What Mom {Really} Wants This Christmas

Wondering what that special Boss Lady of your family REALLY wants for Christmas this year? It’s real simple:



1. To pee in peace.

2. To roam the aisles of Target, Home Goods, & TJ Maxx. Alone. With no budget.

3. To not have to put ONE.MORE.KID. in his carseat. 

4. A clean kitchen. Or better yet–a personal maid!

5. A massage. Preferably at a spa. Under a cabana on a tropical island.

6. To not have to wipe any butts.

7. To sit in Starbucks alone. Drinking a (gasp!) HOT coffee, whilst reading a book not about parenting.

8. To not have to make any decisions.

9. A gourmet chef. (Who specializes in chocolatey treats)

10. A silent night.

Please, Santa? I’ve been a good girl all year. (Except for those times I yelled at my kids…)

North Carolina Goodbyes & California Vibes

So we did A Thing: We moved across the country…. to California! I can’t believe we did it, but we did. It wasn’t easy–that’s for sure; and it’s not over yet! It has been stressful, both physically and emotionally.


This adventure in our life has been Crazy with a capital C. There’s so much I want to say and yet, for weeks now, every time I try to sit down {‘try’ being the operative word because A) I own three needy little humans, and B) because I’m sleep deprived} I just can’t seem to put into words all of my emotions. Like the fact that I’ve been wanting to write a “love letter” of sorts to my friends in North Carolina, but I keep pressing the delete button because I don’t feel like my words emulate just how much they mean to me.

Moving with the military is bittersweet. Getting to live in different locations, climates, and houses is both fun and exciting, for many reasons. If we weren’t forced to purge our stuff every two years, I’m slightly afraid we’d be submitted to be on the TV show, Hoarders! The hardest part about moving every two years in having to leave behind some wonderful people. There’s no other way to say it, except for: “It sucks!” But I truly believe it is “better to have loved and lost, than never to have loved at all.” I wouldn’t be the person I am today without every single one of my friends from past moves. And that helps ease the sting a bit…

Making new friends can be tough, so when you meet people you really connect with, it can be very difficult to leave them. But what’s even more devastating than leaving your own friends, is watching your kids leave their best friends.

There have been some rough days, watching my girls (especially Emmalyn) feel sad over leaving her friends. When she says things like, “I wish we didn’t have to keep moving houses. I wish we could just buy a house and stay with our family forever,” it breaks my heart! But she continues to show me just how strong and resilient she is, and it puts a smile on my face whenever she FaceTimes, SnapChats, or Marco Polos her friends.

I’m sure going to miss our quiet and quaint little Nicholas Sparks town, and all the people in it! But as Winnie the Pooh once said, “How lucky I am to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.” That chubby little cubby is a wise one.

The logistics of sending your entire life across the country is quite tedious. It took months of preparation, starting with my aunt helping me organize and purge a lot of our stuff. I don’t know what I would have done without her help! I am 100% positive all of her hard work (and a dash of mine) is going to pay off WHEN we move in to our new house.

Oh, that’s right… we left North Carolina on May 22, and still haven’t moved in to our house. We have stayed in three different hotels and are now in a vacation rental condo (for another three weeks!!!) At least we can see the Pacific Ocean from our window…

Some days I feel like I’m losing my damn mind, y’all! One Friday, I went the entire day thinking it was Thursday. Now, people do this a lot of the time, but usually snap out of it within a few hours (or at least by the end of the day). Well, NOPE, not me. I woke up Saturday morning believing it was Friday. I looked over at my still sleeping husband and was worried his alarm didn’t go off for work. I asked him, “Do you have to go to work today?” and was elated when he answered, “No,” believing he had a surprise weekday off! Later that morning I got a phone call from the massage place asking if I wanted to reschedule since it was 10:05 and my appointment was for 10:00. I confidently said, “My massage is for tomorrow.” The lady on the phone apologized and said she would see me then. When I got off the phone Blake asked, “What about church?” I was all like, “What do you mean? Tomorrow is Saturday.” He said, “No it’s not. Today is Saturday.” Then I continued to argue with him over it. Seriously, folks, I am losing it!

