How to Make Friends: Building Your Community Wherever You Go

I’ve been fairly shy my entire life. The whole “putting myself out there thing” has always caused me quite a bit of anxiety. I used to get butterflies in my stomach whenever my dad would have me call someone on the phone to thank them for a gift. I’d silently wish for the answering machine to pick up instead. Just thinking about it now brings back those all-too familiar flutters.

When my husband joined the military, we knew moving around frequently was something our family would have to get used to doing. In just the past four years alone, we have lived in three different cities. I was born and raised in the same house for eighteen years, and only ventured forty-five minutes down the road to “go off to” college. To say I like being in my “comfort zone” is an understatement.

Living in a new town requires you to put yourself out there and make new friends. This is something that has never been easy for me. I get so nervous approaching people. I feel as if I’m bothering them, or interrupting whatever it is they’re doing.

However, over the years, I’ve come to realize that people are usually just as nervous as I am when it comes to making new friends. Just like me, they’re waiting for someone to make the first move.

I admit, it’s definitely less intimidating to meet new people when you have a child. It’s a lot easier–in my opinion–to open up a conversation with “How old is your son?” rather than “How old are you?” But my problem wasn’t necessarily starting the conversation, per say, it was building upon it. I would be at various children’s play places and make small-talk with other moms, but that was the extent of it. I might bump into them again at another event and smile politely, or I might never see them again. I’d come home and my husband would ask, “Did you meet anyone new today?”

I’d tell him about so-and-so, to which he’d ask, “Well did you get her number?”

Umm, no… We would joke that making new mommy-friends was like dating all over again. My husband challenged me numerous times, “Why not? Why didn’t you ask her if she works or stays at home? Why didn’t you ask her where she’s from?” and other various “get-to-know-you” questions.

Repeatedly my response was, “Well, I don’t know. I guess I was too nervous.”

My husband’s response was, “Don’t you think she may have been just as nervous as you?”

He made a valid point. I pondered a lot about it: If I was nervous and shy about striking up a conversation that lasted more than thirty seconds, maybe other moms felt this way too?

“Make the first move,” my husband would say, “I think you’ll surprise yourself.”

So I decided to put on my Big Girl Pants, step out of my comfort zone and make the first move. And when I did, the results were amazing.

One of my first instances of “putting myself out there” led to some life-changing and memorable events. I used to take my oldest daughter, Emmalyn, to a weekly music class. There was another little girl there, the same age as Emmalyn, named Whitney, who usually came with her nanny. One day her mom brought her. I heard my husband’s voice in the back of my mind say, “Just talk. Ask for her number. Just do it.” When the class was over, I found myself conversing with this mom, who was super pleasant and equally engaging. She told me she recently quit her job to be a stay-at-home-mom and was looking to meet new moms. Ding! Ding! Ding! Hello, Opportunity.

I took a deep breathe. “We should exchange numbers and get the girls together for a playdate sometime,” I spoke up.

And thus became the start of a beautiful friendship.

On our first playdate, we learned that not only did we attend the same college, but were a part of the same sorority–just a few years a part! Our friendship quickly grew over the next few months, as did our daughters’. They were soon calling each other “Ems” and “Whit” and telling everyone they were “best friends.” Somewhere along the way, I too, found a best friend.

As our friendship was developing, I knew a move with the military was inevitable. It would have been easy to not let myself get involved, knowing we would be moving in just a few short months. Yes, it would have been easy, but it wouldn’t have been fair. Friendships don’t have to be One-Size-Fits-All. I can’t imagine my life without Meri and her sweet daughter Whitney, and I know my daughter feels the same way.

My relationship with Meri is just one example of how putting yourself out there can have such rewarding results. When we moved seven hours away last year, I had to make new friends all over again. It still didn’t feel “normal” for me to make the first move and ask for another mom’s phone number, but I knew the importance of building a community. I didn’t want my only friend to be my three year-old. It took some time and a few missed opportunities for me to realize how silly I was being. “Just do it,” I could hear my husband say.

