Four Reasons Having a Messy Car is Actually a Good Thing

I'll be honest: I've never really been great at keeping the inside of my car clean. Once when I was in college, my car broke down in the middle of an intersection, and I made my roommate help me shove all of the stuff from the seats and floor into the trunk so that the tow truck driver and mechanic wouldn't see how messy my car was. It took us at least ten minutes to move everything.

Now that I have kids, the mess has multiplied. Plus, since I'm carting around two kids and all of their stuff, we've had to upgrade to a vehicle that's a bit bigger than the '94 Nissan Sentra I was driving in college, so there's more floor space that seems to magically attract junk. I've been meaning to clean my minivan out for a while now, but then I started thinking about all of the benefits of having my vehicle piled high with crap. So in case you're like me and are putting off emptying out your car, check out this list of reasons that having a messy car can actually be a good thing!

1. You're prepared in case of emergency.

When I was a new driver, my dad used to tell me that I should always keep a blanket and some water in my car, especially during the winter. That way if I got stranded somewhere during a blizzard or because my car broke down, I'd be warm and hydrated until help could reach me. And now that I drive my mom-mobile, I've always got blankets and water. And Cheerios. And apple sauce pouches. And toy cars. And stuffed animals. And empty plastic bags. And seven mittens that don't match each other. Sure, the water is mostly contained in 14 half-empty sippy cups, the blankets are baby-sized, and the Cheerios are as old as the minivan. But the point is, if we got stranded in the middle of a snow storm, my family and I would be set for at least a week.

2. No more last-minute stops at the store on the way to events.

Have you ever been on your way to dinner at a friend's house or a work gathering when you suddenly remember that you were supposed to bring something? If your car is full of stuff, you've almost definitely got items that will work in a pinch for just about any situation. Forgot to bring a potluck dish? Here are six packs of sandwich crackers! Will the party have a white elephant gift exchange? A book about going to the potty will be a great conversation starter! Need a hostess gift? Everyone loves juice boxes and a handful of fast food napkins!

3. You can eliminate the need for a diaper bag or purse. 

When my son was a newborn, a well-stocked diaper bag was a must on any excursion. If I forgot to refill it or - even worse - forgot to bring it altogether, I was in big trouble. One time we ate dinner in a restaurant with my son wearing only a diaper and a windbreaker because he had a diaper blowout right after we were seated, and I'd forgotten to put spare clothes in his diaper bag. But now my son is nearly four years old, his sister is one, and there are enough clothes and diapers in our vehicle to dress at least half of the children in any given neighborhood. My van also contains approximately 17 partially empty containers of wipes, no less than four boxes of tissues, and enough change in the center console to buy each of my kids at least one meal at a restaurant (assuming, of course, that the restaurant has a dollar menu.) I can leave my diaper bag and purse at home, since the contents of both are strewn throughout the back seat.

4. You're less likely to be detained for suspicion of car theft.

Let's say that someone in my town has their minivan stolen, and it's the same model and color as mine. I might get pulled over just to make sure that I wasn't driving said stolen vehicle. But just by showing the cop the things that were on the floor and shoved under the seats, it would only take about 15 seconds for me to prove that the vehicle was actually mine. Look - here's a picture of me with my grandpa! And fourteen pieces of junk mail addressed to me! And some Christmas cards with pictures of my family on them that I forgot to mail last year! I mean, yes...my license and insurance card would probably clear it up pretty quickly, too, but you can never be too careful.

By cleaning out your car, you could be doing yourself more harm than good, so it's probably best to leave it the way it is. And then you can use the time you saved by not cleaning your car out to help me come up with a list of reasons that I shouldn't clean the closets either. I'd really appreciate it.


Want to feel better about your own parenting? Follow me on Facebook!
I was promised more naps | Promote Your Page Too

Fantasies for Moms

As moms, we can often find ourselves being so caught up in the daily tasks of taking care of our kids that we forget to find time for pleasure that's just for us. But as moms, we have a unique set of physical and mental desires and needs, and engaging in some harmless fantasy can not only help us relax, it can also allow us to be better wives, mothers, and women. After you put the kids to bed tonight, slip into something more comfortable (or something that's at least not covered in spit-up,) and try role-playing one of these exciting fantasies crafted especially for moms.

1. You are a beautiful young college student. Your roommate is gone for the weekend, and you have the dorm room to yourself. It is 11am on a Saturday, and you are asleep in your bed.

That's it. That's the whole fantasy. You're sleeping. At 11:00am. You have not been awake for 5 hours. No one is demanding lunch. You don't have Cheerios stuck to the back of your arm for some reason. You're just asleep. The end.

2. You are walking along a beautiful, moonlit beach with the man you love. The warm sand gently gives way beneath each step of your perfectly pedicured toes. He slips his arm around your waist and lightly brushes his lips against your cheek. "Tell me what you're thinking," he whispers softly in your ear. "I just read a really good book," you answer. And then the two of you discuss it. For like 45 minutes. With no interruptions.