Living out of one container of toys and books, and living off of ten outfits is difficult, to say the least. The girls have been fighting a lot more because they’re on top of one another 24/7, sharing every inch of this condo. Fortunately, Emmalyn will be going to musical theatre camp this week, giving the girls a break from one another. 

We have definitely made a lot of happy memories amidst the chaos, though. We’ve gone to the zoo, the beach, Balboa Park, lots of different playgrounds, hiking, outlet shopping, and swimming. We’ve also met some wonderfully kind families, welcoming us to this beautiful new town (and watching my kids so I can go to the grocery store in peace and pick up everything on my list because I can actually hear myself think!).

I joined the good ‘ole YMCA, and have taken Barre and Yoga, which has been super helpful for my psyche. Pinteresting paint colors and loft beds have also distracted me from being “homeless” this past month.

Knowing that “This Too Shall Pass”, helps me get through the OMG-I’m-Going-To-Sell-My-Kids-To-The-Circus moments.

Normalcy is right around the corner–I can feel it!

loyally,
katie

Today is a New Day

Thanking God this morning for literally a breath of fresh air. 

Yesterday was a shit day. Adelaide couldn’t go to school because she was sick the day before, but I had a hair appointment. My amazing cleaning lady insisted she watch Adelaide so I could get my hair done before we go out of town. I bring Alexander to the salon with me and he is a pretty good sport. Here’s when things go downhill: The new girl cuts my hair two inches TOO SHORT and screws up the color! It was so blotchy, but I didn’t realize this until I got home and played around with it. I cried! This is my worst nightmare! I call the owner and she says she will fix it that evening. So I scramble around to find childcare since Blake was suppose to be taking a night flight. No such luck. She says she can come in early the next day, too, but I realize Adelaide has her school pictures and I don’t want her to miss them because when you’re a military kid those things are important.

Meanwhile, I get the two littles dressed to see the Easter Bunny and in the car to pick up Emmalyn from school. We get to the mall, only to be told we have to wait thirty minutes for The Bunny to come back. The girls are hungry, but there’s no food court in our mall because: small town. I get them Chex Mix from Michael’s Crafts, but we have to wait in the longest line! By this time, the bunny is back. 

As I was taking Alexander out of the car seat, he scratches his face and is bleeding. He’s never done this, but of course it happens seconds before the picture. I also realize he has a poop and is hungry (notice his searching-for-the-boob-face below). Also, Adelaide all the sudden decides she is afraid of The Bunny and refuses to get in the picture. No amount of chocolate bribery will work. I choose not to force the situation because I don’t want to traumatize my daughter. After all, I would punch someone in the face if they forced me to have my picture taken with a bird. So I focus on the other two kids, but Alexander is fixated on finding milk from The Bunny and will not turn his head towards the camera. I am sweating at this point. We get the best picture we can and call it a day. Then The Bunny hands Emmalyn a candy and Adelaide goes to get one, but I tell her no because she did not get her picture taken. The Bunny does a back-and-forth dance with the candy, not sure what to do, and ultimately gives Adelaide the candy. I take it away and she has a full-blown meltdown all the way across the parking lot. 

I vow never to do Easter Bunny pics again. It’s not worth it! Did we even interact with the bunny? NOPE. Did we get a picture with all three kids? NOPE. Did anyone have fun? NOPE. What was the effing point?! 

As I put Alexander’s car seat in the car, the stroller rolls away across the parking lot and I have no clue until a random man shouts out to inform me. Adelaide puts up a mean fight to get in her car seat, but I don’t back down. I have to use every muscle in my body, but I finally get her in. I collapse into the driver’s seat and cry. (And this is hard to do when you’re on antidepressants!) 

“Mommy is having a bad day,” I tell the girls. Apparently this is code for: Let’s Fight All The Way Home. One shining beacon of light is Blake calls and says he will cancel his flight so I can get my hair fixed. I feel terribly guilty about that, but tell myself sometimes I need to put myself first! 

