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