My own little resurrection: going back to church

We did it! We went to church today!

Easter Sunday 2013

Easter Sunday 2013

After I wrote my last post, I thought it’d be nice to maybe, possibly, we’ll-see go to church for Easter Sunday. I brought it up to Cap’n Daddy Friday night, and he said that he had been thinking the same thing. (Great minds?)

But which church?

I wanted to find a church that would feel “right” to us. That’s not an easy task, though, because I am highly allergic to evangelical Christianity. Obviously that flavor of Christianity speaks to lots of folks, but frankly, it repels me like oil repels water. If I got mixed up with an evangelical church, I’d need an Epi-Pen of feminist theology and inclusive language to ward off serious reactions. It is simply Not For Me.

Unfortunately (for me), it seems like evangelicalism is the norm for a lot of Protestant churches. So I did what I’ve done in the past, which has served me well––I googled churches that are “welcoming and affirming.” I’ve found that churches that welcome and support the LGBT community typically mesh well with my understanding of my faith–I’m heartened to know that they’re much more common than they used to be. (PROGRESS!)

I found several churches in our area that passed the W&A test. After checking out their websites, I strongly felt an urge to attend a nearby Unitarian Universalist church. To be honest, I was a bit skeptical. Cap’n was flat-out wary. “They probably don’t even believe in the resurrection,” he groused. “If we’re going to church on Easter, I want to celebrate Easter.” He had a point. I mean, aren’t Unitarians kinda nuts? Are they even Christian? But I still felt drawn to that church, and ultimately I convinced Cap’n to give it a shot.

We went. I loved it. My soul felt at home. *happy sigh* Shortly after the service began, I sent up a silent prayer of thanks for leading us to this church, because that’s what it felt like––we were led there.




The church was simple but beautiful. The size was perfect––not too big, not too small. The service was lovely. The music was lovely. The hymnal even has inclusive language! The people were so friendly and warm without being overbearing (I’m looking at you, mainline Protestant congregations). Bucko was welcome to stay with us rather than go to the nursery. We kept him with us until he became too loud––he was enjoying himself a little too boisterously––so Cap’n took him outside for the remainder of the service, although everyone kept saying he could stay. (I like churches that welcome babies and children in the worship service, and are perfectly okay with babies and children being babies and children––which is to say, not silent.) They had coffee and homemade pumpkin bread after the service, and we talked to several perfectly nice people who all fawned over our little red-headed extrovert.

We will go back. 🙂

Happy Easter from the Easter Bucko!

Happy Easter from the Easter Bucko!

Apropos to nothing: When Bucko woke up this morning, Cap’n quipped, “He is risen. He is risen indeed.” I couldn’t help but laugh.


With my guilt complex, I’d make a good Catholic

So it’s Good Friday . . . which reminds me, I’ve been a “bad” Christian.

My crime? Not going to church. Like, ever.


We didn’t mean to end up like this. Really, we didn’t. Cap’n Daddy and I were SUPER involved with church before he started his active duty service. Before we began Army life, we lived in a house owned by our church, literally right across the parking lot from our church. We had FOUR pastors officiate our wedding! We were both in the church choir. We were active with the college-age Wednesday night group. We were REALLY involved.

But after we moved away from our home church, we never really got back into it. We tried, to some degree, when we lived in Kansas. We found a perfectly wonderful church there. We just didn’t go very often. It was just easier to sleep in on Sundays, honestly. After a while, we stopped pretending we were going to try to go to church that week.

Then we moved to the Hudson Valley, where we are now. We never found a church here. We never tried––well, not beyond a cursory online search. I remember we did find a few candidates, but we never really made an effort to go.

So now it’s our first Easter as a real family––Mommy, Daddy, and Baby––and it’s suddenly hitting me: we don’t have a church. No dressing up on Sunday morning, no cute spring baby outfit. (Yes, of course Easter is more than that . . . .) I just realized yesterday that I need to throw together an Easter basket for Bucko! Eeek.

