Another Round of Shots!


I have no idea why I like that song so much, but anywayyyy… Tucker is getting shots today. Which is sad because he’s in a totally good mood right now. But I’m happy because I don’t have to be paranoid when the cute eight year old boy in the store pets my baby’s head. (It was a super sweet moment, that little boy was so adorable). OMG he’s cooing in the backseat. I love my happy baby ❤

I honestly don't know what to expect. I mean he had his first Hep B when he was new, but that doesn't make babies fussy. Here's to me crossing my fingers and hoping he would sleep through the shot. Fat chance I know. Still, maybe he won't cry too much. I remember crying when I was 18 getting a tetanus booster. I sure hope my kid isn't that much like me. Granted, I did get a cool sticker though. And then mom bought me ice cream. Moms awesome.

I know that he needs the shots. I just don't understand for the life of me why scientists can put people on the moon but they still haven't been able to figure out a way to administer a vaccine orally. I would call it the no more needles movement. But it's I necessary evil I guess. I am however excited to see how much he weighs. He's growing so quickly I feel like I have to take thousands and thousands of pictures so I don't miss a moment. Here's my favorite pic from this morning of my big strong boy.

Choosing My Anti-Baby Method

Finding out we were expecting Tucker was a wonderful surprise. That happened the night before the first day of the dental assisting program. A program that wanted an arm and a leg (and two tb tests, a varicella titer, an abstract reasoning, and a fine finger dexterity test). After all that work , finding out we were expecting was the last thing I expected. I wouldn’t have known if Jessy hadn’t suggested I get a test (my boobs had been hurting). How did this happen, you may ask. Shouldn’t your birth control have prevented this? Funny you should ask.

A few years ago I was using the Depo-Provera. Which was awesome exept for the weight gain. When I decided to get off it and take a break from all those hormones, I still had the effects of the Depo coursing through me. My time of the month was jacked, if it even appeared. This went on for several years. The doctors said it would be awhile before I got back on track, and it was unlikely that we would get pregnant anytime soon. So we let our guard down and VOILA. Instant Baby! (Just kidding, it still took 9 months.)

But anyway, Jess and I decided that we would like to avoid anymore fun bundles surprising us. With the theme of 1 & done in mind (because Tucker is perfect, I have no desire for more), we started looking at our birth control options. Here’s my/our opinions on what we found.

Tubes Tied/ Vasectomy
I think Jess considered the vasectomy for a split second, and I didn’t even consider the tube tie. Why? Because a) it’s super permanent and b) a painful surgery (for me). So those were out.

The mirena is that weird plastic thingy that I THINK (don’t quote me on this) goes inside your uterus. It’s good for up to 5 years, and can be taken whenever you want. This was very appealing to me. The major drawback (for me) was that in some cases the device could breach the uterine wall. Meaning it could rip through and poke out of your uterus. Umm, no thanks. Even if it were a one in a million chance, I still wouldn’t take it because my luck just sucks.

The pill/ mini pill

I suck at taking pills, and since I was kind of breastfeeding at the time, I would have been put on the mini pill because the hormones in the regular pill could affect Tuck. But here’s the deal- if you aren’t 100% breastfeeding, the mini pill’s effectiveness goes down to 70%. Umm no. No way. And they taste nasty. That’s a legitimate reason right?


Yeah, no thanks. I hate needles and I don’t feel like being messed up again.


I actually used this before and really liked it. You put it in for a few weeks, take it out for a week to cycle, then put a new one in. Or if you want, skip the cycle and just replace every 28 days- or whatever your doc says. And only a small % of men can actually feel it during doing the deed. Unfortunately mine could. Regardless, this was actually my backup choice if I decided not to go with what I have. Although I don’t think it can be used while breastfeeding.


Is a tiny rod inserted under the skin in your arm. It is pretty much instantaneous, emits a low dose of progesterone for three straight years. Best of all upon removal, the effects are gone within 48 hours. Now I’m not the biggest fan of the incision and placement part, but after the Lydocain numbing medicine (which was actually the worst part- huge needle, burning medicine) the procedure was actually pretty quick and painless. Then they bandaged me up and sent me on my way. It starts working pretty much instantly, the doctor cleared is for the fun stuff the next day just to be safe. I did bruise, and it’s a little tender. But it’s nothing compared to 9 months of totally preggo. The best part is I can put the renew date in my calendar and forget about it for three years. If there are any side effects, I will update this as they come, but it isn’t much different from other birth control effects.

