymi from Flip Flop Mamma, Amy from The Ladybug and her Blogging Mama & Mums the Wurd, Kim from Traveling Mom, Emily from The Motherhood, Jory from Blogher and Pause and Julie (and little Oliver!) from Parents Blogger Network and Mothergoosemouse.

We’re looking to add some new Mama’s to the family over at Mama Speaks. My baby has been around for almost a year now and working with all the ladies has been a joy. As the site grows we’re finding we need help, and we figured what better way than to open the doors to all of those that love the site as much as we do.

Head on over for all the details.

I’ve never been big on politics. I understand the importance of course, and think we all have to not only celebrate the fact we have the right to vote but get off our butts to do it. It’s just that all the campaigning and subsequent brow beating gets old fast. The thought of people committing their lives to that makes me stressed out. It’s always been a bit personal to me, my own little “don’t ask, don’t tell”, if you will. I am not affiliated with a specific party because unfortunately, there has never been one who’s ideals I completely support. I don’t want to be stuck behind any one person just because they are supposed to be in a certain camp. I do follow what’s going on, I’ve just never wanted to have much part in it.

And then the last 4 years happened. Unfortunately, the guy I voted for (I know, just click my contact link to send hate mail) and his comrades have made some really poor decisions that have put our country in a very scary place. I’ve found myself slowly getting more upset at the state of things, to say the least. Rather than feeling love for this country of ours, I’ve been having serious chats with my husband about leaving it if things don’t turn around. Soon.

All of that is making me all sorts of excited about this election. And a bit scared. The issues at stake are dire at best and the way I see it there are only two ways things can go- more of the same or some serious change. There was a candidate in contention that, for the first time ever, I felt I could support on just about every issue. Unfortunately, as the big day nears, it’s becoming clear that no matter how hard he fights, the chances are slim he will even be on the ticket. And so I’m in a bit of a pickle- do I stand behind my man or take a serious look at my alternatives?

Of the three remaining, McCain scares me, Clinton is far from ideal (which is sad because I have been waiting so long for the chance to vote in a woman president!) and then there’s Obama. I think I was pushing it down, but every “Pick Your Candidate” website has pointed me in his direction and I’ve found myself leaning. Yesterday we went to hear him speak a Town Hall at a somewhat local high school. And I will have to say that I’m feeling a little bit wooed.

Of course being in such an arena, 2,000 other people coming together for any cause is a little bit striking but as talked through ideas, proposed new concepts and laid out his plan, I began to see so many of my issues spoken aloud. Answered even. He addressed education, health care, green technology, the safety of imports, keeping our jobs and economy stable and most importantly this war. A war that has now gone on longer than the Civil War and both World War’s. A war that is costing us so much money that we NEED to be spent here. Not to mention the lives. Our lives, their lives, taken away.

I will admit that I teared up a time or two, that I cheered, that I am now excited. There are the silly controversies of course, the Che flags flown at campaign headquarters and such. And there are things that are even scarier. The other day I was making cold calls to voters, getting out the news that we can vote early in our area, taking down data on which candidate they are leaning towards, and I came across at least one man who blew up about Obama. “He’s not even American!”, he said, “Just look at his name, and he’s a ….” Well, I just even go there. I guess in my heart I know that there an unfortunate many people in our country filled with hate and prejudice. People willing to let color or sex cloud their judgment on such an important issue. It scares me.

Our primary is May 6th, and I’ve made the descision that I’ll be there. That even if my final decision is still up in the air that this is the guy that I would eventually like the chance to vote for. That he’s who I’d like on our ballots. I’m not sure that I’m ready to add a Mama for Obama button to my blog, but I can’t promise that I never will.

Our experiment in dual doggy ownership failed miserably.

We knew that our beloved Oliver needed a playmate and after Christmas set out to find a new pup. After a huge let down at the shelter we decided to hunt for the perfect red Dobie. We found him through a somewhat local breeder and brought our Solomon home at the end of January. Today he found yet another home.

Sweet Solomon

Ok, I’ll admit it, David wasn’t entirely on board, he was for me, but if it had been completely up to him….notsomuch. I was a wee bit trying to self-medicate with dog, I think. I have always been an animal lover, never turned down a stray, have always used those furry four legged loves as my outlets for affection and companionship, the whole bit. But then this funny thing happened. I became a mom and as much as my animal kids were loved and cared for, the human babe took over priority number one.

But lately Oli had me stressed, he was lonely, I was feeling a discontent and then when my dad died… I needed something and that seemed to be it.

I won’t say it didn’t help. To have this gorgeous, sweet, loving creature in our midst was awesome. Oliver immediately changed into the dog we knew he could be, and Xavier loooooved his baby puppy. But it wasn’t all roses, the poop multiplied, the stress multiplied, the one more thing to take care of quickly became too much. We were tripping over ourselves and quite literally having our ankles chewed on by a teething pup, who was quickly gaining size on our 2 year old. He was my responsibility and I finally admitted I just couldn’t do it anymore.

After two weeks of answering emails and phone calls. Of denying way too many people because they were more interested in chopping his ears off than hearing about how sweet he is, we found the perfect parents to adopt our not so tiny pup.