3. You awake early one morning to a knock on the door. Pulling your pink robe loosely around your shoulders, you tiptoe down the stairs and slowly open the door. On your front porch is a tall, handsome man wearing a green apron. He stretches out one hand to you, and in it is a white cup. "Starbucks delivers now," he says. You drink the entire cup of coffee while it is still hot.

4. Your husband arrives home from work early one afternoon with a mischievous look in his eye and the signature pink striped Victoria's Secret shopping bag dangling from one finger. He smiles and hands the bag to you. "I stopped by the mall on my way home and bought you a little something. Why don't you try it on?" he asks with a wink. "They were having a great sale on yoga pants."

5. In the darkened room of the spa, you slip under the sheet draped across the massage table and allow yourself to relax to the sound of the music playing softly from the overhead speakers. There's a soft knock, and then the massage therapist enters, rubbing scented oil between her hands. "My next client just called to cancel, so I have a free hour after your appointment," she says with a smile. "Would you like to double the length of your massage? No extra charge for my favorite client."

Two. Hour. Massage.


Test out one of these mom fantasies tonight; any one of them should have you asleep in no time!


I was promised more naps | Promote Your Page Too

On Why Sleeping Babies Are Like Fight Club

Attention Zipadee-Zip fans: Welcome!! Make sure to like "I Was Promised More Naps" on Facebook, and stay tuned for a chance to win a Zipadee-Zip! 

The first rule of Fight Club, as everyone knows, is that you don’t talk about Fight Club, which on the surface has nothing to do with babies, (and also, under the surface, it still pretty much has nothing to do with babies,) except that, if your baby is a good sleeper, you should never, ever talk about the fact that your baby is a good sleeper. (There are a lot of commas in that sentence, but I have a strong emotional attachment to each and every one of them.)

I forget the reason that you can’t talk about Fight Club because it’s been a long time since I saw that movie, but the reason that you should not talk about how well your baby is sleeping is that the second you mention it, your baby will stop sleeping. It doesn’t matter whether or not your baby hears you. You could whisper it to yourself in the locked bathroom while the shower is running – “My baby is sleeping reasonably well,” you might say – and your baby will sense it and decide to mix things up by not sleeping anymore, ever again.

I’ve actually had a lot of chances to learn this valuable lesson, but apparently I’m a slow and sleep-deprived learner, so I just had to learn it again. I waited much too long to transition Calista from her infant sleeper to her crib. Dan was working a lot of nights and it was really hard to get both kids to bed at the same time by myself, and I had this theory that she slept better in the infant sleeper, except that she wasn’t really sleeping all that well. But she is finally, finally sleeping in her crib 100%, (and I bought this nifty little contraption called a Zipadee-Zip which is basically pajamas but with no holes for the hands or feet to stick out through, and it helps babies transition from swaddling and having that feeling of being held tightly that she was getting in her infant sleeper, and anyway, it’s wonderful,) and Calista figured out that she loves rolling over and sleeping on her belly, and she is finally sleeping well. 

Zipadee-Zip!

Or, at least, she was. She was still usually waking up once a night to nurse, but it was at 1 or 2am, and then she’d go right back to sleep until 7:30ish, so I was getting five or six glorious hours of uninterrupted sleep, which is HUGE.

So then the other day, Dan and I took the kids for a walk, and as we were talking and pushing the kids along in our double jogging stroller that is approximately the size of a charter bus, I stupidly said to Dan, “Oh, I am SO glad that Calista is finally sleeping well. I got six consecutive hours of sleep last night. It was glorious.” And I said it right where nine-month-old Calista could hear me. Rookie mistake.

That night I put her to bed at 8pm. And she woke up at 8:30. And 9. And 11. And 1. And 3:30. And 6. And Lucas crawled into bed with me at midnight and kicked me in the ribs at about 4:15, so basically I got NO SLEEP WHATSOEVER.

And as I was rocking Calista in a desperate attempt to get her to go back to sleep at 6am (which didn’t work, for the record,) I thought to myself, “You just had to talk about it, didn’t you? You couldn’t have made conversation about the weather??” Turns out she has a cold, and it’s been three nights with very little sleep, and I am about 99% sure that the only reason she got a cold is that I said she was sleeping well.

I am not the only mom who has experienced this phenomenon. It’s very common. I have a friend who had three kids who were excellent sleepers and slept through the night early and often. She gave me advice on helping Lucas (who despised sleeping when he was a baby) to sleep longer, and she mentioned that her three kids were great sleepers, and then her fourth kid who wasn’t even born yet at the time of this conversation was an awful sleeper. This is not a coincidence. It is a direct result of her having talked. This is a scientific fact*.