I somehow manage to throw two frozen pizzas in the oven and the girls in the tub. As soon as Blake gets home, I grab the baby and hightail it out of the house, back to the salon. The owner was super apologetic and sweet, and thankfully Alexander slept the whole time. I got home after 9pm, nursed the baby, pumped, ate a snack while watching trashy reality TV (The Twins), and crashed as soon as my head hit my pillow. 

The whole day I kept repeating the first line from The Serenity Prayer: “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change.”

The nice thing about days are: they must come to an end. And tomorrow will always be a new day. I woke up this morning, reciting a Hail Mary and The Lord’s Prayer, and vowed to have a positive outlook on the day. After all, our sweet little boy is getting baptized this weekend, and there’s no sacrament more exciting!

God is good!

loyally,
katie


Here’s the full Serenity Prayer in case you need it today:

God grant me the serenity 
To accept the things I cannot change; 
Courage to change the things I can; 
And wisdom to know the difference. 

Living one day at a time; 
Enjoying one moment at a time; 
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace; 
Taking, as He did, this sinful world 
As it is, not as I would have it; 
Trusting that He will make all things right 
If I surrender to His Will; 
So that I may be reasonably happy in this life 
And supremely happy with Him 
Forever and ever in the next. 

Amen.
(Reinhold Niebuhr 1892-1971)

Cleaning All The Nasties

I don’t know about you, but it seems like my kitchen is always A National Disaster. A certain four year-old offspring of mine likes to have separate bowls, plates, and silverware for every single food item she’s eating. Does that sound familiar to anyone? So for every meal she has, she leaves behind three bowls and three spoons. (Multiply this by number of meals.) Then, because the baby no longer wants to be in the high-chair, I toss the tray somewhere in the vicinity of the sink. But of course it’s not a clean tray. Oh no. It’s a banana-smeared tray. Yum…

Next thing I know, I am rushing out the door to make it on time for Emmalyn’s school drop-off and take Adelaide to her baby play-group. When I bring Emmalyn home from school, she wants to eat another lunch (even though she just ate lunch at school), which consists of yet another three bowls and three spoons. I toss those into the sink so I can quickly nurse and lay the baby down for her nap, before I lose my window of opportunity.

Y’all know how the rest of the day goes: you’re counting down the minutes until it’s five o’clock somewhere, just trying to stay afloat until the sweet little cherubs are confined to their beds–I mean, until they are snug-as-a-bug-in-a-rug. Now is your opportunity to clean. 

You’re famished and exhausted, and Oh look! It’s day-old banana, glued onto the highchair. Fan-freakin-tastic! Moms and dads know day-old stuck-on banana is the absolute worst! And don’t even get me started on blackberries. It’s like a straight-up massacre took place in the middle of my dining room!

But, wait! 

I have been touched by an angel. And that angel is called: Norwex. 

The Norwex Antibac EnviroCloth, to be exact.

Never judge a book by it’s cover, folks. This plain and ordinary-looking cloth has some super-human powers. I, myself, was totally skeptical, but my sweet friend Tiffany let me borrow The Cloth for a week.

My microwave had been speckled (okay, smothered) with spaghetti sauce for a long time. I’m embarrassed to say exactly how long, so I’ll just say “far too long”. I was told all I had to do was wet The Cloth and wipe. That’s it. 

I thought, that’s it? Really? No magical spray?

So I gave it a shot, and guess what?! All it took was one–I repeat: ONE, swipe of The Cloth, and the spaghetti sauce was gone. I was completely floored, and in utter shock!

My cleaning routine has been dramatically shortened, thanks to this little wonder. I use The Cloth for basically everything: kitchen cabinets, granite countertops, the floor, sink, refrigerator, the bathroom sinks, counters, and yes–even the toilet! 