So I did. I began interacting with other moms at play places, eagerly exchanging contact information. It felt a little foreign and quite random at times, but it was so worth it. I’ve exchanged numbers with moms at parks, in department stores in the baby section, and at Story Times. When I would come home with a new mom’s number, I’d be all giddy–like I was fifteen years-old again, sometimes even throwing in a happy-dance for good measure.

Building a community with other moms is vital. I’ve learned a lot from them, and I’ve learned a lot about me through them. It’s fun watching our children develop friendships, but it’s even more fun when we leave the kids at home and meet for breakfast after dropping them off at school, or grab a glass of wine for Girls’ Night, or meet once a month for Book Club.

I’m so thankful I decided to abandon my inhibitions and anxiety over meeting new people.

Imagine all I would have missed out on if I hadn’t stepped out of my comfort zone and introduced myself? A whole heck of a lot–that’s what!


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Hang in There!

So it’s been just over two weeks now since we brought home our newest little girl. I knew things were going to be tough, and I have dreaded the sleep deprivation, but I think I underestimated just how hard things would be. Fortunately, we have a little love who is (knock-on-wood) a very easy baby. She basically only cries when she’s hungry; otherwise she is quite content sleeping or looking around. The hardest part on me is feeling like a zombie, and the breast feeding. If the B word makes you queasy or if you’re my Dad, feel free to skip this post.

With Emmalyn, I only breast fed for two weeks before basically calling it quits. I was crying to her pediatrician about how painful and exhausting it was. She told me I needed to do what was best for me so that I could be happy and my baby could be happy. Ultimately, I felt like that was to switch over to formula. We’ll never know if it was the “right” decision, but it is what it is. We moved forward.

Throughout most of my pregnancy I had basically decided I was just going to formula-feed again; after all, I had done it once before, why not do it again? However, towards the last couple of months of my pregnancy, I felt a strong sense of urgency to breast feed. I didn’t really even have to talk myself into it—I just felt like it was something my body wanted to do for my baby.

When I delivered Adelaide, the nurse was impressed by how much colostrum I was already producing (see, I told you to skip this post, Dad) and was happy with her latch. Things are already such a blur, but in the hospital, I don’t remember it being painful. Fast forward to coming home from the hospital…. OUCH!

I visited the lactation nurse back at the hospital and she attributed my pain to a poor latch, mostly due to the placement of Adelaide’s lower lip. She showed me how to do a better latch and said that if it hurt, to take her off and repeat twenty times if I needed to. I went home a practiced best I could, taking her off and back on again. I was pleasantly surprised by how calm I was about it all. Before feeding, I’d kiss my baby’s soft little cherub cheek and say, “Let’s do this!”

I thought things were going well until one morning when I was feeding Adelaide and Emmalyn was standing right next to me. I felt that the latch was completely wrong and painful so I took Adelaide off and that’s when I saw blood all over her mouth. Poor Emmalyn, witnessing the whole thing, ran to her room crying. She told my mom she was worried about her little sister. I felt awful. I knew the blood wasn’t harmful to the baby—it was just a major pain to me, but I felt so sad for my Big Girl.

I immediately texted the lactation nurse to see if she could squeeze me in. I went later that day and she recommended using a shield to let my body heal. There were many tears over that first weekend. I was extremely emotional.

Every other feeding I wanted to quit. Every other feeding I felt like I could actually make this work. Back and forth. Back and forth. There were so many cluster-feedings. I would nurse for fifteen to thirty minutes, burp, swaddle, get comfy in bed, and then wham! She was back to sucking, so I had to start the whole process over again. I can’t wait until I don’t have to wake her to feed at night anymore. One night, I didn’t have my phone by my bed so I didn’t hear my alarm go off. She slept for five glorious hours!

This whole thing is so much harder than I could imagine. I began reaching out to other women, some old friends, some new, some nearby, others far from home. They all released stories to me about their pain and frustrations, complete with blood, sweat, and tears. Literally. They all said give it 2-4 weeks. HANG IN THERE! they’ve cheered. I’m so grateful for friends who want to reach out and support me.

