I choose favorites.

I've never been very good at small talk, but I've managed to figure out over the years that asking "what's your favorite ____?" is a common way to engage someone in conversation. During my attempts at socialization, I've learned that not all "favorite" questions are created equally...

Some of them lead to an inevitable dead end:

Me: "What's your favorite color?"
Other Human: "Pink."
Me: "Cool."
Other Human: "What's yours?"
Me: "Purple."
Other Human: "Neat. I wonder what those people over there are talking about."

Others lead to incredibly deep discussions and lifelong friendships:

Me: "What's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"
Other Human: "Mint chocolate chip."
Me: "Mine, too!"
Other Human: "OMG!! We are, like, TWINS!" [It's amazing how excited some people will get when they find out you have a favorite something in common.]
Me: "Crazy. What do you think about mint chocolate chip ice cream that isn't green?"
Other Human: "I like it as long as the mint tastes good. Some mint chocolate chip ice creams taste super fake... I've actually found that the bright green ones are usually the worst."
Me: "We ARE twins!! Let's be best friends forever!"

And then there are those which summon immediate rejection:

Me: "Which one of your kids is your favorite?"
Other Human: [walks away]
Me: I guess she didn't hear me.

I have a favorite offspring. If you've spent more than ten minutes seconds with me in the past eight months, you probably know which one it is.

But, before anyone judges me as a horrible mother, let me explain: I have a current favorite child. The title could be stripped away and rewarded to the other less emotionally exhausting girl at any given tantrum. Besides, Addison held the title of favorite child for a good two years and nine months before Montgomerie came along. It was about time she stepped down from the throne, right? ... Okay, I digress. My justifications are no good; go ahead and judge me.

What I really mean though, is that I have a favorite age/stage. Allow me to describe what my children are like from birth - 3.5 years (since that's all I've experienced so far) to help you can gain a better understanding of my favoritism. Please note that these ages/stages are not universal as some babies start walking right out of the womb (I'm looking at you, Pennie Bowlin).

THE AGES/STAGES OF ADDISON AND MONTGOMERIE BROWN*:

0-3 months: Not sleeping through the night. Enough said.
3-6 months: With the need for constant attention, but the attention span of a goldfish, trying to keep a baby entertained at this age becomes utterly exhausting after approximately four seconds. They also still take naps three times a day, but are no longer able to sleep well on the go, making it impossible to leave the house. Ever.
6-9 months: This is where the stars align, my friends! Montgomerie is ready to explore the world beyond Mommy, but she is too fat to do anything about it. She just sits there on the floor, contentedly examining the tastes and textures of her toys as they are handed to her by Big Sis. As long as her belly is full and diaper is dry, she is good to go (or stay, rather). She also still sleeps as much as a newborn, but condenses it down to the nighttime and two long, glorious naps. She will eat anything I give her and her little personality is really starting to show now.
9-12 months: With the onset of crawling, eyes must be glued on the baby at all times to make sure she doesn't try to eat a small rock that my husband, cat, or 3-year old left in the middle of the hallway. FOMO kicks in about this time and the baby starts rejecting that second nap, which means I have to give up mine as well.
12-15 months: The baby is walking now. Which is even faster than crawling.
15 months - 2: The sweet, innocent baby is no longer a baby at all. All signs point to toddler; most of them are warning signs.
2 years: She can't quite communicate her needs clearly, which leads to frustration and tantrums. Also, potty training.
3 years: The terrible twos have grown into the terrifying threes. Now, Addison can communicate clearly, but chooses not to, which leads to even more frustration and tantrums...mostly by me. Her little personality isn't so little anymore. She has suddenly become the pickiest eater on the face of the planet (the only food groups she will eat from are fat and sugar). FOMO is now in full force and she refuses to sleep. Ever.

*This chart is not exhaustive. I could probably think of at least one good thing that is unique to each age/stage if I tried really hard. Feel free to challenge me sometime :-)

Don't be fooled by her big smile. There is no happiness.

She will be three one day. I think she's doing an evil laugh.

 
    

My children have rolls, but they can't roll over.

Addison rolled over from her back to her front for the first time when she was three years old. That's right. It happened a couple of months ago when I suggested she show her baby sister how to do it. As I watched her awkwardly contort her body during what should have been a relatively smooth process, I finally figured out why she is the worst somersault-er out of every kid her age: she never learned how to roll over!

Memories of Addison sleeping on her belly at night flooded into my mind as I desperately tried to convince myself that my three year old had rolled over before. She always lies on her back at bedtime, and did so for the remainder of the night until she was well over one. Even then, I only ever saw her roll onto her side. If she was on her belly, her head was almost always at the opposite end of the bed, as though she had sat up in the middle of the night and just fallen forward. Now that she is in a toddler bed, she just climbs in on all fours and then plops to her belly. No rolling over necessary.

