Team No Sleep

There are so many ways to parent your child, SO MANY. Personally, I am just kind of going based on instincts with a little advice from those around me and some momma support groups online. I embrace a more naturalistic, gentle mindset of mothering. While I am sure there are studies and articles advocating other parenting styles, I just sort of go with what feels right and kind. All that to say: my kid doesn’t sleep. Which means, I don’t sleep. I know, I know he might sleep better if he was in a crib in his room- but that hasn’t worked for us. And, I am sure plenty of children are allowed to cry it out (hopefully that is a more gentle process than it sounds), but in the 6 months since he has arrived, I just can’t see that working for us. So the thing is, I know there are ways I might “make” him sleep or “train” him, but they aren’t for me. I just accept that eventually he will sleep or be like his mom and ride the roller coaster of insomnia. So while I might complain about being tired or exhausted or unable to do anything because Baby G only naps when he is nursing, that doesn’t mean my method isn’t right for me. I am just learning to adapt to my new normal. And eventually this normal will change and I will adapt to accepting that the toilet seat is always up or leagues are underfoot.

Roll with the punches you beautiful, amazing mommas.


Also, this isn’t to say anyone is doing something wrong just because I choose something different. We are all different and if you love your child, protect them, and do what is right by them… welllllll you are kicking butt!  #endmommywars




Of all the things I imagined I would do with my infant, I did not think I would take him to the house of mouse. Now don’t get me wrong, I like Disney. I think the Magical Kingdom is indeed magical, but it just doesn’t seem like a baby place. Welllllllll, on Saturday we headed to the Happiest Place on Earth.

Must pack:

  • More dipes than you think you’ll need. They DO sell them in the park for a couple bucks for a dipe/wipe bundle, in case you forget them.
  • A stroller. This came in handy pushing baby blankets, diapers, spare clothes, etc, because baby didn’t spend a ton of time in there. It was handy for him to nap in though!
  • A baby carrier. We strapped on our Tula and carried that baby around 10 miles that day! *Tula in the wild* It was comfy and let me be handsfree while I navigated crowds. They also allowed me to keep him strapped on while we rode rides (mind you we only rode rides without a height requirement).
  • Bottles of water. I tossed a few in the bag because as a nursing mom I get parched fast. You can ask for a free cup of water at any restaurant, but who wants to wait in line every ten minutes for water (trust me, you’ll be waiting in enough lines)?
  • A snack. All the lines made me hungry. It was nice to not have to wait in a line overtime I needed something to hold me over till my next meal.
  • Hand sanitizer. Lots of people. Lots of germs.
  • Extra outfit. Come on moms, by now you know why.

Rides we rode:

  • Dumbo
  • Voyage of the Little Mermaid
  • Mickey’s Philharmagic- Momma’s fav!
  • Haunted Mansion- Daddy G’s fav!
  • WDW Railroad
  • Small World- Baby G’s fav!
  • Country Bear Jamboree
  • Aladin

Where we ate:

  • Be Our Guest- Ambiance= adorable. We ate in a room where it appeared to be snowing outside. However, there were other rooms– one of which looked like a dungeon (Never Go to the West Wing!). Potato Leek Soup was delish and Salmon salad was a nice protein packed meal.
  • Aloha Island- Had to get my Dole Whip Float on.
  • Columbia Harbor House- I had a gluten free chicken tender kids meal with grapes, yogurt, and fries. For frozen chicken tenders they were cooked well and they took extra care to keep my food safe from gluten.
  • Main Street Bakery a.k.a. Starbucks. ’nuff said.
  • Casey Jones hot dog. I had fries. They tasted like fries.

Good to know:

  • They have a baby care center. While we only did a few diaper changes there, it was much nicer than the restroom. It was clean and had private spaces for nursing, feeding your babe, and changing. PLUS it had an area to prep baby food, buy some dipes, and even a ladies room with no wait.
  •  I nursed my baby on rides, in lines, at restaurants, and everywhere else in the world– no one said a word.
  • Take pictures, but save the moments.
  • I bought a $5 Old Navy fleece in the largest size I could find, it fit perfectly over me and the babe while he was in the carrier. It was chilly at night and it kept him toasty.
  • Bring a spare pair of baby socks. He lost his and I didn’t know where to buy a spare pair.
  • Ask someone to take a family picture, we didn’t and I regret it.
  • Download the app, figure out how FastPasses work.
  • Don’t overplan. Don’t over think. Pick a few (1-3) must do things. Anything else is a bonus.
  • We missed the parades and fireworks (my fav), but instead of pouting I Let It Go and said “meh next time”. It had been along day and Baby G was ready for a real bed… and so was I. TEN MILES of walking with a 17 lb baby attached to my boob.


That’s all I got for ya’

Boobie Milk

I have spent my, nearly, 30 years on this planet being mostly flat chested. As a pre-teen I minded my AA cup for about a minute, but as time wore on I realized my flat chest wasn’t so bad. I wore a lot of low cut tops and felt like I could get away with it without looking too sexy, because I had NO cleavage… at all. Anyway, fast forward and I got some boobies when I got pregnant. And now as a breast feeding champ of 4 months I still have boobies, after a feed they are a little flatter and softer, but still more booby than I know what to do with.