They came, they visited, they left with 4 more legs.

We’re sad. Xavier said goodbye, but I think it will take a day or two to sink in. Oliver is lost and moping. But at the same time there is a relief. A weight that has lifted.

One of the hardest things in seeing him go, was deciding that it’s not fair to keep Oliver as an only dog, he really needs a canine companion for himself. And so next week, Xavier, my sister and I, will pack up the car and make the long drive down to Arizona to drop him off with my brother and sister-in-love. They love him, want him, and can give him what we can’t right now. I don’t know if we could do it if he wasn’t staying in the family, but he is, and we can.

Oliver’s First Bath (yes, there are pictures)

While it stinks, again, I’m feeling relief- even if for silly things. I’m looking forward to a house that is a little quieter, a lot cleaner. To not have to interrupt a moment with my husband or my boy because the dog needs to go out, or eat, or just pooped/peed/threw up on the floor again, will be heaven. To know my boy is safe from nips and accidental knock downs gives this mama a piece of mind that I haven’t had before. I fear the emptiness, the lack of snoring, snorting, bulldog. But it just doesn’t feel optional right now.

When X is older, when he can help, when he’s bigger. When we have a different house, and different schedules and firmer roots. I think then we might be able to introduce another living breathing thing into our lives. Right now, we prepare to say goodbye.

Via Treehugger. Laughing so hard, I can’t begin to explain it…

I’ve been keeping busy over at my Photo Blog and after I let my account sit idle for awhile, I’m really digging Twitter.

If things are quiet here, it might just be because I’m busy blabbing over there.

You asked for it, warts and all…

I am quite literally a mess. Things have caught up with me lately and drug me down deeper than I’ve ever been before. I am weak, vulnerable, insecure. Issues I thought laid to rest years past are back, fierce and consuming. One (albeit enormous) event has opened wounds and reactions obviously less healed than I’d like to imagine.

Those who know me personally know my history. I’ve been through some tough shit and while I’ve forgiven and forgotten much, I struggle with the person it’s made me. Or who it hasn’t. With the girl who learned how to protect herself from a tyrant but never learned who she was meant to be. Always on edge- defensive, assuming the victim role because no matter how awful, it feels like home, it’s what I know. Assuming that I must have done something wrong when the phone doesn’t ring or my inbox isn’t full to the point I make myself physically ill. And insecurities that cut so deep I am worthless, questioning those who have spent years doing nothing but consistently inserting their love and devotion.

There are reasons, obvious, glaring, neon reasons, but they ceased being excuses long ago. When I decided to become a wife, a mother, a friend I gave up the right to sink my own ship. And baby, this one’s going down. Bottom line is I can put on a good act but it’s not enough anymore. I am no fun to be around, I hear myself disagreeing with everything my other half says for absolutely no reason. I get frustrated with my baby rather than take a millisecond to realize he’s two, and I actually real like two. I get two. I feel left out, left behind by friends rather than rejoicing in the fact our little family just keeps on getting larger. I create realities that do not exist. I idealize. I idealize. I disappoint.

I try to teach my son how to respect, and how to communicate and in it’s midst realize that while I innately know how to teach him, I don’t know those truths myself. I never learned. Or I did and lost it along the way. I have no self. No security. I have confidence in one area in my life. I am an awful wife, a crappy friend but I was put here to be a mother. So that’s where I start.

I don’t know how to rebuild, exactly how to forge ahead seems daunting at best, but if I can look at my ability to mother, how I just get that without foundation, and expound. If I can allow that to carry over, to encompass other aspects of my life I think I’ll be ok. I think we’ll be ok.

If I have let you down in recent days, or months or years, I apologize. If you’re gone I probably had it coming. If you’re still around you must be really awesome and definitely love me more than is deserved. If you’re new to the scene it might be a little bumpy for a bit but you have complete permission to apply foot to ass as needed.

It’s now or never and I have a whole lot riding on me.

I feel obligated to start by saying that I have an awesome clan of girly friends for the first time in a long time. The kind of friends that send you the MLS listing to the house across the street (while living several states away), show up at funerals, know what’s going on with you without having to say a word and can have a conversation looking you in the eye even though you presently look like a poor man’s Sideshow Bob. I love them. And at this stage in my life Friends are family bottom line.

But all this goodness can make those relationships that aren’t, stand out like that strange odor coming from my garbage disposal.

I have this friend who since meeting a few years ago I’ve felt connected to. Similar interests, history, place in our lives, not to mention the common people intertwined. I just think she’s awesome. But there is this valley that just can’t seem to be crossed. For every attempt to connect or draw closer is matched with a push in the other direction, with jealousy or comparison or competition. Support or personal experience is drunk in as judgment. And it’s frustrating! I’ve spent so much time sensoring myself, wondering what else can I do? HAVE I done something to create this? I even made the mistake of trying to talk to my dear husband about things, who now thinks us women and our relational drama are completely mad.