Update: Its been a week and I still feel pretty good. The bruising is nearly gone, and the incision is nearly healed. My favorite thing to do is freak people out by having them touch it without telling them there’s something in there 😉

Anyway, that’s the choice I made and I hope this is helpful!


The Formula for Frustration

Ok so breastfeeding didn’t work out. Baby’s bottom lip is tiny, the latch wasn’t perfect, the boobs were huge and unmanageable ( like seriously they were big enough before being full of milk). And it just plain hurt. I lasted a month. Pretty good considering how absolutely terrible it felt. And don’t think I didn’t try. I did. The whole 9 yards. I was texting the lactation consultant, trying every position, using the boppy pillow (which Jessy now uses to set his dinner plate on when eating on the couch #somedayillgetakitchentable).
I would give my poor bruised boobs a break and pump and feed him from a bottle. Except that felt horrible too. Finally one day it dawned on me (as my son is clawing the crud out of me and pulling back) that the reason my son has been so fussy and gassy for the past couple of weeks is because of the boob juice. Thus began the game of Musical Formulas.
First we tried Similac Advanced. Nerp, still gassy. So we moved on to Soy, thinking it was a milk sensitivity. And it worked! No more gas! Except instead he was ridiculously constipated. It would have been great for St. Patricks Day because that was the greenest poop I’ve ever seen. The more you know.
I asked the pediatrician what to do. He said two things. I could try out formulas and see which might work because and I quote “this isn’t communist china”, and that it was likely that I’d have to pick my evil, gas or constipation. NOT the advice I was hoping for, but since he gave me the go ahead, I decided to browse the formula isle.
Thus I came upon a low lactose formula to help with gas. And while my little peep is still having trouble with the poops, at least they aren’t rock hard and scary green. I’m going to give it a couple of days and see how it works out. Moral of the story: finding the right formula is a tedious and stressful process. And gas drops don’t do diddly squat for my kid. It really sucks when your baby cries for three straight hours, I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

I’m Not a Crunchy Mom

So I had been reading around, and I always see these posts from other mothers proclaiming themselves “Crunchy”. I had no clue what that meant, but after reading a bit I am under the impression that a crunchy mom is one who chooses to raise their kids in a natural/organic lifestyle. These are the moms that usually have their babies at home or in birthing centers without pain meds, breastfeed, and do the organic thing. And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being crunchy.

I wanted to have a more natural approach to raising my baby. I even wanted to have him in a birthing center, with a midwife, and no pain meds. Unfortunately my location didn’t allow that. I was disappointed but after meeting my doctor, I felt a lot better about the hospital experience to come. She took the time to talk to me and go over any concerns. She was super friendly, and understanding.

The staff at the hospital was very nice too. I was surprised, I had a stigma about having your baby in the hospital. I was absolutely scared that the horror stories I had heard were a common occurrence. Honestly the worst thing about the whole thing was not being able to eat for the 24 hours it took to actually have the baby (don’t let me lie, I snuck some homemade cinnamon rolls in and noshed on them while nobody was looking) and even then they gave me Popsicles!

I remember going in thinking, “ok I’m not going to take the drugs. I’m going to have this baby naturally unless something goes wrong and I need medical intervention.”. Then my water broke after 14 hours and it was, as the sweet nurse would say, “a whole nother ball game”. They asked me if I wanted morphine. I was weak, I gave in and said yes. It helped a bit but oh sweet Jesus the pain. Then they dangled the bait.
“Do you want an epidural?” they asked.
“YES DON’T JUDGE ME!” I replied.
And then the sweet doctor came in and attempted to put the epidural in my back. Except I wiggled too much. So after two episodes of strange shooting pains in random places, he put something in my IV that knocked me on my ass. Literally, my neck gave out and slammed right into the bosom of the nurse charged with holding me steady. The epi kicked in and I went to sleep. Then they woke me up and told me it’s time to have my baby. Easy Peasy.