So the thing to remember is that if your kids sleep well, you should never, ever talk about it. People might try to get you to talk about it. They might say things like, “Does your baby sleep well?” And if your baby doesn’t sleep well, by all means, feel free to answer them. But if you’re lucky enough to have a baby who loves to sleep, do not answer this question. Instead wink at the person who asked and say “Fight Club.” They will have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about, but hopefully you can confuse them enough that they forget what their original question was. Then while they’re still trying to process what you said, quickly walk your well-rested self away from the conversation. And maybe keep walking until you reach my house so that you can entertain my kids while I nap. Because I’m pretty sure the third rule of Fight Club says something about the fight being over when someone goes limp, and I’m about ten seconds away from passing out from exhaustion.

*Not a scientific fact.

The Five Stages of Being Woken Up Too Early by Your Kids

1. Denial/Isolation
This isn't happening. This IS. NOT. HAPPENING. This is just a horrible dream. It is way too early for them to be awake. The baby doesn't really need milk. She'll probably go right back to sleep in like a minute... maybe five minutes. Ten minutes, tops. Maybe if I pull my covers over my head, they'll go away. There. I'm invisible. He'll never find me. I'm in my fortress of solitude. I'm ensconced in an impenetrable layer of...

Oh. He found me. But three year olds are reasonable people. He'll understand that I'm just too tired to get up. After he finishes climbing over me and tapping me repeatedly on the eyelid, he'll get back in his own bed and sleep until 9.

2. Anger
WHY ARE YOU STILL TAPPING ME??? GO BACK TO BED!! IT'S TOO EARLY!!! IF YOU DON'T GO TO SLEEP RIGHT NOW, YOU WILL BE IN TIME OUT UNTIL YOU'RE THIRTY-EIGHT!! STOP TAPPING ME!!!!!!!!!

3. Bargaining
Ok, listen. If you just let me go back to sleep for ten minutes, you can watch Daniel Tiger for an hour. Two hours. The entire day. I will personally call Daniel Tiger and invite him to our house and he will play make believe with you and teach you a catchy little song about letting mommy sleep until 10. And if you can get your baby sister to go back to sleep, I will turn our SUV into a life-sized replica of Trolley. You have my word.

4. Depression
I am never going to feel well rested, ever again. I'm going to be forever sleep deprived until I die a slow, sleep-deprived death, curled up in a ball on the floor, covered in my children's bodily fluids while trying to buy a five-minute nap by bribing them with candy.

5. Acceptance
This is my life right now - two adorable kids and no sleep. Time to go make coffee and then drink it after it gets cold because both kids will poop as soon as I fill my mug.

So what do you do all day??

Sometime last year, Dan, Lucas and I were at a restaurant where you stand in a buffet-type line, load up your bowl with proteins and veggies, and then they are cooked in front of you and served over rice. The line was kind of long, so Dan and I thought it would be best if we went up one at a time so Lucas didn't have to wait in line for a long time (which, for the record, was a terrible idea, because Lucas and I were pretty much done eating before Dan even sat down with his food. Anyway...) I was waiting in line with my bowl and Lucas's, and I was in front of a twenty-something-year-old couple that sounded like they were on their first date. They were doing the whole awkward get-to-know-you conversation, and I was eavesdropping because A- the girl was about six inches away from me, and B- I don't get to listen to adult conversation all that often. It was pretty much standard first date conversation, and then the female started talking about someone she knew (her sister, I think.) And she said, "She's a stay-at-home mom. Her husband works, and she gets to stay home all day and do whatever she wants."

I couldn't help it. I laughed. Really, really loudly. Because, while I'm really thankful that I'm able to stay home with my kids, I have never, ever, EVER wanted to clean up vomit. But I do it. Sometimes several days in a row. Sometimes several times a day. (My son has a majorly sensitive gag reflex.)

Then a few weeks ago, a friend was telling me about how a neighbor who is in college was talking to her about being a stay-at-home mom, and she asked, "So what do you do all day??"

So apparently, there's still some mystery surrounding what stay-at-home moms do all day. And really, I should probably just let the mystery remain, because, well - most of us pee with the bathroom door open; this is the only mystery we've got left.

But an idea came to me in the shower (which is where all my ideas come, pretty much, because it's the only place I can hear myself think) that maybe we stay-at-home moms could maybe pull back the curtain and let the world in on the glamorous, fun, exciting world of what we do all day. So I started a new Instagram account called "What does Mom do all day?" And this is where you come in. If you're a stay-at-home mom, you're invited to take over the account for a day! I'll email you a temporary password, and for one day you can post between 2 and 10ish funny, interesting, or teeth-grindingly awful (because, you know, be realistic) glimpses into your life. I'll also periodically post photo "challenges" (like "show me your kid's biggest mess") for moms to post on their own Instagram account, and I'll repost some of my favorites. You can also submit one-time "stay-at-home mom slice-of-life" photos to be posted on the account by emailing them to bejaneum (at) gmail (dot) com.

(Just for the record, this is not a "stay-at-home moms are better or more busy or more hard working than work-outside-of-the-home mom" thing. Working moms are amazing! I just think that if you work outside of the home, people maybe ask the question "what do you do all day" less frequently, because, you know, people assume they know what you do when you tell them what your job is. Unless your job is confusing. Like transpondster*.)

