The Time is Never Right

I read another interesting article on the work-life balance conversation recently. I love this topic and know there's no one path that works for each family.  But it helps to keep talking about the issues we all face!

When we decided to move to Macon over a year ago we made the decision to put my husband's job first.  This was a hard decision (especially as I was on the cusp of making partner at my firm), but it was right for our family. He has his dream job as an Assistant U.S. Attorney. And in 8 weeks I will fully step back from my legal job. It might be until Bridget is 4-6 months old, or it might be indefinite.  I'm not sure yet.  But December 18th has been set as my last day.

I'm excited and petrified by the possibility. I'll get more time with my kids and won't have to hand Bridget over to someone else to return to a job I sometimes loathe.  I won't be sitting at a desk 8 hours a day. But I will be stepping away from a career I've spent a lot of money on and for which I'll still be paying student loans for years to come. I don't know if I can get back in the game if I completely leave and that is where the massive fear comes from. Will that time, money and schooling have been for naught? Will I regret this choice?

But what about the other things out there?  What if I devoted more hours a week to my Beautycounter business that I truly love?  What if I actually wrote that book I've been wanting to write? What if I got yoga-teacher certified or became a lactation consultant like I've dreamed? What if I find that thing that I don't even know is my thing yet?

And how will my family life change? How much stress can I take away from my husband by taking over the morning drop off so he can always get to work on time? How much stress of my own will be relieved by being able to devote our mornings to the kids rather than rushing around trying to throw myself together too? And our evenings? What will happen when I can prep dinner while the boys are at school and then actually spend time WITH them when I pick them up?  How will their behavior change when they are no longer stuck in aftercare until 5pm every day?  I am so excited by these changes. 

So why am I so afraid? Why can I not answer the question "What do you want to do once Bridget is here?"  I was asked it this morning by my boss, but I couldn't respond.  In truth we won't know the extent of Bridget's medical needs until she's here, but I used that as an excuse to not commit to anything right now.  A convenient by-product of her diagnosis.  Hey, I'm trying to find the silver linings where I can.  

Yet in my heart I already know.  I want to step away from the law. It's not my passion.  It never was.

I know what I'm giving up.  But I don't think I fully understand the potential of what I have to gain.  The timing is never right to make big changes.  I'll never feel we're financially settled to take this big pay cut. But sometimes you have to leap. Sometimes you have to trust that it will all work out.

I think it's finally time to run and do what I need to do.  I'm ready to find out who I am when I finally lay aside my lawyer's hat.  Maybe I'll put it on again one day.  Maybe that day will be sooner than later.  But maybe, just maybe, I'll never look back.

Building Your Circle

Last Thursday was a good day. I saw three of my girls. I spent two hours catching up on life with the first over a glass of wine in the middle of the afternoon. The other two came to a Beautycounter social and stayed long after the other guests had left. We could’ve kept talking for hours had the alarm clock and another work day not been lurking in the shadows. These three are my circle. My go to girls when I have issues with work, marriage, children, anxiety/depression and life. The bonds have been formed over many years – one as far back as ten years ago and the “newest” already four years strong. I know they don’t judge my brand of crazy and they are there with honest words of wisdom or an ear if I just need to talk. I’m lucky to call each one my friend.


But they’re all in Atlanta, where I no longer live. Thankfully the distance hasn’t caused any cracks in the friendships. But I get a twinge of depression anytime I see them now, knowing that I don’t have those close friends yet in Macon. I don’t have a circle here. It’s more of a dot or a speck.

I know it takes time. I’ve only been here six months, and in that time I’ve met some great women. Many of them I already consider friends and some I see so much potential for building close friendships. I know I need to be patient – you can’t force closeness and you can’t force connection. It has to happen in time and there needs to be a level of trust established. But I do hope to grow a circle here.

What I hope for the most is the honest friendships like I have with the handful in Atlanta. My friends and I were talking last Thursday about how there’s too much that people don’t talk about, and it can make you feel isolated. It can make you think something is wrong with you. Luckily my girls talk. And I like to talk. I like putting it out there. And unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your view point), I just don’t know any other way to be. I am who I am. Like me or leave me. I’d just rather be blunt than dishonest. So I hope to find some girls here who don’t mind sharing their ugly and who find comfort in having friends who lack a filter.

Making new friends really is like dating. There’s the fear of rejection and the nerves before calling to schedule a “date”. The hope that they like you too! And it’s even harder when you’re trying to find new couple friends – I mean, how often do you and your spouse both click with another couple? So far we’ve been extremely lucky to have a few of those couple friendships brewing here.

So we’re still settling in. For a while I wished I could transplant my girls from Atlanta to Macon so they’d be closer. But now I’m feeling lucky that my circle will slowly widen to include even more fabulous women. I know some people disagree, but I think you can never have too many people in your corner. Especially when those people enjoy a good glass of wine and are fun dinner companions. Even better if they have little people to keep your little people occupied while you enjoy that glass of wine!

Mantra Testing

My 2015 mantra to "LET IT GO" is being challenged in a serious way.  I am so trying to roll with the flow and let life happen, but I am struggling man. The lack of control is driving me batty. I'm starting to see why people don't make new year's resolutions or intentions - once you put it out there it feels like the universe is conspiring to see how well you can play out that intention.  Perhaps I shouldn't have chosen a mantra that is also the theme song to a popular Disney movie. I mean, it didn't work out so hot for Elsa there for a while.

So what am I struggling to let go of?

Our kitchen renovation. It came to yet another screeching halt yesterday.  As a recap, the first bump came with designer #1's $6,000 design price tag. Womp womp. At which point we changed directions and found a design-build firm who only charged $500 for the design, which gets refunded back to you if you sign on with them to do your project. I've met with designer #2 over a handful of times. Measurements have been taken. Design plans drawn up. Contractors have come to the house to provide their estimates for plumbing, electrical, HVAC and flooring. All of this was supposedly coming up on budget.

Then, last week designer #2 called to tell me that we needed to increase our budget $7,000 to correct the uneven floor, or we'd have to go with laminate or some other floating floor option, which they weren't really keen on. So I asked for a meeting with the designer, the owner of the company who made this decision and also asked for a breakdown of the budget to see where all the other money was being allocated. I asked for this meeting last Wednesday, but for whatever reason they couldn't meet us until 9am Tuesday morning. Then at 8am that morning I got a call from designer #2 saying they just couldn't do the project and would refund me our money. Apparently she could not get the numbers to work the whole time, even without the $7,000 bump. I never did see a budget breakdown, so I'm still not sure what the real story is. But I took my money back, cried a tear or two of frustration and decided the husband and I can tackle being our own general contractor. This should be a fun adventure.

Then there's my j.o.b. I know, I know, ain't nobody supposed to talk publicly about their job. I get it. But the fact of the matter is that things with my legal job are totally up in the air. I'm struggling to just be chill about the whole thing. I want to know the end result. I want to know where this is going. I want to know the destination.  I am really trying to enjoy the journey, but I'm finding that difficult with all the uncertainty. And yes, there was a big thing that happened recently to shake up the uncertainty even more than it already was, but at the end of the day, I'm still employed and I still am bringing home decent money for my family. I'm trying to focus on those things and less about titles and what may transpire down the road. I know I need to let go of the fear around this and just ride it out.

I'm also trying to let go of the speed with which my Beautycounter business is growing. By all accounts I'm doing a great job. I'm only in my 2nd full month and I'm completely happy with my progress, but it's hard to not compare to the speed of some of the other consultants. I see other consultants building their team each day (we have a huge support network on facebook, so I see when someone adds a new member) and so far I haven't recruited anyone. I know in time it will happen, but it is hard to not compare and feel like your'e doing something wrong. I know they may be doing Beuatycounter as a full time job and have much more time to commit to their business than I do, but it's hard to fight off that self-doubt. I am finding that motivation is something you have to give your self on a daily basis. It comes and goes.  But I'm trying to remind myself that as long as I keep moving forward, things are good. There is no competition for growing the fastest. I know in my heart that slow and steady is the right and perfect way for me, but sometimes I lose sight of that and want it to happen now.

It's just been an emotional couple of weeks. Everyone in our house has also been sick, so I know that's not helping things. I know I'm worrying my husband - he bears the brunt of it when I collapse and flip the switch from my usual positive self to walking around under the negative dark cloud that sometimes appears. I'm grateful to have him walking beside me and holding my hand when I need it the most.  

So I'm going to just keep singing along with Elsa and let the storm rage on.  And maybe for 2016 I'll go with Hakuna Matata as my mantra.  

When the Attacks Come Back

I have to admit I've been feeling really good about myself the past few months and had actually believed the anxiety attacks were behind me. Turns out it was time for me to be knocked off my high horse. I had a panic attack Friday night at dinner and then the beginnings of another one last night before a Beautycounter social got underway.  It starts with my heart racing and then I simply panic (hence the name...) and sometimes I get it under control, yet other times it just spirals. Friday night it spiraled. Last night I reigned it in, thankfully.

