New Beginnings

Good afternoon, ya'll! Happy (most likely) first day back to reality for most of you! I, for one, am genuinely happy to be back to my boring, monotonous and joyful life. And even if it is so boring and monotonous, it is very joyful. I find joy in every morning that we all wake up feeling well. I find joy in every toy I step on in the playroom because we are fortunate my daughter has so much to play with. I find joy in her, even if sometimes she is mean. as. a. snake to me.

Lately, she's picked up some habit of shaking her little finger at me while saying "no, no, NO mama!"

It's so funny. I have to hide my laughter, because she really shouldn't be telling me no just because I am asking her to stop whatever it is she's doing. But God help me, she sees my smile in my eyes. I have a feeling I'll be fighting that battle for the rest of my life.

These past two weeks have not always been so joyful, though. I have a secret. Many people know it, many people don't. A whole lot more are about to (if I may be so bold as to assume people read this).

I was pregnant.

Was.

I had the greatest joy of seeing a tiny heartbeat on a large monitor, and the greatest sorrow of learning it had gone away.

First, let me say, I am fine. I am strong. Stronger than I ever give myself credit for until I am forced to just accept it. I am a strong woman. I tell you this because I am not looking for pity, or looking to force you to share your hardships with me (although I will always gladly hear them).

I'm sharing this because my very soul heals the best when I share. I am an over-sharer. And if you will allow me to be so selfish, I will tell you my story, in the shortest and most abridged version I can manage.

The switch flipped for me around September. I went from "Holy cow, I am not sure I even want another kid!" to "BABY. NOW."

And in November, I found I had gotten my wish. I got three very faint double pink lines, the same I had seen at just 4 weeks with my Violet. I shared the news with family right away, but waited until my 8 week ultrasound to share with my precious coworkers. I was only measuring 7 weeks, but there he/she was, with that little flutter of a heartbeat, and and the body of a seahorse. My co-worker told me "he" looked like he was wearing a Santa hat. I definitely agreed.

When I didn't get sick around 6 weeks, I was counting my blessings. I had gotten nausea for 5 straight weeks with Violet, but I knew all pregnancies were different, so instead I relished in my good health, and daydreamed about a little boy with Violet's face and Chris's green eyes.

At exactly 9 weeks, I saw something troubling. I won't get into the details, but I called my nurse right away, and she told me what I was experiencing was normal. I accepted that answer. Five minutes later, I called back. At my insistence, she told me to come in for an u/s, "just to check."

I called Chris, because even though I was so certain I was being paranoid, I needed him there. He quickly agreed to meet me, and we went into the dark room with knots in our stomachs. Violet was playing with her stroller, none the wiser of what was going on.

The U/S tech confirmed my worst fear. The baby had stopped growing, and the heartbeat was nowhere to be seen.

I just kept crying, and saying over and over "I knew it, Chris. I knew it."

From there, everything was a blur. They brought me through some back door to see my doctor, who, after offering me her condolences, started to give me my options. From her suggestion (although she in NO way pushed this one me), we all decided that it would be best for me to have a surgery done, and soon.

All I could think about was Christmas. Weird, huh? I was so sad. But all I could think about was going home for Christmas. It was one week away. We were going to Mobile, and now more than ever I needed that trip to see my family. She told me the surgery could be done as soon as the next day, so we went home, and I called to schedule. 1:30pm on thatThursday, I was admitted to the hospital. 3 hours later, I was going home. No pain. No grogginess even. It's as if it never happened.

And I think that was the saddest part of all.

My father-in-law had offered to take V with him for the weekend, so Chris could take care of me, but she got a nasty bout of stomach virus (her second round in two weeks) that she quickly gave to him, so late that Saturday night, she was home with us. I was so glad to see her. I watched her sleeping that night and cried again, this time because I was so thankful she was there. My light; my sweet V,

It's been only 13 days since my world went from Mama of Two back to just Mama. But, instead of dreading the upcoming January, I find that the timing couldn't have been better. A new year, full of new hope and new family decisions. Definitely going to be full of growth, and happiness and frustration, laughter and tears, and pulling my hair out and growing it back. I'm not the first of my friends and acquaintances to go through this, and I won't be the last. I have amazing support from everyone in my life, and I am so lucky to have had that. I don't know what I would have done without it.

Right now I'm just looking forward to the future. And working on my poker face so I can get through Violet's "trying two's." And potty training.

And so I will end this with one of my favorite lines of one of my favorite movies, spoken by the one and only Dolly Parton, as Truvy:

"Laughter through tears is my favorite emotion."

Happy New Year, everyone!

Love,
Dominique

I Can't Be the Only Mom Who is Terrified of Potty Training

So, I know it's been a long, long while since I wrote anything. I could go into how I was busy, and holidays and whatever, but I won't. Too much ground to cover, people. And if we're being honest, not a whole lot has happened recently until now.

Out of nowhere, it seems my 21 month old wild child has started showing all of the typical signs of being ready to potty train. And what I mean by showing signs, I mean she started acting weird about stuff, so I googled it like you would google symptoms on WebMD. Unlike WebMD, however, the answer was pretty clear (not ebola! Yay!)

My first thought was, "What?! I'm not ready for that. I wasn't even going to THINK about that until she was two, at least. What's her problem anyway? Diapers are great. They catch everything, and she never has to slow down or risk Ebola in a gas station bathroom because you got lost."

Well, it may have not been that dramatic. But I was selfishly hoping to keep her in diapers for a while longer and relish in my (reasonably) clean home.

So now I spend my time on Amazon researching potties. Do I go with a full toddler potty or just the seat attachment and get a step stool? I should probably get one that can do both, right? How about this sesame street one? Does that look like a friendly place to poop? How should I know what's friendly? Friendly places for adults generally only have to be clean.

And pull ups or training pants. What's the point of a pull up anyway? It's just a diaper that you don't unlatch. It still feels like a diaper. A mom's dream, right? But my baby won't know the difference and will continue to go whenever and where ever her little heart desires because she's basically in a diaper still.

So my mom is a firm believer in training pants. Also known as "Super thick absorbent but not leak proof underwear." "She has to get uncomfortable," she says. "It'll be FUN," she says. Well she didn't say that last part (and after five kids, she would know.) What about my comfort level? What about all of the surfaces that may or may not smell like urine in my house from now on? Minnie Mouse chair? The couch? The amazingly-still-looks-good WHITE carpet in the playroom? Her crib? Her beautiful crib, with it's teeth marks on one rail and her lavender bedding I bought to match her pretty name.

So I look at these training pants on amazon, with their pretty pink flowers and I think "You're trying to ruin me."

But I think she might be right. I mean, my sister's house and my brother's house don't smell like a cat lady's - and they both have two girls.

And so we have an Abby Cadabby (with real flushing sound!) pink potty chair arriving Friday, and I guess I'll add some training pants and pull ups (for naps and day care) to the list as well.

Sigh. Goodbye smells like nothing playroom.

I hardly knew ye.

Love,
Dominique

Staying "Relevant"

Good afternoon! 

I remember when I had started the hunt for my new occupation after spending 7 months at home with baby boo that my first stop was a staffing agency. I was in the market for a job, not a career, and it seemed like a good place to start.

When I was meeting with the staffing recruiter, all of the questions seemed predictable enough. "What kind of hours are you looking for," and "What type of work can do you?" But the one thing that stood out in my mind as I was discussing my needs was this unexpected statement:

"Well it's good to stay relevant."

Oh. Was I not relevant anymore? Because instead of going right back into a 40 hour work week where I would certainly remained stressed, I had chosen to spend what little time I had at home focusing on my daughter? 

As always, I mean no offense to working mothers. I was you, and I will likely be you again, but the truth is, I couldn't do it all. Not at that point. Not even at this point, now. 

I knew what she meant by it. That in the professional world, the longer you are out, the sooner you are forgotten. But still, I thought, women choose to do this every day. They make this huge family decision to basically take an unpaid CEO position for a small corporation, and still become "irrelevant" to the rest of the working world. 

Running a house and raising a child is no joke. It takes skill, patience, and organization. You have to make a budget, keep the office clean, keep up with the inventory, order supplies, and entertain your client, all while working under most likely the most tyrannical boss you'll ever have. 

If I could post my stint as a stay at home mother on my resume, it would read something like this:

Stay At Home Mom                                                                         December 2013-Present (part time)

• Manage fiscal year spending by creating and editing budget based on ever revolving needs
• Maintain bookkeeping and payment of company expenses 
• Provide services for client pertaining to sustenance, entertainment, physical and emotional needs
•  Maintain a well functioning office by cleaning, checking inventory and purchasing supplies
• On-call twenty four hours a day, seven days a week for the great foreseeable future

Salary: $0

If you're an awesome CEO, you may even use some of the tools you used at the office, like Excel spreadsheets or Quickbooks. Or maybe you're like me, and you write stuff down on a napkin that may or may not have been used, and clip coupons at night to save a little money. Or use Auto pay on stuff you'll never remember to pay on your own, and use turbotax for your taxes because you can't afford an accountant. 

