Unconditionally:

Generally, I get so wrapped up in the day-to-day of taking care of two little ones that I forget what I'm actually doing, or rather, what the significance of it all is. Many hours of the day I feel like I'm juggling children. Sit Vanessa-Kate down on the kitchen floor, pour Ian's apple juice, pick Vanessa-Kate up, feed her, slip her into a blanket once she's asleep so that I can hold Ian's hand while he falls asleep, etc. It's like I'm taking turns satisfying each of their needs.

But then I stop and realize that it's all so significant through their eyes, especially Vanessa-Kate's. I forget that they lean on me for pretty much everything. I forget how it must feel to rely on someone to meet your every need because you can't do so yourself.

Then it's so easy to appreciate. Isn't it amazing how much our children need us? In Vanessa-Kate's eyes, I am the world. I am her rock of comfort, her source of nourishment, and her care taker. When she cries, she's crying because she needs me, because she loves me, deeply and unconditionally. She is my baby, and I am her Mother, and in so many ways, she is still a part of me, still a heart beating inside me.

Today I am thankful that I am a Mother.

I'm getting soft.

I've always been kind of tough when it comes to things like my kids getting shots and such. I had hoped that by acting like such things weren't a "big deal" that Ian would pick up on the vibes and be more relaxed about the whole thing. The tears that follow a big needle in the leg have never bothered me. I give him a kiss, tell him good job, and it's done.

But these days, I'm getting soft. Maybe that's what a little girl does to you.

Today we had to take both babies to the pediatrician. Vanessa-Kate had her 2 month check-up and shots, and Ian had to re-do the lead test since he threw such a fit last time that they didn't get enough blood for the test to work. But, I blame that one mostly on a bad nurse.

Anyway, today broke my heart. First comes Ian. He was being so so good. The kind of good where it breaks your heart because their being so sweet. He was nice, polite, happy, and very talkative. He was being good and letting the nurse touch him and hold his hand. He asked in his happy little voice "Wasss dattt?" when she pulled out the lancet to prick his little finger.

And then she did it.
And then my heart broke.

My happy little boy, who was trying so hard to behave broke down. Big alligator tears poured from his eyes. He looked so betrayed. For the first time I heard him cry out "Oww, Oww" through his tears. But she had to keep pumping away at his little finger for a good 2-3 minutes until she had enough blood. He kept trying to calm down, but he was too worked up. I felt horrible. I tried not to let him see that it was upsetting me, but on the inside I was dying.

Then was Vanessa-Kate's turn. She got her shots and poked her little lip out at me and made the saddest little pucker face. I was already worked up over Ian, so I felt bad about that too. Then, she's been sad and achy all day since. She is usually so happy all of the time. I hate seeing her so down.

I'm going soft. Watching my babies cry broke my heart today.

Reminders

Dear Bump,

I love you dearly. But your constant reminders everytime I log in of how big my baby is getting are making me sad.

2 days? Really?

Love,

A Mommy who is 2 days from a bit of a breakdown

Mommy Guilt.

You know what is awesome about having your second child? It comes along with a lot less Mommy Guilt.

While all Mothers deal with their own cases of Mommy Guilt, it seems like it's so much stronger with the first child. We expect so much out of ourselves as Mothers, that sometimes we forget that we are only human, and that there are only 24 hours in each day.

We expect ourselves to have ideal birth experiences. That doesn't always happen. The fact of the matter is, things don't always go to plan. Sometimes we don't get what we want. We can only do the best that we can do, and that's okay. As a first time Mom my heart was broken when my birth didn't go according to plan. But I got a healthy baby boy.

We expect ourselves to be able to breastfeed perfectly. Truthfully, it's really freaking hard for some of us. Even with the best of intentions and tons of effort, sometimes we just need to give up. As a first time Mom it took me a long time to understand that formula is good for babies. No, it's not breast milk, but it is not poison. Sometimes the stress of breastfeeding is worse for both Mommy and baby than just giving it up.

We expect our bodies to snap back into the shape that they were before we had children. We focus on trying to fit into our pre-pregnancy jeans rather than focusing on trying to feel good in our own skin again. Many of us will never go back to the same size and shape that we were before. And that's okay. My wide hips are just perfect for toting around the babies that I love so dearly. And someday, when they aren't babies anymore, they will be perfect for toting around grandchildren.