Breast feeding has left me feeling depleted most of the time. Just entirely drained, trying to stay on top of things. Most of the time I have to force myself to eat because I don’t have an appetite even though I’m hungry. While Emmalyn has been so receptive of her little sister, there are times when she’s been super clingy to me and has thrown several big tantrums. It’s tough to watch when I have a baby literally stuck to my skin.

I’m immensely blessed to have a husband who plays a huge role in helping me feel better. He’s my biggest motivator. For that first week I think we were both scared of walking down the same scary path that plagued us three-and-a-half years ago. I hate to say I was waiting for the pin to drop, because I didn’t want to think that way, but a little part of me would wonder if today is the day things fall apart? I don’t feel that way any longer. I’m being completely proactive: back on anti-anxiety medication as a precaution, and even “checked-in” with my therapist yesterday.

It’s a total 180 from how I felt after the birth of Emmalyn. I’m not carrying around any irrational fears or anxiety. I have the normal “nervousness” of nursing in public for the first time, and preparing to take my first outing with both girls, but that’s what it is: Normal.

The best I can do is keep moving forward. Interacting and trying to keep a normalcy with Emmalyn helps a lot: giving her a bath, reading to her, talking her through her tantrums, etc. From the very beginning I’ve gotten out of the house for fresh air. For the first week I was scared I wouldn’t have the inner motivation to “just do it” by myself, but I am feeling much more confident. I have already been out of the house numerous times with Adelaide. My next feat is taking both girls to Adelaide’s 2-week well-baby checkup tomorrow. But hey—if anything goes wrong, at least we’re already at the hospital… and my husband works there!

Wish us luck! 😉

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Dear Katie — A Letter to Myself

Throughout my pregnancy, I’ve had numerous people ask me if I’m concerned about going through Postpartum Depression again. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t crossed my mind more than several times. I’m not scared, but I do want to take as many precautions as possible.

One thing I wanted to do is write myself a letter ahead of time—just in case the evilness sneaks up again, and I forget that everything will be all right.

:: :: ::
Dear Katie,

I feel hopeful that Postpartum Depression won’t show up for Round Two, but just in case, there are a few things I want you to remember:

You got through hell once before, and God-forbid you have to do it again, you are highly capable. You’ve already proven just how strong you are.

Even if it is just a walk around the block by yourself (or with Indy), get outside for some fresh air and vitamin D. It’s good for your soul.

This is something that’s also good for your soul, and your well-being just in general. Do at least one yoga position a day. Make it a habit, a lifestyle.

There’s no shame in asking for help. You know you would jump at the opportunity to help another mom so there’s no reason someone wouldn’t do the same for you.

If you’re feeling anxious, sad, overwhelmed, or whatever, pick up the phone and call someone. Keep calling until someone answers. Sometimes all it takes is hearing a friendly voice, validating your feelings.

Turn on that damn song and sing it with Emmalyn if you want to, but let the phrase be a reminder to not sweat the small stuff! Dirty dishes piling up in the sink? Let it go. Toys all over the house? Let it go. Someone said something rude? Let it go… let it go...


Keep an open line of communication with God. Don’t ever forget: The will of God will never take you where the Grace of God will not protect you. It’s the truth. Give all your concerns, fears, and troubles to God. He will take care of them, and you! Stop and talk to God every!single!day!

Stand in front of the mirror and smile at yourself every day, even if it makes you feel silly. Say one thing you like about yourself, or a mantra such as, “You are enough,” or “You are the right mom for your kids.”


Write down how you are feeling. It’ll make you feel better to get it off your chest.

State at least one thing a day that you’re grateful for. Grateful hearts don’t have room for worries.

Hug your husband and girls every single day. This one’s easy!

If you’re feeling like the world is crumbling down on you, put the baby down (and away from Emmy), give Emmy the iPad, and walk away. Close the door and cry if you need to. Take deep breaths and splash water on your face. Read a trashy magazine if you feel like it.

Take care of your body. If you are feeling run down, the first thing you should do is drink a large glass of water. Make sure you’re eating fresh fruits and vegetables, too!