Do you want to know what the second best part about the cloth is? (The first is that I didn’t have to use any elbow grease.) The second best part is that there are absolutely NO CHEMICALS in the cloth. Zip. Nada. Zilch! Absolutely NO NASTIES! (Okay, so maybe that might be the first best thing about it, depending on your perspective.) And if you personally know me, you know I hate toxic-filled cleaning products and do not allow them in my home.

OH! The third best thing, in my opinion, is my hands have never been softer! I actually had a small patch of eczema on my finger, and while using the EnviroCloth over the span of a couple of days, it had completely cleared up! I kid you not…

It’s magic, I tell ‘ya!

I’m also the proud owner of the Dust Mitt (way better than anything else I’ve ever tried!), the Polishing Antibac Cloth which leaves my windows and mirrors streak-free (again, by using only water–no inhaling toxic sprays!), and the Microfiber Antibac Body Cloth, which I use to remove my makeup in a breeze. I love that I’m not wasting cotton balls or daily cleansing cloths, or allowing chemicals to seep in to my face! (Note: my complexion has never been smoother or softer.)

I could sit here and bore you with the science behind it all. But I won’t. I’ll just quickly say that Norwex’s Antibac EnviroCloth is a combination of polyester and polyamide that’s 1/200th the size of a strand of human hair! When used wet, the micro silver antibacterial agent (a.k.a. The Secret Ingredient) works to self-purify against, and inhibit mold, fungi, and bacterial odor. 


In other words: It’s the Bomb-Dot-Com for cleaning dust, dirt, and grease. But most importantly, Day-Old-Stuck-on-Banana & Spaghetti-in-the-Microwave-for-Far-Too-Long.

Now if only it could fold my laundry…

loyally,
katie

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P.S. I am not a sponsored affiliate for Norwex. I simply wanted to share this amazing find with other moms and dads who share my passion in NOT wanting to spend so much time and hard work getting a clean house! 

P.P.S. If you want to fill your brain with more knowledge about Norwex and how it can seriously change your life, or at the very least, the way you clean your life, you may click HERE.  And if you would like to purchase any Norwex products, please consider doing so through my lovely friend, Tiffany, by clicking HERE.


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I Have a Favorite Child

I have a favorite child. There! I said it!

If you don’t have any kids, or you have an only, you may be saying to yourself right now: How on earth could she say such a thing? She’s a terrible mom…

But, if you have multiple little ones running around 24/7/365, then you may be singing: Yes! Yes, me too! I’m not the only one! Finally, someone said it out loud. I’m not crazy…

Do you want to know who my favorite child is?

My eight month-old.

Why?

Because she doesn’t sass me. She doesn’t leave a mess all over the floor for me to trip over. She doesn’t scream in my face when I tell her she cannot have eleventy more crackers. She doesn’t throw herself on the floor when I tell her she cannot watch four more hours of Sheriff Callie. She doesn’t say things like, It’s all your fault! or I don’t want to brush my teeth–stop touching me! or my favorite, NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!

Nope. My eight month-old doesn’t do any of that.

Instead, she’s sweet and smiley and cuddly and laughs at all my jokes and animal noises. And she doesn’t run away when I sit her down on the floor.

But. Then comes nighttime, when my eight month-old is tired and fussy and plays The Don’tYouDareTakeMeOffTheBoobOrIWillScreamEvenLouder Game. Oh you know it? It’s a Classic.

That’s when I pass her off to Daddy and climb in bed with my SassyPants (a.k.a. my four year-old) and read books to her. That’s when she gives me butterfly and Eskimo kisses and says things like, Today was the best day ever! or Daddy and I are getting married ‘cuz we’re in love! or my favorite, I love you the biggest much of all, Momma!

And that’s when my four year-old is my favorite child.

loyally,
katie

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A Mother’s Sanity

My emotional well-being is important to me, and I’ve come to realize that in order to take care of my family, I have to start with me. I cannot let myself become an afterthought. If I don’t take care of myself, how the heck am I suppose to take care of anyone else? I’m not just talking about eating healthy and exercising frequently, but about A Mother’s Sanity.
 