We expect to feel emotionally in control. In reality, having a child is a huge change. It's okay to feel sad, or even depressed. PPD is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's something to be discussed. Millions of women suffer from PPD, and we are not alone. As a first time Mom, I suffered from PPD. I asked for help, and I got it. There's no shame in that. To be a good Mother we must not only take care of our children, but also ourselves.

This time around, I know how to shake the Mommy Guilt. I don't beat myself up about everything, and I'm so much happier. Even in the midst of some really tough breastfeeding issues (a baby who doesn't latch, full time pumping, and a low supply), I'm not stressing. Want to know why? Because I've been here before. I'm doing my best. But guess what? If my best doesn't turn out to be good enough, I have no shame in giving in and taking away that stress.

First time Moms, give yourselves a break. If there is one thing that I have learned, it's that parenting isn't something to beat yourself up over. It's meant to be enjoyed.

I'm enjoying it.

A flower for my thoughts:

Have I told you lately how unbearably freaking sweet my kid is?

Oh I haven't? Well then maybe it's about time I do.

Truth is, he's not always all that sweet. He's actually quite a little monster. When he gets mad he scrunches his face together and hits his own thigh super hard. Sometimes he asks me for things (like a slice of cheese) from the kitchen, then suddenly decides that he doesn't want it...so he throws it on the floor, screams "nooooooo!" and runs away, smashing the damn cheese into the hardwood floor.

But then again, most of the time he's a real sweetheart.

As his personality has started to really blossom over these last few months I have noticed that my son is a lover. He's a big fan of things like cuddling, giving eskimo kisses, and holding hands. He enjoys telling people thank you, which in Ian language comes out "Dee-do". He likes to give things to people. He likes to pet the dogs super gently. He likes to rub his Daddy's back. He's even learning to hold the door for people at the grocery store. He really is a rather nice little boy, if I do say so myself.

About a week ago, he picked me a flower for the very first time. Er, well, let me rephrase that. He picked me a flower for the very first time on his own. He has been prompted to pick me flowers before, and he has. However, this time was different. He was off playing in the yard all by himself and I was sitting in the lawn chair on the patio. Then he walked up to me, laid the flower on my belly and says "here go" and gives me a kiss. And just like that, he walked away.

I may have teared up, just a little. I certainly got sentimental enough about it to whip out Toby's iPhone and take a picture.

I can't believe how fast this kid is growing up. Whoa. Whoa. Whoa.

It's moments like that though, that make me feel like I'm doing this whole "parenting" deal correctly. If I've done well enough to teach little boys to pick their Mommies flowers (flowers that match their bathing suits so perfectly for photo ops no less) than I'm doing pretty darn good. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

A nice day out.

The Booger and I had such a nice day out.

Daddy went to work early, so we had the whole day to ourselves. We'd rather he be here, but we make the best of it either way.

We got up, and got a long shower. We filled up the bottom with big bubbles and played until the water got cold. Then we brushed our teeth, put on lotion, got dressed, and put on our shoes.

Mommy decided that Ian was super cute and that he needed a treat. Ian decided that his treat should be fries.

So we walked less than one block down the street to our favorite diner. Ian sat on one side of the booth, and Mommy sat on the other. He didn't even use a booster seat, you know, because he's super-duper big and all. He was proud of himself. Ian ordered fries and bacon (the breakfast of champions) and Mommy had eggs, rye toast, bacon, and mashed potatoes and gravy (in place of the traditional hashbrowns). Halfway through the meal Ian joined Mommy on her side of the booth.

Then Ian stopped to look at the stuffed doggies in the window at the grooming place. He barked at them. Then he stopped to say "hiiiiiiii" to the old man coming out of the apartment. Then he waved at the little boy getting his hair cut through the barbershop window. Then he stopped to admire the giant red rubber exercise balls inside the gym. Who knew that they even made balls that big?! Then he stopped to admire how "prrriiiittttyyyy" the ribbons hanging in the printshop window were. Then he climbed the stairs at the apartment (all by himself, no doubt) shouting "hommme, hommmmmeee" until he opened the door.