Friday night we were out to dinner with my sister-in-law and her husband to my favorite restaurant in Macon (coincidentally it was the same restaurant where I had my last attack in December on our first double date with my Tuesday Morning friend). We were finishing dinner when the heart pounding began.  I tried so hard to will it away, reminding myself there was nothing to worry about. But it devolved until I found myself sitting on my bed holding the bottle of Xanax with tears streaming down my face.  The medication was there for a reason, yet I couldn't make myself take it. In the moment I felt like taking the medicine would amount to failure on my part. So I just sat there staring at the orange bottle still filled with 15 small, white pills. I couldn't calm down, yet I couldn't open the bottle. I felt so conflicted. Eventually, reason won out (along with a little hand-holding by my husband and the gentle remind that this was not my being defeated). I just wanted it to stop, so I took the pill. And it stopped, allowing me to fall into a blissful sleep.

Saturday I woke up in a fog and it didn't lift for most of the day. We had friends over for an early Easter egg hunt and I felt disconnected until late in the afternoon. I'm not sure if it was lingering effects of the Xanax, or if it was self-imposed depression for feeling like a failure. The sadness continued into Sunday.

After talking with Kajal, my awesome nutritionist, she reminded me that I had stopped taking my normal supplements earlier last week to battle some sort of sickness I'd come down with. So she wasn't surprised the panic attack and anxiety came back. On the one hand it showed me that the whole food supplements are working, but it worries me that I'll have to take those forever to keep this in check. And while I'd rather take a natural supplement over medication, I apparently could continue working on my coping mechanisms.  Yoga and meditation come to mind as something I need to get into, but continue not doing.

But I'm not sure what to think of last night's near attack.  I'm back on my regular supplement routine (although only for a day), so maybe the supplements aren't keeping it totally under control. But part of me feels it was self induced - before I even departed for Athens I realized I'd left my little orange bottle of pills at home on my nightstand instead of safely tucked away in my purse where they've lived for the past few months. I considered driving home to get them before leaving but decided against it, thinking I'd be fine. So I'm wondering if the fear of not having the pills with me in case an attack started was what brought on the heart pounding to begin with? I now sort of understand the doctor's worry about retreating into social phobia if you have panic attacks. You wonder why you even bother putting yourself in a situation where you could get anxious in front of a whole group of people.

But I was able to suppress the anxiety long enough last night to get through my presentation. I think it helps that part of my "story" involves admitting to a room of strangers that I have this anxiety problem. Once it is out there, some of the power goes away.  Which is one reason I want to keep writing about these attacks. I want to not be afraid of having an attack. I want others to know that people deal with this. I want others to know that the smiling girl next to you at a party may end the night in tears after being struck down with debilitating anxiety.

The smiling girl                                            And the anxiety

We all have our things. I was reminded of this last night in talking to a friend who's dealing with her own set of shit, which is completely different from my issue. Just remember when you're interacting with anyone that you don't walk in their shoes. You don't know what internal battle they're fighting. One of the most compassionate things you can do is to love others as you want to be loved and really try not to judge someone because you just don't know where they are on their path.  And treat yourself with the same love and kindness. This is a lesson I'm continuing to have to remind myself and one I suspect I'll continue struggling with as time goes on.

To the Working Moms

I just realized I've shared three different articles on Facebook in the last couple of weeks about working moms. I've also had an ongoing dialogue with some other female lawyers (moms and not) about the retention (or lack thereof) of women in the legal community. And then I realized it's been a while since I've talked about my own feelings as of late about being a working mom, so I thought it'd be a fun topic for today.

I'm in my 8th year as a lawyer.  I worked full time in a large firm of over 500 attorneys up until this past July when I took a little over 2 months off to move to Macon and get settled. The plan was then to work part time remotely for my firm and go into the office in Atlanta as needed for meetings, but that plan was put on hold when I was loaned out to a corporation here in Macon where I'm currently an acting in-house counsel while their hiring freeze continues.  I'm working full time again. 

Then about a month ago I started my own business as a Beautycounter consultant. So I'm currently working 40 hours a week as a lawyer and about another 10-15 hours a week on getting my Beautycounter business up and running.  I also write as a guest blogger for the 360 Parenting website. So I'm working more now than perhaps I ever have, certainly since I've been a mom.

But the strange thing is that for the most part I am completely comfortable with the amount of time I'm working and the amount of time I'm spending with my family and on myself. I have not always been in this state of mind. (Seriously, just ask my co-workers, friends and husband and they'll tell you I was a hot mess a little over a year ago with my work-life balance. There was zero balance and I was on the verge of a breakdown most days of the week. I cried in front of my boss on more than one occasion - not my best moments - and I really did not think I could continue juggling everything.)

So why the shift?  

14 months ago, at the height of my feelings of "too muchness", I had a six month old who was wearing a helmet to correct his misshapen head. I was a nursing mom of said six month old baby working full time as a lawyer (pumping breastmilk at the office is totally relaxing and awesome, said no-mom-ever). My house was on the market. My husband was looking for a new job. I had a three year old in addition to the infant. We spent 25-40 minutes commuting from daycare to home every day. My body was not quickly bouncing back from baby and at only 6 months-postpartum, my hormones were still raging.  It was just too much.

A lot has changed since then.  Julian is now a 20 month old toddler who is running around at full speed with a round head (though admittedly the helmet would come in handy now given his proclivity for falling). I stopped nursing a long time ago. My lawyer job now ends at 4:30 every day. My house doesn't need to be spotless every morning before I leave (thank heavens for that). My husband has a job he loves with only a 10-15 minute commute. My 4 year old is at an awesome age and loving his preschool. I commute 6 minutes to work and have the world's most amazing nanny pick my boys up from school and watch them in the afternoon. I'm feeling great about my body and thanks to my nutritionist and a recently discovered thyroid issue, my hormones are chilling the fuck out. And everyone around me is very grateful for that.

So yes, my life is very different today than it was in the early months of 2014.  But I'm still working a lot. I'm still not my children's primary caregiver during the hours of 8-5. Yet I'm really OK with that. I think there are a few reasons for that. 

I'm finally doing a job (albeit as a side gig) that I am loving. I've always suspected that I'd be more OK with being a working mom if I were spending my time away from the boys working on something I was passion about, something I believed in and something that I felt was impactful. I'm getting that from Beautycounter. I don't get that as a lawyer.  Along the same lines, I'm connecting with others in a way that I don't as a lawyer. This morning before my lawyer job, I had a quick one-on-one with a girlfriend. I loved seeing her in person and getting out from behind a desk and a stack of papers. I'm a people person, and I like seeing people!

My lack of time in the car is not something to be discounted. I remember listening to a lecture a few years back from a women's law group about how to "have it all".  One of the women said she doesn't go outside of a 2 mile radius of her house. Her children's school, her office, her church, her dry cleaners, they are all within this circle. At the time I thought it was an interesting idea but one I could never implement. Well, I've drawn a 5 mile radius around our house and sticking within it as much as possible - the boys' school, my office, our grocery store. I'm not spending extra time in a car.  And it is Fabulous. (Yes, with a capital F).

We hired super nanny.  I'm not kidding, our nanny is amazing. She is great with kids and she has helped me in ways I didn't expect. She helps with things around the house (including laundry!) and runs those random errands I always seem to forget (the cat thanks her often). She helps teach the boys manners and works with L on his letters. She taught J to eat with a fork. She meets me at the tee ball field with the boys so I'm not racing around after work. She stays late so the husband and I are able to go on regular date nights and keep our marriage a priority, which is so huge for our boys. She's been a true blessing in our lives and I think every working mom deserves a helper like her, even if just for a few hours each week.

But aside from all these things, which admittedly are major changes that not all working moms may be able (even desire) to make, I think the biggest reason I'm comfortable with being a working mom right now is because of the stage my children are in. It is hard to remember that children and mommy-ing go through stages and each has its own difficulties. That first year of a child's life is so full of these stages and I really wish the United States would hurry up and pass some legislation providing maternity benefits to all mothers. A full year off, without losing your job, would be ideal in my opinion. Or being able to go back at very reduced hours after six months or so. Because that first year is filled with so many emotions and sleepless nights and teething and feeding issues and bonding time and hormonal craziness. Did I mention the sleeplessness? I really believe that the legal community and other industries are going to continue losing out on kick-ass workers because that first year of being a mom is so difficult for many of us.

As I've mentioned, we hope baby #3 will be more than just an idea sometime later this year, but my biggest hesitation is going through that first year again. Infants are so adorable (as I was reminded when holding my dear friend's 4 month old this past weekend), but being a new mom is hormonally and emotionally taxing.  And I'm worried about going through that again and trying to keep my wits and my day job. I know it is only a phase, but it was harder for me the 2nd time around than the first, so what will the 3rd time around be like? And I feel like I'm upending the apple cart when I finally feel like I've hit my groove. But my mind's made up. God-willing the boys will get a sibling in 2016. And I'll figure it out when the time comes.