I guess it’s not that big of a deal quite yet, while Bucko is still a baby, but soon he’ll be old enough to understand some Bible stories and basic tenets of Christianity (be nice to each other, love one another, etc.). I want him to grow up with church as a part of his life. I want him to develop some kind of faith, to have some spirituality in his childhood. I want Christmas to be more than Santa, for Easter to be more than the Easter Bunny.

But I’ve gotta find a church. I’ve gotta make an effort. It’s not going to happen by itself.

But . . . .

I guess what’s holding me back is a belief––a conviction––that we’re not going to find the “right” church. So why try? I know, that’s a defeatist attitude. Self-fulfilling prophecy.

Yet that conviction persists.

(There is one church that I know I’d love to attend, but unfortunately, we don’t live in Mount Prospect, Illinois. Now that’s my kind of church. I know I’d love it because Cap’n Daddy and I both adore the pastor there, who was the associate pastor of our home church back in Ohio.)

I know there are liberal churches out there. We just have to find them, wherever we are living. We have to make the effort.

To be continued . . . .

Our tax dollars at work

Today we had some special visitors come over to play with Bucko for an hour…or at least, that’s how he viewed it.

They were actually here through our county’s Early Intervention Services, to assess him for possible developmental delays. Two reps from the county EI office, plus a pediatric physical therapist and a special education specialist. But again, all Bucko knew was that four really nice ladies just showed up to play with him.


Well, at his nine-month checkup last month, the pediatrician recommended getting him evaluated out of concern for his gross motor skills––he has just about no desire to roll over (he’s only rolled over a couple of times in his life), he’s not trying to crawl or scoot, and he’s not trying to pull up to stand.

So, Bucko was referred to our county’s Early Intervention program. Turns out every state has Early Intervention services that are funded through the state and federal governments: the initial assessments are provided free of charge, and if the child qualifies for services, those services are also fully covered. Yay taxes!

After his assessment today, our suspicions were confirmed.

Bucko is just a lazy baby. 😉

The consensus: he is within the normal ranges in all areas of development, although they said his social and communicative skills are VERY advanced…that made me a proud mama! The physical therapist showed me some exercises I can do with him to help strengthen his core, and unfortunately for Bucko, she also prescribed MORE TUMMY TIME. (Not his favorite thing in the world.) She was pleased that he’s been taking swim lessons––just like Cap’n Daddy and I figured, swimming is a great full-body exercise for him and it very well might help.

Such a relief! I didn’t think anything was really “wrong” but it’s nice to hear that your baby is doing just fine.

If you suspect potential delays in your own child, you can contact your local Early Intervention office to arrange for an assessment (look it up through your state’s EI program). You don’t even need a referral––anyone can request an assessment. It’s worth it just for the peace of mind!

Learning to trust myself . . . an ongoing process

Last night, Bucko got tired earlier than usual––he was asleep in Cap’n Daddy’s arms by 8pm. Which meant that I had to go to bed earlier than usual, because Bucko needs me to nurse him to sleep, and I can’t get up once he’s asleep because he’ll wake right back up and be hysterical until I lie back down beside him and nurse him again. So I go to bed when he goes to bed, although I spend an hour or two on my iPad or phone before I’m ready for sleep myself.

This gets old. I’d like to be able to stay up later. I’d like to have more time to talk to my husband, who works loooong hours practically every day. I’d like to be able to watch TV at night, stuff like the news or college basketball or football. Maybe even a movie every now and then. I miss doing those things.

And I don’t necessarily mind nursing at night, but he’s been wanting to stay latched on and comfort suck for (what seems like) the whole night. It’s kinda annoying, honestly. I don’t mind having him in bed with me, but I’d like the freedom to––I don’t know––do something crazy like roll over on my other side, or sleep on my back. Or maybe just not have that faint fluttering sensation on my nipple, which tends to prevent me from falling asleep along with him. (Is the dopey, sleep-inducing effect of prolactin diminished after nursing for several months? Does anybody know? Because I haven’t been feeling it in quite a while.)