She even learned to crawl from a sitting position. She started out just scooting around the room on her butt. At first, it seemed like she was just wiggling and kicking her feet while remaining in place, but after several minutes I would realize that she was suddenly playing with a toy previously out of her reach. Eventually, she leaned forward and started moving on all fours.

Montgomerie (she's over seven months old now) also cannot roll over. She rolled over from her front to her back a couple of times a while back, but was frightened by the experience and refused to even be put on her stomach for several weeks after that. Now she is fine on her belly for awhile, usually as long as she has a toy. But move that toy just out of her reach and she goes into ab workout mode, stretching her arms out to the sides like a bird and kicking her feet like she's swimming...

you're not going anywhere, buddy!

Occasionally, she will stop struggling for a moment and look over at the toy to see if she's progressed at all (she hasn't). Or if she realizes you are taking her picture, she might stop to flash you a smile...

Then when she finally realizes that she isn't moving, she just buries her face in the floor and cries.

And if you lie her on her back, the sweet girl is perfectly content to just suck on her toes. It appears there is not much hope for Montgomerie's future somersault abilities either. I guess I've pretty much come to terms with the fact that my children have rolls, but they can't roll over.

So just in case either child ever wishes to have a career in gymnastics, I have come up with a list of things (other than my poor parenting) for her to blame when she fails miserably:

1. The boppy pillow. My girls loved snuggling in their boppy pillow and I appreciated that it did not aid in the flattening of their sensitive heads, which would occur if they were lying on the hard floor instead. However, the sweet boppy always wrapped its loving arms around my girls and held them tightly in place, preventing them from ever learning how to roll over.

2. The jumper. Jumpers are good babysitters. Want to take a nap? Stick the baby in the jumper. Want to take a shower? Stick the baby in the jumper. Want your baby to learn how to roll over? Well, she's not going to learn if she's in a jumper all day!

3. Sleeping through the night. Most babies sleep longer/better on their bellies, which is not considered safe until said baby is able to roll over into that position on her own. But when you're spending unusual amounts of time talking to your doctor (or searching the internet) to see if your child is sleeping too much, the motivation to teach your child to roll over is found lacking.

But hopefully they will both be more interested in something that's cooler than gymnastics. Like swimming marching band!

Montgomerie's Birth Story (Part 3)

In case you missed them...
[Intro]
[Part 1]
[Part 2]

Even though I was already feeling pressure, the doctor checked me right after I got the epidural and said I was still only about 5cm dilated. I was clueless as to why this labor was so incredibly painful, but would soon find out...

Meanwhile, Gummie got a fun case of the hiccups. I could feel them even with the epidural and Mike and the nurse could hear them on the fetal monitor. It was uncomfortable, but pretty cute, and helped me to relax as I took it to mean that she was going about her business just fine, despite the awkward adventure down the birth canal.

About two hours after receiving the epidural (5:45pm), I was feeling constant pressure and decided to page the nurse. Ten minutes later, it was still just Mike and me in the room and I was feeling LOTS of pressure. We were both getting a teensy bit nervous. So I paged again.

At 6:00pm, the doctor showed up, checked my progress, and said, "time to have a baby!" She asked me if I could wait 10 minutes, which I said I could, and then she disappeared. 15 minutes later, we were still alone and I was dying to push. We were both getting a bit nervous again. Thankfully, the doctor and nurse returned then and we were able to get things started.

Well, I started pushing, and nothing really seemed to happen. After a couple of rounds of pushing, I got the vibe that something wasn't quite right. The doctor kept digging around inside of me (not fun, in case you were wondering) and finally let me know what was up: the baby's face.

I had recently had a talk with one of my good friends about this phenomenon, so I wasn't completely in the dark. The conversation replayed in my mind as I waited for the next contraction...

There in that hospital bed, I vowed to take any/all advice from my hippie friends seriously from that moment forward. If you've been wondering why my family suddenly only eats organic food or why we have decided to go no 'poo, there is your answer.

I can now vouch that labor is really painful when a baby goes through the birth canal face up. And I was finally beginning to understand why I was feeling so much pain/pressure so early on in this whole process.

Anyway, I continued to push during each contraction and my nurse continued to express more and more urgency in her voice and face each time we started a new round. She was definitely making me nervous. Despite paging an unusual number of people, my doctor stayed calm and smiley and encouraged me to keep pushing. I tried to focus on her demeanor, which was much more relaxing and positive than the nurse's.

Meanwhile, Mike was pulling a Casper on me. Apparently he had also picked up on the nurse's concern and the unusual amount of people now in our room. "I need to sit down," he says. One lady took a look at his colorless face and said, "you better lie down, because I am not taking care of you if you pass out!" Poor guy.