So for you working mommas out there struggling through that first year, you CAN do it.  You can, because you are. It doesn't have to look pretty. You don't have to be perfect. And your skinny jeans don't damn well need to fit any time soon.  Just take it one day at a time. And remember that you are a great mom! Even if you occasionally cry in your male boss's office. Just blame it on the hormones sister!

On Moving and Positivity

Most days of the week I'm completely settled with the life move we've made this year. When asked how I'm liking Macon I reply without hesitation that we love it. And we do. There are so many things about moving that have been huge on the pro list. 

We love our house here (disregarding the kitchen which needs a complete overhaul). 

We love the short commutes and light traffic.

We love our nanny and the boys' new school (though I'll always have a soft spot for Primrose).

We love the new-found family time that we have gained by losing the heavy traffic and my new hours at work (I leave at 4:30 everyday). 

We love our neighborhood and new neighbors and downtown Macon has this appeal that just grows on you.

But there are days where I wonder if I am adjusting as well as I'm saying I am or if I'm trying to convince myself that I'm happy here.  And then I wonder if it really matters. If you fake something long enough, you eventually start believing it, right?  So I'm going to continue loving Macon and eventually those few pieces of me that are still not so sure will come around. That's my plan anyway.

Though I must admit that just because I do like it here and am overall happy we moved here (and yes, I would do it again if given the option), there are things I miss from home.

I miss my girlfriends. I have some great friends and I hate not being able to see them on a weekly basis. I miss our Sunday brunches at Radial with the kids and a frazzled waiter. I miss our play dates.  I miss our girls nights. I also really miss working with my coworkers. There's two girlfriends at work who made my work life so much fun and they're proving to be irreplaceable.  I miss them.

I miss my parents being close by and having a regular date night with my husband because of them. Luckily, both of these things are changing soon...my parents are moving to Macon!  And we actually already have our weekly date night back thanks to our nanny.

There are other things and places I miss.  Restaurants and places to take the kids (the zoo, the aquarium, splash pads and great parks). But those aren't leaving any empty holes in my heart, they're just old favorites that will be replaced by new Macon favorites in time..

I think I'm just having a reflective day and wondering what it's all about.  This life. What's the point? I haven't the answer.

But this move has taught me something really important about life and marriage.  We moved here for my husband's job. His dream job. I was scared and we talked a lot about whether or not I would resent him for moving us to a place I had no desire to go at the time. We decided it was unlikely and it could always just be a temporary move if need be.  So here we are.  Well, while it may have been scary for ME, it was the best decision for our family.  My husband LOVES his job. He is a different person than he was in Atlanta where work was trying many days. He is a different husband.  And our whole family has benefited from this move.  It really isn't just about you when you're married.  Sometimes you must take a leap of faith that things will work out.  And you must love and support your spouse and their dreams.  I suspect our marriage would certainly not have strengthened had I made him turn down this opportunity.

We still have bad days and bad moments. I get frustrated and I've been known to cry for no reason.  But that's just who I am, a crier.  A crier who is trying to make a new life in a new town.

I really do think I like it here.

18 Month Sleep Regression

In a little over a week our youngest turns 18 months old. Sweet Julian.  My spunky one. Ye of Little Sleep.  This baby boy just is not jumping on the sleep train. In a fit of sleep deprivation last week, the husband did some Google-ing at 2am and we're now pretty sure we're in the midst of the dreaded 18 month sleep regression.  It's real y'all.  And it's exhausting.

I've looked through my blog archives to see if we went through this with Lukas.  My mom assures me we did as she remembers many a tear-filled phone calls from an exacerbated me because Luke simply wouldn't sleep all of the sudden.  I must have blocked this out of my memory.  Or it was overshadowed by the post-weaning depression that rained down upon me when Lukas was about 18-19 months old. Regardless of Lukas' sleeplessness or not, we are now seriously in it over here.

We've tried Cry It Out. But the child just keeps crying.  For hours. Eventually around the 1-2 hour mark  (assuming we haven't done so earlier) we are broken and go in to the poor child. He is just standing in his crib, clinging on to his lovey with a hoarse voice and a tear-streaked face. And it is heart wrenching.

We've tried going to him immediately in hopes of stopping the meltdown before it starts.  Some days this works - more for the husband than me for some reason. But usually he will fall back asleep while rocking in the glider but awaken when you try to transfer him to his crib.

We've tried laying on the floor next to him and rubbing his back through the crib slates but not getting him out of the actual bed. This works such that he stops crying, but rarely does it get him to actually fall back asleep.

We've tried co-sleeping and he will have none of it.  

And we've tried every combination or variation of the above and all the teething remedies in case it's actually his last tooth coming in rather than a regression.  But I think a three week sleep disruption is more than just teething.  And I don't think it's habit at this point either. There's no rhyme or reason to the time of his first waking or the amount of times he'll wake in any given night.  He just wants to be held, unless he doesn't, in which case he screams while you hold him. Sweet thing is just tired too.  

Everything I've read about this particular regression is that it just has to run its course.  And that one day it will just go away and he'll start sleeping all night again.  Every night before bed I pray this is the night. The only nights my wish is granted are the nights my husband gets to J before I wake up.  

I know this is a phase.  I know it will pass and I'll get a solid 8 hours again.  But I'm tired. I look tired and I'm sure I'm acting tired (sorry hubby).

The silver lining, which I'm clinging on to with every fiber of my being, is that my buddy is a cuddler, especially during his sleeplessness. At 1:45 in the morning, when the rest of the house is quiet, I still find myself sleepily smiling as Julian wraps his legs around my waist and burrows his head into my body. It's occurred to me that he may not be able to go back to sleep because I can't stop giving him little kisses on his head and cheeks. I love the feeling of his baby smooth skin on my cheek - perhaps I'm trying to make up for those months when he was an infant and the helmet wouldn't let us get cheek to cheek.  

I love the heavy weight of his body as he finally lets go and falls into a deep sleep. The rise and fall of his chest on my chest. The smell of his lovey mixed with the smell of his shampoo. And the soft warmth of blue blanket wrapped around us both.

I know these are the moments that I'll miss in a few years. (I already miss them with my Lukas.) So while I'm anxious for this sleep regression to come to an end, a part of me knows I shouldn't wish it away too soon. The days/hours are sometimes so long, but these years are too, too fast.  And while I can always have another cup of coffee, it won't be forever that my baby boy will fit perfectly in my lap while we rock to the sound of ocean waves in the dark, quiet of the night. 

Our Two Lawyer Marriage

Only three days into the reboot of our two career household and the bickering and side-eye rolls have begun. I hate that this is the reality, but it is. Don't read anything into this, or take it the wrong way. To be clear, our marriage is solid. We're deeply in love and neither of us is going anywhere. But that doesn't change the fact that marriage is hard and requires work. As into this man as I am, we're not Mr. and Mrs. Sunshine every day. So let's not pretend we are.

I think this is at the front of my attention because we've just had a shift in dynamics.  For almost two months, he has worked full time and I have stayed at home with the kids. My sole responsibility has been caring for our children (a full time job, for sure) and tending to our house. There were no legal clients for me to worry about, or a long to-do list of work and home that pulled me in different directions.

Just the kids and home. This included the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning and the organizing. We never had a conversation delegating these tasks to me, it just happened. I could go to Kroger at 11am on Tuesday, while a full time 9-5er could not. I could start dinner at 4:30 and have whatever culinary creation I was up to making plated by 5:30. We even had time to play outside or go for a family walk before the baby's 6:30 bedtime rolled around. The bathrooms got wiped down during nap time and the washing machine was constantly running. And while I am about as far from a domestic goddess as one can get, I had no resentment towards my husband for having to do all these things. It honestly didn't cross my mind that he should be doing them. I took it on as my job.  Simple as that.

But then I went back to work full time. And the rushing and the feeling of never enough time is back. I hate that feeling. And suddenly I find myself jumping down my husband's throat for no reason at all.  And the poor man doesn't really have a chance. He asks what he can do to help with dinner, but I snap that I've got it, when I could really use a hand setting the table or chopping some vegetables. I am cold to him when our baby wants his dada and refuses to come to momma, as if this daddy stage is something he has caused. Yet I see the sadness on his face as he's rocking our boy before bed because his wife has tears in her eyes over something he has no control over. I feel like his questions about the nanny are accusations of things I'm clearly screwing up. I blame him for not letting the dog out in the morning which resulted in an accident and then nitpicked his use of the steam cleaner to clean the carpets.  I think you get the point.

There must be a connection between the uptick in disagreements and the reemergence of my job. When both spouses are working outside the home (and you have children), no one is really off the clock until the kids are in bed. You leave your office job and you come home and have to do all the home things. You have to cook dinner, clean the house AND spend quality time with the kids, when you're all tired and cranky after having had a full day already. It's clearly a recipe for disaster (at least for us).  And left unchecked for too long, I can see how the wheels can fall off a marriage over time.

