Halloween Polaroids

We spent Halloween at a murder mystery party. This is becoming a tradition, as it was our third year in a row doing this. Our friends Christian and Ari always do a bang up job with the food and decor, setting the stage for a really fun party. The theme this year was 1920s Chicago Speakeasy. I was reporter and Adam was a golfer/nightclub owner. My costume struggled and was very last minute. That's just how it is with me and Halloween. Never sure what to do because I refuse to buy anything. That's why you won't see The Bird in this post. I'm just too practical to get an outfit just for a photo op. I know. Boring!

Anyway, enjoy the fun pics!

Maybe It's Because I Like the Slow Life

I have never been of the camp of women who think they need to "have it all." And yet sometimes I feel like I SHOULD want to "have it all." In my mind, the definition of having it all is enjoying everything that the feminist movement delivered to we modern ladies: choices, choices, choices. But not just choosing one choice; having it all means choosing ALL the choices. Having a husband, children and a sweet bomb-diggity career. To me, that's having it all. Throw in home-ownership with a white picket fence and you're really cooking with grease (Roosevelt peeps: name that drill team instructor). That's having it all with a cherry on top. Or cream cheese frosting, which I'd take over a cherry any day.

So, here's what's baffling to me. Maybe I would want to have it all if I saw how it could be done. Because some women are definitely having it all ... or they are creating the appearance of having it all and doing a mighty fine job of flubbing it. Some women work and have children. It's not new; in fact it's the norm. But am I missing something? I mean, okay, remove the women who have to work; I'm also not talking about the women who work full time and put their kids in daycare. I'm talking about the women who are choosing to work from home while raising their kids all on their own while their husband is at work. They don't necessarily have to work, or maybe they have to supplement the income a tad. These women have figured out how to have it all. They balance nap time with work time. They hang out with their kids when it's hang out time. They make dinner, they grocery shop, they clean house, they wipe snotty noses, they go outside and play in the leaves.

And they make me tired.

It's a compelling lifestyle. Truly, it is. It sounds perfect. Really, it does. So far in my six months of momhood, I can see how, with one child, it could be done. It could be done if Sienna had perfect naps every day. It could be done if she adhered to a perfect schedule and rarely wanted attention. It could be done if she slept through the night every night. But she doesn't do any of those things. On the rare day that all those things fall into place, I have oodles of time on my hands and mucho energy. On the "otherwise" days, I'll be the first to admit, I can't do it all and I certainly wouldn't feign interest in having it all.

I hear with passing time I'll be more busy, and of course with more children I'll be pleeeenty busy, like unto a chicken sans head. But that isn't an issue with the have-it-all-moms. They find the time, they make the time, they emit the energy - however scant - and they just do it. And they seem to love it.

But do they love it? Because, let's be honest, whatever the facade, something's gotta give, right? There are still only 24 hours in each human's day and if you're filling them with one thing it means you're not filling them with another thing. If you're tending to the boss, maybe your kid is crying; if you're playing with the kids, maybe your boss is waiting on you. Can you win in this situation? Is this a win-win-win? Boss, mom, kids? All winning?

I don't know. That's why I need to hear it from you.

Are you doing it all and having it all? If so, how? And, the zinger, are you happy about all of it? And maybe take the boss out of the equation because mom and boss are synonymous, aka, you are your own boss. Is that working out?

Because I consider myself an ambitious and capable person, yet when it comes to having it all, I’d prefer to just do what I know I can handle. I set limits because I know my own limits. I know I need balance and exercise and at least somewhat decent sleep. I need blog time, news time, book time, plan proper meals time, clean time, shopping time, cook time, scripture study and prayer time and on top of all of that husband and daughter time (which I try to keep in ample supply). There have been times in my life when I tried to do it all. And I was a complete hag and totally unhappy. Overscheduled and overambitious Marthy = atrocious, unhappy Marthy.

What are your thoughts on having it all?

Saving Sanity with a Diddy

I was about to unload my wrath on motherhood last week. Adam proved a lifesaver one day when we visited him for lunch and he sang this little number about Sienna's outfit.

A Gaspy Laugh

Shaking It

The Rollover

She's been rolling back and forth like nobody's business these days. I love this video because of all the teetering on her little hip. Makes me laugh.