After a bit more pushing, I felt like some progress was actually being made. But, the intensity of the nurse and the random lady who yelled at Mike heightened, so I guessed the progress was putting even more stress on the baby. I was worried, but my doctor still seemed confident. She gave me an episiotomy (I won't explain this word... if you don't already know what it means, you don't want to know) and the baby was out of there after a couple more rounds of pushing, at 6:36pm. Whew!

I heard Montgomerie's sweet cry and breathed a sigh of relief as a couple of the people standing by (I'm assuming the others were in case I needed an emergency C-section) took her to the baby tanning bed to assess her. Aside from a bit of bruising on the forehead, she was healthy as could be! I was exhausted, but I was also elated. My first three thoughts were:

1. Holy hair!
2. Look at those chubby cheeks!!
3. I need a nap.

It took me awhile to actually hold her because I was feeling weak and kind of shaky, but I didn't want to let go once I did (metaphorically speaking, that is - I gave her right back to Mike for fear my arms would give out or I would fall asleep and drop her).

After all of the immediate postpartum stuff was taken care of (I don't think anybody wants to read about that, right?), we were transferred to our postpartum room, where I would recover for five freaking days. That's another story though.

All in all, I'd say our plan of having no plan went according to plan: we gave birth to a beautiful, healthy baby girl! And here are her sweet hospital photos to prove it:

Montgomerie's Birth Story (Part 2: Stick to the Plan)

[Intro]
[Part 1]

My doctor told us that, since I was kind of on the cusp of active labor, we had three options:

1. Go home, eat lunch, then come back to the hospital and check in to triage.
2. Walk around the hospital for a bit until my labor progressed more, then check in to triage.
3. Have her call for a room and, if one was available, we could skip triage altogether.

If we had stuck with our birth plan, we would have obviously gone straight for the room. If there wasn't one available, we would have definitely gone for option number two, and headed to triage as soon as we thought they might grant us a room.

Alas, we did not stick to the plan.

Because my mom had left her phone in Delaware (c'mon, Mom! ) and we hadn't mentioned to her that we would be swinging by the hospital to deliver a baby, we decided it would be best to head home and let her know what's up. Plus, I hadn't eaten anything yet that day and the thought of enduring the rest of labor (which was looking like it would be several more hours) on an empty stomach wasn't very appealing.

Once we made it back to our house, I sat down with Addison to put together a puzzle and filled my mom in on all of the details. Meanwhile, my husband prepared a nice big Skyline chili 3-way for me (I'm sure my doctor was thanking him for that later) and I topped it off with a couple of York peppermint patties! Yum.

On the way back to the hospital, Mike suggested we stop at Great Clips so he could get his hair cut "real fast." It was looking a bit shaggy, but seriously? I'm in labor here! Stick to the plan!

My contractions were still about 5 minutes apart once we made it back to the hospital, so we decided to walk around for a little bit to help move things along. We found a cute little courtyard and took a final belly pic:

 

Walking around wore me out after approximately three seconds, so we went back inside and sat down to rest. We timed my contractions again and now they were about four minutes apart and getting longer and stronger. Time to head to triage!

I signed in with the receptionist, then plopped down in the chair next to my husband. The fact that we would be having another baby soon suddenly became real, so we mostly sat there in nervous silence, just holding hands and watching the clock to see if my contractions were getting any closer together.

There were two other couples in the waiting room with us that provided some brief entertainment. They were pretty much on opposite ends of the spectrum of labor: one girl was sweating and vomiting and swearing at the daddy and the nurses, while the other girl had a scheduled induction so she was all chipper and anxiously excited and in zero pain. I kept looking at Mike with eager eyes, waiting for the angry girl to notice the chipper girl and ruin her perfectly perfect day. Sadly, I did not get the opportunity to pretend I was in an episode of Grey's Anatomy.

I was still feeling alright at this point and suspected it would be several more hours before I delivered a baby, but I was eventually called back to triage around 2pm. They sent me to the bathroom for a urine sample and - I could not have timed this better if I tried - my water broke and poured out right into the toilet. My contractions immediately picked up in frequency, pain, and duration. Um, I'll take an epidural now!

Unfortunately, triage took for-ev-er. It took a long time when I was there for Addison, but I assumed that was because I was hardly in labor and they weren't in any hurry to get me to a birthing suite. This time, I was in legit pain and desperate for an epidural, but they were seemingly in no greater hurry to get me a room. Here are a couple of photos that Mike took in an attempt to entertain/distract me while I patiently waited in triage:

Doctors and nurses kept coming in and saying things like, "Let's find out if you're really in labor!" I remember thinking it would be nice to punch each one of them in the face. First of all, I already checked with my doctor. Secondly, my bed is soaked with a disgusting liquid substance that continues to leak from my lady-parts so I know I'm not getting sent home. Thirdly, I am going to punch you in the face. Do they not usually deal with hormonal pregnant women? Choose your words wisely, people!