So what to do? For me, the first thing is to apologize and admit that I'm a massive part of the problem. (Ok, so maybe I am the problem. Maybe.) And then I need to prioritize. What's important? For me, my discontentment is coming from feeling like I have no time with my boys now that I'm working again. Going from all day with them to just a few hours, is a stark difference. But if I'm going to continue with all this honesty, I'll admit that all day with two small children (especially in a town where you don't know anyone), is hard and lonely. Sure I had large quantities of time with my boys, but the quality was less than I'd like to admit. I took for granted the time with them. I didn't plan our days, I turned on the TV and I wasn't a "yes" mom who did tons (or any) of creative, educational, Pinterest-inspired activities. But now that I'm having to cram my time with them into a few short hours, I feel saddened and defeated. It's as though I've accepted that it's not enough time, so why even try? (Ugh, I hate realizing these things about myself!)  And why I take this out on the husband, I have no idea. My working is not something he pushed for - he is supportive of my career, but he is 100% on board with a full shift if that's what I decide at any given time I want.

So how do I spend the quality time with the boys in just a few short hours, while needing to also cook dinner, bathe them and tend to the home? For one, I can stop making dinner such a production. I think I worry too much about what I'm serving rather than focusing on who I'm breaking bread with! Family dinner should be more about the family than the dinner.  And then I need to give my boys my undivided attention - that means turning off the cell phone.  But that also means turning off the mental to-do list and setting aside anything that doesn't involve the boys. The dishes can be done after 7:45, but my boys can't stay up until then, so they dishes can wait.  Also, I can accept help when it is offered and set aside my criticism over the way the help is delivered. My way is not the only way.

I know it is going to take us some time to get used to my working again. I know I'll get used to my job and we'll find a new routine and a rhythm that works for all four of us. I also know when I'm in the wrong and when an apology is owed.  So love, this one's for you. I'm sorry I've been such a miserable wife the past day or two. I've obviously got some things to work on....

SAHM No More

My ten weeks of being a full time stay-at-home mommy came to an abrupt end today. Well, not exactly abrupt. I knew it was coming. But it felt abrupt. Yesterday I was mommy. That was my only hat. Today I stepped back into my lawyer heels and kissed my babies goodbye and it was hard and strange and felt kind of wrong, but also kind of right. I can't decide how I really feel about it.  I think it's still too new.

I don't like to write about work too often. It's in bad form, or something like that. But the reader's digest version of my work story is this. I took a leave of absence from my job at the end of July so I could move and get settled here in Macon. Then the plan was to start back part time from home, but continue with my same job and same clients, just 100% telecommuting and only part time. And then a weird thing happened - my firm was approached about an opportunity in Macon. A company (a firm client, just not a client I had worked for before) needed a loaner lawyer (there is actually a word for this arrangement: "secondment", who knew!) while they had a hiring freeze. One thing lead to another and as of today, I'm working full time in this company's office - I'm still employed by my firm, but my only client is this company. So I am sort of an in-house counsel, just being paid by my firm who in turn bills the client for my time.  It's all very strange.

So I'm learning a new job. I have a new "boss" who is also technically my client and I don't exactly know how this is going to work and how I'm supposed to act. I miss my co-works from my firm - I had two really good friends at work and I loved seeing them every day. But my 5 minute commute (yes, really!) is pretty incredible and the company is great as well.

My in-laws are here watching Julian this week and then our new nanny will start next week (we finally found someone, I don't think I mentioned that yet). I really like her and have high hopes for a great relationship, but I'm still nervous. She'll watch J all day and she'll watch both boys when Lukas gets out of school mid-afternoon. Thankfully Lukas seems to be loving his new preschool and is making friends. He's yet to say he doesn't want to go in the morning. He also seemed totally fine with mommy going back to work today. And Julian was happy to see me when I got home (although his happy screams of "DADA, dada" upon seeing me were kind of offputting...we think dada might just be his choice word when excited, or maybe I'm totally deluding myself).

I missed the boys while I was at work today, but not in the way you miss a 14 week old infant when you go back to work after maternity leave.  I missed them in the way that you miss anyone you love when you're away from them. Does that make sense?  I'm hoping that the very short commute and my work schedule (the plan is 8-4:30) will give me the best of both worlds - I continue lawyering and providing for my family (the 66% family income decrease was not easy, especially when you take into account the major student loans we both still have) and I get home earlier than I did in Atlanta and can use the extra time to focus on Quality time with the boys (yes, I capitalized the q). I plan on instituting a phone free zone from the moment I get home from work until both boys are in bed to help ramp up the quality.

I know today was just day 1.  And I know that my job is yet another change in a laundry list of changes going on in our house (with the new nanny being yet another change), so I need to be patient. I just sort of had hoped I'd come home today feeling either elated to be back at work and loving the "new" job or feeling totally miserable and heartbroken about being away from the boys. But I ended up somewhere in between.  And so continues my rollercoaster ride of being a working mom.

Mommy Failure

We're still in a major adjustment period.  That's what I've decided I'm calling this time where I feel like I'm drowning and have to work at putting forth a positive attitude. I'm failing at the positive thing most days. Somehow it helps me to know that I'm trying.  Like as long as I continue to be aware that I should be happy and blessed and positive, then eventually I'll feel those things and this negative 'tude I have floating around in my head will disappear.

I'm not constantly negative. I'm not about to jump off a bridge or anything. But I'm not feeling like I fit in here yet. I'm lacking friends and I'm struggling with the version of myself that I have become while on this sabbatical from work.  I think that is the biggest issue. I'm not the mom I thought I would be if I were a SAHM.

For almost 4 years I've felt guilt for working full-time and longed for more time with my children. I have that time now, and I end every day feeling like I totally, completely fucked up. I raise my voice more than I'd like to admit.  I don't have things planned for the kids to do. I turn the TV on every.single.day. I don't get them out and to the park on a regular basis.  I haven't met anyone for them to play with.  I'm not practicing Lukas' letters or doing hardly any educational activities with him. And it is all these things that I am not doing (or doing, when it comes to the yelling part), that make me feel like a shitty mom. I have this amazing opportunity to spend time with my boys and I feel like I am not making the most of it.

I know I am being harder on myself that I deserve. And I'm not giving myself recognition for all the things I am doing.  I'm cooking them good, healthy homecooked meals THREE times a day.  Something I've never done. And I'm cleaning up after those three meals (I've decided I spend half my day cooking or cleaning). I'm reading lots of books with them.  I'm giving lots of hugs and kisses and cuddles.  I'm saying lots of "I love yous".  I'm drawing with Lukas.  I'm rocking Julian before each nap.  I'm here.  My boys are with their momma.

I also know that it takes time to get settled in a new place and it takes time to form a routine and make friends. I just feel like we're moving at a snail's pace.  Lukas does start school in a week or so and I know that will help.  He does well with a routine. And he's excited to start school and meet new friends.  And Julian just rolls with the flow. I love seeing his silly smile and hearing his laugh all day long.  And my heart just melts when I feel his arms wrap around my legs when I'm standing in the kitchen cooking.

I do adore getting to spend more time with them.  I just wish I could get it together to make it more quality time.

So for all my working-mom friends, know that the grass is always greener.  Or as my old therapist used to say, the grass is always browner.

Ok, enough of my Debbie Downer for today.  It's the husband's birthday so my almost-4 year old and I are going to bake a cake.  From scratch.  Lord help us.

The Swans are Swimming

And by swimming, I mean moving.  We've finally figure out where we're going after this little jaunt at my parent's house.  And it's not where I would've thought a month or so ago.  We're heading about 100 miles south of Atlanta... to Macon!  Bizarre turn of events, I know.

So it all started a few months ago.  Maybe February.  After the end of the sequester all of the United States Attorney offices in the country posted job announcements - all the offices needed lawyers and they wanted to fill the positions while they had money in their budgets.  Being an assistant US attorney (a federal prosecutor for the United States for you non-law folks) has been one of Mr. Cob's goals for a few years now.  So we talked and decided he should apply. He picked a few offices all over the country, sent in his resume, cover letter and writing samples, and then we sat back and waited.  And waited some more. 

Would fate bring us back to his home of Chicago or close to his parents in Grand Rapids?  Maybe closer to my brother in San Diego?  The US Virgin Islands would be a nice change of pace.  Or perhaps our current home, Atlanta, would call and we could continue on with our regularly scheduled life while Mr. Cob put away the bad guys.  We were open to any possibility, figuring we'd make a final decision once it was in front of us - no use cutting off potential jobs because of location before you're even offered something, right?  Detroit was the only city I was really hesitant about even considering, but he assured me there are some upsides to the city?  Admittedly, I secretly hoped someone else called before Detroit. 

So for months we just waited and Mr. Cob continued applying as more jobs opened up.