Moral of the story- I may not be crunchy. I might not exactly be au natural. But that’s not exactly a bad thing either. I totally respect the mothers who dedicate their time and energies to being natural, organic, and healthy. There are definitely things that I could get on board with, such as those awesome cloth diapers that are like $250 for a set of 12. And making my own baby food with a food processor is just plain economical.

But some topics I’m just not into, I need the gas drops when baby has a fart stuck. I couldn’t go without the formula that I use to supplement because breastfeeding isn’t really my thing (more on that another day). And I’m sure as heck gonna get my kid immunized (I’m not arguing this topic, this is my personal belief).

I am picking and choosing what “crunchy” ideas work for me, but without committing to the whole thing. I may not be crunchy, but I’m halfway there. I guess I’m a Chewy Mom.

Baby Tucker and the Fisher Price Whore

Tuck has received a ton of much appreciated gifts, including an awesome crib, a closet full of diapers (which will be used until we can afford the fancy cloth diapers that I truly covet), a ton of baby clothes, and a swing. I love each and everyone of the gifts and I’m very grateful. Except for the swing.

Don’t get me wrong it’s a nice swing. It’s brand spanking new fresh out the box. Tucker loves the swing. He loves it so much that sometimes it’s the only thing that can calm him down. I feed him. I rock him. I cradle him. I coo to him. I do everything I can get him to calm down. But no. He wants the swing.

I want to nap with my baby. He’s a month old now. For three weeks he was my snuggle buddy, I would rest him on the crook of my arm and we would catnap together. I love it.

But then the swing came. I made the mistake (if you would call it one) of letting him nap in it while I ran around doing chores. Honestly it was nice, he doesn’t like it when I lay him down in his bassinet. He fusses and won’t hang out or nap. Which is ok, I use it as a diaper changing station more than anything.

Maybe it’s because there’s nothing cool to look at in the bassinet. The mobile is crap and the music is really terrible. I’m sure by now he is as tired of popcorn ceilings as I am. But the swing has a cool mobile with bees and a neat little mirror so he can see himself. And I’m not even going to lie, the music is damn catchy. It’s a swank swing and my baby has good taste.

He won’t nap with me now. He squiggles and squirms, and is having none if the stationary dormancy that a nap with mommy entails. Once a day he has a fit, like major cry your head off super pissed for no reason fit. (Maybe it’s colic?) Again, I do everything I can to soothe him. Usually toward the end of the fit he will start to nod off, realize that he’s falling asleep in mom’s arms, and keep crying. Then I put him in the swing (because at this point my shirt is soaked from my boobs leaking because of the crying, he’s been crying for over an hour, and I’ve had to pee for a good while now.). He pipes down and goes straight to sleep.

Stupid Whore Swing turning my baby boy against me and my loving embrace.

But the truth is I need the swing. The swing let’s me do things I normally have to wait for Jessy to get off work to do. I can use the bathroom without him fussing because I put him in his bassinet. I can do the dishes that Jessy gripes are always dirty (Seriously babe? A little insensitive). I can, dare I say for fear of judgement, take a nap! I hate that I need it. I hate that I’m not Supermom- able to calm a crying infant. I hate that my baby doesn’t want my nap-time snuggles anymore. I just can’t compete with Fisher Price. So I guess thank you Jessy’s coworker who gave us the swing. Without it I wouldn’t be able to write this.


On Friendship

Ever notice how as your life changes people float in and out? A quick “hey” on Facebook is enough to keep in touch for some. But for others it isn’t so easy. I will admit if I didn’t see a friend in awhile, I would think they probably had other things going on and didn’t have time to put up with the long distance friendship package that is myself. So I would let them float like a message in a bottle, hoping that they’d find someone else to hear what they had to say. Someone who could be there.

I don’t like to be that way. I want to be friends, so much so that it makes me guilty that I’m not there to be a better friend. Maybe letting people float is easier than dealing with the guilt. I think to myself “Maybe someday when I get the money, I will make a trip to visit”. Who am I kidding? We are broke, and will probably be broke with this baby here for a good while. But nevertheless I dream of buying an RV (especially one of those super swank ones with showers and king size beds and an awesome kitchen), throwing my husband and gently placing my baby inside, and going on a Tour de Friends. I dream of traveling around the country and hanging out with everyone who’s friendship I cherish so much that it’s heartbreaking to not be able to see them every week, month, or year.