However we CEO's choose to run our business, we make sure it runs, right? And even though I am in the small percentage of people who do the half and half, I know which of my jobs is going to have the biggest impact in my life, and especially in my daughter's, and I work my butt off to keep it going strong. 

Remember you are relevant. No matter how much you are paid or unpaid. Or how much you fail or triumph. Or how much you sometimes hate your job. As long as you try your hardest, and work through the rough times, things will turn out wonderfully in the end.

Happy Wednesday! 

Love, 

Dominique 

I Thrive on the Chaos

Violet has a recent obsession with rocks.

That's an odd way to start my blog, isn't it? Well I have an endgame with this, I promise.

Anyway, her recent obsession with rocks led to a very terrible, very long and very frustrating battle with getting her in her car seat today so she could go drive someone else crazy for a few hours, and I could go to work.

Chris was trying to strap her in while at the same time trying to take away the two giant, yet swallowable rocks that she had her tiny fists coiled tightly around, and she was not. having. it. Those rocks meant everything to her. She wanted them forever and ever and ever. She wanted to carry them around into her teens and room with them in college, and have them in her wedding and make them her kid's God parents. At least that is how she was portraying her relationship with them to me.

But, being the paranoid person that I am, I insisted she give them up for the ride.

Did I mention right before this she squatted in the garage and clearly pooped her new, fresh diaper?

So after the struggle died down (mostly because I put Garfield on the backseat DVD player for her), we went along our poop-smelling merry way to her daycare. Even though she was in good spirits when we pulled into the parking lot, she decided it would be best to make it to the first steps that she usually is more than anxious to climb up aaaaaaaaaand freeze. No talking, no walking. No paying attention to anything but the golden flowers just within in her reach that she HAD to mush. So I pick her up and force her into the door, and we start the walk down to her room. She spies a large pink sparkly pillow on a couch just outside her door, and as she has done every day for the past two weeks, grabs it to take it to her room.

I just let her do this. Fighting her over a pillow she'll forget about doesn't seem worth my time, and her teachers let her do it, so why not? Today, though, she decides that a good place to plant herself and poop filled diaper down is right OUTSIDE the doorway of her room, and she was going to "noodle" her body into a deadweight limp toddler before I could get her up. So I pick her entire body up (and the pillow) and hand her over to her teacher, apologizing for her obvious foul smell and then peacing out as quickly as I could.

About 5 minutes later I am pulling into the parking lot of my work when I see I've missed a call from Chris. I call him back, hoping what he'll tell me is that the plumber who visited our house for 2 hours this morning magically fixed everything and all of our laundry problems are solved.

Nope. Instead it's a message of how he had to write a $217 dollar check and that now when we do laundry, it will just flow into our basement AND into the gaping hole in the front of our house.

I take a deep breath. I am NOT letting this defeat me. I am NOT letting this stress me out. Despite everything that happened in the short first half of my day, I smile as I think about adding to our family. I can handle this. Hell, I can handle anything. Violet is a mess. A HOT mess. Terrible twos have hit, and it has been some kind of ride in our home lately. But I don't care. I wouldn't have it any other way. Never a dull moment.

Sometimes I have days where I think I am absolutely crazy to want to add to the chaos. But I think growing up in a large family of seven people has prepared me well, and almost made it impossible for me to enjoy the quiet. And one day it will be quiet, and I know I'll want all of this back. My greatest adventure.

And I'm happy because tonight I'll go home, I'll feed and bathe my inevitably filthy toddler, and then I will settle down with a glass of wine and watch the Auburn Tigers defeat Kansas State. It's a good day. War Eagle my friends!

This Underground Money Saving Mom World is INSANE

Good afternoon and Happy Monday!


Being married to a man who loves a deal has made me think that I, too, have become pretty darn savvy when it comes to saving money on the products and foods we use the most in our house. But lately, with the thought of baby number 2 bouncing around the books, I decided that maybe it was time to up my game a little and venture into an otherwise unknown world to me.

What I have learned and seen will SHOCK YOU! Just kidding. But it may be surprising some of the methods and lengths people will go to to literally save a buck. But the most surprising part? It works.

So here I am to impart what the month of August, in all of it's hotness and glory, taught me about how to live like the queen of England on the salary of Prince George's nanny. (if you can get good enough at it.)

1) Couponing. Couponing sounds simple enough, right? You clip a coupon here and there and you squeal as the register discounts it from your item. WRONG. That's how sissies do it. Real couponers know that if you want the most bang for your buck, you collect as many coupon inserts from as many sources as possible, you get organized, and you get BOGO.

There's a lot of math involved in couponing, which makes me hate it a little bit. But, in the interest of saving money on one of my biggest vices (groceries), I took the plunge and went to an actual couponing class. What I learned there:

A) there are so many more sources for getting coupons than you may think. It's not all about sunday papers and physical clipping anymore. There are people you can PAY to do it for. Why pay for coupons? Simple. You don't have the time to gather and clip them yourself, and the benefit outweighs the cost. I went to the website www.thecouponclippers.com, searched their inventory, and ended up with about $40 worth of coupons (for stuff I do and for sure WILL buy) for $4. They arrived, clipped and neatly with a personal note within a few days. I went on my first shopping trip after trying this to walmart and was delighted to find out I had used $20 worth of my coupons. That and the savings catcher (more on that later) brought my savings to a total of about $30. Not bad.

B) Bogo is your friend. Buy One Get One Free deals (combined with couponing) is the best way to get the cheapest price for your items. Sales run in a 6 week cycle, and coupons will last anywhere from one month to three, so you have a good chance of catching your stuff that can wait on sale.

C) Rainchecks. Because of the crazy couponers out there, the best stuff usually flies from the shelves. But don't be sad. Simply ask for a raincheck for the item, and when it is back in stock, you get it for the sale price.

D) APPS. The new walmart savings catcher does a lot of the work for you. If you shop there, dl the app, scan your receipt, and it searches all of the competitors adds for sale prices. The best part? It refunds you the difference in the form of an e-gift certificate. The first time I tried it, I got $7.36 back to use on my next trip. Another good one? Target Cartwheel. Add the special deals right to the app, and when you check out, they scan a bar code that takes all of your coupons. No hassle.

Now that we've covered the basics of couponing, let's move on the next greatest underground mom trick I have tried this summer. Consignment.

If you live in a place with one million churches, like I do, you are most likely going to have one -two consignment sales pop up in your area. These often benefit the church in some way like funding missionaries or youth groups or something, which I personally have no issue with, so it's fine for me. The other part of the proceeds of course go to the consignor themselves, so everybody wins.

Here, there are about 10 different consignment sales that run in the beginning of fall and then again in midwinter to early spring for the different seasons. I've hit up two already, and both experiences were interesting to say the least.

Here's what you need to know about consignments:

A) They usually run two days (for the public) If you volunteer, or are selling, you may get to shop these early. But, if you're like me and you aren't ready to get rid of your precious little clothes, then the public sale it is. The first day is going to be crowded, and everything is going to be "full price." Now keep in mind that I didn't pay more than $5 "full price" for anything I bought, which is why this is such a good deal. The second day is usually a half price sale, but be prepared for it to be pretty picked over.

B) Read the rules before you go! Most of these sales have a name and website (Giggles and Grace, Wishes and Wonder or some stuff like that) and they will have ground rules about what and even WHO you can bring. Some don't allow young kids (liabilities), some don't allow strollers and some will provide bags while others say you're own your own. But you may also have to be specific with your choice of carrier. The last one I went to specified all baskets had to have towels taped to the bottom to prevent floor scraping. These people don't mess around.

C) MOMS BE CRAZY. The dirty looks and crazy eyes you will see a consignment sale will make you never want to venture there again. Also, watch where you put down your stuff. I thought I'd take my haul over to an empty place in a corner just to add up what I was spending and before 5 minutes I had two moms come up to me, and start looking through my pile AS I WAS COUNTING IT, and asked me if I was getting stuff. Uh, yes. Hence why I have it all in my possession. Back off.

But is it worth it? Sure. I'm saving as much as my time can allow right now with little effort. $30 or so on groceries here, and $50 for some really nice warm play clothes for V when the weather turns cold. Some of it from places we never venture into, like Children's Place, or fancy local boutiques. (We're a Carters Outlet/target kind of fam)

Anyway, I know this was the longest post ever, so I will leave you with this pic of Violet in her new (used) Auburn cheer outfit that we score for $4.