Here are the guidelines:

1. You must have an Instagram account, public blog, or public Facebook page (and be able to verify that it is, in fact, your account) or you must know me in real life. (I just need to make sure that you're not going to take over the account only to post 100 pictures that say "Buy discount designer sunglasses!")

2. You should be a stay-at-home mom. (I'm not going to come to your house and check or anything, though.) And if you work part-time or work at night but stay home with your kids all day or freelance from home or something, that's totally fine. Just, you know, if you're a full-time TV news anchor or a member of Congress, you might not fit in the population we're looking for here.

3. Please don't use the account to try to sell anything! If selling something is part of what you do in the course of a normal day, you're welcome to include a relevant picture, but please don't post anything with the sole purpose of selling something, getting people to sign up for an email list, etc.

4. Try to make it funny, interesting, unique, etc. But you're not being graded on this.

5. Feel free to tag (and invite people to follow) your own Instagram account at the end of some (or all) of your posts! If you're looking to grow your Instagram following, hopefully this will help!

6. If the response gets overwhelmingly crazy, I might switch this to an email submission only thing.

Interested? Email me at bejaneum (at) gmail (dot) com and I can send you more details.

So... what do you do all day??


*Please tell me someone recognized that Friends reference.

Sign #4,432 That I'm Definitely a Mom

This past week, we went to an indoor water park for a few days. On one side of the building, there was a hot tub that was half indoors and half outdoors. While my mom watched the kids, Dan and I went outdoors to sit together in the hot tub. A light snow was falling, and the steam was rising slowly from the hot water. Dan and I sat, resting together in the hot water, arms entwined around one another, as snow fell gently on our exposed shoulders and warm steam enveloped us, and I turned to Dan, smiled, and said...

"Wow, this would be so great for a kid with croup."

Um, yeah. I'm so romantic.

(But seriously. So great for croup.)

What else have you said that was totally mom-ish (although maybe slightly mood-killing)?

The job no one prepared you for...

Usually when I write a blog post, I do so over a matter of days or even weeks. (Truthfully, I have at least five posts that I started last summer and intend to finish someday.) I write a beginning or a basic outline, then fill in details and complete sentences over time. Or I write the first half, get distracted, and don't write the second half for a month. After I've finished a rough draft, I wait a few days, then proofread, change a few things, and then post. That's probably why I post so infrequently.

But occasionally, usually after a night of very little sleep, the whole post just comes out at once. This is one of those times. If you find typos or if this post makes no sense... I'm not surprised. Also, maybe don't read this if you're not a mom yet but hope to be someday. You've been warned.

My two children and I have a particularly nasty cold. (My husband Dan is still healthy, and I'm more than a little jealous.) Lucas (almost three years old) has been sick for over two weeks. He's definitely improving, but he has a lingering cough that still wakes him up at night. I got sick a few days ago, and then four-month-old Calista really came down with it yesterday. By last night, she was miserable. I tried for over four hours to get her to sleep. She would doze off in my arms, but as soon as I would put her down, she would wake up coughing and then cry. I tried her crib, her rock and play (which props her up at an angle,) running a humidifier... nothing helped. The only place she could sleep was in my arms. So I finally gave up and let her sleep in my arms. All night long. I'd love to be able to tell you some pretty lie like, "and I cherished every second" or "These fleeting moments of holding my little darling will be gone all too soon, and I know I will miss them with all my soul, so I just gazed at her sweet face, overwhelmed with love and emotion, while a single tear rolled down my cheek." But the truth is that in the middle of the night, I sent Dan (who was working overnight) a text that said:

Dan and I had dinner at a restaurant with some friends the other day. They have two young children under two years old, so combined we had a total of four kids under age three. The other mom and I were talking, and she confessed that she was finding motherhood to be much harder than she'd expected. "You have a nephew who's older, right?" she asked, "So did you kind of know what to expect?"

It's an interesting question, because before I had Lucas, I totally thought that being an aunt to my sister's son gave me the inside scoop on what it was like to have a baby. My nephew was born when I was 15 years old, and I babysat him a fair amount. I have vivid memories of my tiny nephew crying. I would cradle him gently in my arms, nestle his little head under my chin, and pace the floor while crooning in a sing-song voice, "I'm never going to have kids. No, I'm not. No, I'm not. I love you, I love you, but I'm never going to have kids."

Clearly I needed to work on my lullaby skills.

I waited a full 14 years after his birth to start having children of my own, and when I was pregnant with Lucas, I honestly thought I was Prepared with a capital P. Of course it would be hard. Sure, I'd be tired, But I had experience. I wasn't going in blind like some moms. I knew what to expect.

Poor, naive Bethany.

Not the same thing. At all.