My friends mean a lot to me. I want to be able to keep up with each and every one of them. Sometimes it’s hard, I’ve had my fair share of changed numbers, and moved around quite a bit. The fact that most everyone I want to keep up with is at least a state away, sometimes on the other side of the country, makes it pretty hard. I planned trips, tried to visit. But then things came up. Like a baby. Or finances that didn’t quite work out. I was disappointed that I couldn’t go. I was disappointed in myself.

I felt like I had let people down. I felt like a bad friend. I knew I wasn’t. I knew I couldn’t help the things that came up. I wondered why they put up with me.

I realize now though, that’s what friends do. There are those people out there worth keeping up with, the ones who you grab on to so they don’t float away. Even if you think that you’re one big bucket of lame sauce, your friends think you are special. And that makes them worth it.

A good friend is really hard to come by. I’m so lucky that I have the ones I have. So I keep trying, keep planning those trips. Eventually one will work out, and my friends will forgive me for a the trips that don’t. I will keep in touch. I won’t let them float away.

A special thank you to Cassandra Schield who unknowingly taught me about myself and true friendship these past couple of days. I’m so lucky to know you.


Cliche & Lovin’ It

Two weeks ago I had my little baby boy. His name is Tucker and he is the love of my life.

I used to roll my eyes and gag at all the lovey pictures and professions of eternal love from people and their new babies. “What’s the big deal? It’s just a baby.” Ok so maybe I was a bit callous, but I had six younger brothers and sisters, bottles and diapers got old fast when I was younger.

I would like to take this moment to formally apologize to everyone I’ve ever felt that way towards in the past… And I would like to take this moment to apologize to everyone who feels how I used to feel because I’m probably going to annoy the snot out of you over the next year…. And moving on!

Tucker is the most interesting thing I think I’ve ever experienced. I think I can say the same for Jessy too. I was a bit nervous about how Jessy would interact with the baby.

I know that’s an awful thing to say, let me digress so I don’t look like an ass. I love my husband, but for the most part he isn’t overly emotional and lovey. Which isn’t a bad thing, it makes the lovey moments more special when they happen. And it also makes him easier to get along with, because I prefer rational people (even if I’m not always rational myself). I was scared that the baby wouldn’t get the lovey from Jessy on the level that I know I can give, scared that Tucker might not bond with daddy like I think he should.

Boy was I wrong. Jessy has surprised me by jumping into the “Daddy” role pretty much instantaneously. He talks to baby, takes care of baby, and even asked if he was doing enough to help. I accidentally dropped my phone on baby (I’m a terrible person I know), and while he didn’t cry and wasn’t hurt, Jessy still took baby and cooed over him for a good ten minutes. He’s a great daddy and a fantastic husband.

I feel complete. I have a family. I don’t think I could love them any more even if I tried to. I was scared that I would feel like my life is over, my goals and dreams out the window. Instead I feel like those goals and dreams aren’t worth my time, I’d rather be spending time with Tucker anyway. I’m really thankful to my husband for taking care of the finances while I get to stay home with baby. If I had to work I would, but I would be sad to be away from him.

Speaking if sad, his crying sends me over the edge. The other night we were on our way home. I had forgotten his backup bottle at home, (breastfeeding) and he started to cry because he was hungry. Obviously I couldn’t pull him out and feed him in a moving car, and we were so close to home that it didn’t really make sense to pull over on the side of the road (which is unsafe anyway, we were on a major trucker route). So he cried, and it hurt me. I felt so helpless. My baby was hungry and it was my fault for forgetting his bottle. I was close to tears before I crawled in the back and gave him his pacifier at least, which held him over till we got home. I never thought crying would bother me this much. It makes me feel like I’m failing as a parent, which I know is ridiculous. Jessy later confided that he doesn’t like it when baby cries either. We both feel the same way.

So there. I feel cliche, I am cliche. But I don’t give a rats patootie because my baby’s opinion is the only one I want. I could be shunned from society and hated by everyone in the world, so long as my family loves me.