Happy hunting!
Love,
Dominique

I Fear Nothing! Except Sleep Deprivation.

Good afternoon, and happy Monday!

I want to share something with ya'll. Things are really good right now. Hubs and I are in a groove that has taken months to achieve, and we are about to enter the greatest time of each year. The Holiday Trifecta.

Our budget is rockin, Violet is napping/eating/sleeping through the night/talking/walking (running) like a champ, and I am really enjoying my new job. Not everything is perfect of course. We still don't ever go anywhere, and our netflix que has been totally played out. But for the most part, things are good.

So, naturally, with all of these good vibes floating in with the autumn winds, I have been entertaining the thought of expanding the ol' King clan. I know what you're thinking. "But Dominique, you talked about V being an only child for so long. I thought your uterus was closed for business."

Well, for a while, I thought it might be too. I never ruled out the possibility of a sibling, but as the first few months of her life (and let's face it, up until about 2 months ago) came and went, we faced a lot of things that made me think this was it. In the short 18 months she has been alive, I have tried (and failed) breastfeeding, lost my job (twice), experienced stay-at-home-momhood, and am now balancing working a new part time position and dealing with an unruly, yet adorable toddler. It's enough to make anyone tired.

And I am tired. Sometimes, in the middle of my day, if I stop going for even a minute - I think, "Man. I could fall asleep right now in this chair." And don't even get me started on the beginning of my day. Every single day is overwhelming when I first wake up. I am barely awake, and I know that I am responsible for entertaining/feeding/singing to/reading to/playing with/hiding from/comforting/and cleaning a small human life for the next 6 hours. And then I have to go work. And sometimes THEN I have to go to the store. It's a busy life, but I wouldn't trade it for the world.

So I've gone over all of the regular arguments in my head - and often out loud, out of nowhere, to my exhausted husband - about adding another newborn to our mix. The finances. Would I keep working? Would I try to find something full time? Would I stay home? Would it be better for me to breastfeed again if I do get to stay home? Will it be easier if I am only working part time? Or the health risks. Violet tried to make her appearance 9 weeks early on Christmas day if you recall. Besides being considered high risk this go around, there's a much higher chance of the second one following suit of her/his sister and coming early. This also increases my chances of bed rest. How does that even work with a full time working husband and no family around and a toddler? A lot of Daniel Tiger I suppose.

But you know what? Despite all of these issues, nothing has made me hesitate more than the thought of the sleep deprivation. Oh, to have a newborn again. With the feedings every hour and half, and the spitting up, and the no head support of their own. And the crying. And the load upon loads of crap you have to take with you everywhere, even for short trips. To the moms of newborns who are reading this right now, (and I know of a few) I am sorry. I'm sorry I'm reminding you of your reality right now. But before I get scolded, remember I did it too. And I am willingly - witnessing you go through it right now and all - thinking about doing it again.

But it's worth it, right? Of course it is. Nothing lasts forever, even the exhausting first few years of a life on a mother. And I see it on your faces. The sheer joy of your newly expanded family that glimmers behind heavily lidded eyes. So I suppose, for now, anything is possible!

Thanks for listening me work it all out, as usual.

Love,
Dominique

For your viewing pleasure, here is a pic of one of the newest ladies in our lives, and an angel straight from Heaven:

Lord, Help Me.

Good afternoon, ya'll! And Happy Wednesday!

I was going to write a post about protecting my daughter from social media. About how I am going to teach her the dangers of the technological world we live in, and how apps like Snapchat and Facebook can ruin her future in a half-second.

But I'm going to go a little bit deeper than that. The fact is, if I can teach her to have common sense, modesty, and a respect for others, then I won't ever have to worry about what she is going to throw out there on social media.

Children are born innocent. Issues like bigotry and immodesty are taught, not genetic. So here are some of the things I am going to try to teach my daughter about our world:

1) Be open-minded.  Generalizing about an entire population is only hurting you. When you refuse to befriend, employ, or assist someone who is a different color, race, religion or sexual orientation than you, you could potentially be missing out a huge opportunity for an amazing friend. Reserve your judgement for after you meet them and get to know them.

2) Be modest. No, I don't wish we were back in the age of Victorian dresses and petticoats. Wear tank tops, wear shorts, wear bikinis (when you're older. No bikinis till you're older.)But have some sense, my darling girl. A little bit of shoulder can be more appealing than an entire wardrobe of decolletage. Take pride in your appearance, and remember that your private life can stay private. Remember that the whole world is watching.

3) Be smart. Know your surroundings, know your true friends. Know your limits, your boundaries and your   standards. Know that only you have the power over your own reputation, and you'll be so thankful one day to have been considered one of the boring ones. You are not boring. You are mysterious. You are multi-faceted, and you don't let just anyone know all of your secrets.

4) Be sorry. You are going to mess up. You are going to do or wear regretful things. You are going to be embarrassed and ashamed. Learn from these moments. Remember how they made you feel, and be determined to no longer feel that way again. Let your true friends comfort you. Listen to them. Listen to me. I have been there and recovered.

5) Be humble. Know when you need to ask for help. There is no shame in it. It is brilliant to ask for help. You are only smarter for knowing to do so. If you are unsure of a situation, or are wary of place or person, trust your gut. Get out of there in any way you can. Even if it means calling me at 3am to come get you. I promise to park in a discreet place and never let on that I am there. :)

6) Be courageous. This is the most important. You will be picked on because of some of your choices. You may not be popular, or you may be called boring, or you may be ostracized because you are standing up for what you believe it. These situations will become less and less frequent as you grow. It's amazing how little all of it matters when you are older.

I hope I can stand by these things. I hope that I can raise my kids to have all of these values, and also have the strength to let go and see if they listen. And on a last note, I hope SnapChat goes completely bankrupt.

Happy Wednesday!

Love,
Dominique

18 Months of Parenting - What I've Learned

Good afternoon and happy Thursday!

Well baby boo is 18 months old today. It seems like just yesterday we were celebrating her survival of her first year on this world, and I was getting teary-eyed looking over all of her month-to-month pictures and how much she has changed.

She continues to grow at exponential rates, as children tend to do. And although these past 6 months have flown by, a lot has changed with her, with me and with our family as a whole. So without further ado, here's what I now know as a parent of 18 months:

1) At some point, the stern looks that used to terrify me about my own mother had started periodically showing up on my own face, and V knows to zip it and sit down. Her understanding of my words and actions is getting more and more apparent, and so is my understanding that she definitely inherited my stubbornness.
 
2) It's ok if I leave her unprotected for a few minutes. I no longer find it necessary to keep the door open when I am home alone in the bathroom, or put her in the pack n play to run down to the basement for literally two minutes and throw a load of clothes in. Sure, I've found her on the fireplace a few times, and if I hear any kind of loud noise I come zipping back, but for the most part, she is fine.

3) The TV is my saving grace to keep her distracted. Everything is a battle these days. Getting dressed, changing diapers, putting on socks and shoes. If she has to be still for more than 5 seconds, I better have some PBS kids on somewhere. I am totally guilty of putting it on my phone and letting her watch it while I lotion her after bath, but hey-a mama's gotta do what a mama's gotta do.

4) Bumps, bruises, cuts and scrapes are a part of life now, and probably will be for a while. The first time your child gets a "goose egg" on their forehead from a lost battle with the coffee table, you want to wrap them in bubble wrap, and seriously consider getting rid of the coffee table. Even if it's a beautiful, antique family heirloom that means more to you than any other piece of furniture in your house. Or, it's from craigslist, which is the case with mine. But it hurt your baby, and it needs to go. Eventually I learned that my baby deer is just not going to be that steady on her feet, and if there's no blood involved, it's not really worth worrying over.

5) Sharing is caring, and not really an "option" once they are walking. My husband always wonders why I choose to carefully plan my meals around when V is asleep, and the answer is simple. I don't want to always share what I am eating. If I do get ravenous enough to grab a snack in her vicinity, I know that I'll have those baby blues staring up at me with her sweetest face while she looks at me like "are you gonna eat alllll that cheese?" Yes. Now leave me alone.

6) Seasons are too short and babies grow too fast to not hit up every consignment sale you can possibly find. I dream of the day when I am finished having kids, and I can become one of those awesome consignor moms who are in it to get rid of boxes upon boxes of outgrown rompers and be first in line for other's gently used hand me downs. For now, I can only be part of the "public sales." I went to my first consignment sale this past spring, and practically everything V wore this summer was bought for $1-$3. And it was glorious. GLORIOUS.