Now, I’m not saying all of my friends need to best friends there are those I only talk to once or twice a year, thanks to this here blog there are gals I barely know but would consider friends in a heartbeat, I get that. But this relationship, for lack of grown up linguistics, just feels yucky. Often. And in dissecting things I’ve come to an enlightening realization… It’s not me. Has positively nothing to do with me. It’s freeing. And while this doesn’t neccesarily mean I’ll stop caring or will withdraw my hand, it has given me permission to stop worrying, to stop taking it personally. And has given me freedom to focus elsewhere.

Melanie at I Love My Life is the winner of my Bloggy Giveaway! Congrats! One of my new Hatchling slings is on the way for your little one’s.

Thanks to all who took the time to stop by and enter, it has been a joy having so many new blogs to visit! If you really, really, really wanted to win and didn’t and would really, really, really like one, Hatchlings will be making their debut at nest next week! AND I would love to offer you all 25% off your purchase, just email me newmamasnest [at] gmail [dot] com for code. (applicable to Hatchling line only)

A year ago today, I launched my site to bring my other baby, nest, to the masses. My goal was to help mama’s worldwide sling their babes in comfort and style and the past 365 days have been amazing! Thank you, thank you, thank you for all your support!

Stop on by, there’s a bit of a sale going on and keep watching- our Hatchling line and spring collection will be launching soon!

We’ve been crazy traveling fools here in the Allen family. Well not really too crazy, and we haven’t really traveled anywhere more than a couple hours away, but I feel like we’ve been up to something. The past 48 hours have seemed more like 48 days. In a good sort of way.

Yesterday brought a trip down to Indianapolis where X and David spent their first full day alone! Two words: Children’s Museum. (Went splendidly by the way) They enjoyed a Papa/Son date while Mama got herself a new tattoo. Nest? Blackbird? Check! (Thanks Monte)

And on the way home, we stopped to pick up our new baby puppy love, sweet, sweet, Solomon.

He’s just what we were missing…

and all is well with the world.

I have dreads. Dreadlocks. My hair. Long day, awesome girls, new ‘do. Love it. Picture to follow. FFM’s up tomorrow.

Five years ago today, I awoke from a fitful restless sleep, to butterflies and freshly fallen snow. I woke that day prepared to begin a new life, to wed the man of my dreams… my best friend. And now five years past, with butterflies and a blanket of snow, I prepare to curl up next to the man of my dreams, my best friend, and our son!, to continue the life we’ve established.

Never could have dreamed or hoped for more.

David,
All my love.
Happy Anniversary.
Here’s to 5×10 and them some more.
xoxo,
S.F.B

It’s been a week. One week without my father gracing this earth. In some ways it has seemed an eternity, in others a flash. Yesterday was the hardest day yet. Last week we were busy- gathering info and making arrangements, my phone was ringing off the hook, my brother and sister in law were flying in. And in three short days there was a birthday, a funeral and a dino party. We were reeling but moving. Constantly. Busy.

Monday everyone went back to work, my brother flew home, my phone barely rang at all. Just me and Xavier. Quiet. My thoughts. It was a tough day. A day I survived one minute at a time.

I know the world must continue on, that I must continue on, but who’s to say how long it can take before I have to rejoin the rest of you? Days, weeks, months, years? I’ve answered emails, approved orders and published reviews because people count on me. I wiped butts and noses, cooked and cleaned because my family needs me. I’ve slept because I need me. But it all feels so unimportant.

Today X and I finished our Christmas shopping- we avoided, we acted, we DID. There were moments of pure joy and moments where I literally said out loud, “I can’t do this right now.” The few calls I have received have quickly turned from concern- how am I, what do I need. To people telling me how they are and needing things from me. I don’t want anyone doting on me, it’s not about me, but I don’t feel like I have anything to give.

Maybe this is depression. This is real.

I know everyone deals differently, some move and do and act normal because that’s what works for them. Some deny that it all exists until they crumble or explode. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t have a plan. I do know I’m destroyed, that I’m nowhere ready for normal.

It has been seven days. Seven days of trying to put one foot in front of the other, one minute at a time, to make it through until normal feels right.

My Dad’s name is was Clifford. He never got around to getting a tattoo, but always talked about having David do a Clifford the Big Red Dog piece for him (Dad’s favorite!). After the funeral, my husband, tattooist extraordinaire, gave my brother and I matching tattoos. I wish the circumstances were different, but I finally got David to tattoo me.

It’s perfect.
Damn, I miss my Dad.

My boy,
Today is your birthday. Your second go at this, well, third if you count the day the arrived, and it just keeps getting better.

You have existed in the flesh for 730 days, and in that short time you have changed the world. Our world at least.

So much more I could say, but you know already. Happy Birthday little dinosaur.
Love,
Mama

I LOVE YOU

I started working at a group home when I was 16. My “clients” were labeled as “low functioning, high-needs adults”. I loved them, still love them, they quickly became my friends, my family. They taught me more than I could ever put into words, but one of my favorite lessons is just how silly our language can be. To my “guys” EVERYTHING was literal. If you said wait a second you better believe in exactly ONE second they wanted you to deliver. Maybe, was unimaginable, and when the new guy said it was “raining cats and dogs” our resident animal lover hopped to the window faster than I’d ever seen him move, full of excitement, only to be sadly disappointed by the presence of rain drops.