It was a very good trip. =)

Happy and fulfilled.

I've come to realise something; I have chosen the right path for me personally, and being just a stay at home mom is nothing to be unhappy with. In fact, it's the word just in that sentance that bothers me the most. I'm not just anything. Stay at home moms, myself included deserve so much more than that.

Isn't it strange how society has come to such a turn around? Don't misunderstand what I'm saying, I am very thankful for the womens rights movement before my time and all that it has done for me today...but at what point did a women become less of a valuable member of society, less of a person, when she made the decision to stay at home with her children? Since when is raising the future generations of the world an invaluable thing to do with ones life? We give teachers, loving daycare providers, and nannies loads of respect for doing what they do. But as stay at home moms, do we not play parts of all of those roles? What...is it the lack of money that makes being a stay at home mom less respectable than working full time at a daycare center or a school? Money isn't everything, and frankly, being a stay at home mom is a responsible financial decision for many of us.

I chose to be at stay at home mom. Actually, let me clarify; our family, all of us, decided that I should be here with the kids. Being a stay at home mom doesn't mean sitting around smiling at your child and playing games all day. It means managing a household. It means running all of the errands, handling all of (or most of) the finances, doing the shopping, planning everyones appointments, making sure everything is scheduled, cleaning, cooking, and keeping home a home. Making the home a place that isn't filled with stress, rather, relaxation and happiness. But the most important parts of being a stay at home mom are being there for all of the little moments. The giggles and laughs, the first steps, the first words...all of it. I am so very blessed to know that I will witness these moments with my children, not someone else. I am so blessed that my son knows that every night I will tuck him into bed and I will pick him up in the morning. He knows that he can always rely on his mommy. I wouldn't change that for anything.

This quote has been very popular for a while now, and it was said by Lady Gaga.

"Some women choose to follow men, and some women choose to follow their dreams. If you're wondering which way to go, remember that your career will never wake up and tell you that it doesnt love you anymore."

While I see a lot of wisdom in this quote, it also rubs me wrong in so many ways. I feel as if we, as women, have started scrutinizing ourselves too much when it comes to our careers. A career is a wonderful thing, and I have no problem whatsoever with working moms, and working women. In fact, that's great. However, I feel like as women we have started to put career above all else including family. This quote makes it seem like a women can't have a man (aka, a husband) and follow her dreams. The key part here is finding the right man. The type of man who is husband material and will be there to support your dreams, whether they be owning your own medical practice, or raising children. Let's be straight here, and I think that both stay at home moms and working moms can agree; You're career will never wake up and tell you that it doesn't love you anymore, but it also won't wake up and tell you that it loves you and that it's glad that you chose it. As women we have the ability to "have it all". Just because you do or do not want a career, doesn't mean that having a family can't be important to. It can be.

My point is, I'm proud to do what I do everyday, and I don't feel shamed by society at all. I know that what I do is just as important as what lots of working people do. I know that I made the right choice for my family, and mostly that I am happy and fulfilled, and no one can convince me any differently.

Reflections of Motherhood.

I really enjoyed this video.

It made me stop and think; what would I have told myself?

.Trust your heart.

..You have never known such love.

...Keep the faith.

....Enjoy every moment, even the ones where you are worn down.

.....It really does go fast. Too fast.

......Things change. Never ever say never.

.......You are so much stronger than you know.

........No one is ever really ready.

.........There is no right way to parent. Perfection is outrageous.

I look like a Grandma.

First, let me start off by saying that I am so glad that our culture is in this "old is cool" fashion stage. It seems like everything that has been cool at one point in time in the past, is now cool again.

(Please ignore how uncool of me it was to overuse the word "cool".)

Anyway, I'm really into patterns. I like big floral prints, houndstooth, plaid, stripes, polka dots, argyle, anything. I also like wearing bright and contrasting colors. I'm into the "older" and "grandma-ish" things that seem to be in style now. I like big handbags, prints, tacky shoes, bold ear rings, headbands, and cardigan sweaters.