Then he got a call from Savannah and we got all excited and hoped we'd be moving to the beach.  Unfortunately that didn't work out.  A month or so later, San Antonio called and I fell in love with the idea of canals and everything being bigger in Texas (margaritas included, right?).  A great interview followed by a few weeks of waiting ended in another rejection.  At this point, Mr. Cob was getting a bit down.  It seemed his dream job wasn't going to happen.  It'd been months since he sent out his initial batch of resumes.  A few other "you were one of hundreds of well qualified applicants but unfortunately we cannot offer you an interview at this time" letters came in the mail.  Hope was running out.

But the flip side of not getting a call was staying in Atlanta and continuing with our life here.  We love our life here.  We love our friends and I have a great job.  We love the boys school and my parents are here.  At the end of the day, we always knew we'd be happy to live the rest of our lives here in the A.

And then the Middle District of Georgia called.  And an interview was scheduled.  For my 33 birthday no less.  So he went to Macon and thought the interview went well.  A few weeks later they called back and asked him to come down for a second interview.  He felt confident after the second interview, but wasn't ready to get excited.  We'd done the excitement thing before and feared another round of rejection.  I didn't even look at houses online this time (oh the restraint!).  And then we found out they called his references, and we started to get excited.  Then last Wednesday he got the call that has changed the course of our life: he got his dream job and I couldn't be prouder to be his wife!

He called me before formally accepting the offer and without even considering the alternative, I said yes.  Of course, yes.  This is a HUGE opportunity for him and there was no way we weren't going to take it.  There were (and still are) a lot of unanswered questions, but I knew that we had to jump.  It's what you do when you're married and your spouse needs your support.  I'm not sure what this means yet for my job/career - I realize it means it will now be taking a back seat to his career, but that's OK.  This decision is the best for our entire family.  We'll figure out my job as we go.  I know there are a lot of feminists who will think I am wrong for more or less walking away from a lucrative career, especially when you consider I'm leaving a few months before potentially being put up for partner.  But like I said, it's not just about me.  I'm in talks with my firm to try to work something out - part time or contract work, and hopefully that will work out.  But maybe it won't and maybe that means another door will open.  I no longer know the path my career will take, but I've decided that a fork in the road doesn't necessarily mean I'll hit a dead end.

I'm nervous about moving to a city where I know next to no one.  I'm leaving a huge support network here of great friends, and even harder to leave are my parents.  I know this won't be an easy transition.  I know it will take time and effort for me to make friends.  I know it could be isolating moving and staying home with two small children should that be my fate.  I know I am going to be have to put myself out there, which is scary.

But I also know that everything is going to work out.  I'm so excited for this adventure with my husband and our boys.  I'm excited to find our next house and make it a home.  I'm excited to explore a new town and hopefully fall in love with all it has to offer.  But yes, I'm also scared as hell.  Change is frightening, but change can also be amazing.  So here's hoping this change is for the best!

Hiding Behind Emotions

I realized last night that I don't take criticism well.  I thought I'd gotten over that during law school where it seemed that criticism, or at least the lack of positive reinforcement, was everywhere.  Apparently I still have a ways to go and I think it negatively affects my relationships.

As I've mentioned before, we're living at my parent's house right now.  We're a month and a half in.  There are many, many upsides - my mom is an amazing cook, my kids are getting so much quality time with their grandparents, my family of four is getting help in this time of transition - whether it be laundry, free babysitting on date night or a home-cooked meal after work - my mom is helping take some of the load off.  My husband and I were even able to go on a walk the other night after the kids were asleep, which is something we've not done alone in over 3.5 years. I'm getting time with my parents that I wouldn't otherwise be getting.  I love seeing them every day and it's really fun getting to watch my boys with them so much.

But at times it feels like we're living in a fishbowl, especially when it comes to my flaws as a parent.  The task of raising children is not an easy one.  Some days are hard.  Some days I don't have as much patience as I'd like.  Some days I say things I wish I could take back.  Some days I look at my phone when I should be on the floor with my kids.  Some days I am not my best self and don't treat my kids the way they deserve to be treated.  And normally there is no one else to see this but me or my husband.  Which is enough, because I'm acutely aware of my flaws as a parent and replay my actions (particularly the less than stellar ones) over and over in my head. I beat myself up when I raise my voice, knowing that my reaction is harsher than it should be.  I try to remain calm and handle child tantrums in a loving way, but there is no reasoning with a 3.5 year old and it is hard to wait it out when you're running late for work and you just need everyone to get in the car already.  I lose my cool and sometimes it's not pretty.  Sometimes I say F*@K in front of my kids.  Loudly. And then I leave the room to cry, feeling ashamed of my lack of composure and level-headedness.

This is all on display right now for my parents.  I have an audience.  But the hardest truth, is that I always have an audience: my two little boys.  Which I should remember more than I do and work harder on staying zen in my parenting of them.

The past two mornings were particularly difficult. So last night when my mom said a seemingly innocuous comment concerning my yelling and Lukas being little and not understanding his actions, I lost it on her.  I started sobbing and defending myself - didn't she know how hard it was for me right now; that I was doing the best I could; that I was tired from being up all night with a teething baby; that it was really difficult living out loud in front of them.  She wasn't trying to illicit this response from me or make me feel bad.  She apologized, but in hindsight, I needed to hear what she was saying.  I have been raising my voice more than I should.  Rather than allowing her words to be heard, I put up my defenses and attacked her instead.  I didn't want her to tell me I was less than great.  It was hard to hear someone else acknowledge that they saw what I already knew: I could be doing better.  So I hid behind my tears and the conversation ended.

Later that night after the boys had been put to bed I heard a thump from their room.  I went upstairs and realized that Lukas was still wide awake at 9:15, kicking the wall in his insomnia. Rather than peak my head in and tell him to "go to bed!", I brought him in my room for some TLC. We lay together on my bed.  I scratched his back and rubbed his head.  I gave him kisses and we cuddled.  He said he wanted me to sleep in his bed, so we went and I laid with him until he fell asleep.  I was the kind of parent I aspire to always be.  I was the version of myself that I hope my children cling on to.

But the fact remains that I'm not always that version of myself.  If my mom is seeing this, then my kids are seeing this. And I don't want that to be the mom they know and remember.  I want to be a better mom for them. 

So I'm going to consciously try to parent with loving kindness rather than reaction.  I'm a work in progress.  And while it was so hard to hear the criticism truth from my mom, now that I've had some time to reflect on what she said, I'm glad she said it.  And just as her words have such a profound affect on me, it truly hits home that my words (including how I say them) will have the same affect on my boys, good and bad.

And so the rollercoaster of parenting goes.

The First Year

I can't recall the date, or even the month, or really even what year it was, but sometime after Lukas turned 1 but before I was pregnant with Julian, a close friend and I met for drinks at some random bar at Atlantic Station.  No, now that I think about it, I was pregnant with Julian because I ordered an orange juice (great memory I've got here, really).  Anyway, we were sitting at the bar and I was eating a flat bread pizza and we were talking about working and life and trying to find the balance.  And in that conversation I remember discussing with her how it is a bad idea to make any major life changes in the first year of your baby's life.  And the one I was talking about specifically was work.  And more precisely, not quitting it.  I don't recall what lead to this conversation or where I was in my emotional well-being (or lack thereof) at the time, but this conversation has been ringing in my ears lately.

 

The first year with a new baby is hard stuff.  There's the lack of sleep; the teething; the uncertainty of what you're doing; the worry; the breastfeeding and leaky boobs and plugged ducts; the never-ending flow of laundry; the changing postpartum body and daily question of what in my closet fits today; there's a lot of poop; sometimes there's colic; did I mention the lack of sleep?; there's runny noses and daycare sniffles; and it's all wrapped in a shiny bow of postpartum hormones.  This is hard stuff without the added layer of working outside the home.  (And I don't say that to incite any mommy war on SAHM vs. working mom, they're both rough, but for purposes of this blog post and my life, I can only give the working mom perspective on this one, um-kay?) 

 

I remember the first year with Lukas was hard for all the above-mentioned reasons.  And I think a first baby comes along with its own brand of difficulty that lucky you don't experience the second time around because you are just a bit more relaxed.  You know it all works out and the baby will do what the baby will do regardless of your good intentions.  But this working mom thing has been equally as hard the second time around.  And I'm trying to remember that conversation with my friend about not making major changes in the first year of a baby's life.

 

When the baby is itty bitty, it's hard to hand them over to someone else every day and be apart from them.  I don't think it matters who your caregiver is - I adore Julian's teachers at Primrose and have all the faith in them to take care of him and love him.  I honestly wouldn't feel any "better" about being away from him all day, every day if he were being watched by my mom or even my husband.  It's the fact that I, his mommy, am not with him for the majority of our day. There are plenty of days where I sit in my office staring at his pictures and ask myself why I'm doing this.  Being apart is just hard on the heart when they're so tiny. 