These moments return to mind now that I am Mom. Xavier has a really good grasp on language, his vocabulary blows me away, and yet there are all these nuances that his brain, can’t and won’t grasp for so long. And so I think about some of the things we say, and how when taken literally, they are just plain weird. People are strange! I’m sure you all have your favorite examples, and I could, I’m certain go on and on, but my favorite of late…

I’m preparing X for our day, telling him that after church we’re going to go to Miss Carrington’s baby shower. As I’m rattling off the names of our friends that we’ll see, he disappears mid Miss Steph, he just makes that “ah-ha!” face and saunters off. Before I know it he’s bouncing back with his favorite bottle of shampoo in hand, beaming and exclaims! - “Miss Care-ning-ton’s baby showers! Yay!” Right. Baby. Shower. Don’t I feel silly. Giggling and backpedaling, I explain that we are actually going to a baby party, to celebrate that Miss Carrington has a baby in her belly, baby Capri, who will be here so soon! “Ok, he says, go baby party” and off he goes. Just a party, not nearly as fun when there are no bubbles involved.

And now even though it has lights and is utterly fascinating I have the task of explaining why, this month and this month alone, we have a tree in our living room. A living room that has not, nor ever will, see any other growing green life form, because… I kill them. And while this tree is not alive it was assembled, “Papa, stacked it up”, and we hung the ornaments, put the tiniest little Santa hat on top, plugged in the lights and will bask in it’s glory, at least for another 14 days.

People are strange.

What do you think about me changing my name to Grimgrump Rottenshorts? Oh, I definitely have days where that is fitting!

Who are you?

All I want for Christmas…

With this family, these friends, and the first swirling snow, it is certain to be.
Giving Thanks
(and Happy Birthday to me!)

Maybe it’s always been this way and I’m just noticing because I have been eating, sleeping, breathing this thing for weeks, but gift guides seem to be all the rage this year. And while I am sure there are some good one’s out there, I like to think that Mama Speaks Holiday Guide is, oh, the best! Thanks to my awesome team’s brainpower, hardwork and some really late nights (and my awesome husbands mad design skills) we’ve compiled our favorite things for everyone on your list this holiday season. Check it out, it’s like Oprah, only less screaming.

Long since updated but not forgotten. More good eats coming soon…

For whatever reason, my 25th birthday has seemed an arbitrary deadline for getting my shit together. That this is the point where I leave all my baggage behind and step into the threshold of a new life. Because- I just. Can’t. Carry. It. Any. Longer. I don’t know that I can change my world in 4 days but it’s gotta be a good place to start.

I’ve felt in limbo for a long time, like I’m teetering between the hell that life used to be and this new world. This world that is the closest thing to a fairy tale I ever could have dreamed. I know I want to, need to, have to, dive in head first but it’s frightening. And so I inch and inch forward and backslide almost as fast as I’m progressing.

It’s hard because I never learned who I was. Because now, I am wife and mother and friend and I don’t know what’s underneath. Because all that was ever allowed to be underneath was what they allowed, what they proclaimed, and that person I created to protect the me I’m searching for. I don’t remember much. Like snapshots rather than stories. Sure some are sunny, smiles. But most are not. Why it’s so fragmented. I don’t know that I was ever “wanted” and love was always with condition. An environment where those meant to protect one’s innocence couldn’t cope so they closed their eyes and avoided and ignored and left a child, a girl, me to fight and fend and do what it took to survive.

And I did. But in doing so, things were lost. But mostly never gained. Certain skills and securities escape me nearly a decade removed. While I am able to see the world one way, I react to it another, always on guard, always waiting for that beast to return. What once was fighter, now victim. And this I carry with me. While I have forgiven I have yet to deprogram. To wipe MY slate clean and rebuild again. To discover the truth about the me the world has yet to see.

I know how to be Mama, the thing I was put on this planet for. My only confidence. I don’t know how to be a wife, I know how to love, unconditionally, but far too much history carries over. I react to my past rather than my present. 5 years in I’m blessed to have my soul mate stand behind me. Maybe a little slumped but solid. It seems the only thing missing is me, and I’m out to find her.

I’ve stopped a cycle, conquered addiction, grieved losses, ached for how things “should” have been, how some things still are, and it’s time to turn off the light, close the door and create a new beginning. Some build walls to keep people out, I’ve built them to see who loves me enough to knock them down. For the first time, I’m first in line.

4 days, impending and promising, rebirth.

Alright, so…. once this “fall y’all” business wrapped up, I set out to let my commenter’s know a winner had been chosen in my contest and as a thank you offered a crazy little discount code with my gratitude. Apparently I broke the rules and am going straight to hell. Me and at least the six bloggers I got discounts and thank you’s from (whom I thank because since I didn’t win your lovely contests I DO plan to use your codes to treat myself to your wears!) Apparently I am a spamer. Well let me tell you, if spamming is bad I don’t want to be good. (Ok, sorry, not quite sure that line means!)