Tomorrow is a new day. Heck, twenty minutes from now may seem like a whole new day. “This too shall pass.” I promise it will. Hang in there.


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Open Letters

Dear Hallmark & Publix,
Please refrain from airing your Mother’s Day commercials when I am in the room. My hormones cannot take you at this time.
Thank you,
One Emotional Prego

Dear Emmalyn,
Thanks for telling Mommy her tummy is a “fat balloon.” Actually, it gave me a pretty good laugh. I love you.

Dear Cashier at Chick-fil-a,
Thank you for telling me I have the cutest baby bump. You just made my day.
Hungry Pregnant Chick

Dear Midnight Heartburn and Acid Reflux,
Stop it. Like. right. n o w. It’s not a choice.
Thank you,
Tired at 37 Weeks

Dear Postpartum Depression,
I’m going to kick your ass if you decide to show up for Round Two.
This Rock Star Mom

Dear Baby Girl,
I know your GG wants you to stay put until her vacation time, but she’s not the one waddling around with a baby wedged between her pelvis. However, if you don’t decide to come early like your big sister, then please be courteous and wait until after Emmalyn’s dance recital on the 17th.
A Mama to Almost Two

Dear Friends & Family,
Thank you for all your sweet calls, texts, and messages checking on me. I greatly appreciate it!



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Being Jewish During Lent

Being Jewish during Lent means I automatically get to pick up a Get-Out-of-Jail-Free-Card and Pass Go—straight on to the pink Peeps. But my daughter is Catholic, and it’s vital to our family to instill in her the importance of the Lenten season.

Growing up, watching my Catholic friends and relatives (yes, we’re a mixed bunch!), I always got the impression that Lent meant only giving something up (i.e., chocolate or fast food) just to witness them gobble down a half-pound chocolate bunny and drive through McDonald’s after Mass. Sometimes for fun, I would join in with my friends to see what I could give up for forty days, too. It was like a fun little game for me.

As I got older I began to learn that you’re not limited to only picking something to give up for Lent, but rather you can choose to add something significant to your life—such as waking up earlier to go to the gym every morning, or finding a new program to volunteer for, or reading the Bible before bed every night.

Last year around this time, someone asked me what I was giving up for Lent to which I laughed and facetiously replied, “I’m Jewish—I get to do whatever I want!” (Seriously people, I was joking, and please do not take that the wrong way.) I continued on to say that Lent wasn’t just about giving something up for the sake of “It’s Lent—quick! I’ve gotta give something up!” but can also be a time to switch gears and refocus on becoming a-better-version-of-yourself.

At the time, the thought of giving up fast food or chocolate seemed insignificant in comparison to adding something meaningful to your life; but really, don’t both ends of “giving up something” and “adding something” guide you in becoming your better self? I can take it a step further, too, and add that if we are becoming better people ourselves, we are also helping to serve others. If I’m working to become a-better-version-of-myself, in turn, I’m also becoming a better wife, mother, daughter, sister, friend, and citizen.

And isn’t that the whole point of humanity anyway?

Since my daughter is still only three, I don’t think I want to take the route of “giving something up,” but rather enlighten her character by adding something meaningful to her life. At her age, I feel it needs to be somewhat tangible since feelings are hard to grasp and measure when you’re in preschool. {However, the other day she did tell me it hurt her feelings when I was bothering her during a puzzle…}

Not to get all preachy, but the last thing I want is for my daughter to grow up thinking Easter is about The Bunny and baskets. {Although I did snag some pretty stellar pink golf clubs at a resale to put in her basket since we don’t do candy.} I don’t want materialistic things to trump the true meaning of Easter. But I digress. This post isn’t about The Resurrection, per say, but about the practice of Lent.

Just because I’m not Catholic, doesn’t mean I can’t participate in Easter-y things. Sure, there are definitely rituals reserved for Catholics, and I’m always respectful of that (i.e., not taking Communion), but there’s a lot every individual can learn about the ritual of sacrificing for Lent. I have realized that giving up something often results in a person practicing self-denial and “suffering,” reminding him or her what God was willing to give up on his or her behalf. 