So last night, after I got Bucko in his jammies and night-time diaper and nursed him to sleep, I thought, “OK, tonight’s the night when I start teaching him that he doesn’t need to nurse in order to fall asleep.” At his first waking, which tends to be about an hour or so after he first falls asleep, I tried to implement my plan: don’t offer the breast, just lie or sit beside him, pat his belly, talk softly to him until he falls back asleep.

Epic fail.

He looked bewildered at first, like “Um, HEL-LO…you know what to do!” and fussed a little louder and then a little louder still. When that wasn’t getting his desired response, he upped the ante by dropping his equivalent of the nuclear bomb: the piercing, furious, hysterical cry.

This brought the Cap’n running upstairs because he thought something was terribly wrong. Nope, I tried to explain over Bucko’s wails, I’ve got it under control…sorta. But it was hard for us to talk to each other because we couldn’t hear a damn thing either one of us was saying. (Bucko’s got some LUNGS.)

The Cap’n went back downstairs, somewhat confused but reassured that no one was in grave peril, while Bucko continued to thrash and scream and cry big fat tears all over the sheets.

I gave in. Laid down, pulled out the boob, and Bucko did the rest––he snatched it with both hands and immediately latched on through some wind-down whimpers and sniffles.

Within a minute or two, he was asleep. Less than ten minutes after that, he voluntarily unlatched and rolled onto his back with a satisfied sigh.

That was it? I let him scream and cry, sounding like the most abandoned, unloved, heartbroken baby of all-time, to avoid less than ten minutes of comfort nursing?

That’s when I wrote last night’s post.

Sometimes sleep-training sounds soooo good. Yes, it would be wonderful to set Bucko down at the end of the day, walk away, and have him fall asleep on his own and stay asleep all night long. But is that really in his best interest?

I tend to agree with the theory that babies cry when they’re sleeping by themselves because instinct tells them it’s dangerous––babies left unattended during caveman days could be eaten by saber-toothed tigers, or maybe they were left alone because mommy was eaten by a saber-toothed tiger. Know what I mean? It would make sense that babies wouldn’t understand that they’re still perfectly safe when they’re in a crib.

But obviously some babies can be sleep-trained without much difficulty at all. Some babies prefer to sleep alone. Some babies do fine with that set-up.

But after ten months of getting to know Bucko, he is not that kind of baby.

Anyone who has met Bucko invariably comments on how happy he is, what a good baby he is, how secure and laid-back he is. These things are true. He is an incredibly happy baby. He smiles almost all the time. He adapts well to new situations, he doesn’t cry when unfamiliar people hold him, he enjoys going to daycare (on a part-time/irregular basis).

Happy boy

Happy baby

Yay, a camera!

He had just woken up!

He had just woken up!

But I’ve wondered since he was a newborn if he is what Dr. Sears refers to as a “high-needs” baby. No, he wasn’t a terribly fussy baby, but we never allowed him to cry––Cap’n Daddy and I would do whatever he wanted to keep him happy. And boy, he would let us know when he wasn’t happy. Hungry? CRY. Tired? CRY. Wet or poopy diapers? CRY. Bored? CRY. Overstimulated? CRY. When people would tell us how good he was, we’d joke that he’s very good as long as we obey his commands. But it wasn’t really a joke.

Sometimes I wonder if I would have a completely different baby if I tried to parent him according to conventional baby-rearing wisdom rather than listening to my gut.

He has always wanted to be held. For his first several months, he would cry and cry and cry if someone wasn’t holding him. So we held him. I held him. I held him during his naps, I held him when he was awake, I carried him in a baby carrier while I did stuff at home or while I ran errands.

As he got older, he began demanding near-constant interaction. He looked to me to provide suitably stimulating experiences and let me know if I was failing to meet his expectations. Even today, although he is happy playing by himself for a while here and there, he wants me to fully engage with him most of the day. It can be exhausting.