ANYWAY, since my contest entries were so ungrateful, I thought maybe my regular blog readers deserved a little treat! So here are my holiday discounts at nest. I was feeling crazy with the first one seriously enjoy it, I’m willing to be your sweatshop…

Enter FallYall25 - for 25% off any purchase through 11.30.07
Enter FallYall15 - for 15% off any purchase from 12.01.07-12.31.07

I shy away from my blog more often than I’d like to admit because I should be writing here. Because I have things I need to get to out, and this is supposed to be my forum to do just that. I stop myself, keep it in my head and mull it over, good, bad and ugly for another day. a week. a month. years.

I’m on this journey, in this season of growing and stretching and scratching and clawing my way around in my skin. Of rehashing the past, of wading thigh deep in quick sand to try and predict my future. And I need this. I need it out, I need to make of sense of things, I need to move forward, I need to find me. I need to stop holding on to the things I’ve said I’ve forgiven because in some way, they are fullfulling me. Because even with disruption and distance the walls make me safe. And my fear of being “exposed”, of things being more real because I see them in print, of disrupting some status quo that very well may not exist but in the confines of my nightmares is not worth the stifling stillness that comes with preventing growth.

And so I’m coming clean, soul searching, getting real even if it means getting dirty. Even if it means my content isn’t exactly “Mommy Blog” material. I don’t know where to start, I’m hoping for some sort of organic evolution of thought and history. Of a reworking in time that makes sense of the present. Of an honesty that strips away the layers of defenses to reveal the me 25 years in the making. The me I’ve never seen.

Doing nothing because I should be doing everything and I don’t want to do it all.

I’m a little late getting this posted but felt a need to participate! What’s in it for you? How about a Nest Baby Sling in Glacier? Just leave a comment here and I’ll choose one person at random on Sunday November 4. Enjoy!

Since X was little his right eye has had a life of it’s own. I started to notice in pictures that it was always looking in while the other was pointed straight ahead and occasionally you’ll be talking to him and it will wander off in the opposite direction. I may not have been worried, but extreme prematurity increases eye problems and David’s family has a history of ocular ailments, so we figured we’d get things checked out. Thankfully the crossing is actually not that but a little droop covering some of the white making it appear crossed (yes, Mama you were right!) and his retina’s are securely attached.

But, Apparently most babes Xav’s age are far-sighted and he’s right at zero, leaning towards nearsightedness (also common in preemies) so the good doc predicted that he’ll need glasses at some point in the next year or so. We’ll go back in three months to see how things have changed, and while I’m not even going to entertain the fun it will be to keep glasses on a toddler, I’d anticipated he’d need them at some point. Yes, it would have been nice if he’d inherited my 20/20 vision, but all things considered we can handle glasses.

Plus, some miniature Buddy Holly’s might just be the cutest things I’ve ever seen.

Xavier’s bedtime routine is pretty simple, in that we don’t really have one. When he was new, he would just nurse and zonk out in the sling and sleep there on me until I was ready for bed. Eventually he started needing to actually lay down to sleep peacefully and so I’d nurse him to sleep in bed and sneak away. And there we stand. We usually play right up until bed time and then do a super quick potty run, diaper on, tooth brush, say goodnight to Papa, Oliver, Norman, reading corner, the puppy light, the guitar, the… and then we jet back upstairs and plop into bed where X nurses to dreamland while I sing his song and “tickle” his hair. Within 30-40 minutes he’s usually near comatose, done nursing and I can sneak away.

Tonight however… we make it through our routine, I go to sneak away and Xavier rolls over, sits up, wide eyes, says- “Mama, go down stairs and play.” The kid is WIDE awake. He’s had his power nap and is ready to burn the midnight oil. I’m about to get frustrated, really frustrated not that it’s a big deal but…

• I’m tired
• I’m not feeling well
• I’m wondering what David’s up to
• I need to get diapers in the wash
• I HAVE to sew
• Reviews need to get posted
• I really just want to snuggle up with my lovely husband on the couch and do nothing
• and
• I REALLY want some ice cream

oh, and I have to pee. I take a deep breath and decide we’ll just lay here and maybe he’ll fall back asleep. (HA! in the history of his world X has NEVER just laid down and gone to sleep). Just as we call Papa in (thanks to Xav’s 20th “Daddy doing?”) it hits me- in 15 years I won’t be able to pay my son to snuggle and my list of “desires” will look lame to say the least. And so I give up, give in and the next two hours are bliss. Filled with our sleepy floppy fish, rolling back and forth to snuggle Mama, then snuggle Daddy. To kiss and whisper and just be. Time stopped and we just were, just us, our family. I had massage requests from head to toe and then. Those little doe eyes look up at me and he says “Mama? Javi ready nonny night-night” yes, my lamb. And so we snuggle up close, X nurses of to sleep as I tickle and sing again. 15 minutes he’s out. I sneak downstairs and realize it’s nearly MY bedtime. The sewing and reviews (and maybe even the icecream!) will have to wait. And I don’t even mind!

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It’s cold!, originally uploaded by Allen Tattoo.