Bow Comments Redacted

I can't really believe what I'm about to say, especially since I've been a bow hater for as long as I can remember. But here goes: My will to live a bow-less life has been shaken. It all happened a day after I wrote the previous post. The very doctor who delivered Sienna kept saying right to her face, "Hey little guy." And Sienna was wearing PLENTY of pink. It caused something inside of me to snap. And now she wears bows. Even crazier is I LIKE it. Now strangers fawn over her pretty girlness. I'll be the first to say she DOES make a cute boy, there's no question. But she makes an even cuter girl. So, there you have it. I do bows.

Special thanks to my cousin Megan who sent The Bird a slew of hand made bows when she was a newborn. Sorry it took me this long to use them. I'm a reformed bow hater. Just like that. (More bow pictures to come. Many more!)

The Case Against Bows & Other Hair Matters

(First things first, is not my daughter captivating? MMmmMmMmmMMMmMMM)

Okay, now we can start. I wouldn't be surprised if many a folk think me a neglectful mother for not adorning Sienna's head with a satellite dish-sized bow on a daily basis. Especially because I complain so often that people mistake her for a boy. Well, I tell you, I just can't do it.

She does look insanely beautiful with a bow. But see how it slides down there?

It lands in her eyes more often than not, and I just can't be tasked with the duty of keeping it straight.

That's all. I just don't have the patience for bows. That's it. I think they are lovely. I just can't hack it when it comes to accouterments.

In other hair news, I gave Sienna her first haircut on Monday. She's five months old now and I figured it was time. Naturally. She's been rubbing it bald on the sides and back and her whole look was resembling that of a toupee-wearing grandpa. She was reminding me of Larry, Curly, and/or Mo and it was bugging me.

Here's her growth before the cut.

Here's an after shot, which doesn't show much except her adorable chubby profile.

I cut off a good centimeter.

Here's her sucking her thumb (palm always up) in response.

Ending with a much shorter mohawk. (Her eyes are still blue! What the?)

mVelope

You know how you find stuff online that you love and to remember it you email yourself a bunch of links and when you go back to look for those links you can't find them and you spend all day Googling through your email inbox and you STILL can't find them and you want to blow up the Internet because you thought Googling was the answer to everything or at least produced some kind of answer? Well, I'd like to introduce you to my new blog that only contains run-on sentences. Just kidding. Just kidding, just kidding, just kidding.

Actually, I'd like to introduce you to my new blog where I keep track of all the things I find online or in real life that I love and want to log away for future reference. It's called mVelope. You say it like this: Em-velope. Rhymes with envelope. And my name's Martha ... sooo .... Get it? It's my online envelope of goodies that make me giddy. So check 'er out. The blog itself makes me giddy. Blogging - period - makes me giddy. I'll keep a link to it on my sidebar. Get ready to get giddy!

A Mother of a Musing

In case you haven't been paying attention, since May 6th this blog has officially become one of THOSE blogs. One of those blogs I used to avoid. A baby blog. And, surprisingly, I am unashamed. Because I truly do believe my baby is the awesomest human to ever enter this atmosphere. So, in the spirit of taking this annoying baby blog just one step further, I'd like to document my thoughts on being a parent (five months into the process). All you single people and couples without kids have my permission to leave now. I will not blame you in the slightest. This is annoying stuff. And I love it!

*It can't be stated enough: my daughter is the best, brightest, sweetest, cutest, most scrum-diddly-umptious miniature human to get from heaven, to my womb, to planet earth that ever was. It's just a fact. I didn't feel this way at first, though. A friend asked me RIGHT after she was born "don't you just LOVE her?" and I said "Yes!" but I was thinking "No ..." because, yes, I was THRILLED to not be pregnant, but the baby herself was still just kind of not real yet. The more she has learned to respond, the more I love her. Love is a two-way street and it's hard to love those who are like leeches, completely dependent. It makes me especially in awe of people who have dependent elderly parents or handicapped children.

*I finally get the parent thing. It's something that cannot possibly be understood until you become one. I know why parents cannot shut up about their kid even if it drives everyone else to drink. I totally get it.