It turns out that there's really no way to be truly, fully prepared for what it's like to have little lives literally dependent on you for survival while you're sleep-deprived and overwhelmed and sure you're screwing everything up. I'm sure there are levels of preparedness. Someone who's worked as a nanny for ten years is likely more prepared for motherhood than someone who has never held a real baby, for example, but it's still hard. And I think it's important to know is that it's hard for everyone. That all the other moms aren't just sailing along, doing the easiest job they've ever done, while you're hiding under your covers crying and eating chocolate.

I tell you this because I know moms who genuinely fear that they are the only one with these struggles. The only mom who has no idea what she's doing. The only mom whose toddler throws twenty-minute-long tantrums. The only mom who is really, really cranky after she's been up all night. The only mom who periodically sends her husband or best friend text messages that say "I'm going to run away and join the circus." So I want to be sure that you know that it's a tough job. For all of us.

Don't get me wrong - there are moments that are so wonderful that I cry. (Although, to be fair, I cry a lot in general.) Lately, Lucas has taken to telling me, "you're the sweetest girl in the whole world," and "you're the best mommy in the whole world," and, "I pick you, Bethany." (I'm not entirely sure what that last one means, but it sounds sweet when he says it.) But it's tough. And when you see other moms (me, for example) post pictures like this on Facebook:

you might be tempted to think, "She has it all together. This is a totally accurate portrayal of her life: two smiling, cooperative children posing sweetly on a floor that is not covered in Cheerios in front of toys that are actually put away." But the only reason you would think that is because I didn't take the time to caption the photo as follows: "This picture was taken on day two of the plague. It was sandwiched in between Lucas screaming for a tissue and spilling cough medicine all over the floor. The Cheerios are on the living room carpet."

So if you're having a rough day or week or... decade, please know that you're not alone and that it definitely doesn't mean that you're failing as a mom. You can do this. But if you find yourself Googling "circus job openings" at 2am, I promise I won't judge you.

Six ways I've found caring for my second baby to be easier than caring for my first

A while back, a post I wrote about seven things you should do before you have your first child was published on Scary Mommy. The first time it was shared on the Scary Mommy Facebook page, I got a lot of positive comments and also some negative comments that were like, "why would you scare expectant moms like this? It's not helpful! It just scares them! You're a jerk! A pox upon your house!!" (Ok, maybe nobody actually said that last part. Whatever.) The Scary Mommy Facebook page recently promoted that post again, so I've got some new readers from there, and just to show that I do have positive things to say about having a new baby, here's an encouraging post about why you might find having a second child to be easier than having your first. Now STOP POXING MY HOUSE!

1. I knew what to expect.
I'm not sure anything can really prepare you for what it will be like to have a newborn for the first time. It's emotional and exhausting and nerve wracking. Before Lucas, I knew I'd be tired when he was a baby, but I had no idea how tired. I knew I'd be stressed, but I didn't realize how poorly I'd cope with even small stressors on such little sleep and while all ramped up on hormones. This time around, Dan and I pretty much just said to each other, "So... the first few months are going to be pretty rough. We've done this before. We will survive. Go team!"

Team More Naps!

2. I was already used to not getting much sleep.
Before I got pregnant with Lucas and through most of my pregnancy, I worked as a substitute teacher. I always had weekends off and could sleep in until noon if I wanted to (and I often wanted to.) I didn't work every day, and even when I was called in, I could say no to a job if I wasn't feeling well. After work, I could nap on the couch. Nobody was waking me up early or keeping me up late or needing to be nursed every three hours all night. So I was pretty used to being well rested when Lucas arrived. And, um, that was a rude awakening. Literally and figuratively. But this time around, I'm already used to waking up early and functioning like a normal human being on not much sleep. This may not sound like a good thing, but trust me, it is. There's less culture shock.

They don't really sleep like this.
Hopefully you had guessed that already, though.

3. My second has had no choice but to get used to noise and to sharing me with another child.
When Lucas was a baby, Dan and I would literally tiptoe around the house while he was napping. We lived in a house with wood floors, and I genuinely considered marking the "safe" spots (aka, the floor boards that didn't creak) on the floor with masking tape so we knew where we could step while Lucas was sleeping. True story. The only reason I didn't do it was because we ended up moving when Lucas was four months old, and our current house has carpet and fewer creaky boards.

Then Calista was born when Lucas was two and a half. And apparently you can't convince a toddler to be completely silent while his newborn sister is sleeping. So Calista has slept through all kinds of noise from day one. A few weeks ago, I took my kids to a friend's house for a play date. Calista fell asleep on the car ride over and was sound asleep when we got to their house. The child slept in the same room where the kids were playing for the entire two-hour play date. No joke, at one point, the other kids decided to play musical instruments, and there were two toddlers and a preschooler banging on drums, xylophones and bells less than a foot away from her head. She didn't even move. I felt like I should enter her in a talent show as "the baby who can sleep through anything." She could just sleep on stage while the audience applauded and cheered. It would be an extremely boring act.

Calista sleeping at the zoo.
Later, Lucas fell in a toilet.