I’ve always thought that some people are just born faithful. Others are not. Do you know what I mean? There are those people that by our modern standards have nothing, and without ever reading a Bible, they have this faith. This unwavering foundation that IS what they have. They don’t question, they just… Believe.

My husband is that way. I won’t say he’s never questioned, never faltered but he just has it. It’s inspiring. It’s one of the things that drew me to him. This confident security, like he just knows. He says part of it is that he doesn’t have a father, he does-his mom remarried and “dad” is amazing and loving, and in the years before, David’s Grandfather stepped in and filled that role. But without a “real” Dad, he has felt that quite literally God is his father- his Daddy.

And then there is me. I have this overwhelming yearning to believe, but it has ALWAYS been difficult. I fight it every step of the way. I often look back to the early days to try to figure out why. My family was one that proclaimed Christianity, when it was convenient. Like, we believe in God by default, and definitely don’t want to think we just hole up in the ground when we die. But it was never much talked about. Definitely not something my parents thought enough of to actually take the doctrine to heart, you know - the sanctity of marriage, loving others, mmm not important.

I don’t know why things were this way, well actually I do, both of my parents choose to live their lives as something of a revolt, a rebellion. My dad’s mother immigrated here from Greece as a child, and while we don’t hear much of our heritage, I’ve learned through past Christmas and Easter gathering that while some of the family upholds the Greek Orthodox faith our little branch seems to have broke off. My grandparents on my Moms side are strict church going, prayer saying Christians. My Grandpa is a Freemason, my mom and her siblings raised actively in the church. But they were strict and so my mother turned away.

And so my foundation. Christianity became akin to mythology. Christians hypocrites. Definitely not something I wanted for my life. And yet as I got older, began coming into my own (ok so there were also definitely drugs involved) I needed answers. Purpose. And I began searching. Studying. After a few years I settled somewhat on Buddhism. I won’t say I agreed with everything, but the core principles, the values, the happiness were appealing. I was content. But still, questioning.

I felt a need for creator. Enter David. Our long open discussions. He allowed me to pick apart his faith without judgment. And didn’t force anything on me. He was patient. And little by little I began to see that I didn’t have to like Christians to believe in their Lord. That it was about love and acceptance, not guilt and disdain. And wow! I was rocked with change, priorities, values shifted, I was on fire. And happy.

Inevitably, the fire began to smolder, but I stoked it and kept alive. Study, prayer, this thing called faith. But still I falter, it seems sooo foreign. I was never so certain there was a creator than when Xavier was born. To see a life spring from me left NO doubt in my mind. And this faith and trust carried me through those first weeks when our boy was so sick, when we needed him to make it, but had no guarantee he would.

Fast forward 18 months or so. I’ve been on this roller coaster of belief and question. I go through the motions. I have promised to help raise our son in the Lord, but there are times I feel I’m pretending. I try to remind myself that God is love. THAT is my purpose. That I believe in. Yet I question.

And then two days ago I’m pulling out of the garage with Xavier strapped in back and he gasps and exclaims “Mama!” pointing to the corner of the garage “Mama! SEE JESUS!”. What? and again again, he tells me, “There Mama, See JESUS!”

I’m speechless.

He has it.

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Tower of tears, originally uploaded by Mama’s Nest / Ashlee.

(Don’t worry it was just the shoes, they came off and the world was a better place! Oops those are words…)

Once upon a time, Mama and Papa were cool. Going to shows as often as we could get there, rockin and singing and dancing the night away. Even with my baby bump we were sneaking in all the rock n roll we could. Soon baby made 3 and my curfew gladly came with the setting of the sun. Papa has occasionally snuck out to partake in some musical delicacies and about this time last year Xavier accompanied me to the big city to enjoy and evening with Morrissey, but our musical ventures have otherwise been limited to all things iPod and the local Polka troupe at the Harvest Festival.

When we caught wind that one of our favourite live acts was coming to town my dear husband couldn’t resist snatching up 4 tickets for the 3 of us. And so we set off on a whirl-wind adventure to see The Hives. It was of course fantastical. I was hyped up for a week before hand, and relished in the fact that we were actually planning on being late for the show. Unfortunately we were a little too late to unload the two extra tickets we had, but it’s no sweat.

We arrived with a bit of a wait before the good stuff began and after struggling to get X to keep his headphones on, we bopped around to the filler tunes, ate some ice and tried not to touch anyone. I stared at the back of some guys head as the music began but David and X had pretty decent views. They killed it of course and after a few songs and a nursing session we decide to take off before we turned into pumpkins.

A lovely late night stroll past Wrigley Field, pit stop for some Vegan French toast at one of my favorite dives and a long drive home, baby fast asleep, catching up on some good ol’ fashioned radio shows. Never had a better date with my boys.

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Cookie Monster, originally uploaded by Mama’s Nest / Ashlee.

Yo! Xavier’s super cool “Flying Mono” tee by ModesTod is available exclusively at Urban Baby Runway.

Today I uncovered a trail of pink panty liners, unwrapped and stuck to various surfaces leading from our master bathroom to David’s office. When I asked Xavier what he was doing he told me “playing boo-boo boats”. OoooooK.