As an outlier throughout the Lenten season, and someone who can only partially participate, I personally take away the message that this is a time to turn down self-gratification, and reflect and ponder on sacrifices I can make as an individual, as well as healthy habits I can choose to do to help me become a-better-version-of-myself. 


–>> Stay tuned to find out what I’ve decided to give up or add, and what we will be doing with Emmalyn to help her grasp the meaning of the Lenten season! Have you thought about what you will be doing either as an individual or family? –>>
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Evolving into a Better Person

I recently asked myself: Am I evolving into a better person each day?

I hope so!

I try to learn from my mistakes and faults and to not make the same ones the following day. As a mother, there are many examples I could pull from. There are times when a phrase or remark slips out of my mouth at the speed of lightning in reaction to something Emmalyn does and I instantly regret it. For instance, just the other day she wouldn’t eat her lunch and in a sudden fit, knocked over a glass of milk, soaking my shirt and pants. Without even thinking for one second, I yelled, “Look at what you just did!” 

Immediately, I regretted my reaction and choice of words. Have you ever felt this way? It made me feel about as big as a dung beetle. I was ashamed of my choice of words, but there was no taking them back, so I just continued to clean up the mess, cursing myself all the while. Obviously the day went on as it normally does: a small tantrum here and there, with lots of smiles and giggles filling in the gaps of typical three year-old frustrations.

Then at the end of the day, before I closed my eyes for the night, I replayed the milk-spilling scenario over in my head. I cringed (and still do) at the person I witnessed myself being; but then, I re-envisioned the scenario with me reacting and responding in a way I could be proud of. Revisiting and re-visualizing the scene helped me prepare for future similar situations to occur. And I know three year-olds are notorious repeat-offenders so I will have plenty of opportunities to exercise my new reaction and response–one I will feel better and unashamed about.

Now I know I’m evolving into a better person!


So tell me, how are you evolving into a better person each day?

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On Turning 27

First of all, *27* is an odd number and I have a weird thing with odd numbers. They’re just not as cool as even numbers. Don’t ask.

But speaking of weird, I also have a weird thing with birthdays. I’m not a fan of celebrating my own. It’s not that I mind getting a year older–because I don’t. & hopefully by turning a year older the lady at the nail salon will quit asking me if I’m single because I look too young to be a mom. True story.

But I digress…

I absolutely l-o-v-e celebrating other people’s birthdays! Just not mine. I really don’t like the attention all on me. I get so uncomfortable. And then there’s the whole cake thing. I don’t like cake or cupcakes so what do I blow out the candles on? A cucumber?

Twenty-seven is so young, yet I have already done so much in my life: graduated college, been married 3 1/2 years, mommy to a daughter and another baby on the way, moved three times in my adult life…

Twenty-seven makes 17 seem like a lifetime ago! At seventeen, I was thinking about college, although secretly wanting to dance my life away on a cruise ship, while still semi-obsessed with a boyfriend who was totally and completely toxic. Thank goodness for college and finding The Man of My Dreams! For reals. When I think about turning thirty-seven in 10 years, I think about how I will be a mom to a full-fledged, crazy teenager (Lord, help me!) and a mom of a nearly ten year-old. I imagine Blake and I will be semi-settled in a city we love, although honestly, we probably still won’t be home-owners since who knows where in the world the military will have taken us by then?!

Being twenty-six this past year has been jam-packed-full with all sorts of emotions. I was on such a high of excitement, with thoughts of moving out of my hometown. I was enthralled to move to a new city and time zone; make new friends and start a new life with my little family. Twenty-six brought the breathtaking news of adding to our family, but it also brought an almost complete meltdown. Twenty-six brought on the realization of ceasing to strive to be Super Wife and Super Mom, something I feel profoundly proud about now, as I see those older than me still struggling with this concept. A part of me wants to slap them upside the head and say, “Just say no! It’s not worth it. You’ll be a much better person if you say no and do less.” The benefits will be so much richer and sweeter for you and your family. I think that’s a pretty deep thing to discover at only twenty-six.

