Hellobee

My big kid graduated from Kindergarten today. I was a sobbing mess while the kids walked down the aisle to some Taylor Swift song chosen specially for its ability to get me from standard-issue-proud to snot-nosed teary mess in ten seconds flat. Enough so that Mr. T had to operate the camera. She is just simply not allowed to be that big.

I am also freshly downstairs from putting said big kid to bed. This past week has found me dancing around the house to my own personal rendition of, “I like big planters and I cannot lie,” while Ellie sings back-up. Planting is going so fast, you guys. I love it. Bring on the debt. I will sell my soul to Case IH. Big planters mean Mr. T will be home again soon. But, in the meantime, I have a little question: it’s not being taken advantage of if you’re totally in on it, right? Because the secret I’ve been keeping from Mr. T is that while he has been gone, Ellie’s bedtime has lasted longer than it should. Like, by an hour? We’re cool… right?

She’ll ask me to read her just one more story. And I will. And it gives me all the guilty pleasure that I might get from watching one of my famously bad indie or foreign films that I love to indulge in when I know Mr. T is too far away to make fun of me. Then she’ll ask me for a song. Tonight she said, “Mama? I want a baby song. Please? Like you sing to Lorelei?” I am pretty sure my heart stopped for just a moment while it was swelling up with love and adoration for that girl snuggled next to me in the bed. So I sang her one song. And another. And another. Until looking over at the clock had me issuing an audible, “ouch,” under my breath. I regretfully thought of all the things I needed to get done before I could go to sleep for the night. I kept right on singing. She was playing me like a record, but you know what? I couldn’t find it in my heart to care.

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I really, really, really love keeping fresh flowers in our house. It makes me feel like a grown-up. It makes me feel girly. And it makes me smile. A lot. But truthfully, I can be a little lazy about arranging, so I am always on the lookout for quick and easy florals that look spectacular. (And being cost efficient doesn’t hurt either, now does it?)

I have an affinity for colors and rainbows, so I created this:

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While stay-at-home parenthood definitely has its perks, some of the upsides of being home with Little C have a surprising downside that comes in its wake.  Not schlepping on my morning commute in rush hour traffic is wonderful, and not being obligated to dress up for anyone makes for easy mornings, but sometimes looking like a bum trapped in my disaster-zone of a house during nap time isn’t so great either.  Not being obligated to make small talk with colleagues at the water cooler is refreshing, but having no adult interaction some days has its downfalls as well.

Here are a few tricks I have found help me keep my cool and feel like I’m on my A-game as a SAHM:

1)      The Three Minute Sweep

One of the biggest changes that comes with being a stay-at-home parent is how much time I actually spend in my home.  I never noticed how much time I spent away from home when I was working before I had Little C.  Between eight and ten hours each week day working and commuting, evenings out with friends, and plans on the weekends, I was home just long enough to eat breakfast, eat dinner, maybe watch a bit of television and go to sleep.

Now, being home with Little C full-time means that our apartment is being utilized much more.  We eat most of our meals at home.  Little C spends quite a bit of time playing on the floor, climbing on our furniture, and exploring every nook and cranny of every space below my knees in our entire apartment.  Messes are made, every speck of dirt becomes more evident (especially as Little C masters his pincer grasp), and generally speaking, by the evenings, without a little bit of intervention, our home looks like a pint-sized tornado has struck.  On top of all that, he is still taking two naps a day, which means that there are 2-3.5 hours a day where I am trapped in “nap jail” in our apartment as well.

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We always find the coolest most unique items from little handmade shops. A made with love item is always a great addition those little closets. And it’s always great to support the handmade community, especially considering that many of the shop owners are moms like us. So hold onto your wallets because, here are a few of my favorite little handmade items that have been hanging around the web lately.

No. 1  One little Belt $18 – No.2 Harriets Haberdashery $48

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I didn’t go to church growing up. Well that’s not exactly true. I did go from time to time when my Brownie troupe went, or when I stayed over at a friend’s house on a Saturday evening. But I never went with my family. I did not grow up knowing Sunday school, or church picnics or any of the other community events that come with being a member of a church. However, somewhere along the way I did end up with a relationship with God nonetheless.

My parents both attended church as children. My father even attended a religion-based school, but both stopped going sometime around their teenage years. After they married and later had children they decided, that they would not baptize my sibling and me, but they would wait until we developed an interest/curiosity and then support us in exploring our own faith choices from there. Religion was not looked upon negatively but it was also not focused upon. It is also worth noting that Mr. Tea Cup was brought up attending church weekly and stopped going in early adulthood.

Although I understand why my parents made the choice they did, I sometimes wonder what it would have been like growing up in the church community.  I do feel as though I have always had a connection to faith, but I did not have the “paperwork” so to speak. I was not baptized. I did not make my first communion. I did not have the “home base” that a church can provide.

Somewhere around the second trimester of my pregnancy, I started to think more deeply about my faith and really realized that I felt like there was something missing. I am not sure if it was the absolute miracle of carrying a baby or something else, but I felt like I needed to strength my connection to God and I wanted to do it sooner rather then later.

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I was raised an only child. I don’t work well in groups. When something needs to be done, I do it. Alone.

I have a system for almost everything. Cleaning, taking care of the baby, cooking. You name it. Every single activity I do, is set up for me. I approach cleaning the house as a one person job. Taking care of the baby as a one person job. Cooking…well…stay out of my kitchen.

You may wonder how I can have a successful marriage with this very individual frame of mind. My husband is also an only child. We are fine sitting in different rooms doing our own things. We love being together, but we can also function separately.

Recently, I quit my job. With very mixed feelings of happiness and sadness, I knew it was what I wanted to do. But I didn’t know that doing what I ultimately wanted could make me such an emotional wreck. I’m happy that I can be home with Isaiah. I’m relieved that we don’t have to find and pay for childcare. I’m excited to teach him things and be present for his firsts. The sadness comes from ending a very important part of my life because I feel like my job is the last part of “pre-Isaiah” me that was left. I’ve had a job for 13 years, with the exception of a 3 week stint of unemployment directly before I started this last position. I used to love leaving jobs and starting new ones, but I never left a job that I loved. With my last job, I didn’t love my actual job, but I loved my coworkers and I’ve never had that in a job before.

My New Employer

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It is California Law for employers to provide a private lactation room for breastfeeding mother’s.  As I was researching other similar laws, I stumbled upon a study done by the CDC revealing that mothers in California tend to breastfeed more, and longer than other states.  It could be because of our greater population of Hispanics, who tend to breastfeed more as an ethnic group, but I suspect it’s also because of the laws we have in place in support of breastfeeding mothers in California.  It is incredibly disheartening to read that most states don’t even require employers to provide a basic mother’s room.  Is that really too much to ask?!  I hope this drastically changes by the time my daughter becomes a mother herself.

I’m fortunate to have a manager who is very supportive of my desire to provide breastmilk for my children for as long as I’m able.  I currently pump 3x at work and it takes me about 30 minutes each time from setup to breakdown.

Let me give you a tour of our Mother’s Room and show you my process:

Left to right: Mother’s Room sign, 2 private lactation rooms (with chair, table, and outlet), and a sink and mini fridge

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