I spent my whole life thinking beats were a sexual thing. At times they were the reason I wore a baggy shirt and at other times they were the reason I wore a tight shirt, but either way I never though they had any real purpose besides filling out the lacy cups of a bra. And then I had this baby and my breasts sustain him, they keep my child ALIVE. Do you know how crazy that is? I have maybe only seen two people EVER breastfeed in person, but now I spend most of my day keeping a little person alive with my boobs. The thought amazes me.

Like a lot of moms I breastfeed my kid in public. If you see me walking through Target with my baby strapped in his Tula looking like a basic mom, odds are underneath that hood my baby is eating. When you see me eating lunch in the mall, my baby all snuggled up against my sweater, he isn’t cuddling, he is eating. I try to be “modest” and not have boobie milk spray strangers down, but outside of avoiding nip slips, I don’t care if everyone in the entire world sees me breastfeed my kid. I hear this, invalid, argument that when my little guy becomes a kid and teen I am not going to want these sexy breastfeeders showing him their goods, but I disagree. I hope he sees all kinds of women breastfeed their babies, I hope it doesn’t phase him in the least. I want my kid to see breasts for more than just sexual things, but also life saving things. Besides, I doubt the tired mom in the shirt that smells like soured milk, begging her screaming baby to chill out and take the boob is really going to turn his head.

So all that to say boobs are awesome.

Love ya’


I am a bit of a not so crunchy hippie. I like natural things, although I have a love of junk food. I like to avoid medicine, although I always have Benadryl just in case. I don’t like the icky ingredients in health and beauty products, but I have colored my hair. You get the point, I am a walking conundrum. Anyway all that to say I fully intended to give birth naturally in a birthing center. Notice I say intended. That is not the way things went down. During labor I went through a lot of guilt like feelings and lots of moments of being terrified. Briefly after it made me a mix of angry and sad that it didn’t go as I had planned. Now I feel more at peace with it. It wasn’t a great experience, but the beautiful little boy sleeping near me is wonderful none the less.

My labor began with my water breaking. My birthing class assured us that the water breaking before contractions begin rarely happens, but alas it happened. They also said it would really gush out as we were walking, the carpet in my apartment disagrees. It was 9ish in the morning so I called my midwife and told her what happened. She agreed to meet me within 30 minutes at the midwifery to make sure I didn’t just pee my pants and oh she asked me to bring my amniotic fluid soaked panties with me in a ziplock. Pregnancy and childbirth really has a way of making you feel like an awkward kid again.

Needless to say I didn’t pee myself. With my water breaking that meant I had 24 hours to deliver the baby or I would need to be transferred to the hospital. I do not like the hospital. So they told me to try doing some natural methods to get things going and come back at 4. At 4 nothing had happened so I was told to give castor oil a shot. If you’re wondering castor oil does its job of acting as a laxative, but it did not send me in to labor. I was still having the occasional contraction but nothing too serious. My mom came over and told funny stories and the contractions started up more regularly. At 11ish we were headed to the birth center. The car ride was downright painful.  I was barely dilated at my 4 o’clock visit and at my 11 o’clock visit she didn’t think I progressed enough. Mind you I was actively laboring. The contractions came on so quickly and so intensely they literally had me on the floor writing in pain at one point. My midwife said we could wait and see if I got to 6 cm by 3 or 4 AM or we could just go to the hospital now. It was abundantly clear which one she thought I should do, especially when she added “You really aren’t coping well with labor.” So off we went to the hospital to meet a doctor.

I won’t lie. I was not tough. They shoved me into an elevator, of which I am terrified, and sent me off to labor and delivery. They were expecting me but were trying to find a nurse to escort me to a room, I writhed in pain to the point that eventually someone volunteered to take me. I was supposed to put a gown on. i vaguely remember apologizing to my mother for mooning her. Mostly I collapsed onto the floor hand and knees, mind you I am a germaphobe, sure that I was going to pass out from the stabbing pain in my back. I was ready for the drugs. I cried and screamed. I had to be held down by a group of nurses, all of whom were so sweet. One nurse in a yellow jacket was my favorite she had a kind face and held my hand, she spoke to me in such a motherly way. It took a team of people to keep me still for them to stick in the epidural. The pain subsided within a few minutes and I apologized for my behavior to every person that came in the room. I remember one nurse even noted that in the middle of my screaming and writhing I still said “Yes ma’am”. Politeness is a big deal to me.

My midwife had said she doubted I’d make progress quick enough. But at the hospital I was 6 centimeters after less than an hour from being 2cm at the birth center. I signed a waiver that if necessary I would have a c-section, after being assured that it was a worst case scenario thing. Well, funny thing is at 6AM I was 8 cm dialated but the baby’s heart rate kept deceleratng so the doctor told them to send me to the OR. Apparently they were prepping for someone else’s c-section, but the doctor had them push hers back as baby G and I needed to go back first.