Do you find yourself being pulled in many different directions? Do you feel obligated to make beautifully homemade and hand-crafted cupcakes for your child’s birthday celebration at school, to be the Room Mom, the coach for your child’s basketball team, and the first to volunteer to go on every field trip?

Why? Why are you trying to do it all? Is it so you won’t look bad to the other mothers? Are you worried about disappointing people?

Let me ask you this: Who the hell cares?

No one–that’s who!

The only pressure you feel is the pressure you put on yourself.

SO STOP!

Do you want me to tell you what trying to do it all will look like at the end of the road?

SPOILER ALERT: It doesn’t end well. It ends with gray hairs, wrinkles, and dark circles under your eyes. It ends with missing out on enjoying the small things in your child’s young life. Or even worse: stress-related symptoms such as depression, constant colds, and rage.

YOU matter. Homemade cupcakes don’t.

YOUR sanity matters. Being Room Mom doesn’t.

Buy the store-bought cupcakes. I guarantee the kids will be just as happy. They totally don’t care that you spent hours searching for the p e r f e c t picture on Pinterest, then spent an hour or more meticulously putting them together.

Why are you trying to make your life more difficult than it already is?

Let me ask you this: If you say YES to something, what are you really saying NO to?

If you say yes to spending over an hour baking and decorating cupcakes, what are you saying no to? You are saying no to spending an hour playing with your daughter’s new doll house. You are saying no to an hour of quality time with your husband. You are saying no to an hour of sleep.

Isn’t your emotional well-being more important than trying to impress other people?

Let me answer that for you: YES!

Quit making excuses for not taking care of yourself.

Your sanity is more important than pleasing other people. I know you’re having a hard time letting the guilt go. I know you want to be there for everyone who could use a helping hand. I know you want to do it all. But the truth of the matter is, Is it worth your own sanity? Is it worth your own health and happiness? Is it worth missing out on time spent with your kids? If it is, then by all means, drive yourself into the ground.

The saying, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” is a bunch of croc, if you ask me. Do you know what no sleep does to a person? Crazy things! Your body needs sleep to fight off illnesses, to have a clear mind for making critical decisions, and to stay healthy overall so you can be your best you.

So stop trying to be a martyr. Stop trying to impress other mothers. Stop worrying that you’re letting other people down. Because you’re not.

You are taking care of YOU, which in turn, is taking care of your family. And that’s the most important thing there is in life.

loyally,
katie

Do you know a mother who could use this honest advice? Share it with her!
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Mommy, I want to look pretty

This morning, my four year-old daughter said something that completely stopped me in my tracks. I saw her excessively fiddling with her hair, which made me cringe because she was really just creating a bird’s nest, and I dreaded having to comb through all those knots. I asked her what she was doing, to which she responded: “I’m doing my hair because I want to look pretty.”
 
I cringed again, but for a much deeper reason. I hate the idea that my little girl thinks she has to have her hair a certain way in order to look pretty. I immediately said, “But you’re already pretty.” My mind immediately flashed back to all the times I’ve unintentionally put emphasis on her looks.
 
Ninety-five percent of the time people will open up a conversation with me by saying, “She’s so cute,” or “look how pretty she is.” No one ever says, “Look how smart she is.” Eventually, once they get to know her they will comment on her strength, imagination, athletic ability, and/or manners. But their initial comments are always superficial.
 
I’m just as guilty of doing the same to other children. As a society we place beauty above brains. But we’ve got it all wrong. The emphasis should be on brains and inner beauty.
 
Looking back, there have been many situations in which I’ve made “good looks” a priority for my daughter. Oh, just yesterday, I bribed her with “a treat” (two yogurt covered pretzels) just so she would put on tights and a bow in her hair to have her picture taken with Santa. I loathe bribing kids with food–especially sweets, and it went against my intuition, but I was desperate for her to look a certain way. Why? Truthfully, I have no idea. I cannot come up with a un-vain reason for why she had to be dressed the way I wanted her to.
 
