one month old

My sweet boy–
You are one month old today.

Already, you have grown so much!

When you were born, you weighed in at 7lbs. 4oz. and were 21 inches long. Now, you are 8lbs. 13oz. and 21.5 inches long!

You spend most days fighting sleep, giving people the stink eye, crying for boobs, peeing on yourself and others, and hating on tummy time. Seriously hating it.

You make about 9,346,085,304,230,450 different facial expression a day, and I love every one of them.

You get the hiccups more often than any kid I know.

You snort and turn bright red when you’re really huff-and-puff-and-blow-your-house-down angry.

You have to have your hands near your face at all times.

You always do a victory fist pump after all of your big accomplishments– a long nap, a big poop, a loud burp.. You’re a man’s man.

You look more and more like your daddy every day.

Momma snuggles are your favorite (mine too) and the only way you’ll sleep after 5AM.

You’re always trying to hold your head up like a big boy, and I think it’s because you love to know what’s going on around you. You might only be able to see about a foot away from your face, but you are quick to fuss if we block your view!

I can’t believe you are already a whole month old. It’s happening way too fast. Everyone said it would, but now I actually believe them. Sometimes, I look at your little face and I can imagine what it’s going to look like a month from now.. a year from now.. and then I cry because I’m a total sap. While I can’t wait to watch you grow and experience all the “firsts” along the way, can you slow it down a bit? Pretty please?
You are the beat of my heart and the best part of every day, and I hope that you know just how special you are.

Love you, kid!


our first adventure

Today marked the first time Landon and I ventured out into the world by ourselves. SCARY. I would tell you how it went, but I think it might be slightly more entertaining if we heard Landon’s side of things. If he could talk, this is probably how he would recount our morning:

YES! Awake just in time for the Today show. Quick– put a boob in my mouth before I scream.
Forgot how depressing the first hour of the Today show is. I think I’ll go back to sleep until they start cooking something. Hey, Mom? You can go back to sleep now too. You’re welcome.
Woke up with a boob in my mouth. Way to go, Mom! So glad you’re figuring this out.
Sounds like Mom is on the phone with Dad (OMG why aren’t you home yet?!) and she says she wants to go grocery shopping today. Mentions something about how cooperative I’m being today LOL not so fast, Mom!
Immediately start screaming for no apparent reason. Mom rules out all the usual suspects– burp me, change me, rock me. Surprise! Still crying. Solution? More boob time.
P.S. I totally just foiled any plans Mom had of leaving before 11AM. There’s no way I’m missing Kathie Lee and Hoda– it’s Boozeday Tuesday.
Mom seems to think she’s ready for the day LOL I don’t have the heart to tell her that her hair looks like she just rolled out of bed. Which she did. At least she put some makeup on because, well, YIKES. Someone has some mean dark circles under their eyes and it’s not me.
Mom straps me to her chest in some kind of cotton contraption so we can take the dog for a walk. Mom tells me she is my big sister, but I don’t see the resemblance. I’m not nearly as hairy, and I definitely don’t poop outside.
Decide to surprise Mom with an explosion in my dipe. Decide not to pee on myself this time, because that usually leads to a bath and BOY do I hate baths! Maybe later.
Mom packs the diaper bag with most of our material possessions. Are we going to the grocery store or backpacking across Europe?