I cried. A lot. I was all alone and scared. They kept testing to see if I was numb enough to begin, but I wasn’t. They pinched me to determine how well I was feeling things, it hurt. So even though I begged not be put to sleep– I drifted off all alone and scared. I had weird dreams about being dead. I briefly recall being back in the OR and seeing a bundled up baby to my left. It is a haze but I recall the room spinning and my vision being blurry. I could begin making out people and objects but it all felt weird. Then a man began speaking to me. He stood on my left and was talking about what I was doing for a job. I was confused but rattled on about education. He asked me questions about assessments, I answered him but then expressed my uncertainty about who he was. He introduced himself and his intern. I asked them if I was in fact alive and then about how my heart rate and such were. I feel bad that my first question wasn’t about my baby. I did ask and they assured me he was healthy. They told me I had people waiting to see me. I was still being stitched up at this point. I asked lots of questions and was eventually rolled out of the OR. There in the hall I saw Daddy G waiting on me. “I know that guy” is all I remember saying. I then went to a recovery room where my mother was holding Baby G. Someone passed him to me and he eagerly began eating. I was still talking a bit crazy from the drugs but my kid was healthy and cite and in my arms.

Side note my midwife had assumed Baby G would be in the 6lb range. He was nearly 9.9 lbs and over 21 inches long.

I make big babies.


I love you more

When I was a teenager I didn’t want children. That feeling went with me in to early adulthood. Eventually I decided I DID want children, but I wold adopt. Surprise Surprise! I ended up with a birth child of my very own. And I couldn’t be more happy about that way it worked out. When I was young I worried having a child would make my parents love me less. I blame this on a stranger who told me that once I had kids my parents would love them more than me. For an insecure 13 year old that is scaring. I carried that fear with me for years. The fear that one day someone would come along and make my parents forget about me. Baby G was born 11 days ago and you know what? I don’t think my parents love me less. But more than that, I don’t really care. They LOVE Baby G. They love him more than I could imagine they would. And that makes me love them more, somehow my heart grew to not only accommodate loving my little baby more than I thought possible, but it had room to accommodate loving my parents even more.

With love

Baking a baby and some cookies

Baby G is still firmly planted in my womb (womb is such a weird word). His official due date is the 17th, but I had psyched myself up that he would come at 37 weeks. So the last 3 weeks have felt like I have this cloud of my head, like a late library book– but more so! My midwives warned me first babies like to come late (normally around the 41 week mark), but I had convinced myself that because one of the women in my birth class had her baby early, so would I! Needless to say I am still pregnant and still guessing if Baby G will have my eyes and a headful of hair.

I am a Masters degree student who deferred starting her first year teaching to pursue said masters degree, oh AND be a stay at home mom to Baby G. Financially it was a rough decision #studentloans #broke; however, to get the opportunity to spend the first year-ish of my kid’s life at home being with him= WORTH IT. Thankfully I have a supportive family and partner who did not give me heck about it. As this pregnancy wears on working a week ahead of my classwork (so that I don’t get too behind when baby shows up) is getting old. Heck school work in general is getting old. And yet I am bored. I stare at the TV, books, coursework and it all just BORES me. I blame the baby. I think the waiting game has officially driven me crazy. Everyday is just another potential Birth Day! So when labor doesn’t start I am left feeling let down.

All of that to say: I’m making some cookies! Isn’t it funny how you start thinking you have one thing to say and then you discover you really have a different message all together?

Baby Mamma’s cookies

Makes 3 dozen.

1/4 cup softened butter (aka 1/2 a stick)

3/4 cup sugar

1 cup brown sugar (lightly packed)

2 cups peanut butter (aka a whole jar– I use a natural creamy kind)

3 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

2 teaspoons cinnamon (I just guess at the amount)

1/4 teaspoon salt (aka a random shake or two)

4 cups rolled oats

1 cup chocolate chips

1 cups nuts

  1. Preheat over to 350.
  2. Mix butter with both sugars until smooth (use an electric mixer to save your hand some work)
  3. Mix in peanut butter, eggs, vanilla, salt, cinnamon till combined. Again use an electric mixer because stirring in peanut butter is no joke.
  4. Mix in oats, chocolate chips, and nuts. You’ll just use a spoon for this– or you hands if you’re that kind of girl/guy.
  5. Spoon 1/3 cup-ish servings of cookie dough on to an oiled down baking pan (I just smear some oil on the pan with a paper towel). Honestly I just use a spoon and guesstimate the cookie size. Try to get them about the same size and fit 12 on a standard pan.
  6. Bake cookies on a oiled down baking pan.

Note you can totally choose crunchy over creamy peanut butter, other candy/nuts for mix ins, etc.

Also, I ad-lib this so sometimes 1 jar of pb is more like ALMOST 1 jar of pb (because sometimes pregnant girls need a pb&j sandwich while they bake) and at least once I only had 1/2 the amount of rolled old fashioned oats– so I used what I had and used instant oats for the other 1/2 of oats. It worked. Moral of the story: if I can make these cookies, anyone can.

Hopefully I’ll update soon with the details of birthing a baby– otherwise, I’ll try and come up with some other fun thing to share.

Later on