7) Facebook can be more helpful than a call to a nurse. If you have a serious issue - call the nurse. Go to the doctor. But more minor things like bug bites or a rash, a quick pic to the ol' news feed will come up with a plethora of diagnoses from moms who have been there, done that. I usually call the nurse and then hit of the fb while I am waiting for my return call. And often, the moms are correct. Even when you don't want them to be, like when Violet got terrible hand foot and mouth. You called it, ladies. And I didn't want to believe it.

8) Here's the big one - I am finally ready to consider a second baby. As things have progressed, I find myself asking less and less questions, becoming more patient with issues, and transitioning with change a lot easier. This has led me to having the thoughts that I could handle this AND a newborn without wanting to throw up. Sure, I know it wouldn't be easy, and I've recently confessed to hubs that I'm not sure I can imagine anything taking my focus off of V. But I also know that even if we got pregnant soon, she will have grown more and become even more independent by the time I would have to juggle the two. So, I don't know - the possibility is there.

thanks everyone as always. Have a wonderful afternoon and a great rest of your week!

Love,
Dominique

"I'll Have More Time When _______ is Over." Says Every Mom, All the Time.

Good afternoon and happy Wednesday! I seem to be absent from my writing a lot these days, don't I? What used to be my quiet morning coffee and blogging time has turned into my feed the baby quickly and scarf down some coffee before we have to run our errands so we can be home in time for the new-NEW naptime, time. Whew! What a mouthful. Regardless of my ever-changing schedule, I promise to at least try to carry on with my blog, for those who read it.

Anyway, as I have mentioned before, this summer has been nuts. We've been on trips, we've been adjusting to my working again, and we've been tying up the last few activities of the summer before we head into the greatest time of the year - football season.

Just kidding, it's Fall of course. Which includes football season, but is also so, so much more. As always, the end of a season brings a sense of relief - a false sense - but a sense nonetheless, that the craziness of life will slow down for a bit, and we can return to our mornings in the play room, staring out the window as the leaves turn colors and I sip my beloved Keurig coffee. The difference this time being that this ain't my first rodeo anymore, and I've been through enough seasons to know that the craziness will go on forever and ever and ever as long as I have young children to attend to, friends that are still getting married, friends that are having babies and family that I am desperate to spend time with on a regular basis.

Not that this is a bad thing. The fact that I have a life at all is thrilling to me. Even if it is built around grocery trips and story times. And those will be the normal days. The run-of-the-mill lazy fall mornings that I will come to refer back to when I'm toting my kids and their friends to their various sports practices and missing when all we had to do was run errands on the weekends. But even now, the social calendar and obligations will begin to pile up, and out of nowhere, my entire fall season will be completely booked. I'll think I have all of the time in the world, until I realize that I have a wedding/football party/anniversary trip/birthday celebration/holiday that weekend, and we'll just have to find more time.

But things will slow down when the fall is over, right? Ha! Sure it will.

But I say, "Bring it on!" Bring on the tailgating! The giant inflatable Stay Puft Marshmallow Man going in our yard this year for Halloween! The weddings! The cooking! The travel! Bring on the Pumpkin Spice Latte's! Bring on the chips! BRING ON THE DIP! And bring on the runny noses, the sweater weather, and endless pursuit for an infant Slimer costume. I'm ready. I'm ready for all of it.

Have a wonderful August, ya'll. I have had an amazing summer, but I am grateful to see it go. Until then, enjoy this picture of my country princess chasing bubbles in a diaper on a wrap around porch.

Love,
Dominique

Of Mud Pies and Mail Merges

Happy Friday everyone! I hope everyone had a great week.

This past Monday, I started my new adventure as a full time unpaid mom and part time paid assistant. So far, I think things have gone really well, and the transition has been fairly smooth. I do, however, feel like I've learned a lot about what's going to be "the new norm" around here, and some of it was expected, and some of it was - well - surprising.

1) My 20 hours a week position is really more like 30. I say this because I have to leave my house close to an hour before work to get baby boo to school in time, and it takes us a good full hour to get home in the afternoons with 5pm traffic. This means most nights we are getting home just in time for our dinner and the three B's - bath, books and bed. And with baby boo not napping at all during the day this week (more on that later) she's pretty ready to hit the hay at 7.

2) And speaking of baths, we are having to adjust to a bath every night now. Raising a child with eczema means that we generally used to bathe every other night to keep her skin from drying out, and when we did our first round of daycare, this was fine. She wasn't even walking yet, so outside play didn't often happen. Now she comes home filthy. Happy, but absolutely filthy. Don't get me wrong - I love that she is getting some outdoor play time - but I also learned that the same girl that likes to walk around my house in my sunglasses and carrying my purse also really loves the mud.

3) Napping may become a thing of the past - unless I adjust her sleeping schedule. Again. Any mom will tell you that sleep training at any stage is the WORST. Veteran moms will tell you to bust out the earplugs and turn off the monitor, because you're in for a lot of screaming. However, this might be a necessary evil for me, because we have to go to daycare smack in the middle of her nap time. This results in her falling asleep every day in the car on the way there, and then not napping at all at school. This makes for a cranky baby at night, and we don't get to spend much time with her when we get home. So, I have to make the choice to either live with this and hope she adjusts to sleeping at school, or move  up nap time, lose valuable morning time with her, and push back bed time. Which is also cutting into my me and Chris time, but an hour extra with her is worth it.

4)I don't miss her that much. *GASP*
How could I admit to that? Because it's true. I love my baby boo (can't you tell? I talk about her all. the. time.) And I am ready to see her every afternoon, but I look forward to my four glorious, quiet, toddler free hours in the afternoon. Even now, as I type this up at home, she's running up to me every five minutes to hand me various things she's collecting - magnets, socks, a piece of grass on the floor. I feel like part time work is a good mix for me. We get to eat our breakfast together, watch a little Peg + Cat, and run our errands like going to the grocery store. And then I get to pass her off to a set of people who will wear her out, and about 11 more little kids for her to play with.

5) Working makes me feel like we can finally move forward with our future plans. Living on unemployment was fun, but it was borrowed time, and we always knew it. Securing a (hopefully)  permanent position makes me feel like we can finally start talking about the things we are planning for our future, like a bigger car or second baby. Now, we are not planning on throwing these things into the mix any time soon. It would be wise to see how things go with this new job for the next few months before going all-in on a bigger life change. But the window is opening, and the fresh air smells wonderful!

Thanks as always for listening. Here's hoping that "the new norm" is better than ever before. I have a good feeling about all of this!

Love,
Dominique

Violet the Hun - The Difference in Daycare the Second Time Around

Good afternoon and Happy Monday!

Even though my rejoining of the gainfully employed doesn't begin until next week, we have already had a taste of what daycare is going to be like this time around through my subbing experiences. Today, as I delighted in the enthralling conversations of three year olds, my daughter the hurricane was terrorizing her teachers in the toddler room.

Now that's a bit of an exaggeration. Her teacher would tell you that she was fine, and sweet, and a good eater, and these things are mostly true - but we had our first ugly experience with the dark side today.

Violet bit her teacher. Bit - for the first time ever - because he teacher "had the nerve" to try and fix her mop of a ponytail spout that was sticking straight up from her head. I immediately felt terror. I had dealt with biters before. "Three strikes and you're out," I thought. "Great. I've got 'the biter.'"

Honestly, my once chill baby has become a full on toddler terror at certain points in  her day (I'll give you a hint - they generally happen around food time and nap time) and I've been noticing it for weeks. Her frustrating "hulk outs" that I once found funny have now started to worry me. Her "noodling" when she doesn't want to be picked up is now followed closely by a face-down-on-the-floor-screaming tantrum is someone tries to take something from her - even if it's just to give it back to the person she stole it from in the first place.

But a biter? Please, God, no! Those precious little scattered chicklets that look adorable when she smiles are actually fierce weapons, and I would know - I have been on the receiving end of a clamped down jaw during toothbrush time.

This is a problem for me. How do I discipline a 17 month old? How do I emphasize "No bite!" when "Bite" is not even a word she literally knows the meaning of yet? Time out, people say. Ok, I can do that. But where? The only chair her size is her comfy chair, and I don't want that associated with punishment. And her crib? Not a chance - that is one of the only places she finds solace enough to sleep. Her packnplay? How will I ever do laundry again when every time I place her in her safe space that she screams with distress? I am really at a loss.

And it hurts. You know it hurts. It's easy to tell someone else's kid "No!" or put them, screaming and flailing, in a time out chair. But your own? It's heartbreaking. I start to think, "Where did I go wrong?! I am so embarrassed. Every mother or caregiver here thinks I coddle my child too much. They are all telling each other how bad she is."

But that's not true. No one is talking. Everyone who has ever experienced a toddler knows they are unpredictable at best. That they simply can't voice their anger or frustrations, and that kids bite. Some of them do. Mine did.