I provide my daughter with a multitude of compliments unrelated to her outer beauty, everyday. But her comment this morning got me thinking about the number of times I tell her things like, “That’s such a cute dress,” or “I like your hair like that,” or “I wish you would wear this instead.”
 
Now I’m not saying to stop these comments altogether; I mean, I like being told I look lovely just as much as the next gal, but I truly believe we shouldn’t be so quick to make comments only on good looks to impressionable young girls who absorb our every words like sponges.
 
So, the next time you feel the urge to make a vain-ish comment to your daughter, try to replace it with one of these alternatives:
 
– I like the way you play nicely with your friends.
 
– You’re using such good manners at the dinner table.
 
– You’re such a kind friend for sharing your toys.
 
– I like how you’re using your imagination.
 
-Wow! You’re so strong when you climb those monkey bars.
 
– It was very responsible of you to put your shoes away.
 
– You’re such a thoughtful young lady.
 
– I like how you got dressed all by yourself. (Even if she’s wearing plaid with stripes!)
 
Will I stop telling her she’s adorable and pretty and stop brushing her hair? No. But I don’t want to reward her for her good looks. Life shouldn’t be a beauty pageant. So what if she goes to school in mismatched clothes? Really, what’s the big deal?
 
Don’t worry, I will continue to teach my daughter good hygiene (I don’t want her to be the smelly kid in school!), but I vow to place much less emphasis on her looks. The important thing is that she’s developing into a confident young lady with healthy self-esteem, and is a kind human being.
 
What do you think?
 
 
loyally,
katie
 
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Dear Emmalyn

You are four years old.

FOUR!

I am in awe of the little girl you’re growing into.

My favorite moment over the last year has been watching you become a big sister to Adelaide. You jumped into your new role seamlessly, as if you were always meant to be a big sister. Sure, there have been trying times, where you poke her in the ear or pull her socks off. But mostly you just love too hard. You squeeze her with hugs and suffocate her with kisses, but I know it’s because you love her so much. I know this because nearly everyday you make up songs about loving her “sooooo much!” She is quite lucky to have you–to look up to you, always, for life.

Three was both fun and difficult. It was trying because you learned how to push my buttons and polished your tantrum skills. There are things you did and said that I never imagined my own child saying. But you served me up some fresh humble pie and taught me to never judge another yelling mom at Disney. I’m excited to see what interests you develop over the next year. Right now it’s pretty clear you don’t like soccer, but love gymnastics and dance. You love putting on nightly dance recitals before bed for Daddy, Adelaide, and me, and it warms my heart every time.

You are super girly and say things like, “Shirts are ugly. Dresses are beautiful.” I swear I didn’t push you to be stereotypically girly. It’s all you, baby. You had your mind set on a Frozen Tea Party for your fourth birthday party with your girlfriends (and best boy friend) and there was no stopping you! You do jump on opportunities to get dirt under your nails, too, though!

You have gotten super close to your daddy over the last several months, and it’s incredible to watch. At such a young age you already exude kindness towards others, and make me laugh multiple times a day, every day.

I know without a doubt you were born into this world to make me a better person. Before I had you, I was repeatedly stressing over small stuff; I could never just “go with the flow”. But you have put things into perspective for me. You have made me realize that dirty dishes and laundry rank very low on the To-Do list when there are much more important things like saving the princess from the scary dragon in the castle.

Yesterday you told me, “Mama, you’re a good teacher for teaching me.” Emmalyn, I know it’s the other way around.

I love you so much, sweet angel baby. More than you’ll ever know…

Have the happiest fourth birthday!

Love,
Mama

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Ballet & The Boobie Barre

If you would have told me five months ago I would be nursing my baby in the middle of ballet class, I would have thought you were a crazy person!

Five months ago I was struggling so much with breastfeeding. Every other day I wanted to quit. Practically every other day I was visiting my lactation nurse. I was constantly text messaging friends for support. I was telling my husband, “Don’t let me give up!”