One doctor verified that I was 5cm dilated. Another tested the amniotic fluid to verify that my water broke (as if there was any doubt). Both just disappeared forever, leaving me no assurance that I would be getting a room anytime soon. I received a glimmer of hope when my nurse asked if I would like an epidural as soon as I got my room. I somehow managed a "yes, please!" despite wanting to die instead.

They finally wheeled me away from triage, bumping into things along the way, claiming I was in a different bed than they're used to, and into my birthing suite around 3:30pm.

I stopped watching the clock, but I think it took about an eternity for the anesthesia guy to get there. Mike was doing a great job helping me breathe through the contractions while we waited. I told him I was in a ton of pain and feeling lots of pressure so he became worried that I wasn't going to be able to get an epidural. I must have looked like I wanted to cry, because he told me it was okay to do so. I burst into tears.

The anesthesiologist finally arrived and the administration of the epidural actually went rather smoothly. It was a lot less terrifying the second time around than it was the first. And even though I had to endure a few more contractions before it kicked in, I was immediately relieved.

Step Two: Complete.

I suppose the last step of our birth plan should have been to give birth to a baby... Well, I'll talk about that next time anyway, in the final installment of this birth series (found here)!

Montgomerie's Birth Story (Part 1: Is this labor? Is THIS labor? IS THIS LABOR?!)

[You can read the intro to this birth story series here.]

My biggest fear in not being prepared to give birth without medicine, was that my labor would progress too quickly and I would miss the opportunity to get an epidural. I've heard it's pretty common for the birth of a second child to be faster and easier than the birth of a first child. But, since my water broke and I had to be induced with my first, I had no frame of reference for how fast labor naturally progresses in my particular womb. It could be days, it could be hours.

So, after hearing horror stories from my mom about how her neighbor was feeling fine one minute and calling an ambulance the next (because she was about to give birth to her second child), Mike and I made the following birth plan: 1. Get to the hospital as soon as possible. 2. Get an epidural as soon as possible. 3. Hope that my labor didn't progress so rapidly that neither of those things were possible.

I also wanted time to emotionally prepare. It's hard enough making the transition from being pregnant to being a parent over a few hours of labor, but making that transition in mere minutes is unfathomable. I needed time to rehearse my response to the miracle of birth so that the doctors and nurses didn't think I was a horrible human being. Aw, she's so beautiful. What a wonderful blessing! ... instead of ... Gross! That is disgusting! I can't believe that just came out of my vagina!

Anyway, let's begin with step one of our birth plan: getting to the hospital. Seems pretty straight-forward, right?

Well I didn't have any signs of labor up until I was 37.5 weeks pregnant. That was the night the baby "dropped." I went from feeling like I could easily carry her for a few more weeks to, Arrggh get this baby out of me right now!, in a matter of moments. Immediately after the drop (which literally felt like a door opened up under my belly and dropped the baby on to my bladder), I started having all kinds of pain. Some in my back, some in my belly, some in places that I don't even know names for... some of it was constant, some of it was rhythmic. I freaked out and yelled to Mike something like, "I think the baby just dropped! And I'm in all kinds of pain! And I don't know what's happening!" And he was all, "Should we go to the hospital?! Are you in labor?! What do we do?!"

I had no clue if I was in labor. After googling "how to tell you are in labor," I decided to lie in bed and breath steadily to relax myself. A lot of the pain decreased over the next few minues so I decided that I was not, in fact, in labor.

I was incredibly uncomfortable for the rest of my pregnancy, but a few days passed before I started having contractions again. Although they weren't very painful, they were pretty consistent at about 7 minutes apart. Naturally, I thought, I must be in labor now! After googling "how to tell you are in labor," I decided to take a shower to see if my contractions grew stronger or weaker. They disappeared. I was not in labor.

About a week later, I woke up with fairly painful contractions that were also pretty consistent. I took a shower and they persisted, so Mike called off work and proceeded to get our three year old ready for daycare. This is definitely labor! By the time we were ready to walk out the door, the contractions had ceased. I was not in labor. Mike went to work.

I had a couple more nights of painful contractions that never progressed. I'm not sure why I always got them in the middle of the night, but I didn't like it. It is hard enough to sleep when you're nine months pregnant without the discomfort and anxiety from false labor!

Anyway, finally, at 4am on the morning of November 20, 2012, I was stirred awake by fairly painful contractions. I timed them for about an hour and they were consistently seven minutes apart. I was pretty confident this was the real deal. I tried to sleep for the next couple of hours, but didn't really. I timed them again around 7am and they were about the same. Took a shower, about the same. I mentioned having contractions to Mike and my mom (who was there to help with Addison), but didn't let on that I thought this was for real. I was tired of looking stupid.