4. I trust myself more.
With Lucas, I spent a lot of time worrying that I wasn't doing things exactly right. Was he too hot, too cold, too tired, too overstimulated, too understimulated, overfed, underfed, getting enough tummy time, meeting every milestone at the EXACT second the books said he should??? It was a lot to worry about. Every month, I would pick up the book "What to Expect: The First Year" and dutifully read the whole chapter on what he should be doing that month. But I ended up figuring out my child and what worked (and didn't work) for him in large part by instinct. And I realized that I could totally do this mommy thing.

With Calista, I forgot I even owned the "What to Expect" book until she was over three months old. Then I kind of skimmed the three month chapter, got bored, and put it back on the shelf. If she needs something, I can tell, and I trust that my instincts with her are right. It's a very comfortable feeling.

This picture is just cute. Carry on.

5. I've got the right stuff, and I know how to use it.
The first time you try to put on a Moby wrap, it's really hard. Same for the second time. And the third time. But the 14th time? You feel like maybe you're getting the hang of it. And by the time you put it on with your second child, you could practically do it in your sleep. Except not really, because you have to do it standing up, and you probably can't sleep standing up, so never mind. The point I'm making is that you figure out what products you like and how to use them with baby number one, and then when baby number two comes along, you already own them and have used them enough to make them easy.

The same goes for breastfeeding. With Lucas, I spent a lot of time worrying about if I was doing it right and whether he was getting enough. But after nursing Lucas for over 16 months, I can just latch Calista on and carry on about my day. I'm even a pro at nursing her while walking around. It's a gift.

I'm so good at putting on the Moby that I got Lucas his own, kid-sized Moby.

6. I know from experience that things will get better.
I am almost positive that with Lucas I uttered the words "I am never going to be able to sleep again as long as I live" on more than one occasion. He was a horrendous sleeper until he was about nine months old, and I was sure I would be sleep-deprived for my whole life. Now that Calista is here, I get even less sleep than I did with Lucas (since she goes to bed late and wakes up to eat throughout the night and he wakes up early,) but I'm much less stressed about it. She'll sleep when she sleeps. I've survived cluster feeding, teething and potty training before, and I'll survive them again. Once you've handled the common baby "problems" and then left them in the dust, it's easier to recognize that they're temporary when you experience them the second time around.

The first time I took both kids to church by myself. A full two thirds of us did not cry!

So there you go, six ways my second baby has been easier than my first. If you have more than one child, have you found these to be true for you?


If you don't currently follow me on Facebook or Instagram, you totally should. I say lots of stuff. Some of it's funny.

Introducing the newest love of my life

It's been a while since I've posted, but I have a good excuse. We have a little girl!! Meet my new little darling, Calista.

I had great intentions of announcing this sooner, but between staring at my little girl, and recovering from a c-section,

and my blood pressure randomly skyrocketing after she was born to the point that I was diagnosed with postpartum preeclampsia and almost had to be readmitted to the hospital, and trying to figure out how to balance caring for my newborn with giving my precious two-year-old son enough attention,

and nursing, and my OB suspecting that I might have a blood clot and sending me in for a CT scan (no blood clot - whew!), and staring at my little girl some more, and sleep deprivation, well... she's a month old now.

Can we please talk about how much I love these chubby cheeks and thighs? SO much!!
(I guess that was a pretty short conversation.)

Anyway, I have like five half-started posts that I might post someday, but here are some pictures that our friend Rebekah took of our new baby, our first baby, and my love and me.

(In case you want an adorable tutu like this, I bought it here.)

Ta da! My new and improved family!!

So... what's been going on in your life since I've been gone?

"Enjoy every moment."

I posted this on Facebook this evening:

Which led to me thinking for the umpteenth time about those women (with grown children) you occasionally run into in the grocery store who look at your child(ren) with a wistful smile and then tell you to "enjoy every moment."

For the record, I know how very, very fortunate I am that I get to be the mommy to my son and the little one we're expecting in September.

I am in a position to be able to choose to stay home with my children, and I know that there are other women out there who want to do the same and aren't able to; I realize what a privilege that is.

But I will tell you the truth: some parenting moments are more "have to" than "get to." Like cleaning up vomit. Or dealing with tantrums. Or waking up ridiculously early. Or changing poopy diapers. Overall, I wouldn't trade this job with anyone, but I'd be thrilled to have a pinch hitter or designated barf cleaner every now and again.

So when people tell you to enjoy every moment with your young children, just keep in mind that they themselves definitely didn't. They're looking back with rose-colored glasses at the parenting-of-young-kids experience as a whole. The cuddles, the wet kisses, the enthusiasm, the not being embarrassed to be seen with you in public. Those things are beautiful and wonderful and you should absolutely try to enjoy them as much as you can. But the moments (or days - or weeks) that you don't enjoy? Don't feel bad about them. That's not you being a bad mom; that's you being a human being. Being a good mom doesn't mean that you have to be filled with ecstasy by every single moment you spend with your child. And the more time you waste feeling guilty that you honestly just hate bath time, the less time you have to bask in the moments when your little boy pats your face and says "Mama best lady."