*I had no idea the issue of sleep would consume almost my every thought: how to get more, how to get Sienna to get more, when to put her to bed, when to leave her there to cry it out, when to ditch crying it out and help the poor child, why she only slept 45 minutes for one nap and 4 hours for another nap. It's this constantly perplexing thing that, as I've stated in a previous blog post, leaves me throwing up my arms in total and utter confusion. That is, until I realized something. Sometimes I take my Sunday afternoon nap at a different time than I did just one week before. Sometimes I go to bed at 11 or 12 instead of 10 pm. Sometimes I wake up on my own at 4 am hankering for some toast and jam and MUST get up to eat it or else I will wither away. Could it be infants are just like adults ... but smaller? This is groundbreaking, I know. But if I look at it like this, it kind of helps me make sense of her crazy sleep weirdness. Still, sleep is what consumes the majority of my thoughts. I will move heaven and earth to get this girl in her crib the moment I see that first yawn. Just the other day I was taking a leisurely walk to the library. I got there and was ready to start perusing when - AH-HA! A YAWN! I dropped my book, turned around and TRUCKED IT home and got Sienna down just in time. Phew. These are the victories - getting my daughter down for a nap at the PERFECT moment. It is no small feat.

*I become a Monster with a capital M from the hours between 10 pm and 7 am. If Sienna awakens unexpectedly (sorry, this is just a continuation of the previous paragraph) - say one hour after I have fed her - I will visit said child's crib and scold her and try with all my might not to give her a karate chop to the neck. (Just for the record, I've never karate chopped her in the neck.) I think the craziest thoughts and wish the most incredible harm on her in the middle of the night and sometimes I have to awaken Adam to take her away. Or take me away and lock me up - whichever diffuses the situation best. Unless you are already an insomniac and are well acquainted with the night-time world, the new parent discovers this strange, dark, lonely life that goes on when the rest of society is sleeping soundly. The weirdest thing I hear in the middle of the night when I'm drowsily feeding is the traffic going to and from the outside trash dumpster. Who, I ask, is taking out their trash at 3 am? Apparently a lot of people.

*It's something I'm still getting used to, but, guess what? I can't just leave and go running once Sienna goes down for a nap. I'll take out the trash or grab my laundry after locking her inside, sure. But I can't just go live my life and leave her alone even though I'm fairly certain that she'd be just fine. No one would steal her and she wouldn't suffocate. She'd be fine. But I still can't do it. It's hard. Because I just want to go running without her. I do.

*I used to get annoyed when I was pregnant that the only thing people wanted to talk to me about was my pregnancy. Well, now that the child is out, I have no qualms whatsoever about every conversation and attention being turned to her. It doesn't bother me in the slightest. And good thing because about twice as many people will stop and talk to you/your baby (and call her a boy) and turn into total dweebs. Everyone has a baby voice. And it doesn't bother me. Again, she is the best, brightest, cutest, and might I add whitest, tiniest, softest little marshmallow to ever lift her head and squawk. No, I will not shut up.

*Being a stay-at-home mom is everything I thought it would be. Fun, boring, special, mundane, awesome, stupid, wonderful, annoying, important, a waste of time, the best use of my time and so on and so forth. You see, it's everything. It's everything any sort of life situation is: it carries with it both good and bad. It's both satisfying and sweet while at times being tedious and tiring. A lot of people told me being a mom is hard work but didn't explain what that meant, just like people say marriage is hard work and ... it isn't. So my best guess about what it means for motherhood to be "hard work" is that it's manual labor and emotional labor. It's the housewifery bit (cleaning, cooking) plus rocking, walking, changing, wrapping, bathing, snuggling, carrying, pushing and, when she's older, the talking, arguing, disciplining, worrying. It's absolutely opposite of all my previous jobs which entailed sitting and thinking. Apples and oranges, both are great.

*There is nothing better, I repeat, NOTHING better, than touching and holding and kissing Sienna. Nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing, nothing. Mmm mmmm! I want to snuggle her right now. But she seems to have decided to sleep for half the day. I can't win.

Inspired by my friend Fig's post on pregnancy, a list I wish I had written when I was pregnant.

Creamy Cardboard Goodness

Yes she did steal the spoon right from my hand.

Chow Time

I can hardly believe it but Sienna is doing the rice cereal thing. She's a week away from being five months and she has responded really well to the extra food. Even though it tastes like cardboard and probably adds, what, like 60 extra calories? I don't really get it. But she seems to be happier with it in her life and that makes us happy.

The Bird Squawks and Swats

Introducing videos on my blog! Took me long enough to figure that one out. The first two are of Sienna kind of swatting. I helped her out a bit in this first one, but you get the gist. (Also, my mouth is full in the first one, so that's why I sound like that.) She is getting the idea of using those things called "hands."

Take note of the right leg kick in the top and bottom videos. When she gets excited she waves her hands around and kicks only her right leg. We think it is hysterical.

These two videos show the squawk. It is my favorite!