Now, I don’t fight the fact that twenty-seven is quite young. After all, more of my friends are single than they are married, and only a few have started having children. But having a baby at twenty-three sky-rocketed me into adulthood a little sooner than most. I skipped the whole Getting Your Shit Together and Finding Yourself project, and jumped head-first into the role of Mommyhood, where, let’s be honest, you quickly learn no one ever has their shit together. I saved myself a lot of trouble by learning that little secret.

I pray my twenty-seventh year will be one of peace. Or as much peace as a gal can have when having a second child. Okay, let’s be real… this next year is going to be completely chaotic! But I think with everything I’ve learned while being twenty-six, I will be able to handle it with more knowledge, poise, and grace than ever before.

& just for fun, here are 27 Things I’ve Learned by 27: 

… just say no

… ask for help

… it’s okay to put yourself in uncomfortable situations. the outcome is almost always worth it

… moving far away is thrilling

… moving far away is scary

… it’s impossible to live happily in the past and the future. we only have here and now

… happiness is a choice, not a reward or privilege

… family is everything

… standing by what you believe and not stepping down is imperative, even if people don’t understand it

… just because a friend is in a different “season of life” doesn’t mean you can’t still be friends

… ‘say what you wanna say, and let the words fall out, honestly i wanna see you be brave’

… change is scary

… change is amazing

… thinking of ’27 things i’ve learned’ is tough!

… it’s always more important to be grateful than to be anything else

… never forget to take care of yourself

… prime time comedy can cure almost any bad day

… letting go is hard, but the benefits can be so rewarding

… a messy house means a happy house, not a crazy one. okay, maybe a little crazy–but in a good way!

… bad memories from the past don’t have to stay bad. you can learn from them and turn them into something positive

… doing nothing at times can be just what your body and mind needs

… nothing is every worth losing your cool over

… grace and tact can carry you a long way

… waking up before your child is a lifesaver

… hanging on to your muchness is crucial

… figuring out who you are is a journey that will last a lifetime

… 27 is not so odd after all

a new 27 year-old,

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My Life. In Bullet Points… Kinda.

Boo! Hey! I’m still here y’all!
There’s just been so much going on lately that I haven’t found time to do one of the things I really love to do: Blog! I’ve done a lot of contemplating and *soul-searching* and while I’ve wanted to share my feelings, a part of me has been too afraid. Afraid of what? That is a whole other post, but to sum it up, I’m mostly afraid of putting myself out there. A part of me loves the thrill of writing to the “inter-space” but the other part of me feels too bashful. But I’ve decided to kick the bashful part to the curb!
No more scared-y-pants!
Anywho… here are My Life’s Bullet Points:
  • The hubs was away for nearly a month on a med school rotation. That’s always fun. Not
  • I contemplated chopping my hair off, but after a FB “poll” I have decided to wait.
  • We are moving 10 hours away from family in June. It’s crazzzzyyy, I tell ‘ya!
  • I started running 3x a week for about 25 minutes at a time. Granted, I take walking breaks, but it’s better than being on the couch!
  • I’ve been reading a lot of inspirational/self-improvement books. What a fantastic way to spend extra time–bettering myself!
  • Emmalyn started gymnastics/tumbling classes. It’s adorable. & quite hilarious. I will have to post a video ASAP
  • I’ve been participating in The Paper Mama‘s 52 Weeks of Drawing Challenge. It’s a royally fun time! If you want to see what I’ve been drawing, you can check it out on my Instagram (katievanbrunt)

My hopes for the future are to expand on the latter, but for now, that’s the quickie version!

// // // 



PPD: 2 Years Later

When Emmalyn was just several weeks old, and I couldn’t see the light at the end of the tunnel, I once said to my mother, “I wish you could just take care of her for a couple of years, and I’d come back when I felt better.”

Emmalyn is two years old now.

Imagine everything I would have missed, had my wish actually came true?

