S'mores Life

Nine months and my entire second pregnancy of six weeks away, two weeks home. A year of four weeks on, two weeks off . (The "best" year of this job.) Nine weeks of "Oh you're coming back in a week. No, never mind. Ok you're coming back in two weeks. No, never mind..." Eight months of anywhere from four to six weeks on, averaging one week off. No consistent schedule. Alternating between gratefulness for the opportunity and the ability to move our family back to Alaska, and (probably irrational) pure hatred of the slope, everything it stood for, and what I felt "it" was doing to our family. But I knew, deep down, it wasn't doing anything to our family. Maybe some families are strong enough for that lifestyle. In fact, I know a lot of thriving slope families. Our was not one of them. For everyone who thinks that the money is "so good" on the slope, I have a couple thoughts for you. First off, he isn't paid when he's hom...

It's come up in discussions around me a lot lately, whether it's in church classes or just with friends. Christmas letters. And our tendency to brag, show pride, or gloss over the reality of our lives. Now, don't get me wrong. I LOVE Christmas letters and cards. I wish more people sent them, I love reading them, and I love writing them. I also try to be "real" when I write them...this year, instead of a typical letter, I decided to put our top quotes of 2015. Hence, why the words "vagina," "wine," and "poop" (twice!) are on our Christmas card this year. I don't try to sugar coat our lives or our reality in real life, and I try to be pretty honest online too. However, reading this brutally honest Christmas card  made me realize that I really was not being as honest about the brutal parts of our year as I could be. And yes, we want to be uplifting and positive and not complain or drag people down...also, as someone who suffers fr...

I'm guilty of it to some extent. You're probably guilty of it too. Our families, church folk, teachers, friends, and Lord knows the ladies at the grocery store are guilty of it too. Everyone means well, but can we just stop and think about the load of crap  parenting advice that we dole out? It starts the moment you announce your pregnancy and ends...well, probably never. If you find out the sex of the baby you'll be able to plan, prepare any older siblings, and it's still a surprise no matter what! There's nothing like that moment when you've given birth and the doctor or your partner announces the sex! Don't find out! (Side note: Totally guilty of this advice. There really isn't anything like that moment!!) Get the 1st tri screening done. It will help prepare you emotionally if there's something wrong, and if not, then you'll be able to relax some. Are you going to terminate the pregnancy if something's wrong? Then what's the poi...

Thoughts that Go Through a Mom's Mind on a Regular Basis Titling this blog post went something like this: Random Thoughts of a Stay at Home Mom .... Sloper's Wife .... Solo Parent ... Neurotic Mom ...Mom. What's that smell? Is that me? Please dear God, don't let it be me. I showered today. No, yesterday. I have had minimal sweating in the last 24 hours, and even relatively speaking that should be ok, right? No wait. Is that my kid ? OMG they're going to think I don't bathe them. Where are the damn baby wipes already? Is that normal? Is THAT normal? I'm telling myself it's normal whether it is or not. Maybe I should look it up...NO! No. Step away from google. WebMD is bad too. I should do more activities with them... ...omg could this game BE any more boring? I'm playing it wrong, huh? How am I playing it wrong when the game consists of you playing next to me while I sit here thinking about what all I could be doing and you bark at...

There is a blogger that I follow (Birth Without Fear)   who posts different women's "I Am Strong..." stories. The stories are inspiring and heart wrenching and beautiful. Tonight she posted that we could email ours to her, so I will be doing that, but I also wanted to share mine here. I am strong. You are strong. I am strong because... I am strong because I was told that I may not be able to have children and I would certainly need fertility treatment in order to get pregnant. I am strong because I was diagnosed with polycystic ovarian syndrome (PCOS) at 18 after suffering for five years. I am strong because I gained and lost 50 pounds before deciding to try to get pregnant. I am strong because I started Metformin to help with my PCOS symptoms and even though it did help, it came at a price. I am strong because I was told by my well-meaning family members I would get pregnant easily "because I came from a big family" even though I knew they were wr...

What seems like eons ago, but was really only a couple of years ago, I used to do A Day in the Life of Mama S'more posts. I linked one of them there for you, and I can't read them without cringing...in part because if I stop to read something for that long one of my children is likely pulling at me and that shit hurts sometimes, but mostly because I was so blissfully naive when I wrote those. I had one relatively content baby, who slept through the night fairly consistently from about six months on, a husband who came home around 4 every day and was ready and willing to help (by about 5 after his shit n' shower), etc. Don't get me wrong, having a baby is always hard. Having "only" one child is hard. But, I mean, come on...I think I completed laundry, crafts, errands and took care of a dog and a baby in ONE DAY. One day!!! I'm actually laughing thinking about that now. So since having two kids and moving to Alaska, I kept thinking "I need to do anothe...

Poor second children. I swear I wrote this letter at least in the same month as her first birthday, even if I'm just now posting it to the blog. I may not have written it at the exact time of her birth like I probably did with Clara's first birthday letter , but hey, it's written right? And this isn't my normal humor and complaint filled post, but don't you worry readers (I think I'm up to 8 of you now!) I'll get right back to my real self in my next post...probably 4 months from now. Dear Haddie, Happy 1st Birthday, my darling girl. What a doll you are. You haven't ceased to amaze me one day since your birth. You have such a lively spirit about you and I can't wait to see where the Lord takes you with that gift and your many other gifts. Your laugh...oh my, your laugh. It can start and stop my heart. You have taught me so much, my love. Every time I become overly confident, you remind me that I still have a lot to learn, and we are in this ride...

1. Sort through your children's baby gear and clothes. Weep as you choose to remember the precious memories of cuddling, milk drunk little newborns and block out the sleepless nights and ear piercing screams. 2. Second guess yourself as you sort through everything. Place the nicest clothes in the pile for your baby niece, mostly because you love her but partially because you know you can ask for the clothes back, if...needed. 3. It's 10 a.m. You have to be somewhere with both kids at 11 a.m. The location is 2 minutes away from your house, and about 30 seconds from the post office, so you decide you have time to pack up the kids and the previously bagged clothes and head to the post office. 4. 10:35 a.m. You're finally in the car. 5. In an effort to make every life experience a learning experience, discuss boxes and sizes of boxes and placement of boxes with your 3.5 year old. Finally pick the perfect box, perfect spot to pack the box, and you realize this box doesn'...

...but I can't because I'll be perceived as a bitch or the neurotic mom that I really am. Some might say this post is a passive aggressive way of saying it anyways, but if you're reading this you're more than likely not an offender as it is. Strangers in the grocery store, on the other hand...;) I should start handing out business cards with my blog on it as a way of screening interactions. But I digress... What I Really Want to Say to Adults: 1. For the love of God, it's none of your business when I'm going to stop breastfeeding. (Which, I did, months ago, but I'm still riled up over being asked this so many times.) If we are good friends and discuss breastfeeding on a regular basis, then by all means, ask away. If you are an acquaintance, stranger, raised a child 45 years ago, or just happen to have strong feelings one way or the other on breastfeeding, then just keep your mouth shut. My boobs, my child, my decision. 2. Stop talking about or giving...