As most of you know, I also really like a good deal. So when I found a mint green, indigo, white, and dark lavender large floral print smock for only 1.99 yesterday at Sears, I had to have. Nevermind that I also had a coupon for 10.00 off a clothing purchase of 20.00 or more. So, today I was super excited to wear my shirt. I even wore matching eyeliner. Which, according to Toby is an even more old lady thing to do.

The point is, Toby has informed me that he is pretty sure that his great grandmother would love basically my entire wardrobe. Sadly, I think he's right. And now that I think about it, she often compliments my clothing...and she's not one who just likes to compliment. She also tends to do the same thing to my sister-in-law, who has her own spin on a similar style. She told me that Grandma had recently went on and on about how adorable her grey sweatshirt covered in lace was.

I like that sweatshirt. A lot.

Oh well, I feel like a pretty cute Grandma.

Look closely, can you see the color coordinated liquid eyeliner and ear rings? Oh yeah.

When did you get so big?

Today Ian and I were sitting in the parking lot of the DMV while running my cousin around to run a few errands. I could hear him talking and playing with his books, but I couldn't see him since we still keep his carseat rear facing.

But, he sounded cute so I had to see what sort of cuteness he had got himself into. So I turned the camera on my phone, stuck my hand back over the seat, and blindly took a photo. I was half expecting it to be some big blur, a picture of the back of his head, or his hand. So, imagine my surprise when I saw this:

For some reason it just melted my heart. He just looks like such a big kid. Plus, he stopped and smiled for the camera. Do you know how rare that is for me? lol.

So, at that point, I couldn't resist his cuteness, so I climbed over the seats (yes, my incisions from the surgery feel much better!) and we had a giggle-fest for ten minutes straight. We took turns playing peek-a-boo and sitting a baby wipe on top of our heads. And then we laughed, and laughed, and laughed. I was laughing so hard that he just had to laugh everytime he looked at me. And his little laugh only made me laugh even harder.

Then he finally calmed down once he got a hold my hair brush. Then he did the sweetest thing. He took his hand, and gently laid my head down on the edge of his carseat, and he brushed my hair.

*sigh*

It was a good day to be Ian's Mommy.

Motherhood.

Every mother should read this post from "Enjoying the Small things". Kelle Hampton is an amazing person, blogger, and mother. This post from this past Mother's Day truly pulls at my heartstrings though.

P.S. If you have never read her birth story, do that too while you are there. She is just such an inspiration.

Guess what?!?

I had surgery.

Yep, surgery, my first (and hopefully my last) ever.

It all started on Monday night. I had pasta for lunch, and then we went out for dinner at CiCi's pizza with Tobys Mom and the kids. I had quite a bit more than I

needed to eat, so when my stomach started to hurt I thought that I most likely just had a bad case of gas from all of the greasy pizza and all of the carbs.

But I spent most of the night tossing and turning. I kept waking up laying on my side, curled up in pain.

Finally, around 5:30 in the morning, the pain became unbearable enough that I couldn't go back to sleep. I woke up and took a long hot shower. I felt better for the next hour or so, though I was still very crampy. Around 8:30 the pains started coming back heavily. My grandma came over to pick up Ian about an hour later and asked if I wanted to go to breakfast with them. I convinced myself that if I just got up, got moving, and stopped thinking about it that the pain would just go away.

In the car on the way to Bob Evans, it got a thousand times worse. I spent most of the time that we were at the restaurant sitting in the bathroom and crying hysterically, just praying that I would go ahead and just explode, since that's what it felt like was going to eventually happen. We left early, and I went home. I took a hot bath. While I was completely submerged in the water, it didn't hurt much. But as soon as I got out of the bath the pain was back.

I didn't want to go to the hospital unless I was dying because we currently don't have insurance. I had medicaid when I was pregnant with Ian, and for a couple of months

afterwards. Tobys work has just started offering medical coverage, which we were planning on buying into...next month. So, obviously, I didn't want to go to the hospital unless I had to.

But, the pain got so bad that I had to go. I sat in the emergency room waiting area, hunched over crying for about 15 minutes before they took me back. The pain was just so unbearable. It was kind of like being in labor, only it felt completely hopeless. At least when you are in labor you know that in the end there will be a good result (an adorable new baby!) and that the pain will eventually end. Plus, there is always the epidural option. However, with this, I just felt like the pain was never going to end. I was more afraid that they wouldn't be able to find anything wrong with me then the idea that they would find something I wrong. I needed the pain to end.