Mike and I needed to run some errands so I told him to grab the hospital bag "just in case" and we headed out the door around 9am.

The contractions kept coming and they were about six minutes apart now, so we decided to call my OB. She said it sounded like I was on the border so I could come in to her office to get checked out rather than go to triage if I wanted. Getting to the hospital was my first goal, but I knew I would have to wait forever if I opted for triage. And I knew waiting forever would not be worth it if I then got sent home because I was not actually in labor or because I wasn't far enough along in labor to warrant a room. Fortunately, my OB's office is in the hospital, so this was an easy decision. We headed to the fifth floor of Magee and Dr. Lareau verified that I was, in fact, 3cm dilated and in early labor!

Step One: Complete. 


The saga continues with part 2 of Gummie's birth story...


Meanwhile, here are some maternity photos that our friend Lissy took. Now, if I link to this blog post, I will have lots of images to choose from other than my profile picture up there on the right!

Gummie Bear!

Easily Distracted

My husband suffers from a little thing called ENFP. (That's his Meyers-briggs personality type, not a disease.)

While we were dating, I found Mike's excitement over every little thing to be endearing. Having the complete opposite personality, he was attracted to my level-head and ability to be calm and rational in any circumstance. Soon after we married, though, we found ourselves saying things like, "Can you not analyze every idea I have?" ... "Can you use your brain for once?" ... "Are you passionate about anything?" ... "Can you just finish one thing that you said you were going to do?!" And this is what brings us to today's post...

My husband is easily distracted.

This little blurb describes my personality type: ISTJs decide logically what should be done and work toward it steadily, regardless of distractions. They can usually accomplish any task once they have set their mind to it.

And this describes my husband perfectly:

My husband has lots of incomplete projects and many more great ideas that he never even started, but one that comes to mind first is our bathroom remodel.

We started the remodel in June of 2011. I remember because that's when I opened my Twitter account. I figured it would be a fun way to document the progress of our little project. A few weeks in, I thought I was making a funny joke:

Actual finish date: August 2012.

(I blamed the baby because I was too busy child-rearing to help with the remodel, but we all knew the real culprit was Mike's ENFP.)

The bathroom looks awesome now (and, more importantly, is no longer a Petri dish for mold/mildew):

please enlarge this photo and note the amazing job he did with tiling the shower stall (reflected in the mirror)

I am so appreciative of my husband for giving our family a safe and fun place to bathe and do our business. However, the bathroom remodel is technically still incomplete (and may very well remain that way forever).

Exhibit A: air vent cover
Estimated time to install: 30 minutes
Estimated date of completion: June 2013 (when we move downstairs and the girls have lots more unsupervised access to this bathroom)

Exhibit B: door
Estimated time to refinish: 1 hour
Estimated date of completion: never

Exhibit C: butterfly grips in bathtub
Estimated time to remove: 2 hours
Estimated date of completion: August 2013 (when the girls start bathing together in the big tub instead of individually in the baby/toddler tub)

In case you're wondering: I could forgo writing this post and complete one of those tasks right now. I have the ability and could surely make the time. But, my husband promised me that he would do these things. Therefore, I have determined to give him space to follow through on his word. Also, it gives me something to reflect on while I answer nature's call; my husband is wired differently than me (he values people and ideas, while I highly value the completion of important tasks) and that's okay.

I am telling you all of this so that you can understand how much of an accomplishment it is when my husband actually finishes something involving routine or mundane tasks.

Last September, Mike decided he was going to run a 5k. Although he didn't train for it as seriously as I would have liked him to (ISTJ motto: "Anything worth doing is worth doing well!"), I was still so proud of him for even doing it!

right after he finished the race!

He concluded that it was a really fun experience (not to mention good exercise) and started dreaming about his next goal. Talk of future 5ks, marathons, and triathlons stirred about in our house for the next several days.

He had his heart set on trying the Pittsburgh Adventure Race next, but then a couple of our friends started talking about running in the Pittsburgh half marathon. They invited him to join and he excitedly registered (having people to train alongside was apparently very motivating for him)!

They started training in February and it has been a tough journey, to say the least. It was a much bigger time commitment than he had anticipated. Running on the treadmill (when it was too cold to run outside) was boring for him. He skipped a whole bunch of the recommended workouts. And there were many times that he stated he was not going to do it anymore. My response was always somewhere along the lines of, "That's too bad. You paid $90; you're doing it." 

Fortunately, I wasn't the only one advocating for his success. Our friends who were also training for the event were much more gracious in their support. And Mike's good buddy from college contributed an encouraging comment to almost every facebook post Mike made about the half marathon (love you, Co-in-law!). Many others have been a source of encouragement to him as well.

Well, not only did Mike finish the half marathon, but he ran (er, jogged) the entire race! No walking!! Needless to say, I am incredibly proud of my husband for accomplishing his goal! I'll let these photos from the day fill in some of the details...

before the race... super excited!

during the race... super encouraged (by our signs and support, of course)!