And she might never do it again. Or I might be remarking to someone someday about how my kid was a biter, and you'd never know it because she's so sweet, right?

So my new questions to daycare givers will not be things like "When is nap time? How many bottles of milk do I need to bring?" It's going to be more like "How do you discipline? Do you send accident reports? How much does she need to be bleeding before I have to come get her?" Just kidding on that last one. Kind of.

Anyway, pray for V that the biting does not continue. And please pray for me and Chris to be able to nip that in the bud and figure out a good solution.

Happy Monday everyone! Cheers to an early bedtime for everyone in this house!

Love,
Dominique

Let's Catch Up, Shall We?

Good morning and happy Thursday! It is Thursday, right? I seriously lose track some days. Between trying to figure how to fit in a protein that isn't hotdogs or bologna for my daughter and the seemingly endless amount of laundry, the days tend to run together.

It also doesn't help that these past few (years?) weeks have been crazy for us. What started with an exhaustingly fun beach trip at the beginning of this month turned into a whirlwind of illness, injury, job hunting, house cleaning, shower throwing and is now going to be wrapped up nicely with a southern style cookout to celebrate my 31st birthday on Saturday.

To say I am tired is and understatement. However, some really great (and really terrible, but let's focus on the positive) things have been happening around here. V is 16 months, and full blown running through the house now. Her favorite things to do include take things from our bathroom and carry them around, wear both of daddy's hats at once, and watch Dinosaur Train. Don't even get me started on our PBS Kids. I have so many questions, it's ridiculous. She also has learned how to climb on our bed from our pet stairs for pug, and as a direct result of this, fell off of our bed for the first time the other day.

She's fine. She banged up her face a little bit, but nothing terrible. The worst thing we've encountered this month was a rough bout with Hand Foot and Mouth Disease. HFM is a virus that causes fever, painful sores on the mouth, hands and feet, and neediness beyond compare. For about 8 full days, I dealt with constant crying, needing to be held, motrin resistance and the worst part - no eating - and still managed to throw a baby shower at my house in the midst of all of it. I have to admit I shed a few tears myself, but when your chunky toddler's cheeks start to look hollow and she's wailing in your ear - you try to keep it together.

Thankfully she's over all of it, and is now back to her silly self and eating everything in sight like she has some catching up to do. And after what felt like the worst week in my year, I am now turning around having a pretty good week.

I have been searching for a part time job, and in the spirit of being aggressive about it, I have been shotgunning my resume to various companies. Finally, some of this has paid off, and I have an interview next week, a sub job next week, and my recruiter called me yesterday about what could possibly be the most promising opportunity. Fingers crossed, I find something soon. As much as I don't want to leave my baby boo, an outside interest (that pays me) will be good for the whole fam.

So now as I prepare to close out my 31st year of life (it's true, you know it) I am very hopeful for the future of our family. All it's going to take is a little elbow grease, some confidence, some budgeting and some determination, and I feel like we'll be in a great position.

Happy Thursday everyone!

Love,
Dominique

Seasons

Usually when someone mentions the word "Seasons," I think "Summer and Winter." Which are the only two seasons Alabama participates in. However, lately I've been having to remind myself that a season can also apply to a time in your life that may be good or bad, and is, as everything tends to be - temporary.

I've had a hard time lately. I've been conspicuously absent from my writing lately, because I haven't wanted to talk about it. It's not fun, it's not clever or light-hearted. But I will do my best to approach it with my usual batch of sarcasm.

We are struggling. As you may recall, I have been riding the unemployment train since January, and taking advantage of this time to stay with my favorite girl. Well, government hand outs don't last forever (even if there are people out there who seem to make it their job to make them last forever) and soon we will have to make a choice as to whether or not going back to work will be in my future.

Chris works so hard for this family. He's great at his job, and his small company has been good to this family. However, with small businesses come some setbacks, and growth tends to be one of them. Luckily, my brilliant husband has found a way to restructure his responsibilities at work, and his ideas have been positively received by the owner. I'm sure he wouldn't want me to talk about this. I'm certain he would rather me tell everyone that he's applying to NASA and I'll never have to work again. But the truth is, I'm proud of him. One of the advantages of where he is now is that his schedule is very considerate to this family. And he knows that. And he wants to keep that. Money is definitely not everything.

That being said, even with the restructure, it will be probably prudent for me to start looking for a part time position somewhere. The problem with part time work is the math of it all. A full time job is generally salaried, whereas part time tends to be more on an hourly basis. They also tend to be more on the lower scale of responsibility, which means that they are on the lower scale of pay. Part time work does not mean half of what you were making before.

But, part time daycare tends to add up to almost exactly half of what we were paying before. Meaning, I'm bringing in less money, and paying about the same for the amount of care I need. It hardly makes it worth it if you are working to bring in extra income. Get it? So, my options are limited. Either I , A) find a great paying part time job or B) find a job at a daycare facility with lowered or free tuition for employees, or C)find a job that I really really love to do that will make it all worth it.

But I love my job now. This is what I want to do. So C seems a bit out of the question. In a perfect world, I would be getting paid $20 an hour at a daycare that I love with free tuition for Violet. So if you know of that job, for goodness sake - let me know! I'm pretty great with kids!

But I know this is all a season. Every single member of my family has gone through hardship at some point in their lives, and we always pull through. We Grants are survivors. And we Kings are resilient. And for now, I have a lot of great things going on for the summer with my family and friends. So even if this season of my life is harder than I would like it be right now, this season of summer fun is going to be amazing. And I still get to spend it with my favorite girl. Even if maybe it's a little less time.

Happy Thursday everyone!

Love,
Dominique

Sorry, Not Sorry

Good morning!

I know I've been absent for over a week now. It's not for lack of things to talk about, but more that I have so much jumbled in this tiny head of mine that I haven't been able to focus much on any one thing. So, I decided to file it all away and talk about something that really bothers me lately.

Now, I just may be overly sensitive (hey, I've been accused of it before), but lately I have been seeing a lot of posts from various sources aimed at the "anti-children" movement. Some of are meant in jest, some are more serious, some are just plain crazy, but they all have one thing in common: An unapologetic open letter basically sticking it to anyone who chose to have kids.

Now, I must say, I agree with the articles that focus on the "it's no one's business if I want kids or when." kind of message. They are absolutely right. Kids aren't for everyone, and you never know someone's secret struggle. And of course it's ok to not want kids. Why wouldn't it be?

But to attack the parenting world with posts like "Top 10 Things You Wish your Friends with Kids Would Stop Doing," is just unnecessary.

Here's the hard truth: Kids change your life. And in a lot of circumstances, like mine, they BECOME your life. It's hard not to focus 100% on someone who needs you to do most everything for them 24/7 for a while. I've fairly recently started living by the motto "You chose this life." (Ask Chris, boy does he hate it when I say that to him!) If you don't want to see pics of my kid on social media, by all means, unfollow or unfriend me. If you don't want to hear about my kid, don't ask me about my day. Because I promise you, it involves 90% my child, and 10% the episode of House I got to watch while she was asleep.

If you don't want to hear my opinion on those articles asking me to stop mom-blogging, please - stop reading my blog. Don't click that link. It contains nothing you want to see or read.

The fact is, I love being a mom and all that comes with it. And I, for one, love sharing those experiences via social media or my blog with other moms, and other people who are truly interested in what my life is like. This is it, ya'll. Poopie diapers and precious smiles. Frustrating days, and moments I wish would never end.

This is me. It's not ALL of who I am, but let's face it - it's a good, fat chunk right now. And I'm going to continue to share my pictures, and I'm going to continue to ask mom questions, and I'm going to continue to write this blog and rant and rave about various things, mom related or not.

True friends and family will always accept when a big change happens in our lives, even if that change is not really wanted/welcomed/or is really, really annoying. So come on people, be kind to people who want kids. Or don't want kids. Both choices are great, and incredibly personal.

Rant over. Happy Tuesday! I hope all of my friends with kids enjoy their family day, and I hope all of my friends without kids enjoy their day doing whatever it is you do with no kids. (Seriously, I can't remember.)

Love,
Dominique

Feminism and the Gilmore Girls

Good morning!

I have started this new every day thing, where Violet has a snack while I clean the kitchen, and we watch an episode or two of Gilmore Girls. Did you know that Lorelei is supposed to be just a year older than me in this show? Seems odd. She looks older. Acts older. Maybe that's the point - that she had to grow up fast because she had her daughter at 16.