I still nurse him on demand, which is several times a day––sometimes for a full feeding, sometimes just a quick snack, and everything in between.

He has always eschewed any semblance of a schedule, and I have not even attempted to force one onto him. I just try to pay attention to his needs. Often, it’s all I can muster just to hang on and ride out the day.

If I had tried to follow common advice about parenting babies––sleep training and night-weaning and schedules and all the rest––I’d probably be miserable, and Bucko would probably be even more so. He probably wouldn’t be the outgoing, vivacious, happy, confident baby he is today.

When I find myself second-guessing the choices I’ve made, maybe I should remember that there’s pretty good evidence I’m doing something right. Sometimes I need to remind myself that I have a delightfully cheerful, healthy, friendly, wonderful baby boy who charms everyone he meets. And maybe I have something to do with him being that way.

Thoughts from the family bed

Lately it has seemed like Bucko has been nursing more often throughout the night. I don’t really mind it, but the comfort sucking can get annoying. I’ve been plagued with anxiety about our current sleeping arrangements, second-guessing myself and wondering if I’m being a bad mom for allowing my 10-month-old to continue to nurse himself to sleep and to nurse a few times a night.

Then I read this from the fabulous KellyMom:

Many moms feel guilty for nursing their baby to sleep. Nursing your baby to sleep is not a bad thing to do! It’s very normal and developmentally appropriate for babies to nurse to sleep and to wake 1-3 times during the night for the first year or so. Some babies don’t do this, but they are the exception, not the rule. Many children, if given the choice, prefer to nurse to sleep through the second year and beyond. Nursing is obviously designed to comfort baby and to help baby sleep, and I’ve never seen a convincing reason why mothers shouldn’t use this wonderful “tool” that we’ve been given.

(There’s a lot more–definitely worth a read!)

OK. I feel better now.

It’s just a phase. This too shall pass.

Putting all my cards out on the table: 12+ hot-button parenting choices I’ve made

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from being a mom, it’s that moms are judgey. (Dads can be judgey too, but they’re more likely to go with the flow, I think.) Admit it––once you become a mom, you look around and silently evaluate other moms for the choices they’re making with their children. I don’t think this is automatically “bad,” and honestly, it’s probably just human nature. When you’re trying to get your bearings as a new parent, it can be just as helpful to decide what you DON’T want to do as what you DO want to do. As long as we all keep in mind that, barring cases of abuse or neglect, ALL parents do what they feel is best for their kids. What works for their kids won’t necessarily work for yours, and vice versa.

I figure I might as well confess to all the potentially controversial things I do as a parent––hey, assuming I keep this blog up, you’d find out about this stuff anyway.

In no particular order, here’s my list of parenting choices I’ve made:

1. Using IVF to become pregnant

I never, ever imagined that I would need IVF. I come from a long line of very fertile women. But as luck would have it, after trying for over a year to get pregnant on our own, we discovered that IVF would be pretty much the only way we could conceive. Thankfully, the issue was not with my plumbing, but with Cap’n Daddy’s. I say “thankfully” because our FANTASTIC fertility doc told us that our chances of having success via IVF was much higher when the woman’s reproductive system was functioning normally. And this apparently was the case––we got pregnant on our first try. I’ve heard the arguments against IVF––that it’s selfish, that it’s immoral, that people should just adopt––but let me tell you, it’s not a decision that ANYONE takes lightly. And if you have a problem with it, keep your opinions to yourself. Because no one who has experienced the crazy amounts of medications, countless shots in the stomach, endless blood draws, the emotional roller coaster of each cycle, and footed the significant financial cost of going through all of that wants to hear what YOU think. Trust me on that.

One of these blastocysts is Bucko. We transferred both but only one stuck. And we couldn’t be more thrilled with him!

2. Taking medication during pregnancy and breastfeeding

Everyone––and I do mean everyone––does better when Mommy takes her meds. Yes, I’ve done my research. And yes, the benefits definitely outweighed the risks.