So I wrote this post (see previous), i truely needed it, it was so cathartic. And then almost as soon as I publish it my phone rings. It’s this friend. This friend that i cherish but felt slipping away. Yet as soon as I hear her voice I feel different, something clicks or clears and I realize that there is just no way she’d consciously do the things I felt were happening. Yet I’m confronted, I’m forced to put my feeling into words. In words directly to this person that I have felt love and hurt for. It was hard because that’s hard for me, the speaking of things (writting comes easy) yet amongst my tears I felt giddy, silly and released.

Its on the table, its done. I feel like an idiot for not clearing the air sooner, for letting my crap, my insecurities, my emotions get the best of me. For assuming and then making everything fit that mold, that mold that didn’t fit. At least not on purpose. But most of all I feel bad that I let everything going on in my life prevent me from seeing that she’s dealing with junk too. Instead on being there I judged and distanced because I felt that’s what was happening to me.

This friend is like a sister. And i realize now, more than ever, she always will be.

How silly of her to think she could get rid of me so easy!

Do you ever find yourself surrounded by people and still feel utterly alone? Maybe it’s a time of transition, maybe I’m reading things the wrong way, maybe I screwed up in some major way that I don’t know. Any, none, or all. I still feel outed and well, alone.

When something so valued, becomes cordial at best, when I feel merely tolerated where there once was love, it stinks. It sucks really. I’m at a point in my life where friendships are golden. I’m in it for the long haul with those I find close. I value quality over quantity and am loyal to the end. I thought.

If this seems oddly cryptic, it is. It is because for whatever reason this is really hurting. Because if I were able to write clearly, concisely - I probably would have found some clarity in my gut already. Or this would be a breathless, teary rant. (I’ve already had a couple ugly blubbering cries)

Maybe this is why I always shied away from having super close girlfriends in the past, why those who have been close, still are, are like sisters, like family. People I can not speak with for months, not see for a year, and pick up right where we left off. Comfortably. People I can laugh and cry and share with. Who drive me crazy and I love dearly all at the same time.

I’ve made some amazing friends recently, when you can laugh so hard you almost pee about gunning it down a hill in reverse, you know you’re in. When you feel comfortable sharing skeletons on your second “date” you know you’re valued. This is what I’m trying to hold on to.

But still, losing someone- feeling like someone you value is slowly putting more and more and more distance between you is tough. I thought growing up and getting married meant I was over feelings like this, but I can’t help feeling well, dumped.

Maybe I should try writing a breakup song.

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Apple Orchard, originally uploaded by Mama’s Nest / Ashlee.

Apple orchard.(yes there is a husband in that tree)
Family.
Step away from the Chinese buffet.
Xavier can-
run really very fast.
do dino.
talk a lot.
have a bath and snack and story time at 1am.

Mamas sleepy.
getting sick?
sooo worth it.

I heart these days.

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Hair cut - after, originally uploaded by Mama’s Nest / Ashlee.

Yesterday. 4:30 pm. Hair cut. I think this was the official first, the bang cut shouldn’t count. Nervous but confident, I knew I’d cry but X was so excited, he’s been asking for a Mohawk for weeks and it was just time.

We made an appointment with the guy that cuts my Mama-in-love’s ‘do and he was great with X when we walked in and got him all set up in the big chair with his super cape. I spend a couple of minutes articulating what I’d like done and he even repeats a few things back. Yes! This is going to be great!

Scissors are brandished and aparently something about, “I don’t want any length taken off the top and would like the sides kind os shaggy- NOT buzzed” translated to, “Please make sure your first cut takes a couple inches off the top and buzz away” And it just kept. Getting. Shorter.

X was really cool with the whole thing (of course) the pile of hair on his lap was a little freaky but he loved the mini-shower and could have felt the buzz of “papa’s razor” all day.

And so my baby has a faux ‘hawk. No more curls over here. It is cute and X LOVES his “dino mokhawk” so all is well. But Papa and I are on the other side of the fence, it’s just WAY too short and so different! Those curls left a sweetness, this is all big, tough boy.

There are parts of this sweet little head I hadn’t seen in so long though, back of the ears and neck and this forehead! And I’d never realized just how much I play with his curls, until of course I go to detangle and bounce them and they’re not there. At the park this morning I even had my first thought of, “I hope his head doesn’t get sunburnt”
!

I think I’ll just commit to what I said last time and stick with cutting it myself from now on. Until then, it will grow back!

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Handsome, originally uploaded by Mama’s Nest / Ashlee.

I’ve been in a funk. A very legitimate funk filled with confusion and loss and chaos and busy-ness and fatigue, but a funk none-the-less. Hence the lack of posting and reading and time. I feel like so often I’m putting on a happy face during the day and then when the sun sets, and I get a moment alone, I crawl inside. I welcome that place that is dark and quiet and alone. Not that Xavier never sees me down or upset, because he does. I’m real. But sometimes, the depth of my emotions and my inability to explain them are beyond him. Are unfair.