Anyway, this particular episode was really centered on Rory and her boyfriend of the time, Dean. It begins with a (hinted at) long standing tradition of Rory and her mother watching episodes of Donna Reed, and poking fun at all things 50s about them, as they usually do. Rory's boyfriend, Dean, enters the conversation, and points out that maybe it isn't so bad that Donna Reed cooks every meal for her family. The Gilmores are appalled. How dare he?! Donna Reed is what everything is wrong about the 50s, right? The whole, "Barefoot and pregnant" era.

The episode continues in usual fashion, but the argument rears its ugly head once more. Dean points out that maybe she liked doing those things. Maybe it's a nice idea that a woman would want to cook dinner and clean the house and provide that for her family. He then goes on to say his own mother did this.

I have to say, I agree with Dean. I used to think that it was such an antiquated idea. Dinner on the table by five, staying at home with the kids. Being in charge of the laundry, and dishes while the husband works.

I was a working mom once. I felt I had an equal partnership with my husband. And then I got let go. And you know what happened? Nothing about that changed. I was thrown into a role I never thought I wanted, and I STILL feel every bit as equal to my husband (Sometimes superior! haha, just kidding.)

I don't cook in this house. Sure, I can make a few things, but I prefer for Chris to do all of the cooking. Everything he makes just tastes better. Maybe because I don't enjoy the effort. But I do most of the laundry, the cleaning, and taking care of the baby. And I want to do those things. I'm good at it. It makes my days go by faster, and my nights more relaxed because, for once, I have the time to keep a fairly clean house.

And I know many others who feel the same way. Feminism is not fighting the stereotypical roles, it's fighting for the choice to do what you want to do, not what you have to or is expected of you. I am not expected to stay home. I am not expected to clean the kitchen, or do the laundry. I am expected to take care of the baby all day, because frankly, no one else is around to do it, and it's kind of my job description right now.

I do these things because I want to do them. And if I ever don't want to, my husband will be just fine with that.

That being said, I still love the Gilmore Girls. I only hope I can have as good of a relationship as that with my own daughter some day. A good balance between parent and friend. But probably more on the parent side.

Happy Wednesday!

Love,
Dominique

53 Minutes

Happy Wednesday! I hope everyone had a great Easter weekend.

As per most holidays, we went home to Mobile to spend the weekend with our families. We had our celebration on Saturday, as it was the only day everyone's schedules would allow. We had the whole fam over and enjoyed an Easter Egg Hunt and early afternoon dinner. So, this left Sunday open for everyone to kind of do their own thing.

Well, in true CEO Catholic fashion, I decided to take my 14 month old toddler to Easter Mass with my sister. I dressed her in her Sunday best, put on my most springish dress, and headed straight for the St. Dominic's cry room. If your church doesn't have a cry room, I'll explain it now. It's basically exactly what it sound likes. It's a small room in the back of the church with an all-window front, where parents can bring their small babies - and less-than-perfect small children - and still enjoy the mass without the paranoia that everyone is staring at your kid who is asking "WHEN IS IT OOOOOOVER?!" every five minutes in their outside voice.

Knowing my squirmy girl, I warned my sister that we weren't even going to attempt to sit in the normal pews, but that she was welcome to abandon us for the quieter life if she wanted to. She said it was no problem, so 30 minutes ahead of time we found our place in the front of the room and started our mission.

I had packed the variable arsenal of things needed to distract my daughter into behaving - books, toys, puffs, water.I marveled at how well we had started off. She was curious enough about her surroundings to be content being held so she could look around, but that soon changed. As more and more children began to flood into the small room, I could feel her getting anxious. My stress levels started to rise as she began her inevitable "Noodling" process. Her body goes surprisingly limp and it gets increasingly harder to get a grip on her. I knew I had but one chance to stop it before she got out of control, so I started with the least messy option. Murray. Murray is the lamb she got for Easter, and yes, I named it Murray. Because every time I saw it, I couldn't stop singing the Murray has a little lamb theme song from Sesame Street.

Murray was quickly tossed to the ground in defiance, so we moved on to books. Another fail, I was getting desperate. I knew what I had to do. I planted her squarely on her bottom on the pew, and gave her the one thing that works every time. The Snack Cup.

Here's what I DON'T like about the snack cup. Sure, it's spill proof, but that doesn't mean she won't drop it 1 million times, nor does it's mean that it's contents won't turn her in a puffs dust covered sticky monster. However, it is my only salvation for most trips with her. The snack cup worked it's magic for a while, but about halfway through the service, she had decidedly had enough. She wanted to explore. To walk around. To take things from other children like Attila the Hun.

This is when we made our first exit. I took her out into the main entrance hall to see the stained glass windows, where I quickly discovered I was not alone. One frustrated dad was going back and forth with each of his 6 child brood in hand, and at one point looked at me and said "Yours is so good!"

Is she? Because she's driving me bananas. But I guess in his mind, at least I wasn't dealing with an army. At this point we were pretty close to the Communion part of the service, which is basically the Thursday of a Mass. Very close to the end, but you're not quite there yet. Knowing the room would be considerably emptier as each parent took turns going to receive communion, we headed back in.

Ah, a few moments peace. The room felt considerably larger, and I was once again lulled into a false sense of security that we could get through this. Then all of the children returned. All at once. And like a band of apes that had just figured out that the hierarchy has shifted, they all started to go crazy. I looked at my phone. 9:53. Fifty three minutes is how long it takes for all children to be completely over Easter Mass. But we still had some left! It was only Thursday!

But then I discovered the secret that most Catholic parents would likely not admit. They leave after communion. They give up the battle, and concede to the tiny little warriors, because after that - everyone is exhausted.

And all I could think was, "I can't do this every Sunday."

So bravo, Catholic parents. Bravo, anyone who attends church every Sunday with their children in tow, knowing their particular church doesn't provide a nursery.

As for me, a nursery service has moved to the number one spot on my list of potential church needs if we ever start looking. At least until I can threaten her with "Santa is watching!" and she will actually listen.


Love,
Dominique

Choosing to Stay

Good morning! Happy Wednesday!

As I explained here this past Christmas, I didn't exactly choose Stay-At-Home-Momhood. After my sudden departure from my full time position of three years, I had people generously clamoring to help me. Offering words of support, resources, sometimes even money - and I appreciated it all. But here I am, four months later, and still staying at home with my favorite girl.

I know what some people must be thinking. What happened? Why haven't you returned to work force yet? Weren't you always a champion for the working mother, you sell out?!

Yes. I'll always be a champion for the working mother. Even now I have heated discussions (or, more so, soapbox sessions) about how unfairly working mothers are treated, and how America hates a working mom. But the truth for my situation is simple. Turns out I'm pretty good at this.

Some people are great at art, or sales, or computers. I am great at Momming. Not the best, mind you - that title is long held by my own mother - but I've really come into my own since being thrown into the position. I'm never late. I am continuously figuring out how to make things run more efficiently. I make every effort to make sure my boss is happy - and not because if I don't I'll get fired - but because I believe in her happiness. I come in early, and I stay very late. I am at her beck and call. And it never feels like work.

Isn't that what they say you should look for in a job? Something like "If you love what you do, then you'll never work another day in your life."?

It's demanding, too. Constant strategizing. Sometimes it's a war zone. Sometimes it's a showdown. Most days it's a just a normal routine, like many other jobs. It can be monotonous, and it can be absolutely nuts. But, in my opinion, it's always rewarding. I put in my time for the day, and when it's over I feel like I've accomplished something great.

That's why I am trying to keep this position for as long as God will allow me. Like with anything in this life, it's not guaranteed. Like a lot of others in the working world, circumstances may force me to move on to something else. Maybe something I'll love just as much, maybe something I won't. All I know is for now, I am putting in 150% each and every day that I physically can. And maybe my impact with my "momming" skills will pay off tremendously, no matter how short of time I had the chance to do it.

Love what you do, people! Momming or not - if you're happy, you're making a huge difference.

Love,
Dominique

Yelling is the New Crying - Life with a Full Blown Toddler These Days

Good morning!

Happy Tuesday to every one out there! Things sure have changed, even in the last month or so. We are approaching V's 14 month mark, and she seems to be growing in leaps and bounds. Sometimes sweet, sometimes grouchy, ALWAYS hilarious - this is what we're dealing with these days in our house.

1) Yelling is the new crying. Her new thing is to "talk" as loudly as possible if we are A)not paying attention to her. B)not watching what she wants to watch on Netflix. (turns out she's not a huge fan of House, M.D. Who knew?) and C) She doesn't feel like napping/going to bed yet/being contained in any way

2) Mealtimes are a whole new ball game. My once good eater, who would sit quietly and with wonder as I spoon fed her bites of pureed sweet potato and rice cereal, now takes meal time as a great time for her artistic expression, as well as her charitable giving to the dog. They share most of every meal, and her finger paintings with cheese sauce and spaghettios are quite good.