3. Natural birth…in a hospital

OK, it wasn’t totally natural, and it didn’t go exactly according to my birth plan. That’s okay, though, because I viewed my birth plan as more of a birth guide. Anyway, I quickly realized after getting to the hospital that my Hypnobirthing recordings were annoying rather than helpful. I had 1.5 doses of Nubain fairly early in my labor because I was dilating REALLY fast and it effin’ HURT. I also had to get IV antibiotics because I tested positive for Group B Strep. I labored mostly on the hospital bed. My midwife ruptured my membranes when I was around 10 cm, so they didn’t break on their own. I agreed to a minimal dose of Pitocin when my labor stalled around 8-10cm. I ended up with a medically-necessary episiotomy.

But I did not have my labor induced. I did not have an epidural and I did not have a c-section (even though I was begging for both roughly a hour and a half before Bucko was born). I tried laboring in the in-room whirlpool tub, but after a while, I wanted to get back on the bed. I also tried laboring in the hands-and-knees position and in a squatting position, but kept coming back to sitting semi-reclined on the bed. It was totally my choice. Per my wishes, the umbilical cord wasn’t cut until it had stopped pulsating, so Bucko could get all of that rich cord blood. He spent the first hour or so of his life lying skin-to-skin on my chest. The nurses patted him with a towel but left most of the vernix on his skin as I had requested. A wonderful lactation consultant helped me to nurse him as soon as he was ready. Many things went “right,” and as for the things that deviated from our birth plan, it was okay because we had educated ourselves about those variables and we made informed decisions.

Laboring is hard work

But the end result is worth it!

4. No circumcision

I was against circumcising Bucko since the moment we discovered Bucko was a boy. I could not imagine handing my precious newborn baby over to someone who would cut off part of his body for no good reason. And to me, doing it for alleged (unproven) hygienic reasons or to ensure he would “fit in” with other penises were not good reasons. Believe me, I researched this topic a LOT. It took a while to convince Cap’n Daddy, but ultimately, after extensively researching the pros and cons, we both decided that Bucko would remain uncircumcised. Now, if you have a son and you opted for circumcision, okay. I’m much more concerned about people making uninformed decisions than what their decisions ultimately are.

5. Disposable diapers

OK, I really wanted to use cloth diapers. Really, I did. It just didn’t work out. Disposable diapers are so easy. And I know cloth diapering aficionados would protest that cloth diapers are just as easy, and I KNOW. But I can barely keep up can’t keep up with our laundry as is. Throwing diapers into that mix would be disastrous. Perhaps it would be different if our washer and dryer weren’t in the basement (in the cold, damp, haunted-house-esque basement of our 150-year-old house, down a flight of steep, rickety wooden steps). If our laundry “room” was on the main floor, then yeah, maybe it would work. But for our circumstances right now, it didn’t make sense. So we’re using disposable diapers. Mostly these, because I still care about the environment and exposure to chemicals and things like that.

6. Exclusively breastfeeding

Cap’n Daddy and I decided long before Bucko arrived that Bucko would be exclusively breastfed. Why? Obviously the health benefits were a major consideration, since breastmilk is made precisely to nourish babies. Plus I’d be in a good position to do it, since I would be staying at home with him. And, um, it’s free. (Even after buying a double-electric pump and bottles and things like that, it’s still a helluva lot cheaper than buying formula.) And it fits in perfectly with my lazy-mom approach to parenting––no formula to mix up, no heating up bottles, no sterilizing stuff, just stuffing a boob in the baby’s face. Honestly, there are a zillion reasons why we chose to exclusively breastfeed, and it’s too much to go into here. But if you chose formula, or if you attempted breastfeeding but it didn’t work out for some reason, okay. Exclusively breastfeeding worked for us. We had our reasons. I assume you have yours. Don’t judge my decision to breastfeed, and I won’t judge your decision to formula-feed. 🙂

7. Being a SAHM

I have two bachelor’s degrees, one from Ohio State in English and one from Kansas State in Secondary Education. I am a licensed teacher (English 7-12, English 5-8, and Music K-12). I have done graduate work at New York University in English Education. But right now, I’m a stay-at-home mom. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I realize that I am very lucky to be able to stay at home with Bucko. I love watching him grow every day and being there to witness each new development. I don’t necessarily plan to stay at home forever––once the kids (Bucko + future siblings) are in school, it’ll probably be a different story. But right now, this is my choice and I’m (mostly) lovin’ it. I really respect mothers who work outside the home, so please (as with most of these choices) don’t assume that if you chose something different that I disapprove.