 

And the breastfeeding.  Oh the breastfeeding.  Actually, its the pumping while working that is a pain.  Having to stop working 2 or 3 times a day, hook up to my machine and literally milk my boobs like a cow, is disruptive to getting work done and frustrating because my body has decided it can't make enough milk to keep up with my little guy's eating schedule, so I have to supplement with formula anyway.  I often wonder why I bother continuing to breastfeed if he's getting formula, but I can't seem to get over the hump and quit.  Perhaps I'm worried about the hormonal shift that comes along with weaning and the possible post-weaning depression that might await me again.

 

And I'm tired.  Julian is still not consistently sleeping through the night.  I'd say he's 50/50 for sleeping all night long versus waking once a night to eat.  So half of my days at work have me feeling like a zombie and I'm sure it takes me twice as long to do anything due to the lack of sleep.  I'm not at my most efficient, that's for sure. 

 

I could really use a 25th hour in the day.  Preferably spent working out for 30 minutes and playing with the boys for 30 minutes, as most of my days don't allow enough time for those important activities.  I wish I had more time.  I want more time with the boys.  I want more time for myself.  I want to fit in my jeans again.  I want to go running outside and blare my crappy music loudly.  I want to go to a yoga class. I want to make Julian laugh and hear him yell MAMA MAMA MAMA over and over again.  I want to read books with Lukas.  I want to pretend to be superwoman while he runs around the house in his Spiderman outfit.  I want to make a floury mess in the kitchen while cooking dinner with Lukas.  I want to dance around the house holding on to both boys.  I want to do this every day.  But there's just not enough time between 6:15 when we get home from work/school and 7:45 when its bedtime for the boys.  1.5-2 hours an evening isn't enough time.  And this is the working mom struggle I'm yet again feeling so strongly.

 

I know it will lessen as my baby becomes a toddler.  I know that from experience this time, which is more than I knew when Lukas was an infant.  But juggling it all is hard.  And sometimes I just feel like all the balls have fallen on the ground and that I'm a complete failure.  But even worse is the constant wonder and worry if I'll look back on this time and regret the choices that I've made.  Maybe playing in the kitchen is more important than the kitchen you're playing in.  I know that my career is more than just the money I make and the things that money allows us to buy.  I've worked hard to be where I am.  The degrees and debt say this is true.  If it weren't for the degrees and the debt I think it'd be a lot easier to walk away and decide that time with my children supersedes everything else.  I just don't know.

 

For now, I keep telling myself that it is the quality rather than the quantity of time with the boys that matters.  I think there is truth to that, but I also think it's partially something I say to get myself to accept being away from them all day.

 

I think that I just never realized how truly strong my love for my children was going to be.  I didn't know how life altering having them would be.  I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's true.  Those two boys have changed me.  And there is nothing in my world as important as the two of them.  So I just hope I'm doing what's best for them.  Which is what is at the root of my questioning - what is best for them?  And is it the same thing that is best for me?  I have absolutely no idea.

What's up with the Helmet?

It occurred to me the other day that I haven't written about Julian's helmet experience and some folks may not know why he is wearing it.  So let me tell you all about plagiocephaly and torticollis, which are Julian's two diagnoses.

J was born in July and all was well.  A week before his two month pediatrician appointment my mom asked me if I'd noticed the flat spot on Julian's head.  I brushed her off (and admittedly was annoyed that she even mentioned it - my child was perfect in my mind and I thought she didn't know what she was talking about).  I took a good look at the back of his head and realized that it was a tad flat but figured it would work out on its own.  Fast forward a week to his pediatrician appointment.  I didn't mention the flat spot (since I didn't think it was an "issue"), but sure enough, the pediatrician did.  She said it was a little concerning, and asked me if he looked both left and right or if he favored one side.  I hadn't noticed.  But from that moment forward, I realized that he ONLY looked to the left.  He was always favoring the left side and I couldn't get him to look all the way to the right.  Sigh.  Why is it that we don't notice things until someone points them out and then that is all we notice? How was it possible that I hadn't realized that he was doing this? Well the pediatrician gave us some simple exercises to do daily and said we'd reevaluate his head at his 4 month well visit.

2 months later and I knew that his head hadn't improved.  If anything, the flat spot was getting worse and his forehead was bulging out on one side a bit (that sounds worse that it was...it looked like he had a bump on his forehead., ok, so maybe it was bad).  So I wasn't exactly surprised when our pediatrician referred us to Children's Healthcare of Atlanta to see an orthotist for his plagiocephaly (fancy name for flat head syndrome) to see if Julian was a good fit for Cranial Remolding.   

We went to CHOA a week later for Julian's initial scans which measure the diagonal length difference of his head as well as his ear position.  The normal range for the diagonal length is 0-6mm.  His measurement was 13.6mm which put him in the "moderate to severe" category.  We also learned that his ears were very asymmetrical, with one being further forward than the other. (Again, how had I not noticed this?!?) So they recommended we order a helmet and go forward with the cranial remolding.  We were told that we could wait and see if the flat spot corrected itself as he started sleeping on his stomach and spending less time on his back, but that they see the best results the earlier you begin and his time in the helmet should be minimized the earlier we begin.  I hesitated for a moment (to cry), but Mr. Cob and I decided to go ahead and proceed.  CHOA uses the Star Band brand of helmets, so we were able to choose a fun design for his helmet.  We decided that Julian's big brother would think the spaceships were neat so we went with the outer space themed helmet.


About to get scanned!

2 weeks later Julian's custom made helmet arrived and we met with Sara our orthotist to have it fitted (his head grew in the 2 weeks between the scans and the arrival of the helmet so they had to make adjustments).  He gradually worked up to wearing the helmet 23 hours a day over 4 days.  The first day I think he wore it for 2 hours, the next for 4, the next for 8, and then 16.  So now he wears it all day, every day, except for one hour in the evening when we give him a bath and clean the helmet.  So yes, he sleeps in the helmet.  He wasn't a great sleeper to begin with, so I'm not sure the helmet has made his sleep worse, but it certainly hasn't helped.

We go every 2 weeks for adjustments.  They make sure he doesn't have any "hot spots" and that his skin is not getting irritated from the helmet.  It keeps his head pretty hot and sweaty so we've had some issues with rashes, but it's nothing a little diaper cream won't fix.  They also told us to rub his head down in coconut oil to prevent any yeast infections from growing, so he often smells of coconut, which is better than the sweaty smell (and the diaper cream smell for that matter).  I'm told that we should be thankful that he's not wearing the helmet in the summer, because then he'd always be sweating and no amount of cleaning gets rid of that smell!  We clean the helmet every night with rubbing alcohol or his baby shampoo and a toothbrush (we were told we could try witchhazel which might help the smell even more, but haven't tried it yet).  It's a pain, but it's become part of our nightly routine.  I won't miss it when we're done though.


Hot spot - time for adjustments!

Every 6 weeks we go for progress scans.  He's almost had the helmet for 10 weeks, so we've gone for one progress scan so far (our next is February 28!).  His measurement went from 13.6mm to 6.4mm!  So we are 0.4mm away from being in the normal range!!!  You could tell the head shape was improving just by looking at his head when the helmet is off, but the scans confirmed this!  We're hoping he only has 2.5 more weeks in the helmet, but our orthotist didn't make any promises - it's possible he'll need to wear it longer, but maybe only at night while he sleeps rather than all day.  I'll be glad when we can say good bye to the helmet, but I'm so glad we went forward with it and didn't wait until he was any older.  If anyone else gets referred to an orthotist for cranial remolding, I would definitely recommend it, despite the cost and the fact that many insurances won't cover the expense.  Julian's head is almost round now and I am so surprised how quickly we've seen an improvement.  Apparently when they are so young, they grow quickly which causes the head to remold quickly as well. 


6 week scans - IMPROVEMENT!

While it was scary at first, this has been a very positive experience, and very few people have made comments about the helmet.  A man working at Costco is the only person who stopped me and asked why the baby was wearing a helmet.  He was very nice, but he honestly had no earthly idea why J was wearing the helmet.  Most people just stare and smile.  Some people just stare.  And that's OK.  I think they're just curious.  Little kids are the best - they come right out and ask about the helmet and ask me all about it.  Lukas' 3 year old classmates ask me all the time why Julian is wearing the helmet, it's very cute.  And I don't mind at all if people ask me about it - I'd rather you ask than wonder!  You can read more about cranial remolding here.

So that's half the story.  The other half is the torticollis, which often accompanies plagiocephaly but doesn't always and can occur without the flat head.  Torticollis "is a condition in which an infant's neck muscle is shortened causing the neck to twist."  More on torticollis here.  So we were referred to physical therapy to help stretch Julian's neck and correct his head tilt.  (Again, I never noticed the head tilt, but the physical therapist assured me his head tilted.  Great.).  So we were given 3 different stretch exercises to do with Julian 3 times a day - we fit this in in the morning before school/work, right when we got home from school and right before bed.  We were very strict about doing the exercises each day and within a week noticed a difference.  Within a month we could tell he was looking both ways and moving his neck with more ease.  At his follow up PT appointment a month ago, we were told his neck was doing great and that we didn't need to keep doing the exercises.  So thankfully that corrected quickly.