3)She has learned the word "No." and can shake her head as she says it. Enough said.

4)The battle of the runny nose being wiped every five seconds has been replaced with the battle of the teeth brushing. And said teeth are very sharp, and can clamp down like an iron vice grip on my hand if I get too close. It's a two man job, and just like when she hated getting her face wiped, she seems to grow three more arms while I am trying to brush those pearly whites.

5)  Bath time is splash time. Like a tiny Shamu show in our tiny Sea World, I am ALWAYS in the splash zone.

6)She's actually toddling now! She's still doing a walk/crawl combo, with most of it leaning towards crawling, but she is growing more confident every day and taking steps on her own. She claps her hands whenever she reaches her new destination, which has prompted her to love her new favorite song - "Applause" by Lady Gaga.

7) She's got mad dancing skills. She likes to booty drop while holding on to the furniture, and will bust a move to almost anything. Her favorites are (see above) "Applause," "Love is an Open door" from Frozen, and the ABC song.

8) On a non changing note - she still has no sense of Stranger Danger. We were at a trampoline arena (yeah, you read that right. It was AWESOME) and she just wandered up to a kindly old lady for a cuddle. Luckily the woman was thrilled, and I said "If you're ok with it, I'm ok with it."

9) She has no sense of any danger. 99% of our shopping trips now include me turning around to find her standing in the cart. I even try strapping her in, but she finds a way around it, the sneaky bugger. She also got her first big head bump the other day from our wood floors. She looked like she has been in Toddler Fight Club, but she took it like a champ. She also is a huge fan of trying to dive head first off of the furniture. Heaven help us. At least she's not a climber. Yet.

10) She's as moody as a teenager. She can (and does) go from laughing to crying in a smooth transition several times a day. To a point where sometimes I don't realize the mood has changed. The website "Reasons my son is crying." has a whole new meaning to me now.

She's still the most fun person to be around, and I'm still loving every minute of my time with her. She keeps me on my toes now, that's for certain. I can't wait to see the crazy that comes out of her toddler mouth when she's really talking more. I bet she'll have some real gems.

Thanks for reading, as always. We're off to the playroom to see what trouble we can get into now.

Love,
Dominique

Our New Adventure in "Self Parenting"

Good morning everyone! Happy Monday!

I hope everyone had a great weekend. I apologize for my lack of blog last week, but we have been really working through some stuff here at the K house.

As my frustration with my non-toddling toddler grows, I've decided to try a radical new approach. We are now "self-parenting." What is that, you ask? Self-parenting is exactly as it sounds. I am no longer taking responsibility for V.

Here's what a typical day in our house looks like now:

V wakes up...whenever. She generally cries in her crib for about 45 minutes while I continue to snooze, and then tries hard enough to tumble out with the use of her lovey's. Around 10am, I awaken and usually find her with an old bottle of milk watching the reflections on the blank tv. I figure she'll work the remote eventually.

From there, I might go to yoga, or read or a book or watch a  16 and Pregnant marathon. Occasionally I'll check on her (I mean, I do still love her. It's just tough love now.) and she seems alright. A few times I've found her chewing on the fridge magnets, but I moved them higher so that's not a problem anymore.

Around lunch time, I usually head out to meet Chris for Thai or Mexican, and leave V at home with the pug. I might put some food in pug's bowl, and then I bought a "baby bowl" to put right next to hers, which I fill with puffs. You really should see them together eating. It's the cutest thing.

Our afternoons are spent at the park, where V usually crawls around, putting various pieces of mulch in her mouth. Who am I to judge? If she's hungry she should eat. I'm letting her ride shotgun these days because I got incredibly sick of dealing with our car seat straps. I'll probably just take it out this week so we can have the extra space.

By evening time, she's usually filthy, tired and hungry so I run her a bath (if it's not too much trouble for me) and let her splash around until she's ready for bed. I open her drawers for her to pick out and put on her own pjs, turn off the light and say goodnight!

Usually Chris and I are at the bar within 30 minutes. I tell you, this new method is great. I think she'll be really on track within a few months.

Thanks for always as listening, and one last thing...

HAPPY APRIL FOOLS DAY! Seriously, what kind of parent do you think I am?!

Love,
Dominique

The First Day of Spring, My New Hammock Pad and a Renewed Sense of Self

Good morning! Happy Thursday and Happy First Day of Spring! Who all ready to see the winter end say yeeeeeaaaah!

Anyway, I had a really good topic today, but it's kind of a bummer, so I decided to save it for a  (literally) rainy day and tell ya'll the story of how I saved $40 and gained a whole new confidence all in one trip to Walmart.

We have a lovely rope hammock. It was a gift from my parents, and a perfect addition to the screened in back porch that made me fall in the love with our home. However, if you've ever sat in a rope hammock for more than 5 minutes in you life, you know they can be slightly uncomfortable. So, I went to my go-to place for all things that may or may not exist (amazon, of course) and searched for a hammock pad. Imagine my surprise to find the only thing that popped up was a thin, water resistant quilt with ties on each end, selling for a whopping $77.

As you know from my last post, we don't have a lot of money. Particularly somewhere in the area of $77 to spend on a thin hammock pad. So, after researching several other sites for something comparable or better, I came up with nothing. After this discouraging discovery, I was about to add the quilt with ties to my amazon cart, but something stopped me. I could figure this out. I don't cook, but I have learned to make a few dishes. I still buy some veggie pouches for V, but I've learned that my homemade avocado-spinach-yogurt-fruit smoothie is her favorite. Chris does not repair, but our washing machine is working again. My point is, we can do more than we think we are capable.

So I took to my other favorite internet source, facebook, to ask my savviest of friends to assist me in ideas of how to pull off a better DIY pad on the cheap. I aimed the question at one girl in particular, Catherine. Catherine and I went to high school together, and she's always been a sweet, sweet girl. And smart. And as we've grown older, I've come to know her as an incredibly handy girl. I mean, this girl has transformed areas of her house on her own for several years, with three kids in tow and now one on the way. But enough about that. She's cool, ok? So anyway, Catherine in all her brilliance came through for me and replied that she would likely use an egg crate mattress pad and a bed sheet. Egg crates?! Why hadn't I thought of that? They're like, the cheapest thing ever. So, determined with this new idea, me and V made the trek to the local Walmart, and investigated our choices.

My two issues were these:
1) I know myself, and this thing WILL get left in the rain at some point. Well enough for a removable washable sheet, but how would I defend the egg crate? Simple, I discovered. A zip up, full coverage waterproof plastic mattress cover.
2) I don't sew. I mean, I can hand sew - but I don't even have the tools and I haven't done it in a long, long time. So, solution number two caught my eye - fabric glue. Permanent, washable. Quick and easy.

Armed with my supplies - $38 worth of egg crate, flat sheet, fabric glue and a waterproof mattress cover, we headed home. I immediately put the baby down for a nap - this was not a project to tackle with a toddler - and got to work. I rolled out the egg crate. I unfolded the king sheet. I did this funny this hop dance while trying to shimmy the egg crate into the waterproof cover. Then I got to work with my glue, to make what I would later call "The World's Largest Pillowcase."

After closely inspecting the glue, I was surprised to find two warnings on the back instead of instructions. "MAY CAUSE NUMBNESS IN UNTREATED AREAS OF SKIN EXPOSED."
 Um, ok.

"THIS PRODUCT CONTAINS AN INGREDIENT SHOWN TO CAUSE CANCER IN CALIFORNIA."

Geez. Fabric glue is serious business. Well I don't live in California, so I don't have to worry about that (cue rimshot here). But seriously, folks, I don't sew.

So me, my smelly fabric glue, and a folded in half king sheet sat on the floor for about an hour, meticulously fashioning our cover. I waited all of 10 minutes for the glue to dry (I'm impatient, ok?!) and shimmied the plastic covered egg crate into my hand made cover. Finally, something I could test.

I took my prototype outside, and then grabbed the baby. She never did go to sleep. I guess she could sense my excitement and desperately wanted to be a part of it. I lay her down on the soft pad and she started giggling with delight. Success! Sure, it needed some trimming, and I still have to find a way to tie it to the four corners so it wouldn't slip around, but it was really quite comfy. I waiting for about 45 minutes for Chris to come home, eager for him to see my brilliance.

He came up the basement way, said his hello to the baby, and then said he wanted to see the porch. He went out there, looked at it, layed down, closed his eyes and said, "It's so small!."

Sigh. He saw the look of disappointment (and let's face it, a little disdain) on my face, and immediately retracted and started complimenting me on my innovation. "I could read a book out here!" "Sure is more comfortable!"