So if you're a little worn out by parenting today, give yourself a break, a pat on the back, and a piece of chocolate. And if you should happen to stumble across a company that has someone on call to clean up vomit 24 hours a day, could you please pass along the phone number? I'd really appreciate it.

So here's what happened the other night...

I was all set to write a random, light-hearted post Tuesday night (the topic of which I genuinely can't even remember now,) and then I had my first "I'm about fifteen and a half seconds away from calling 911 for my child" moment. So now that everyone has recovered, here's a post about that instead.

This picture has nothing to do with this story. Other than that A) It was taken the same day, and
B) You can see Lucas's legs, and this story is about one of them. 

Lucas and I both have colds (Again. Yay.) Monday night (or really, Tuesday morning at like 4:30am,) Lucas woke up coughing so hard that he threw up (the child throws up kind of easily,) so Tuesday night I decided to put him to bed about fifteen minutes early in the hopes that we'd both get a little more rest. After I put him to bed, I emptied the dishwasher then made myself a waffle. Obviously. And then around 8:30, I heard Lucas shriek and then start fussing. He's been known to make weird noises in his sleep, so I stood outside his bedroom door to try to determine whether he actually needed me to come in. Which is when I heard him whimper, "My leg! My leg!" I went into his room, and his leg was stuck above the knee between two of the slats on his crib, which seemed like a fairly minor problem. So I reached in to pull his leg back through, and... he screamed the loudest I've ever heard him scream. And started bawling. And his leg didn't budge.

So I tried again. And he screamed again. At this point, I started to cry, because he was really, really stuck. Dan was working a night shift, so naturally, I called him in a giant panic and asked what the heck I should do. (I'm hideously awful at emergencies.) He suggested calling a friend of ours who lives nearby, and - if that didn't work - to call 911. So I called our friend Caleb, whose wife turned out to be away from home, so he was home with his kids and couldn't leave, but he told me not to worry, he'd find someone who could come help. So I got off the phone and propped Lucas up in bed to see if changing his position would help, and then tried again, and he started sobbing so hard that... he threw up. Repeatedly. In my hands, on himself, in his bed. Then my phone rang, and I managed to answer it while literally holding a handful of my son's vomit. It was Caleb, who told me that another friend, Cory was on his way over.

Since Lucas was majorly freaking out, I was doing my best to keep us both calm by singing to him and praying with him that we would get his leg out. (Sweet side story: every time I would say amen after a prayer, Lucas would say through tears, "More pray?") Staying calm is not really my thing, but I've got to give myself credit for neither hyperventilating nor screaming. Yay Bethany!

When Cory showed up, he tried to pull Lucas's leg out, which resulted in more screaming. After several attempts by both of us, Cory pulled as hard as he could on the bars, while I pulled on Lucas's leg one more time, and... we finally got him free! And then of course I lost it while hugging Lucas. I held him and we both cried for a few minutes while Cory took the gross bed linens to the laundry room (Good friends help free your child from his crib. Great friends then stick around to clean up your child's puke.) When I put Lucas down, he ran into the living room, spotted my waffle, said, "My leg stuck! Yummy waffle?" and then ate my snack. So on the bright side, I was officially much more traumatized by the incident than my son was. (He hasn't brought it up since then. I, on the other hand, can't stop talking about it.)

So... that was my adventure for the week. This motherhood thing is definitely not boring. Anyone else have a "my kid got stuck" story to share? I need something to read while I eat a waffle.

Things I've Said as a Parent...

...that I never thought I'd have to say. To anyone. Ever.

"Lawnmowers don't have hands."

"Please don't color on your face."

"Ok, you can take the lint roller to bed."

"No, Lucas, your peas are not lotion."

"Yes, we can go potty together."

"We don't eat paper towels."

"Please stop jumping on me."

"You have fish in your hair."

"Gross! Don't lick my feet!"


What's something you've said as a parent that you never thought would come out of your mouth?


Will you click the banner below? It won't hurt you or anything. I promise. It's very painless.

The one in which I traveled alone with a toddler, Part 2

Ok, so if you haven't read part one of this story yet, stop right now and go read it. I mean it! Why are you still reading this??

To recap, I had flown alone with a toddler who hadn't napped on a flight that was delayed three hours, and then I took a very bumpy bus ride that almost made me barf. Now that we're all caught up... 

We made it to my granddaddy's place around 3:00pm ish (two hours after nap time, which made me decide to just skip it altogether,) and fortunately Lucas was very entertained by my family so that he wasn't too much of a disaster. All things considered, the evening was fun and even (almost) relaxing. I'm going to kind of gloss over that part, though, because "and then we all had a pleasant time" doesn't make for a very interesting story. Instead I'll just show you this picture of my granddaddy holding Lucas.

I got my granddaddy the Christmas tree hat.
Because I give awesomely random gifts.