So what caused the flat head and tight neck?  No one has come out and said for sure - it's possible it started in the womb if he was in a tight position where his head was kinked.  There has been a rise in flat heads with the "back to sleep campaign" - SIDS has gone done (good), but flat heads have gone up (not great, but better than SIDS...) because babies are spending so much time on their backs.  I may not have done enough tummy time with Julian when he was first born and admittedly he was in his car seat often as we went about our day (he's a second child after all, so I wasn't nervous about getting out and about while he was little).  I've not dwelled on the why.  Thankfully it's nothing permanent and before long will be a thing of the past and J won't ever remember this time in his life.  So that's the deal with the helmet!  If you have any questions, don't be shy!

Back to Oversharing

As you may have noticed, I took a bit of a hiatus from the blog.  I didn't intentionally turn away from it, it just sort of happened.  Julian was born in July.  I had 12 weeks of maternity leave.  I have been back to work full time since early October.  And since about mid-October I've been on this nonstop rollercoaster of failing and sailing (you like what I did there?).

 

Post-partum hormones are for real y'all!  I mean, like whoa.  I can go from laughing and happy to sobbing and feeling pitiful in 2.2 seconds flat.  The husband is wondering where his wife went and when she's coming back.  But in all seriousness, I had a depressive spell that started around month 3 and lasted for a while (and is still hanging around on occasion).  It felt similar to my post-weaning depression I experienced with Lukas, only I was still breastfeeding, so I thought it might be postpartum.  It might have been.  I'm not sure. 

 

What I do know is that I started seeing a therapist again and I love her. I have decided that everyone should be in therapy, even if nothing is "wrong" with your life.  She didn't give me any sort of label (which is why I'm not sure if it was or was not PPD) and she didn't prescribe any meds (honestly, I was sort of hoping she'd say, here's your zoloft prescription, now be off on your merry way).  What she did do was listen.  And offer unbiased advice on how to navigate what I was feeling and experiencing. It helps that she's a working mom of 3, who also breastfed her kids, so she really can relate. I think I cried the first 30-45 minutes of our first visit as I told her what was going on in my life.  But the next week (yes, I went weekly for a while), I maybe only cried for 5 mintues when talking about how hard it is to leave a little itty bitty baby every day to go to a job. 

 

And it is hard to leave an itty bitty baby.  Period.

 

Julian still isn't consistently sleeping through the night.  So I'm sleep deprived.  I went 6 months with no more than 4 hours of sleep at any given time.  This alone didn't help the crying.  We eventually resorted to crying it out (Julian, not me), which did work after 3 nights.  Night one consisted of 2 solid hours of screaming and my getting very drunk.  It was awful, but it did work.  For a week.  And then J got sick and he's back to co-sleeping with us and nursing on and off all night long.  On the plus side, my milk supply has gone back up and I love waking up to his sweet face every morning.  And I even smile when I wake up in the middle of the night to his little hands searching for me.  But I'm tired.  Very tired.

 

So the depression has lifted and the sleep has slightly improved but I'm still having a hard time.  I'm trying to figure out how to be a good mom to these two little boys who mean the world to me.  I struggle daily with fears that I'm yet again making a bad decision by working rather than being a stay-at-home-mom for them.  I think this is a normal fear when you have an itty bitty baby.  It lessons when your child gets a little older, at least it has for me with Lukas.  But it's hard.  And I'm not 100% confident in the decision I've currently made (i.e. to continue practicing law). 

 

But I have made one change that has been hugely helpful (and which has allowed me the freedom to write about this issue on the blog): I'm no longer pretending to anyone like this isn't really, really hard.  It sort of happened by accident.  In December we were really busy at work and I was working a lot.  I was still crying a lot too.  And one day my boss stopped by to see how I was doing and I just lost it.  I was completely honest with him and told him that I was struggling with working this much and being a mom and even said that at this time I wasn't willing to put in the hours necessary.  I am not willing to give up the little time I have with the boys at night and on the weekends to work.  I refuse to do it.  I said all this very uneloquently in between huge sobs and tears.  It was not pretty.  I'm confident he thought I was going to quit.  I was seriously considered quitting.  And then a weight sort of lifted.  My worst work fear had happened.  I had had the complete and total meltdown in front of my male boss.  And nothing bad happened because of it.  (At least not yet.  If I'm going to be penalized because I admit that being a working mom is hard, well then my firm isn't the firm I think it is, nor is it somewhere I want to continue my career.)  So far, being honest about the struggle has only helped.  I've been told that it's OK to flex my time and that there is no problem with my schedule as long as I'm getting my work done.  Who'd have thunk?

 

It's still hard, but it feels more manageable now that I'm proceeding in an honest way.  I'm not having to fake a happy face every single day or act like I don't have kids where work is concerned.  The fact of the matter is that I am a mother. I am also a lawyer.  And I am not the same lawyer now that I am a mom.  It took me two kids to fully realize this.  I am not going to worry about what people think when I leave the office a 4:30 to pick up my children.  I'm going to say I am taking my son to his orthotist appointment or his physical therapy appointment (oh yea, did I mention that Julian has torticollis and plagiocephaly and has been wearing a helmet for 8+ weeks?) rather than tell my colleagues I have "an appointment".  And when daycare is closed, I am going to take the day off rather than plunk my kids in front of the TV for 8 hours while I continue working.  Work can wait.  My kids cannot.  End of story.

 

So that's what I've been up to. Life is beautiful and motherhood is amazing.  I love these boys with all my heart.  But I'm also a complete mess and struggle every day to figure out what the hell I'm doing.  And it would help if I could zip up my old jeans, which I can't.  (Not even close).  At least I'm honest about it all.

Emotional Mess

It's 10pm on a Friday night and I'm sitting at my dining room table with a glass of wine, the baby monitor, a to-do list, shopping list and multiple work files surrounding me.  Both kids are asleep.  The husband is out with a friends (I told him to make other plans because I had a night of lawyering ahead of me).  And I may or may not have gotten teary eyed in my boss' office this evening before leaving for the day.  (Do I get points for not full on crying?  Yes, the answer is yes.)

This working mom thing is rough.  With two kids its rougher than it was with one.  And this is our busy season at the office so I'm fully engaged at work, as in have enough work to work all through the weekend engaged.

Lawyering momma of two would be enough for now.  But I don't like to be bored so we're making life interesting.  We listed our house for sale 11 days ago.  We've had two showings and a third scheduled for tomorrow morning.  So the house has to be "show ready" at any given moment.  Did I mention that I have a three year old and a four month old.  Who have way too many toys and don't exactly like to keep things neat and tidy?  Nevermind the two adults that live in this house who are not exactly make-the-bed, clean the counters, vaccum the floors daily type of people.  If the house doesn't sell soon I might go crazy.  Or potential buyers will just have to deal with a less than perfectly tidy house.  But if we do sell the house we have no idea where we'll go.  I see a brief stint at my parents house in our future.  We can't decide on a neighborhood.  We can't even decide to stay intown or move to the burbs.  I honestly have no idea where our next house will be located.  It's an adventure, right?  Yes, the answer is yes.

Did I mention that the baby isn't sleeping well?  He's been waking up every 1-2 hours a night to nurse.  I haven't slept longer than 3 hours at a time in weeks.  Combined with my whacked out hormones and I'm a joy to be around.  Lack of sleep is serious business.  And I'm supposed to be making lawyerly decisions on no sleep.  Right, that doesn't exactly work.  So we're laying down the law and starting cry it out officially tonight.  Little man J cried for exactly 18 minutes tonight before falling asleep after rolling over on his belly.  I plan on doing a dream feed before I head to bed (where you feed the baby while he's still asleep) and then he's going to cry it out if he wakes up again anytime before 5am.  Last night was unofficial cry it out night 1 and he cried for a full hour at 3:30 in the morning.  It sucked.  But this morning he was all smiles and had no recollection of the evil mommy action of the prior night.  So tonight it's on.  Wish us luck.  (Did I mention I was drinking wine?  It's not a coincidence.)

Since I'm on this woe-is-me roll, I'll keep going.  My hair is falling out in clumps.  Clumps.  It is gross.  And I may have forgotten to clean the drain in the shower before our house showing last Saturday.  And the shower door was definitely open when we got home even though we closed it before leaving.  Yup, the potential buyers saw my drain hair.  Shocking that they didn't make an offer, no?

And the kicker, because there has to be one.  We have an appointment next week at Scottish Rite for potential cranial remolding for Julian.  In layman's terms, my sweet baby is likely to start wearing a helmet to correct his rather misshappen head.  I know, I know, helmets are almost chic these days for babies thanks to the whole "back to sleep" campaign.  But it still breaks my heart. 

Ok, I'm done now.  This is my life right now.  I know that nothing is life shattering or even a big deal, but it's just a bit much to handle all together at the moment.  I know that this too shall pass and soon enough I'll be sleeping all night,my hair will stay attached to my head, work will slow after the new year and Julian will have a round head in no time.  But for now, I think I'll have another glass of wine.