All too often though, it’s my husband who suffers. He works so hard to provide for us and waits and waits for moments of togetherness. I’m sure he’d agree that all too often they just don’t come. Part of it is simply being busy- keeping two businesses, start-ups in the air during my Mommy-downtime, all while already being falling down tired by the time he gets off work just doesn’t bode well.

It has been weeks since I’ve felt “normal”, but I’m getting there - date night with my darling husband (just the two of us!), some catching up time with some of my favorite girls (car rides ARE therapy) and this boy that knows just when I need a belly laugh (encouraging our inner Appatosaurus works wonders). On top of that I’m learning that it is ok to ask for help when you really need it (or think you might really need it sometime soon).

The things I have control, dominion over, are mine to change but that isn’t much- my thoughts, my actions, my outlook. The rest, well, it’s not going anywhere. Fall is starting to settle in and with it, a peace- a promise. As the air turns crisp and the color fades, things seem to whither and deconstruct. The slate wipes clean, refreshed and rests - so that life can begin again- new, unburdened, innocent. It will without fail. And so will I.

I can always count on potty time for the best conversations. This morning during X’s poop run I was not disappointed.

X: “Mama, Pony book, read it!”
M: “You read it to Mama, please”
X: “Ok. Doggie… Kitty Cat… Mouse… Hedgehodge… (skips over cow) PONY!!!”
M: “There’s your Pony! Can you tell Mama what the Pony says?”
X: “Pony. NEIGH!”
M: “That’s right, and how does the Pony move?”
X: “Pony move? Pony gallops! This pony gallops WONKY!”
M- “Wonky?!”

Now, I do remember once upon a time telling Xavier that our shopping cart wheel was wonky, but it was some time ago. Ah! I needed that laugh!

(is this one of those had to be there situations?)

Congrats to our dear Jaymi (Flip Flop Mamma) and family! They just welcomed their newest addition! As much as I want to spill the beans you’ll just have to wait for the official announcement!

Cook-out Schmook-out. We’re all about the Dino’s today.

And yes, I know, I really need to post about our trip.

Here’s hoping it truly is “labor day” for this lovely mama!

Our view over Baltimore…
Missing hubby/Papa, Oliver and Norman but X is playing away with Cricket and Mama and I are having a blast.

Stormy night. Tummy troubles. Up way too late. Up way to early. Must. Keep. Busy.
Ah-ha! Paint. Lots of Paint.
Here’s our morning messy hair, paint mustaches and all…

Nothing like someone else peeing your pants for you.

Need some explanation? So as you know X has been the potty champ since around his first birthday- well sometimes. He goes days, weeks, even the occasional night with almost no reliance on diapers. Potty all the time. And then there are days and weeks that he “misses” with “uh-oh’s!” and “Mama, cween up pee-pee floor!” and then days and weeks where he could care less and is content to pee in a diaper, on the floor, on the dog, without batting an eye. (Thankfully it’s poo in the potty ALL the time- no poopy diapers for the better part of a year? I’m cool with that!)

But today it’s a whole new something. We’ve been on an all in the potty streak, so after X’s morning pee when he asks to climb up on my lap to nurse with a naked butt- I don’t bat an eye. So we’re belly to belly with his legs wrapped around my waist, nursing away. (See where this is going?) As he starts to melt away and relax all systems were a go. I jump as I feel a warm hot trickle puddle and start rolling down my leg. Gross right? Yeah, tell me about it! Seriously it felt like I was peeing my pants. Of course he’s delighted- to my “Hey, did you just pee on Mommy?” He responds with a giggle “No! Mommy pee Javi!” And if you saw me, you might just think he was right.

I’ve known for some time that I need to keep an eye on X with the ladies. He has a way with people in general, let alone the oogly women folk. What I didn’t expect, was him to turn the charm on me. A few times a day, completely at random, X will look at me with all seriousness and say, “Mommy, PRETTY!” followed up with a pretty intense smooch. Then there are the moments of staring deep in my eyes as he pats my hair. I’ve even gotten a few surprising cat-calls. I’ve no clue where he picked it up, but he’s not too proud to throw out a “woo-hoo” every now and again.

We have a friend with a now almost grown daughter, who’s made certain to raise her wonderfully. He took her on dates and bought her flowers, showed her how a man should treat her so that she would never settle. I, for some reason, always considered this with girls, but never thought much of the tables turned. I’m now seeing in my future the responsibility not only to teach Xavier how to respect women, but to show him how a woman should respect him.

Is it to early to start preparing for the first time he comes home with a broken heart?

Alright. I miss it. I’m really trying to make a point to recommit myself to my blog. Between my family, nest and Mama Speaks, I just haven’t been able to justify spending any more time online. But the less time I spend here- the less I write, the more time I spend in my head. I need this.

So, as a means of getting myself motivated I’m going to spruce this place up a bit, I’m looking for a little redesign and I need your help- I miss you all too, I miss reading your blogs but I forget- Without my blogroll/bloglines I just don’t do it, so if you’re not on my blog roll and stop by, please let me know- just send me an email- newmamasnest@gmail.com

In the meantime, this should keep you laughing…