I would have missed her learning how to crawl and laugh.

I would have missed her first steps.

I would have missed a bazillion irreplaceable hugs and slobbery kisses.

I would have missed her saying, “I love you, Mommy” for the first time.

My life would not be as rich and fulfilling as it is now if I had *sat out* the last two years. I’m thankful for those around me who pushed me to meet my potential in my role of motherhood.

Getting through depression really puts things in perspective. When I’m exhausted and can’t imagine enthusiastically reading We’re Going On a Bear Hunt for the umpteenth time, I think about how lucky I am to have a healthy child, and to be healthy myself. Some aren’t so fortunate. Some would give up everything they have to read to their child just one more time.

Postpartum depression or not, I still have days where I want to pull my hair out because Emmalyn has just thrown Cheerios all over the department store floor–again. There are days where I want to crawl up into a ball on the couch and wait for tomorrow. But my experiences have taught me how to *get it together* and BE the light at the end of the tunnel.

// // //



Women Connect … From Mrs. to Mama


New Girl / Modern Family / Glee / Whitney / Big Bang
Taylor Swift / Michael Buble Chrstimas
write & illustrate a children’s book / write a memoir on my horrid, but enlightening postpartum depression experience 
leggings & flowy tanks {Florida cannot make up its mind}
how to keep up with the damn housework
a housekeeper 😉
God for each new day I get to wake up
People Magazine {any suggestions on a good read?}
make-believe kitchen with my two year-old
health / safety / happiness / for all 
If You Really Knew Me, You’d Know…

– I have a 2 year-old daughter named Emmalyn/”Emmy”, and I’m kinda obsessed with her.

– I love brushing my teeth. No really, I do.
– I’m still taking anti-depression meds for postpartum depression.
– I’m sarcastic. A lot. & I’m afraid people take me too seriously.
– I’d much rather stay home than go out to a bar.
– I write something about my daughter, Emmy’s life
– I once bought pillow cases at Goodwill because they were yellow & pretty. My husband will not sleep on them.
– I used to be fairly controlling & Type A, until I overcame PPD.
– I want three kids. I think.
– I got pregnant before we got married… whoopsies!

– I can come off as stuck-up, but really I’m just observing–I’m actually pretty shy until you get to know me.
– I find it nearly painstakingly difficult to strike up a random conversation.
– It’s a pet-peeve of mine when people *pat* me on the leg.
– Brownies & chocolate fudge are my weakness.
– When I was 17, my body was used as the model for Britney Spears‘ & Madonna’s body for Ripley’s Believe It or Not wax museum in Niagara Falls.

A Few of My Favorite Things…
.Essie Nail Polish.
.Mary Poppins.
.Messy Hair Braids.
.Green Tea.
.Anything Blue.
.Skinny Jeans.
.Home-Made Birthday Parties.

.The Holiday.
.The Beach.
.Sweet Tea.

More Personal.
There are so many risks I want to take in life, but am way too scared to take that first leap. The quote, “Life begins at the end of your comfort zone,” really resonates with me because according to this quote, my life has definitely not started. I’m stuck with one foot out of my comfort zone, but that’s all. I’m stuck. I have many ambitions in life, but am finding that it will be impossible to do them all at the same time. I also find it’s even more impossible if I don’t get my ass up and do something about these life desires. 
Navy Doctor Wife Life.

Say that 10x fast!

Growing up, I never (even in my wildest dreams) imagined I would be married to a Doctor in the Navy. {In my wildest dreams I was married to Justin Timberlake… ha!} Sometimes I can’t help but stop and ponder, “What on earth did I get myself into?” In a good way, of course. I’m not going to sugar-coat it though–there are times when I want to pull my hair out: what with all the uncertainty and sudden changes that are constantly made, unbeknownst to us. Being a med school wife has taught me a lot about patience and flexibility. Not knowing when my husband will be home each day used to be terribly annoying, but I’ve gotten used to it. My motto through it all? 

That’s life. It is what it is, and I’m just gonna roll with it! 

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This post is a linkup @ From Mrs. to Mama 
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