F You, Pinterest

Lukas turns three in one week. And I haven't done a thing. I haven't bought him a present. I haven't planned a party. To be honest, there will be no party. I'm feeling very guilty about it. I feel like a bad mom. A failure. I see all these pinterest birthday party boards my friends have in plans for elaborate parties for their children and I simply can't get it together to even invite a few friends and their kids over for cupcakes.

We have a lot going on, it's true. We're listing our house to sell next week. We're on the hunt for a new car after the husband's car was totaled two weeks ago in a hit and run accident. I'm back to work full time and Julian is still waking up an average of three times a night. I've been on the verge of tears most days the past few weeks, and wound up crying on more than one occasion. It all just feels like "too much" right now. And the fact that the thing to go is my son's birthday party makes me feel awful.

It's mom guilt at its worst. I know I should let it go and that Lukas will not care or even notice that an extravagant party is not had. He'll be psyched about cupcakes, my parents coming over to celebrate and opening presents. And I'll send cupcakes and stickers to school so he can celebrate with his school friends. But it's hard not comparing to what these other moms are doing. Facebook and Pinterest display their thoughtful ideas and it just feels like I can't keep up.

I know it's not a contest. There's not a trophy for best mom. And I know that throwing a party does not a good mom equal. But I still can't let it go.

Julian's Birth Story

My littlest baby, Julian, turned 3 months old a few weeks ago.  So I figure it's high time I jot down his birth story before I forget it....

So going back in time to Friday, July 12.  I went to work that day expecting to go back to work the following Monday.  I was only 39 weeks and 3 days at that point.  Lukas was born at 40 weeks plus 3 days so I figured I might as well get comfortable.  I even had Mr. Cob snap a picture of my growing belly that night.

39 weeks + 3 day belly

We woke up Saturday morning and went about our day.  We did something for breakfast, donuts maybe?  (See I'm already forgetting).  And then we went to the bank.  I decided I should probably cook some food to freeze for after the baby arrived so we then headed off to the Farmers Market.  I didn't really want to go but we'd already made the fatal mistake of mentioning the farmers market to Lukas so there was no way we weren't going after that.  So off we went.  It was at some point in the late morning that I noticed the contractions.  Nothing painful.  Nothing consistent.  On we went with our day.

Our good friends' son was having his first birthday party that afternoon so after cooking a few meals in the early afternoon we headed over for the party.  Sitting in the car I realized the contractions were somewhat timeable.  About every 7-8 minutes.  I was still unconvinced.

I spent all afternoon chatting with friends at the party and watching Lukas and his friends play, so I didn't really notice the contractions.  But on the car ride home (around 6:30pm) they began again.  Every 7 or so minutes again.  We got home and put Lukas to bed and I figured I'd cook the rest of my freezer meals in an effort to distract myself.  Finally around 9pm, with contractions hanging around every 7 minutes, we decided to call my parents to give them a heads up and said they could come over if they wanted.  My mom said there's no way she could sleep now knowing the real thing might be happening, so they decided to head over. 

They arrived a little after 10pm.  Mom helped me finish making enchiladas while dad and Mr. Cob watched TV.  Lukas continued snoozing away, unaware that anything was happening.  The contractions were about 6 minutes apart but not painful.  I took a bath at one point to relax and thought about laying down for a bit but everyone else was more concerned than I was and around midnight Mr. Cob convinced me to call my OB.  My OB said that I could head to the hospital at any time, but it sounded to her like things were happening!  I was still not convinced.  (Sidenote, I LOVE my OB.  As in, may have another baby just to hang out with her on a regular basis again.  Even though I had clearly woken her up from a deep sleep, she chatted with me on the phone for 10 minutes, at midnight, about how excited she was that my little boy was finally coming.  I mean, really, she is Fabulous!)

So at that point I decided to actually pack a hospital bag and we left around 2am for Northside.  Eerily it was the same time we went to the hospital for Lukas' birth.  I was convinced we were in for a long labor (remember Lukas wasn't born until almost 3pm the next day).  And I still wasn't even uncomfortable.  I thought we'd get to the hospital and be turned back for a false alarm.  Before I go any further I need to make note of what has now become one of my favorite parts of being in labor - the car ride to the hospital with my husband.  We are both so giddy and excited and we sing very loudly to fun music.  It's just a burst of fun before the "labor" part of labor begins.

We arrive at the hospital and a sweet security guard asks if I need a wheelchair.  I do not.  (I'm still convinced this isn't happening).  We check in and wait for the nurse to take us back to our room.  We get in our room (one without a window) and I get hooked up to the fetal monitor.  In case I didn't mention it with Lukas, the fetal monitor is one of the most uncomfortable parts about the whole thing.  They wrap a band tightly around your gigantic belly and the thing is so tight it leaves marks.  I hate it.  Anyway, she checked my progress (about 2-3 cm) and confirmed that the contractions were about 6 minutes apart, so we were staying.  The real deal had truly begun!

Then the nurse left and said she'd be back and to try to rest.  Mr. Cob passed out on the "sofabed" and I got a little sleep myself.  I could only get comfortable on my side though, and they lost the baby's heartbeat every time I laid on my side so eventually around 6am I had to turn back over.  I was still in no pain at this point.  I noticed the contractions but didn't have to breathe through them or anything.

Here I am after my night's "sleep"....

And here's Mr. Cob...ha

At 6:30 the nurse came in to say my OB wanted to start me on pitocin since nothing was really progressing. I asked if we could give it 30 more minutes to see if things would pick up on their own. She agreed. Nothing progressed. So they started the pitocin. (Which, if you're keeping score, I'm now 2 for 2 on the pit front. Oh well.) Around this point someone checked me and I was like 3 cm, so not much progress.

My OB came in around 8:30 to check on things. The pitocin had made the contractions pick up in timing, but they still weren't of the painful variety.  She checked me and said I was closer to 4cm.  She then broke my water.  Now, let's talk about this for a second.  I had thought I felt some leaking before the big water breaking event, but chalked it up to wishful thinking.  Well after the water breaking (the big gush variety), which took her some time (we think his head was really low and was preventing the water from breaking on its own), things started to pick up.  As in I went from totally cool and in no pain to having to breathe through the contractions and really concentrate in the span of 30 minutes.  By 9:30am I was in some serious pain, but still breathing through.  By 9:45am I lost my mind and was screaming for drugs.

The anesthesiologist was called and on his way.  This did not change the fact that I completely lost it from about 9:45am -10am.  The pain was too intense.  My nurse (Katherine Hill, who just happens to have the same name as my BFF) was INCREDIBLE.  And so was Mr. Cob.  If it wasn't for them I'm not sure I could've made it through that 30 minute span before the doc gave me the epidural.  It was rough.  The contractions were very intense and very close together.  I do think the hypnobirthing techniques I learned with Lukas (and practiced during my nightly meditations before bed this go around) helped keep the pain at bay for as long as it did and helped me somewhat breathe through the really bad contractions.

Finally the doc with the goods arrived to get rid of the pain.

But I lost it again when he was there because the mere thought of a needle in my spine sends me over the edge.  Thankfully he was quick and painless (seriously, the insertion of the epidural did NOT hurt).  And within 5 minutes the pain was gone completely.  BUT, the pressure started before the anesthesiologist even left the room.  The pressure down there.  You know, there there.  I mentioned it to the nurse and the anesthesiologist and they just figured it was nothing. 

Well it wasn't nothing.  Thirty minutes later (about 11am) the nurse was back to check me.  I looked at her like she was crazy because I knew nothing had happened since the last time I was checked.  Wrong.  Ten centimeters baby!  It was time to go.  (Sidenote:  if there is a baby #3, and I'm not saying there will be, I will ask to be checked once more before getting the epidural.  Looking back, I think I was probably in transition when I got the epidural.  I am not crazy or against the epidural, but if I'd known the finish line was so close, I think I would have opted to skip the epidural ONLY because it took seemingly forever to wear off this time and I couldn't walk for hours after delivering J.)  So at eleven am I was ready to go but my OB was not there.  The nurse called to tell her it was time, like N.O.W.

So my OB arrived around 11:15 and got set up.  And when she was ready I started pushing.  (We need another sidenote at this point.  There were only 4 people in the room for the pushing this time: my OB, Katie Hill the nurse, my hubby and me.  With Lukas there was about 12 people in the room.  Seriously.  The was meconium when my water broke so the neonatal care team was brought in.  I hadn't realized with Lukas that if there are no reasons to suspect complications, there are very few people in the room.  I much preferred only having 3 spectators!)  So back to the pushing.  I pushed three, maybe four times and out he came.

It's true what they say, your heart simply expands and you truly can love another child as much as your first.  I did not believe this until I saw Julian for the first time.  We are truly blessed to have him in our lives and it's hard to think of our family before him.  It simply feels like he has always been a part of it.

Julian Rhys