I got some morphine (which didn't help much) and then got a CAT scan. After a little while, they said that my appendix had to come out. The first thing I asked was "Now that you know I'm actually in pain...can I PLEASE have some more damn drugs?". They gave me more morphine.

The surgeon came in soon afterwards to discuss everything with me, and just as we were talking he got a call that they had an opening in the O.R. So, my surgery went from being the next morning, to right away. I had been too sick to eat or drink all day, so I was ready for surgery. They prepped me, and I was out. About an hour later, I was appendix free!

Me right after I got out of surgery. I know, I look good.

The nurses and doctors were great, and I actually felt pretty good the first day after the surgery. They kept me comfortable, and I was just glad to be out of the pain. However today and yesterday have been another story. I am just so stiff, sore, and bruised up, moving is hard. Ian has been staying with family, so I've missed him. Toby had to take a day and a half off work to take care of me, so he is scrambling to make up 20 more hours before Sunday. He's been taking great care of me though, and I am so thankful for him.

So, anyways, now you have the full story on me and my insides.

I'll update more later, but for now, I think I'm going to try and get more sleep.

Ian likes to scream at me.

Oh. My. God. I am so close to the end of my rope today. I love my sweet boy, but I cannot stand the days where all he wants to do is scream and whine at me all day long.

It started when he woke up. From the moment that his little head left the bed, he started screaming. He screamed at me while I washed my face. He screamed while I brushed my teeth. He screamed while I brushed his teeth (resulting in a foamy mess). He screamed when I filled his sippy. He screamed while I packed the diaper bag. He screamed while I got dressed. He screamed while I got him dressed. He screamed while I rocked back in forth in the corner, hunched down in the fetal position.

...okay, so maybe that last part didn't happen...yet.

The point is, he screamed and whined all day. I had plans to have a shopping day with my cousin. He screamed on and off throughout the day, but he mostly whined. He made a constant whining noise while I pushed him in the cart, meanwhile he was yanking at the button on my new sweater (that I just bought yesterday!), until it got so loose that it is hanging by a thread. He tried climbing out of the cart on his head as well.

Then, he screamed at lunch. So, I picked him up to calm him down, at which point he yanked on my ear ring so hard that I almost cried. I honestly don't know how he didn't actually rip my ear lobe.

Then we went grocery shopping...and he screamed. Then it was raining when we went back out to the car. Then he screamed in the car. It was freaking excellent. Then he screamed when we got home while I put away the groceries. He screamed while I tried to hold him and comfort him. I know that he must be teething or something, so don't get me wrong, I feel horrible for him. But, I'm still loosing my effing mind.

And it's still an hour or two until his bed time. Dear Lord, grant me strength.

But, on the bright side, my wonderful husband must have used his super husband abilities to know that I was having a bad day, because he came home with a gift card for a full body massage because he said that he knows that he has been working late a lot lately, and that I must be stressed between having to be with Ian alone all of the time and doing school. I'm really kind of fond of him, I think I'll keep him. =)

Anyway, I think that I will go see if my son would like to scream at me, hurt me, or ruin anymore of my new clothes.

Monday is Momday.

Mondays are my favorite. Okay, well, that's a lie, but I do love that Ian and I always get to spend some alone time together on Mondays. Everyone is back at work, my parents are usually at the lake still, and Ian and I just get to spend the day together and relax.

Thus, introducing Mondays new theme... "Momday Mondays".

He makes my heart race.

He makes everyday the best day.

Mommy and Daddy love you so much Booglet.

Mother, oh Mother.

Mother, oh Mother,
come shake out your cloth,
empty the dustpan,
poison the moth,
hang out the washingand
butter the bread,
sew on a button
and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose houseis so shocking?
She's up in the nursery,blissfully rocking.
Oh, I've grown shiftless as LittleBoy Blue (lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo)
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due(pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done
and there's nothing for stew
and out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
but I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look!
Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?(lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo).
The cleaning and scrubbingwill wait till tomorrow,
for Children grow up,
I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs.
Dust go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep......

