Here Comes 2018, and my Obnoxious, but Obligatory, Resolution Post

I mean, my title says it all, right?

2017 has been a rollercoaster.

I gained friends, lost them, got pregnant, visited home, Rick got promoted, I had a baby, contracted a mystery infection, embarked on deployment #2, my husband reenlisted (orders, wya?), and so much more.

I felt good about myself, bad about myself, wondered what the heck we were doing, irrationally wondered if my husband would still love me when I was someone’s mother and not just a wife (pregnancy screws your mental faculties, y’all), discovered stretch marks EVERYWHERE, and lost motivation.

Since becoming a Mama and starting this second deployment, my goals are different. They used to be things like blogging consistently, keeping up with laundry and cooking, staying in the gym (lol at this; it didn’t happen. My husband throws me off every time he comes home). I used to commit myself to finding purpose in my day to day life. For the first 6 months in California, I felt a little useless. It was the first time in 3 years I hadn’t had a job and been working. I’m blessed now that we’re capable enough for me to stay home with little Ev, and now I’m not hunting for a purpose. He wakes me up every 2-3 hours. 😂

That being said, I think my goals for 2018 and all the years beyond are more realistic for myself.

  • I’m going to blog when I blog. I love writing. It makes me happy. But I’m a busy person right now, and it’s okay if I go a few months without posting, and then write 6 new posts in a week. Plus I might be working on something besides the blog this year 😉
  • I’m going to stay in the gym when my husband comes home. For real, this time. I’ve written it down, it’s on the internet, so it must be true.
  • I’m going to try my best to keep up with life, and give myself grace when I don’t.

Life is busy. Especially so when you’re single-parenting it with an almost 3 month old who needs you 24/7. There are going to be days when finding a clean T-shirt is nigh impossible, when all my child does is cry and cling, when I get sick or when I feel like I’m failing. And I’m just going to remind myself that I’m not.

I’m not failing. I’m kicking deployment’s ass, I’m taking care of my son, I’m doing my absolute best. And even on days when I’m not doing my best? I’m going to tell myself that it’s okay, that the day is going to end, and I get to start over tomorrow.

Hopefully the new year will bring the end of deployment, a move, a healthier lifestyle (I want it known my husband said he’d eat vegetables. You all just read it. Hold him accountable), and a happy family. I’ve been married nearly 2 years to my best friend, with him for nearly 7. I’ve got a dog, a cat who thinks he’s a dog, and a happy baby. I’ve got a great husband who doubles as a great daddy. This year hasn’t been bad. But next year is going to be better.

I’m just declaring it.

I love my life, and the direction it’s heading. Merry Christmas, y’all.

XOXO,

Em.

Advertisements

Join the Club

The mom club, that is.

I’ve found something that intrigues me, and therefore I will ramble in a semi-coherent blog post that I will rewrite 4 times before deeming that it makes enough sense for you to read. You’re welcome.

Joining the mom club involves a strenuous process, no matter how you go about it; biologically, adoption, surrogacy, IVF.

The entry fee is also pretty exorbitant: your body, your sleep, your hobbies, your free time (at least for a while).

But the payoff for joining? A tiny little human that’s half you. Sleepy baby snuggles, wobbly toddler runs, belly laughs and first words. Totally worth it.

There’s something about the mom club, however. It’s very secular. You’ve got the clubs inside the club. There’s the crunchy moms, who don’t vaccinate, breastfeed til 4, make their own baby food. There’s the working moms who formula feed, do BLW, hire nannies or daycare. These are all just examples, by the way. Not every working mom or any other mom necessarily does any or all of these things. But then there’s all the moms in between.

In its secularity, the mom club can become very confusing, and very lonely. I’ve often wondered if I’m doing it right or where I’m supposed to fit in, and Everett’s only a little over two months old. Is breastfeeding exclusively the best thing? (Science says yes, gut says yes, but being a mom makes you wonder about everything.) Is having him sleep in his own bed 97% of the time the right thing? What about the fact that he won’t take a pacifier?

Being a mom is stressful. Breastfeeding is probably the most stressful thing I’ve encountered to date, simply because I’ve got to trust my body that it’s doing its job. That he’s getting enough and that I’m not starving him and that cluster feeding is normal when it happens. Then there’s the waking up throughout the night, and the times where he cries for reasons I can’t figure out. Or the fact that he REFUSES to nap during the day almost 100% of the time.

On top of that stress, there’s the stress of the mom club, too. When you’re already in an odd category- being married at 18, a mom at 20, and stable in your life, while most of the people you went to school with are broke college kids stumbling around at frat parties- becoming a mom puts you in another category completely.

Just like when I got married, I’ve heard all sorts of things. “Oh, was he an accident?” No. In fact, he decided to show up the week after we decided to stop trying. (Sorry for the roller coasters and the partying, little Ev 😂) “But you haven’t done anything or seen anywhere!” I’ve done the things I’ve wanted to. I’m still doing things I want to, albeit on a different timeline. I’ve married my best friend, given birth, lived somewhere new. And I’m not big on traveling anyway. “You’re so young!” Thank you, Janet. I appreciate your eyesight. Now my children will be grown by the time I’m 45 and I’ll go back to doing whatever I want, whenever I want.

The odd category makes it hard to find mom friends. They’re all either older than me, and therefore wiser (this is my sarcasm, age has nothing to do with wisdom). More often than not they’re haughty and full of themselves, and assume I’m some single teenage mom instead of a happily married woman. So then the mothers closer to my age, while some are also in the stage of life I’m in, most are women I can’t relate to at all, besides the fact that we’ve both had babies.

Right now, motherhood is kind of lonely. Maybe it’s because I don’t have my husband home to navigate parenthood with. Maybe it’s because I’m antisocial, and don’t like pretending to be friends with people who aren’t comfortable with me without pants on. Maybe it’s because going anywhere requires planning and starting to get ready an hour before we need to leave, and hoping my spawn is in a good mood.

Don’t get me wrong. I enjoy motherhood and I’m absolutely blessed to even be on the journey and in this club. I’m just navigating the waters and realizing that the island is a little farther than I thought, I think.

Mom friends, wya? I’m gonna need one of y’all to step up and bring your kid out with me to lunch or sit on my couch and watch Netflix. Email me for a friendship application 😂

XOXO,

Em.