8. Practicing (intermittent) babywearing

I feel sorry for babies who stay in their car seats everywhere they go. Maybe this is just me, though, because Bucko NEVER tolerated staying in his car seat if the car wasn’t in motion. (And even if it WAS in motion, going under 55mph was unacceptable. He was born a speed demon.) Nope, no hauling around the infant car seat wherever we went––Bucko demanded to be held. Nothing less would do. So we acquiesced. I tried a few carriers before I shelled out $130 for a Beco Gemini (totally worth the money). This was the only way I could go grocery shopping or do other errands with Bucko. Plus, it was actually really nice to have my baby snuggled against me all the time. He certainly loved it. I loved being able to kiss the top of his head whenever I wanted (which was/is almost all the time). Once he got big enough for an umbrella stroller, that became our preferred method of travel, because he enjoyed looking out from a new vantage point. But we still use the Beco Gemini sometimes. (Hey, it’s good until he weighs over 35 lbs!)

Babywearing at the Ohio State Fair when Bucko was about 2.5 months old

9. Co-sleeping

Yes. We co-sleep. Bucko has not spent a night in his entire ten months apart from his mommy. Well, except for a few hours on the first night of his life––but we were both too tired to care. For the record, I never planned to co-sleep, at least not in the same bed. I had an Arm’s Reach co-sleeper set up right next to my side of the bed, and had every intention of putting him in it at night. But guess what? It never happened. I was not blessed with an easy sleeper. From his earliest days, Bucko would wail hysterically if set down by himself to sleep. But if he was next to me, he slept easily. Cap’n Daddy and I both value sleep, and we quickly realized we would get more sleep if Bucko stayed in our bed. To be fair, Cap’n Daddy wasn’t totally on board with it for a while, but he couldn’t argue with the results. I’ve done my homework regarding co-sleeping/sleep-sharing/the family bed, and I’m VERY comfortable with my decision. It can be done safely (assuming Mommy is breastfeeding). It makes breastfeeding so much easier. Mommy and baby get more sleep.

Ten months later, I’m starting to think about changing our sleeping arrangements. Co-sleeping has worked very well for us to this point, but it might be time for a change. Currently, Bucko needs me to go to bed with him in order to fall asleep and stay asleep, so I’m in bed by 8:30-9pm most nights. He nurses a few times a night, which he technically “shouldn’t” need at this point. I’d love to sleep through the night undisturbed. But I’m not desperate (yet), and I’m not sold on “sleep training.” Still undecided as to what my next steps might be. Stay tuned.

10. Breastfeeding in public

I do this all the time. I’ve nursed at Disney World, on planes, in restaurants (casual and hoity-toity), in parking lots, on a boat, at state parks, on a bus, at doctor appointments, on the floor at Once Upon A Child. That’s just a sampling. No one has ever said anything to me, which is good, because if anyone ever confronted me about feeding my child when he’s hungry, I’d probably go Mama Bear on their ass. Look, I am discreet. I don’t whip my shirt off, I don’t dangle my boobies for all to see. I keep as covered up as possible while still allowing my baby to nurse in comfort––which means not covering his head with a stupid nursing shawl. (Would YOU want to eat with a blanket over your head?) Besides, those nursing covers attract more attention than just nursing. You put one of those things on, and it’s like a giant neon sign saying “HEY GUYS GUESS WHAT’S GOING ON UNDER THIS SHEET I’VE GOT A BABY ATTACHED TO MY NIPPLE RIGHT NOW OMG CRAZY RIGHT HAHA YOU CAN’T SEE IT YOU CAN’T SEE IT.” Defeats the purpose, IMO.