After dinner and some more family time, my brother Jeremy drove Lucas and me to the hotel, where we had booked a suite so that Jeremy and I could sit up talking after Lucas's 8pm bedtime. Lucas's lack of nap finally caught up with him during the drive, and he fell asleep in about thirty seconds. And then woke up and screamed when I took him out of the car, through the check-in process, and until I finally got him into bed.

When he was finally asleep again, Jeremy and I sat in the kitchen area of the hotel suite talking and eating all of the Christmas cookies I'd brought with me. It was great to spend time with my brother, and it was very relaxing... until Lucas woke up crying around 10pm. I went in to the room just in time to see him throw up all over his pillow and new Christmas pajamas. I took him out of the pack and play, and he threw up all over me. And the floor. And into the sink. And the bathtub. After about ten minutes, he finally stopped vomiting, and I perched on the edge of the bathtub, covered in puke and rocking a naked, crying toddler wrapped in a bath towel, while my wonderful brother tried to clean up all of the vomit. (Naturally, the next day was Christmas, which was the one day that the hotel would not have housekeeping service so the hotel staff could spend Christmas with their families. It's a great policy, but Lucas's timing was really unfortunate.)

I was obviously concerned that Lucas was sick, but once he was done throwing up, he was happy and wanted to play. So we chalked it up to eating unfamiliar food and being off of his schedule, and we hoped that the next morning would prove us right (and would go a little more smoothly.)

The cherry on top of the evening was that even though my period wasn't due for a few more days, I'd been having cramps for a three days, so when I finally managed to fall asleep that night, I did so with the knowledge that I'd probably wake up feeling pretty miserable the next morning. (You'd think I'd feel awkward about sharing that, but it's much less uncomfortable than the things I told you about recovering from a c-section. I'm like a treasure trove of overshares.)

Christmas morning, Lucas was wide awake (and fortunately not at all sick) by 5:45am. My period still hadn't arrived (see? So many overshares.) so I decided to take the pregnancy test I'd thrown into my suitcase at the last minute.

It was positive.

And as I stood there at 6am on Christmas morning, with a wide-awake toddler, in a room that still smelled like vomit, staring at a positive pregnancy test, I happened to glance at the test's wrapper and notice the expiration date... which had passed ten months earlier.

I spent the rest of the day half awake, trying to focus on celebrating Christmas with my family while surreptitiously Googling variations of the phrase "accuracy of expired pregnancy tests" on my phone when no one was looking. I didn't want to call Dan and say "Merry Christmas! I'm pregnant!" if it turned out that I wasn't, but I was also pretty sure that I shouldn't take my aunt up on her offer of a glass of wine at Christmas dinner that night. I briefly considered confiding in my brother or my parents, but I figured that my husband should know before they did... and that I should know for sure first, too.

It wasn't until the next day (after a three-hour car ride with my brother to his house, during which I almost blurted out "I'm pregnant... maybe" 8,347 times) that I managed to sneak away from my family long enough to pick up a box of (non-expired) pregnancy tests.

I was planning to wait and test the next morning, but when I went upstairs to put Lucas to bed in my brother and sister-in-law's guest room, I realized I couldn't wait. So I took a test. And it was positive! For about two minutes, I argued with myself about waiting to tell Dan in person in two days or telling him by phone right now. Then because I'm awful at making decisions, I decided to force him to deciding for me (without him knowing it.) So I sent him a text that said "I got one more Christmas present for you, and I can't decide if I should wait until you're here to surprise you with it or send you a picture of it now." He responded with "Picture!" So I sent him a picture of the pregnancy test next to this onesie (which I had also shoved in my suitcase):

I bought it here, and it says "Dad's Co-pilot,"
which only makes sense if you know that Dan has his private pilot's license.

He immediately called me, of course, and after we had a mini celebration by phone (and a brief moment of "what are we getting ourselves into?") and I told him the whole expired pregnancy test story, he gave me the go ahead to tell my family.

As soon as I got off the phone and put Lucas to bed, I went downstairs and showed my family the onesie, and we all squealed together (well, minus my brother and dad, who aren't really squealers. Actually, my mom and sister aren't really, either. Maybe I'm the only one who squealed. It's hard to say.)

So... that's how I found out I was pregnant with baby number two. "In a hotel room that smelled like puke using an expired pregnancy test" isn't exactly the most sophisticated "and that's how I found out I was going to be your mommy" story to share with my child someday, but it's the only one I've got. And just in case anyone found this post by doing a search for the phrase "how accurate is an expired pregnancy test," apparently an expired test is more likely to give a false negative than a false positive. Just so you know.


The rest of the trip (and the flight home, which was delayed to the point that we were going to miss our connecting flight, so they had to move us to a much later flight, but then we were able to get on an early flight on standby because we were super nice to a Delta employee who thought Lucas was adorable, of course) was an adventure, too, but I may or may not get around to writing about it (especially because I just summed it up right now.) Lucas also got a cold, which was pretty miserable, and I wrote more about that part of the trip here.


Could you click this? Pretty please?