 I'm pretty sure the signs that Kirstin made were a huge encouragement to every runner that day.

after the race... super exhausted!

so proud of my man!

half marathon finishers... so proud of all these kids!

Montgomerie's Birth Story (Intro: Choosing a Plan)

The girls who have been planning their weddings since they were in diapers might disagree, but I feel like I put a good amount of effort into making my wedding day special. I didn't know much about weddings at the time I got engaged (and Pinterest did not exist yet), so I did mostly just go with the advice of the experts or choose the first thing that sounded good to me. But still, it was a lot of work to put it together.

Our wedding day turned out to be a pretty good day. A few things went wrong: I got caught on my dress walking up the steps at the altar, the [mostly decorative] straps on my dress unsnapped during our first dance, and the DJ couldn't find the music for the father/daughter dance. But, for the most part, things went smoothly and I was pleased with the result of my tireless planning.

fancy, fancy!

The best parts of the day couldn't have been planned though. It was the nervousness that I shared with my dad before walking down the aisle; locking eyes with my groom for the first time and seeing his excitement to marry me; watching my friends make fools of themselves on the dance floor. Those moments are what made the day memorable for me, not the color of the bridesmaid dresses.

So a couple of fights into the marriage, I started to wonder why I spent so much time and energy preparing for my wedding (which lasted approximately six hours), and started wishing I had spent more time and energy preparing for my marriage (which would hopefully last the rest of my life).

Pretty much the same story can be told about the birth of our first daughter, Addison. We didn't know much about giving birth at the time and, again, mostly just followed the advice of the experts. We went to a Lamaze class and learned all about breathing techniques and how to tell that you're in labor. We discussed holding off on medication as long as possible, but decided we were okay with getting an epidural at some point. We felt as prepared as we could be for the birth of our baby.

Well, the day went about as smoothly as we could have expected. My water broke before I had a single contraction, so we just strolled on over to the hospital and I was induced. We relaxed in our birthing suite for several hours, waiting for the contractions to kick in. They arrived with a vengeance (apparently pitocin can do this sometimes) so I got an epidural pretty much right away. The labor sped quickly from there and I barely had to push to get the kid out. It was a great first birthing experience.

our sweet alien-child!

I couldn't have planned or prepared for the most memorable parts of the day though. It was my husband's nervous excitement when I woke him up to tell him my water broke; his support and comfort as we endured each step of the day; the joy/fear/wonder/excitement/disgust that I felt when seeing my little girl for the first time. Those emotions and moments would have existed whether we had a planned c-section or a home water birth.

So a couple of days later, when we were home with a baby and realized that we had no clue what to do with her, I started to wonder... Why did we spend so much energy preparing for a birth and literally no time preparing for a baby?!

Don't get me wrong, I think it's important to be prepared for labor and delivery, just as I think it's important to mark the momentous leap into marriage with a wedding celebration (which requires some element of planning and preparation). But I can't seem to wrap my head around why those events are built up so much in our society. It just makes more sense to me to focus all of that time and energy on marriage and parenting rather than on weddings and birth plans.

I'm not judging anybody who thinks or does differently, but I wanted to introduce Montgomerie's birth story by explaining why we chose the birth plan that we did. It may seem apathetic or uninspired, but that's because it pretty much was. This time around, we decided to spend our time and energy leading up to the birth on preparing for a baby. Stay tuned to find out how our casual approach worked out for us! [Spoiler alert: a baby was born]

You can read Part 1 here and Part 2 here.

Who is Jacob Bononcini?

Before Jacob moved in with us back in August, I knew just three things about him: he was a Christian, he was Mexican (despite his Italian surname), and he was gay. After nine months of sharing a bathroom, I still only know those three things. But, now I know them with a little more depth...

He's gay - I don't think it's any coincidence that Addison has developed the sass of a teenage girl in the nine months since Jacob moved in with us. Her level of diva immediately doubles anytime he merely walks in the room. The most frequent phrase out of both of their mouths used to be "oh my gosh," but then we told Addison she's not allowed to say that anymore. Now she says, "we don't say that, Jacob," every time he says it, which is about twenty times a day. 

He's Mexican - My Co-RA in college was gay and his dorm room was squeaky clean and very well organized. So when I agreed to let Jacob move in with us, I thought "it's going to be great to have someone else in the house with my standards of cleanliness!" Let's just say nationality trumps sexual orientation in this area.

He's a Christian - Jacob has "found Jesus," as they say. His faith is raw and genuine and being around him makes me want to know Jesus more. He thinks it's funny to call me "mom" because even though I'm only a couple of years older than him, I'm technically his host mom. I proudly call him my brother and I'm excited to see how God works in his life this coming year as he ministers through Cru, and all of the years after that.

