If infertility has taught me anything, it’s that I am not in control. Of anything. Ever. And just when I start to think I am in control, I get knocked back to down to size.
This is one of those stories.
My husband and I had been talking about maybe, sort of, possibly, looking into trying for a second baby. Our embryo storage bill was looming in the next few months, serving as a big, expensive reminder that our future babies were there, just waiting for us.
“I’m just not ready,” I kept thinking.
“But it’s time,” a voice in my head kept responding. Continue Reading
So, one day last week, I was just living my life, trying to take care of (aka, survive) the toddler and get through another mealtime, when something terrible happened. Something that knocked me off my feet, and that I knew would require the big guns – aka, my dad.
And because dads are awesome, he came running. That’s right, at 30 years old, with a kid of my own, I can still call my daddy when I’m in need, and he’ll still come save the day (no matter how ridiculous my request may or may not be).
I thought the trauma of the situation was behind me, but apparently, I was wrong. Unfortunately (for me), my dad is an epically good writer, and he decided to write a guest post so he could humiliate me forever – because that’s what dads do.
So with that, enjoy your laugh at my expense for the day: Continue Reading
When someone gives birth to a huge baby, everyone is all sympathies — “oh that poor mom” — but when someone gives birth to a tiny baby, it’s the exact opposite. The most common response I got to my 5… Continue Reading
I’ll be the first to admit that #MomLife is HARD. Like, way harder than I anticipated.
I mean, I obviously never expected it to be easy. But I didn’t know it would be this hard.
Like, dig-yourself-out-of-cement-with-a-plastic-fork hard.
But in my 18 months of experience (read: not very much), I’ve picked up a few essential tools for survival. The jackhammer to your plastic fork. These are the 10 items I actually couldn’t survive motherhood without: Continue Reading
Remember before you had kids, when your dinnertime was a cherished time to unwind with your spouse, catch up on each other’s days, discuss the latest world events, and just be connected?
Or – let’s be real – a time to eat on the couch, watch TV, and play on Facebook next to your spouse while you both zone out after an exhausting day of work?
Dinnertime with a toddler is basically the same as that, if you did all of those things while wrestling a rattlesnake. Not only is it physically exhausting you from its surprising strength for its size, but you’re actually afraid for your life because it could bite you at any moment. But at the same time, you and the snake both gotta eat, so you’re just powering through and trying to get at least half the plate of food into your mouths before one of you completely breaks (and we all know which one of you it’s going to be). Continue Reading