Mom puts me in my car seat and straps me in a little too tight. Standard. I don’t know what these things are on my car seat straps, but Mom keeps calling them my monkey friends. Definitely not friends.
Spent the first five minutes of the car ride trying to eat this monkey’s face. Gave up and succumbed to sleep. No better lullaby than anything by Justin Bieber– love him.
We’ve arrived at the grocery store. Mom is pleading with me to be her good little man. We’ll see.
Mom puts my car seat in this big metal cart thing, and it isn’t so bad. It’s kind of like being in the car, except I can see Mom. Liking that. Hating that my jams aren’t playing, though, and this place seems kind of dirty and full of strangers.
Start whimper-crying because Mom isn’t paying attention to me. Suddenly distracted by the boob in my mouth. Wait– is that a boob? Definitely not. Just my paci. You’re a trickster, Mom, but this will do.
Awake from my paci-induced slumber to find that I’m surrounded by food. Someone is touching my foot. Not surprising, pretty sure Mom is obsessed with them. They’re little, I’m little.. funny how that works. Except– wait– Mom? WHO IS THIS LADY?! STRANGER STRANGER STRANGER TOUCHING MY FOOT!
Suddenly our big metal cart thing starts moving again, and Mom looks like she wants to punch someone. She mutters something about crazy people and assures me that will never happen again. Get real, Mom. Do you know how cute I am? Like anyone could resist pinching these cheeks and touching these wittle feets. Keep some sanitizer handy.
Did we just teleport to Antarctica? WHY IS IT SO COLD?! I don’t care that all you have left to grab are Hot Pockets for Daddy (sorry, Dad), get me out of here! 
Start screaming so loud my whole body turns red. Mom tries to console me with the paci. Not this time, Mom! I’m onto you.
Mom looks panicked and finds the closest checkout line. Glad she knows who’s boss.
Air conditioning. Justin Bieber. Monkey acquaintances (they’re growing on me). Looks like this baby is going home! 
Initiate explosion #2 in my dipe. Mom needs something to do when we get home. I’ve been letting her have way too much free time lately.
Briefly consider screaming to keep the car ride interesting. Mom turns up the radio. Nap time ensues.
Justin Bieber– 2, Landon– 0.

Mo Money Mo Problems

I have a theory that very few people are legitimately poor. Most of us are just broke because we choose to live outside of our means. Case in point– my life.
We just spent an ungodly amount of money on newborn pictures, so we’re going to spend the next month or so whining about how tight we are on money. The pictures (though amazing) are definitely outside of our means, but we’re first time parents (a.k.a. suckers) and decided to have them done anyway. Goodbye date nights, hello Ramen Noodles.
I’d like to say that we will learn from this experience, but that’s a total lie. I’m pretty confident that August will find us spending way too much money on vacation, and we’ll be knee-deep in Ramen Noodles by September.
While I regret this vicious cycle every time it happens, I know it will continue for one simple reason– call me cliche, but there are some things that you only get once. Landon will never be a newborn again; try as I may, he will not be my little seven-pound nugget forever. While we may regret spending an exorbitant amount of money on pictures, we will never regret capturing that special time because once it’s gone, it’s gone. Yes, it will suck to tighten the purse strings for a little while (and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t going to complain about it) but ten years from now, will we really care that our kitchen was a revolving door of packaged Asian noodles for a few weeks? Probably not.
Will I cry (correction– have a mental breakdown) if these pictures are ever destroyed in a fire? You bet your bottom dollar.

10 Things: Being a Momma

10 Things on Being a Momma
What I’ve Learned in the First Two Weeks

You will cry about everythingYou will cry because you only got a half hour of sleep last night. You will cry because it’s been two weeks already since your little nugget was born. You will cry about how sweet your baby is (and your husband will make fun of you). You will cry because the baby’s crying.  And just when you think you’ve pulled yourself together, you will cry for no reason at all.

Everyone has an opinion. Don’t give your kid a paci because it causes nipple confusion and buck-teeth. Don’t co-sleep because my sister’s cousin’s boyfriend’s nephew rolled out of bed. Sleep when the baby sleeps (which is a total pipe dream if I’ve ever heard one). Everyone and their mother will offer their opinions and advice, whether you ask for them or not, but take it all with a grain of salt. It’s definitely important to consider multiple viewpoints when making parenting decisions, but at the end of the day you will figure out what is right for you. 

Babies cry. Ok, duh. Here’s where I’m going with this– babies cry, and sometimes there is nothing you can do about it. Sometimes they’ve been fed, burped, changed, and cuddled and absolutely nothing will change the fact that they are not happy campers. Accept it. 
Mommas are superheroes. Sometime in the course of pushing a human being out of your vagina, you will acquire special mom superpowers. In fact, it might even happen before that because let’s face it– giving birth, in and of itself, is a superhuman feat. Suddenly, you can conquer the world on three hours of broken sleep. You can breastfeed, eat dinner, and update your Facebook status simultaneously. You can juggle your purse, a diaper bag, and a car seat without breaking a sweat. Cure cancer and solve the oil crisis while changing a dirty dipe? Consider it done.