11. Extended breastfeeding (planning to do this, anyway)

STOP ASKING ME IF I’M “STILL” BREASTFEEDING. STOP ASKING ME WHEN I PLAN TO WEAN. IT’S NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS. Besides that, breastmilk is the best food for babies. And hey, guess what, it’s still a damn good food for toddlers. I’ll wean Bucko from the breast when Bucko decides he’s ready, within reason. While I really can’t picture myself nursing him past age 2, I withhold judgment for mothers who continue nursing their preschoolers. It’s an incredibly personal decision and it is NOBODY’S BUSINESS.

12. Buying (only organic) baby food instead of making my own

Making baby food? Ain’t nobody got time for that. Well, not me, anyway. I keep intending to give it a shot, but I guess I’m too lazy. Maybe I’ll try it at some point. In the meantime, I’m quite content to pay for convenience. As for only buying organic foods––I figure Bucko has plenty of time to consume all the pesticides and antibiotics and heavy metals and other contaminants commonly found in ‘regular’ food. But if I can avoid exposing him to that bad stuff while he’s a baby, then I’m going to try.

**13. Vaccinating

Yes, despite the organic foods and babywearing and co-sleeping and breastfeeding and other Attachment Parenting stuff, we did choose to vaccinate Bucko per the CDC guidelines. Again, this was a thoroughly researched and informed decision.

That’s all I can think of for now. And that’s probably more than enough to infuriate most of the people who read this post. 😉 But c’est la vie! No apologies. For every mom out there, I hope you feel just as confident in your own choices. No one knows your baby’s needs better than you!

**Added later because I thought of it later 🙂

What this world needs… yet another mommy blogger. (Amirite?)

So here I am. You’re welcome. 😉

I’ve tried (and failed) many times to maintain a blog––maybe this will be the one that sticks. (Hey, you never know!) I figure if anything, it’ll cut down a bit on the relentless baby-related posts on Facebook, much to the relief of my non-parenting friends. As a frustrated writer, I’d love a “real” audience––as in “people who don’t know me but like my writing”––but if the only people who read this are friends and family, so be it. Life goes on.

My plans for this blog are:

  1. put all most of my mommy-related thoughts in one place;
  2. provide baby-related updates for our families and friends; and
  3. post links to things I find interesting, provocative, maddening, controversial, silly, and/or cute.

I guess I should introduce myself. Right now I’m a SAHM (stay-at-home mom, for the uninitiated) and the happy but often tired mother of a wonderful but often overly energetic baby boy, whom I will refer to as Bucko in the interest of protecting his anonymity. (Call me paranoid, but I’d hate to have something I wrote in a state of sleep-deprived slaphappiness come back to haunt him in his adult life, just because mommy needed to tell her invisible friends all about the time he discovered his pee-pee.) Daddy is an active-duty Army officer, and he just signed on for another three years––woohoo! Currently we live in the Hudson Valley (Daddy has been stationed at West Point for the past few years), but this summer we’ll be moving to Charlottesville, VA for a year. After that, who knows? Certainly not us.

Bucko was born on May 31, 2012 after maybe 12 hours of labor. I don’t know exactly, I wasn’t really concentrating on clocks at the time. I should write his birth story. In another blog post, though. Bucko came to us thanks to the miraculous, wondrous superpowers of IVF. Maybe I’ll get into that some other time, too. We have four more frozen baby-seedlings for future child-creating. Maybe I’m nuts, but I CAN’T WAIT to do it all again! (Please don’t use that against me when I have additional children and am about to lose any shred of sanity I may still have.)

We also have two cats who have been with me since August 1, 2000. They were in an orphaned litter of barn cats in rural Ohio. I adopted them when they were around 5 weeks old. Now they’re cranky old ladies.

Welcome to my world!