Mommy's Boy.

Have I mentioned that I absolutely positively love this boy?

He is:
beautiful
adorable

fun
sweet
kissable
loveable
huggable
snuggleable...

And I just love spending time with him.

Being Mom.

I get it.

I'm the mom.

My needs don't come first.

But does that mean that they always have to come last?

I guess I'm just having one of those days. I've been feeling nauseous since the night before last. We came out from going out with some friends, I got sick, tried to go to bed, but ended up staying up until 4 am because I felt so icky. Ian got up earlier than normal yesterday morning and I was dragging ass all. day.

But, things had to be done. I started cleaning, and I cleaned all day long. I scrubbed the bath tub, I shampooed the carpets, I did a bizillion (and ten) loads of laundry...by the time Toby got home I was dying. All I wanted to do was go to my bedroom, lay down and watch a little tv, and call it an early night for once. I'm always the last one to bed. I had been feeling so sick that I didn't think it would be a big deal to cut out early for the night and leave the boy with Toby.

Turns out I was wrong.

Toby came home last night and wanted to play videos games. Which is normally not a big deal. So I let him play for a while and then said "Hun, I'm really not feeling good, I'd like to lay down and watch some tv". He was like "Well, okay...but I've really been looking forward to playing video games and just relaxing tonight".

I was too tired to argue or talk. So I just said "okay". Took care of Ian, and went to bed.

Then today I wake up, and I have no car. We have two cars, but for the week, we only have one. I have told Toby several times this week that I needed to have the car on friday. He said okay every time. Well, he forgot. Guess I don't need to go to any of the 1000 important places I needed to go today.

He's a great guy, and most of the time he's nothing but sweet, supportive, and understanding. But...I don't know. Sometimes I just wish he could be in my place.

...and Ian just spilled apple juice all down my leg. Excellent.

Mommy Guilt.

I've got a bad case of the mommy guilt.

It's unbelieveable. Now that Ian is becoming more independent, I feel horrible about letting him play by himself for too long. He'll play in his jumpy for a while, happy as can be. Then I'll look over and see that he's still happy, but I switch it up just to be sure. I'll take him out and lay him on the ground for tummy time. He'll happily play with his toys. After a while I'll pick him up and try to play with him and he just gives me this look like "Why in the hell did you pick me up, I was enjoying my toys!" And that's where the mommy guilt comes in.

He's happy, but that's not good enough for me. I feel like if I'm not constantly entertaining him, I'm a bad mommy. I can't bring myself to believe otherwise. Toby insists that I'm crazy, but I just don't feel right.

The poor kid probally thinks I'm a basketcase already. Haha.

And so it starts.

Okay, first blog.

Here we go...

Let's stick with the basic introduction for this. My name is Tabatha Starr. I've got a wonderful little family consisting of my husband Toby, and our 10 week old Squeaker, Ian. You'll be seeing a lot of him around here.

We live in a small town about 25 miles outside of Columbus Ohio called Alexandria. The only thing our town is known for is that we are one of the biggest speed traps in the state, so that's nice. That and in the 1800's we used to have one of the largest clock factories in the world. These days, not so much.

We're currently living in some tight quarters here. We live in a 4 bedroom house with my mother, step-father, and little brother (and the 3 of us of course). But you also have to take into consideration that my little brother also has a baby who is two weeks older than mine who spends the majority of the day here while his parents are in school. Things get kind of tight. We made the choice to move in with my parents after learning that I was pregnant. My husband and I knew that we needed to get our lives on track while Ian was young if we wanted to be able to give him the life he deserved. So here we are, in our early twenties, living with my parents for the next two years. It's rough, but in my heart I know we made the right choice for our little guy.

My husband is a full-time student at ITT Tech, majoring in Business and Human Resources. I have been a stay at home mom for the last few months, but have decided to go back to school for nursing. Until I start school winter quarter, I am just working as a server, and soaking up the precious time I have with Ian.

I know that was pretty boring, but we had to get the intro out of the way sometime. ;) I promise it will be less yawn worthy from here on.