Do something for yourself every day. Stop for an iced coffee on the way home from the doctor’s office. Set aside an hour to curl up under the covers and watch Kathy Lee and Hoda (even if you have to DVR it). Take advantage of the fact that your husband is home and treat yourself to 30 minutes of uninterrupted shower time. If you value your sanity at all, you will make time for yourself and it will be amazing. You deserve it!

I would be a hot mess without my husband. I definitely lucked out in the husband department, because he’s basically Superman. He helped me figure out how to use a breast pump, a.k.a. the least sexy thing ever next to watching me give birth (which he did, and promised it did not scar him for life and he would still give me the business four very long weeks from now). He waited in line for thirty minutes at the Sonic drive-thru just to get me an orange slush. He asks what he can do to help me around the house. And even after working all day, he is ready and willing to take on baby duty the minute he gets home, without complaint. He’s quick to tell me I’m an awesome momma, but the truth? I wouldn’t be if it weren’t for him.

It’s okay to be a bitch. Don’t be afraid to enforce boundaries when it comes to your little one. At the end of the day, you have to be your baby’s advocate. Smoking was a big issue for me, and it was hard to set ground rules for family and friends because I didn’t want to offend anyone, but protecting my little man’s brand new lungs is way more important than anyone’s hurt feelings. Sorry I’m not sorry.

The baby books are only kind of accurate. I’m very Type A, so I spent a lot of my pregnancy researching everything there was to know about labor and delivery. By the time June rolled around, I was convinced that my postpartum life was going to look something like a bloodbath massacre and my lady parts would never be the same. Real talk? It was a scary sight for like five minutes (ok, most of the first day) and then it got better. By no means was it all rainbows and unicorns, but it was not the slasher movie I was expecting. Moral of the story? Don’t freak yourself out reading about how so-and-so needed twenty stitches or had to wear Depends or bled for twenty days because chances are, it won’t actually be that bad. I promise (unless you are the so-and-so the books are referring to, in which case I’m sorry the universe hates you).

You will not have the answers to everything. If anyone ever claims that they do, please send them my way so I can let them know that they’re full of crap.

If you make it to bedtime and no one died, it has been a successful day. Some days will be harder than others. The laundry might not get done and there might be dishes in the sink. Your baby might decide to projectile poop at 1AM and dipping him under running water might seem like the right thing to do before putting on a new onesie and passing out. Is everyone still alive? If the answer is yes, pat yourself on the back and enjoy the two hours of sleep you’re about to get before you have to wake up and do it all again.

10 Things

10 Things I Want My Son to Know
Be brave. Every day is a new adventure. Some days will be easy, and others will be scary, but that’s okay! You are strong and capable and prepared for everything that comes your way. And on days that you don’t feel like you are? That’s what I’m here for.
Being smart doesn’t make you a nerd. If anyone tells you otherwise, just brush it off and know that this person will probably peak in high school and spend the rest of his life working at McDonald’s.
I don’t know everything. Even though I will probably spend most of your childhood pretending that I do, I don’t have all the answers. There will be times when you will have to find them for yourself.
Be a gentleman. Or I will cut it off.
You are going to do great things. Whether you aspire to be a prima ballerina or feed a third world country, know that I will always, always, always cheer you on.
Work hard for the things that you want. It builds character. So many people grow up with a sense of entitlement, like the world owes them something, and I think it’s kind of sad. Handouts are for losers. Your father and I have worked hard for everything we have. Don’t be ashamed to accept hand-me-down furniture and live on Ramen Noodles for a while– everyone starts somewhere. And after you bust your butt for a little while to buy your first couch or TV or whatever? Just think how proud you’ll be.
You will always be my sweet little boy. Period. Even when you’re 6’4″ and all grown up, I will still think of you as my little man.
Never stop exploring. Whether it means simply venturing outside of the sandbox or driving across the country, do everything you can to experience the world around you (but be responsible and please don’t give your poor mother a heart attack). The teacher in me will be the first to say we learn best by finding things for ourselves. The mother in me will need to be reminded of that once in a while =]
Be kind. It’s the oldest saying in the book, but you should always treat others the way you want to be treated. Hold the door open. Tip generously. Send thank-you cards. It’s the little things that mean the most.
I will always love you. Even when you do stupid things (you will) and I freak out (I will), know that there is nothing you can do to make me stop loving you. You are my heart.