We did ultimately decide to return the egg crate and mattress pad to upgrade to a full size, but still I was proud of myself. My first DIY. Simple, yes, but we have to start somewhere, right?

Happy Thursday Everyone! May all of your spring projects work the way you want them to. And if they don't, congratulations on trying. That's more than I do 99% of the time. (But not anymore!)

Love,
Dominique

The Nature of Contentment

Good morning, ya'll! Happy Friday! I apologize for my lateness this week. It seems to have been one of those weeks that just got away from me.

I had a really good conversation with my mom yesterday. I've noticed that as I get older, our conversations have seemed to shift from a 15 minute phone call where I reveal nothing to an hour long talk that includes such questions as "Should I pay someone to do my taxes?," and "Should we consider taking out a small loan to do some home improvements?"

You know, adult stuff. My parents opinion is of the upmost importance because I consider their lives to be a great success. I grew up the very definition of middle class. We lived in a quiet neighborhood about two blocks away from the Catholic school and church we attended. It was the kind of neighborhood where most of the houses were built sometime in the 60s and 70s, and it went through the cycles of housing the elderly to young families. We always had good name brand food, but we rarely went out to eat. We didn't get brand new cars, but we always had a ride. My dad worked in my grandfather's small business and my mom taught elementary school. In grade school, my summers went spent riding my bike to my various neighborhood friends homes and spending the entire day outside. By the time high school started for me, I was busier with sports, and then when I was 17, I got my very first summer job. Up until a few months ago, I hadn't stopped working since.

My point is, we didn't have a lot of money, but I still had an idyllic childhood. Going into my adulthood, things got considerably harder, as they tend to do. I had to take out loans for my college, and I suffered the consequences of not having someone older telling me to go to class for the first time. I worked all throughout school for my "play money" and at one point was working 30 hours at a minimum wage job, 20 hours at an unpaid internship, and taking 15 hours of classes. I'm not sure how that's physically possible, but for one semester, I did it. Then I graduated and moved to Birmingham, got my first job making $23,000 a year (hands down the most money I had EVER seen) and was truly on my own for the first time ever.

But I was never unhappy. Sure, I was unhappy at specific times, for specific reasons, but overall I was satisfied with how things had played out for me.

Skip to 6 years later, and I'm sitting in a house that I own, from the 70s, in a neighborhood that looks exactly like my parents, with my husband and a baby, a pug and the world's most oddly affectionate cat. I still drive my 1999 civic, our house is definitely dated in some areas, and me and V spend most of days enjoying the various free activities around town. Storytimes, and wagon rides around the neighborhood, and walks in the park.

And I'm so happy. I couldn't ask for anything more. I grew up believing that the important things in life were love and family. I learned to treat people like I want to be treated, and have a generous spirit and heart. To never let the petty things guide my contentment. I think that if my daughter grew up the exact way that I did, she would never be unsatisfied. She may not get a brand new car, and she may not always have the best brand clothes, and she may have to take out loans for her education. Yes, I would love to provide these things for her, but if for some reason we can't, I think she'll be just fine. I was. I am.

Some people would take this blog as a statement of my lack of ambition. I'm very ambitious, just not in the traditional areas that that word is associated with. I work very hard to build a happy life for my family, myself, and my friends. Even if all I can do is be a sympathetic ear or say encouraging words, or, as you often see here, admit my own faults open and honestly for the world to see.

We may never have a lot of money. But that's ok. We have a lot of love. And when I do get to feeling stressed or down, nothing will get you right again like a hot shower and a pint of ice cream.

Happy Friday, everyone! May your weekend be everything you hoped it would. Tonight I'll be lucky enough to celebrate the birthday of one of my best friends in entire world.

Love,
Dominique

My parents, Gerald and Stella

"When young girls are encouraged to explore what they find interesting, they grow up to be interesting women."

I love, love, love this quote. Even better, I love the woman who said it - Amy Poehler. That's right, it wasn't some great historical figure of late, or some wise political figure. It was someone who has chosen to make a living off of her greatest asset - her sense of humor.

I watch my daughter and I wonder what kind of young lady she will develop into. In a few ways, it's already happening. She loves music, and books. She love bright colors and animals. All of these things clearly bring her joy. One of her greatest personality traits is that she is the silliest baby. When she sits in her high chair, she reminds me of animal on the Muppets, chained to his drum set, shaking his head and going nuts.

She loves peek a boo, and patty cake, but always with her own twist. She's already her own person, and I dream about what kinds of things she'll explore as she gets older. Maybe she'll want to be a princess 7 years in a row for halloween, or maybe she'll want to be a dinosaur. Maybe she'll really love ping pong  (boy would her daddy loooove that!) or maybe she'll want to play soccer like me. Maybe she'll be a bookworm with no interest in sports whatsoever. Maybe she'll come inside each day, covered in mud, with no regard to how dirty she is, or maybe she'll be one of those girls who appreciates a clean hand.

I have four nieces. Two sets of siblings, both the precious offspring of my oldest siblings. All of them could not be more different from each other. Over the almost 10 year span of their cumulative lives, I've watched them go through phases, interests, hobbies. I've seen the ones that pass within a few months, and I've seen the ones that stick. I could tell you with almost certainty that my oldest niece will likely grow up to do something with animals. She has that kind of story - the kind I'll be telling strangers at her college graduation. "She's always loved animals. Since she was a toddler."  Her sister is not as easy to predict. She used to love ballet, but now is really into gymnastics. She loves the color purple, and wearing her hair in a bun. But just because she maybe hasn't (or is just now) finding her passion in life, doesn't mean those early interests won't influence her later in life. She's having a blast with what she loves right now, and that's wonderful to witness.

I'm fortunate that I grew up in a house where my parents told us we could be and do whatever we had interest in doing. They doled out countless amounts of money for soccer, basketball, volleyball, football and cheerleading uniforms. They bought expensive band instruments that collected dust after a matter of a few years of use. My mother saved every poetry book I ever wrote in, and still looks at them. She took me to a young authors conference, which was one of the coolest experiences of my youth. She told me stories of my grandfather that I never got to meet, about how he loved to write just like me. About how he stood for what he believed in, and had a way with words. She helped me to mold my passion for writing, even though we all know that a creative field is one of the hardest to find success in. She and my family will always be some of my biggest fans.

So no matter how fleeting I think a sport or a hobby or an interest my own daughter has will be, I will always encourage her to follow it. You never know when something will stick. Who knows? I could be raising the next J.K. Rowling, or female tennis champ. Or I could be raising the next Tina Fey. A mother can dream, right? :)

Happy Thursday everyone!

Love,
Dominique

A Clueless Mom vs Irrational Fears

Good morning!

There's something that's been really bugging me lately. I have a few irrational fears. Most of them related to really unlikely situations, like my fear of whales or my fear of getting burned by a cigarette in a crowded bar (granted, that one has subsided considerable since smoking indoors was banned in most places in Alabama, and I never go to crowded bars anymore.)

However, a lot of my more irrational fears are now concerning my daughter, and mostly her development. The latest one is the fact that she is now over 1 (by a whopping 11 days!) and she is still not walking. 

I have daydreams of her being a toddler-sized crawler, getting her knees and hands filthy wherever she goes and picking up every shard of something sharp she can find in the carpet or hardwoods and eating them immediately. Because that's what happening now. It doesn't help that a lot of other mommies with babies her age are posting their first steps videos (sorry, mommies, I don't blame you - and I'm proud of your little babes!) and I'm still dealing with the "stanky leg."

It's disheartening because she's so smart in other areas. She picks up words, she eats like a champ, and she plays with her toys in a way that makes me know she has focus and is a thoughtful thinker. She just doesn't have an interest in walking yet. It's also a little bit limiting. Trips to the park are mostly me keeping other kids from stepping on or over her, and even our snow day was cut short and sweet by me not wanting her to crawl around in the cold fluff. 

I know I am not alone. I know that a lot of kids don't walk by one, or even 15 months or sometimes 18 months, and that's perfectly normal. But try telling that to a mom. That's the thing about an irrational fear - the fact that it's unfounded doesn't make it any less scary, unfortunately. 

I've kept this to myself (with the exception of a few close friends and family that I confide in) because, honestly, I thought I was being silly. And a little bit selfish. Who am I to worry about my 12 month old not walking yet, when their are people I know personally dealing with much bigger issues? But that's the point of this blog, as always. To put it out there - no matter how I think people may react to it. This blog helps me to put into words what my brain sometimes can't process in thoughts alone, and maybe to get and give a little encouragement every now and then. 

So there it is. My baby is not a walker, and it worries me. I guess all I can do is keep working with her, and trust that she'll do it when she's ready. And that she won't end up like this:

Happy Tuesday, everyone!

Love, 

Dominique