Here's a cute video that Addison took of Jacob (co-starring Montgomerie) :)

Sidenote: I asked Jacob what three words he would use to describe himself and he said "outgoing, cute, and funny." hahaha sorry ladies, he's not attracted to you. Also, sorry to the fellas, as he is practicing celibacy. And when he reads this, he will surely say, "oh my gosh, I hate you! I could die right now!" That's what you get for insisting I blog about you!

Do you know Jacob? What three words would you use to describe him?

Cats vs. Dogs

Even though we have a cat, I would consider both Mike and myself to be dog people. I love beagles and think bulldogs are awesome and pretty much any breed of puppy just melts my heart. Plus, dogs are a lot more fun than cats. Still, I think it's pretty safe to say that we would both prefer not to have any pets at all. Our cat(s) (we used to have two, but our friend killed one of them while we were on vacation) have really been more of a burden than anything else.

But this post isn't really about pets; it's about affection. I heard it explained once that some people are like dogs (they want lots of affection and they want it all the time) and others are cats (they want affection sometimes, but if you try to touch them when they don't want to be touched, they will bite you).

I am a cat.

And, then there's Mike... If he is in a good mood, he could go for a hug and a kiss. If he's in a bad mood, he could go for a hug and a kiss. If I do something nice for him, he will hug me and kiss me. If I make him mad, he expects an apology and a hug and a kiss. If he apologizes for something he did, he expects forgiveness and a hug and a kiss. If he is excited about something, he will hug me and kiss me. If he feels embarrassed, he will want a hug and a kiss from me. You get the idea...

...And you're probably thinking That sounds great! What wife wouldn't want that kind of affection from her husband?

I am that wife.

This photo was taken about eight years ago, back when I had awesome pink glasses.

Actually, I really do enjoy hugs and kisses from my husband; just not under the following circumstances:

When there is an audience. If you have seen Mike and I kiss and/or hug, you should know that I was incredibly uncomfortable by your presence and I probably yelled at Mike for it later. Our wedding day was stressful. Please stop with the clinking glasses!

Addison's been hanging on me all day. I enjoy giving and getting affection from my kids. But if I hear the phrase "Mommmmy I want uuuuup" in a whiny three-year-old voice too many times, I will hide in a closet for the rest of the day and let my kids fend for themselves.

Nursing a baby or pumping breastmilk. During the act, obviously, but also one hour leading up to and one hour after (those are estimates, I don't set a timer or anything). Right now this isn't a huge factor as I only need to pump 3-4 times a day. But those first couple of months after the baby was born when I was nursing or pumping pretty much around the clock, I was more like a lion than a cat. Come near me and you'll probably die.

When I'm in a bad mood. Particularly if you were the one that put me in that bad mood.


Are you a cat person or a dog person? Are you a cat or dog when it comes to giving and receiving affection?

Screen Time

When I took Addison (my three-year-old) for her most recent well-visit, one of the questions the pediatrician asked me was how much screen time I give her each day. I quickly responded with "one hour." Whoops. That was a lie. What I meant to say was that she had watched one hour of TV that day, because that was how long she had been awake before we needed to leave for her appointment.

The American Academy of Pediatrics recommends zero screen time for kids under the age of 2. When I first heard this, I laughed, because I thought it was a joke. We failed to meet that recommendation with Montgomerie while we were still in the hospital! If she's being a fussy pants for no good reason (i.e. hungry, tired, dirty diaper) and the only thing that will get her to be quiet for twenty minutes is to watch The Lion King with her big sister, then guess what? Hakuna Matata.

This photo of my girls watching TV together also showcases my inability to follow safety guidelines, as the bumbo seat is on a raised surface. Aren't they sweet with the hand-holding though?!

We do make some attempt to follow AAP guidelines. As a result, Addison generally gets to watch TV any time her little sister goes down for a nap. You may be thinking that seems like an excellent opportunity for some one-on-one time with my oldest daughter, but I prefer to spend that hour pretending neither of my kids exist.

Here are the top 5 things I like to do while Addison watches TV:

1. Watch my own show on the iPad (we tried it reverse once, but I was watching some medical drama like House and i looked over to find her staring at the TV in horror as a man's insides were being dissected...)
2. Check my email, stalk people on facebook, or write a blog post such as this one
3. Take a nap
4. Take a shower (I usually choose a nap over a shower though)
5. Housework (I always choose any or all of the above over this)

If you're an introvert, marry an introvert

I am an introvert and my husband is an extrovert. He always wants to be out doing things, where there are loud noises and lots of people. One time he asked me when I thought they would fix a pothole down the street and I was like, what pothole? because I hadn't left the house in three days.