And look at me now:

It brings a whole new meaning to “The Boobie Barre”!

I also didn’t think I would be getting back into dance at three months postpartum. But I did it! I was determined to stick to my mantra of “just get moving!” I’m so thankful that my ballet class allows me to wear Adelaide, and bring Emmalyn. This class is something I look forward to each and every week. Sometimes I am super stressed leading up to it (…Emmalyn doesn’t want to get her shoes on, I accidentally take a wrong turn and end up on the interstate, Adelaide’s crying, etc., etc.) BUT I leave it all on the dance floor!

I couldn’t do the class without the amazing women and teacher who help and support me each week. They help me schlep my entire house baby stuff into the studio, and hold Adelaide while I do pirouettes across the floor.

Oh! I could easily make excuses for not going. I could easily say: “It’s just too much work… It’s too far of a drive… I’m too tired…” because let’s face it–all the latter are completely true.

But it’s so worth it. 

The hour-and-a-half my feet glide across the dance floor is therapy to me. It’s hot and sweaty therapy! For that hour-and-a-half I get to be me.

I never foresaw nursing my baby at the ballet barre in my future. But looking down at her sweet cherub face, catching her smiling at me mid-plies, is quite magical. Sharing my passion with my littlest one is special and unique, and well–just magical.

Five months ago I would have thought you were crazy for saying this was in my future.

And now? I’m the crazy person.

And I love it!

loyally,

katie 

P.S. Do you think So You Think You Can Dance will add another genre of dance next season called Boobie Ballet? 😉

*TELL ME: What do you like to do for exercise post-babies? What *excuses* are holding you back? I encourage you do go after what you want–and make it happen! You are way more capable than you think!

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We are human

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how far I’ve come as a mother. Most people know about my battle with Post-partum depression, and how horrendous it was. It may get deep here for a quick moment, so bear with me. Shortly after Emmalyn was born, I was convinced I was going to die–that something was terminally wrong with me. As time went on and I wasn’t feeling any better, I wanted to disappear. I wanted to float away on a cloud, have my mom take care of my daughter, and return when I felt like myself again. Flash forward (to almost) four years, and I haven’t returned to myself again. I’ve returned as a much better person.
 
Cognitive behavioral therapy helped me immensely. It aided me in becoming a better “me”. I was at the lowest of lows. You can’t get any lower than being brought to the emergency room, stating you’re suicidal, then being admitted to a behavioral hospital. On the ambulance ride from the ER to the behavioral health hospital I kept demanding answers from God, “Why? Why is this happening to me? I’m a good person, so why? Why?! Why?!!”
 
I now know why. God challenged me in ways I never knew were possible. He was stripping down my insecurities and building up my strengths. He was doing this so I could be the best mother possible to my daughter, and future children.
 
My spit-fire of a (almost) four year-old (!??!!) challenges me nearly every day. She can sometimes make me question if I’m doing a good job as a mother. She can overwhelm me and get my blood boiling with her gold medal temper tantrums. But she’s also tangible proof of my triumphs. She was put on this Earth by God to make me a better person.
 
I needed help. I couldn’t do it on my own. Life isn’t easy. It’s hard! No one should have to carry all the burden and do it alone. Sometimes reaching out for help is the kick-start we need to becoming our better selves. I know it was for me.
 
The other day when we were putting Emmalyn in the car, my husband called her a “doll baby.” Emmalyn shouted back, “I’m not a doll baby–I’m a human!” We laughed because it was so cute and innocent coming out of a three year-old’s mouth, but it stuck with me on a deeper level–because it’s true: We are human.
 
First and foremost, we are human. There are going to be days where we question if we’re doing the right thing. That’s “only human,” as the saying goes. If you and your baby are fed, bathed, and clothed, you are doing the right thing.
 
We cannot be so hard on ourselves. I know I am doing the right thing. YOU are doing the right thing, my friend. Because after all, we are human.
 
loyally,
katie
 
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