Going into our marriage, I was prepared to compromise in this area. I would go out with him sometimes when I would rather stay home and he would stay home with me sometimes when he would rather go out. And other times He would go out with his friends and I would stay home and do something awesome, like scrapbook, by myself. And all would be well in the Brown household...

But what I was not prepared for was the fact that his extroversion is never satisfied; it actually appears to increase as it is fed. When we come home from a social gathering (I was tempted to put "party" here, but who are we kidding), I usually want to curl up in a corner and die, but he wants to go right on spending time with me as though making small talk with a bunch of strangers for the last two hours was not the most exhausting thing he's ever had to do. Not only that, but if we are home at the same time on any regular day, he wants to be in the same room as me at all times, preferably talking to me.

Once he told me he thought it would be fun to work together so we could see each other all of the time... I love my husband more than any other person in the world, but just the thought of this makes me want to take a nap.

I totally understand where he's coming from though. He likes being around people and I'm his favorite person so it makes sense that he would want to spend most of his time with me. But I only like people in small doses and if I want to have any other relationships, that means even less energy spent on him.

As a result, he feels like I don't really like him and I feel like a horrible mate, if we're not together as much as possible or engaging with each other at all times when we are together. It is exhausting and a near constant source of conflict in our marriage. Although it helps to talk it out (just because I don't want to spend every waking moment with you, doesn't mean I don't love you, blah, blah, blah...), my advice remains: if you're an introvert, marry an introvert!

It's not always rainbows and butterflies... but sometimes it is!

Are you an introvert or an extrovert? Do you and your significant other have conflicting personality traits?

My child is not better than yours.

There are three main reasons why you shouldn't brag about your kids on facebook:

1. It's annoying.
2. Nobody cares.
3. God will smite you, as he did me.

Back in August, I put my daughter on the potty and she happily pooped in there like a freaking champ. I was super excited about how easy this potty training thing was going to be and I wanted to shout it from the rooftops that my daughter was the greatest two-year-old pooper in the history of the world. Instead, I thought of a clever remark that side-stepped my rule of never claiming my kid was the greatest at something, then posted it on facebook:

Now everyone knows how awesome my kid is at pooping on the potty AND how clever and funny I am!

If God could have commented on my post, I think it would have been something along the lines of "Somebody needs a lesson in humility. #smh" I would have settled for that convicting comment, but he decided to go ahead with the actual lesson instead...

Not two weeks later, Addison developed the worst diaper rash I've ever seen (we're talking blisters), which started what I like to refer to as "the worst six months of my life." In short, she refused to poop. Anywhere. For six months. (Don't worry, she actually did poop during those six months...just not as an act of will).

After six grueling months of prune juice, suppositories, and following the experts' advice of letting the child be in control, I reached my breaking point and decided that if she was going to whine about how much her poops hurt, then she could whine about it while sitting on the freaking potty.

So, for two weeks, I watched for signs that she needed to poop and then basically forced her to sit on the potty until she went.

One night she sat on the potty for over two hours, clenching her little bum and refusing to go. During this time, I tried encouraging her, distracting her, bribing her, giving her privacy, reasoning with her, and yelling at her (okay, that one wasn't really an attempt to get her to poop as much as it was just me losing my cool). I went in my room and cried. Then I thought, maybe if she sees me crying, it will make her want to poop... so I tried that. I prayed for her and I prayed with her. I even suggested she pray about it.

Her response when she finally pooped in the potty? "I was tired of holding it in." Go figure.

Well, I've learned my lesson. My child is not better than yours. We're currently working on fully potty training her, using sticker charts and candy to bribe her like the average family that we are.

Have you ever regretted posting something on social media? Have you had any horrible potty training experiences?

The good, the bad, and the ugly

As a rule, I try not to post things like "I have the best husband in the world" or "my daughter is the smartest three-year-old ever" on social media. Still, if you take a gander at my facebook page, you will probably conclude that my kids are amazing, my husband is amazing, I am amazing, and my life is, yup: amazing.

A few weeks ago, I posted a picture on facebook of some pretty awesome cow cupcakes that I made for my daughter's third birthday party at Chick-fil-A:

What I didn't mention was the mess I made in the kitchen because I was too stupid to figure out how to transfer the batter from the mixing bowl to the individual cupcake wrappers or my daughter's meltdown when she first saw them because she was apparently hoping for Minnie Mouse cupcakes for her birthday.

The cupcakes did turn out pretty cool though, so it makes sense that I would want to share that with my friends. But I long for authenticity (the good, the bad, and the ugly) even when it comes to social media, which is becoming a major means of communication for me these days.

Alas (couldn't think of a better transition word to fit here), I have created this blog to help bring some balance to those "superior" posts that we all make. My intention is not to vent or complain about my life (so if I do, please call me out on it), but to be honest about my shortcomings, hopefully give you a few laughs, and maybe share some words of wisdom with each other about tough situations that we all face!