Sunday, August 29, 2010

I'm a believer: Breast milk Saves

This morning little B woke up with loose boogers, the kind that force her to sound like a cow as she sleeps. Poor babe. She snored her little heart out as she snuggled with me and all Daddy and I could do was smile!

I tried the booger sucker- and it didn't work. But she didn't mind it (I stick it in her nose regularly so she isn't afraid/shocked by it).

So... I tried the breast milk in the nose. If you don't know, breast milk is known to heal. The most common that people know of are stuffy noses and eye infections. REALLY!

So, here's our story. B is snuggled up next to me, getting to the point that she is screaming to breathe because of this little booger (which we should have named MONDO booger). We let her get pretty upset so that it would loosen, thinking possibly she would shoot it free herself, wouldn't that be impressive? I hate hearing her cry even a little, so I started to feed her. If I pull her off, or she falls off within the first five minutes, I've got a good 1 foot range of squirting milk. I aimed it at her face and got as much into each nostril as possible, then fed her again. At this point in time, it looked as though someone had splatter painted my child's face with some super light white liquid. (I know what a splatter painted face looks like because the neighbors and I painted their bedroom this way... using paint, not breast milk silly.)

As she continued to eat, this GIANT SNOT ROCKET comes flying out, sucks back in, flies out, sucks back in and I am grabbing for it with each breath that she takes. Jon frantically searches the bed for the booger sucker and I catch it! Aha you little booger- hehe. It was HUGE! And BOY are we grateful THAT dislodged, our girl is back to sleeping under her daddy's armpit, NOT sounded like a dying calf. And I like that. :)

Other ways to use breast milk, for ourselves too!!:

-On mosquito/bug bites/stings (even your own)
-Scrapes, burns, scratches
-Cancer sores
-Diaper rash, clean area first with warm water and NO soap, then squirt milk onto cutie bootie and rub in or let air dry
-Acne and eczema, rashes or hives again, clean, then rub in or let air dry
-Plugged eye ducts, no need for eye drops. When baby is asleep squirt a few drops over eye slit, gently lift lid to get it underneath
-Chicken pox, to help ease itchiness (I hope my pastor's wife was able to try this!!! :)
-Red eyes, squirt in there like a plugged duct
-Chapped lips and skin, simply rub it in, rub in it (I said this like, plug it in, plug it in.... Ahh, good jingle)
-Ear infections, squirt it in there!

I just think these all make sense, why not try it before heading to the doctor? I think it is safe to say that MOST people wait it out a few days before they take their child in. Why not try something that can't hurt while you wait it out those 2 or 3 days... and if it works, what have you lost?

Not only that, but breast feeding alone can reduce your risk of breast cancer. There are also so many diseases that can be treated with breast milk, I've read of hospitals giving it to adult cancer patients, intriguing! So if you've got some extra milk- donate it! It will be used!

So, there is a GIANT snot rocket on a blanket in my bed right now, and I think I will take a picture of it for Brooke's baby book "My First BIG Booger." Because really, that thing could have reached up to her brain.

Friday, August 27, 2010


I think our world could be a pretty amazing place, that is, if we all held on to the treasures of our childhood.

The sweet praises of our mother's voice or the glint in our father's eye of pride.

The belly laughs.

The giggles.

The slobbery secrets and slobberier kisses. You know, the ones with the WIDE open mouth, Brooke is starting to do this and it melts my heart. Followed by the biggest mouth wide open smiles. Seriously, I could EAT this kid up!

Giggles of glee and squiggly squirms.

Squeals of delight.

Ants in your pants. (Sometimes literally, or sand, or dirt, or... or...).

Red rover, red rover. S'mores. Ghost in the graveyard. Kick the Can.

Cabbage Patch Kids. My little pony. Strawberry Shortcake. Barbie, the old one with semi-more realistic boob size and absolutely less realistic waist and hips. (No, I don't think Barbie made kids anorexic.)

Campfires and sleepovers, the kind in tents in the backyard (with an extension cord, TV, stereo and many millions of giggles, Oh, that was just Lisa, Kaytie and I?).

What if we had a treasure box with all of those sweet memories?

I think if every child was given a box filled with their mother and father's voices through their infancy, they would know true love. I catch myself whispering to Brooke, "You are beautiful, smart, strong," along with many other praises. I hope she hears me, and holds it in her heart. I remember my mom's voice whispering to me, maybe that is why I love her so much, because I know I did nothing but be born to her, and I had her from that moment until always. But so many people are abandoned, or their parents forget to praise them, or they don't have the time. Every one is praised and adored as an infant, and I don't think it really is lost. Simply, we let it fade away. If we had those reminders that we are worth something to someone. Man. I bet people would be WAY nicer.

But mostly, I think if we all held on to those nighttime prayers...

I know a lot of people, and I think every one of those people said nighttime prayers. If every night, every soul on this earth crawled into bed and said their prayers, it might be a more wonderful place around here. And- maybe not, but could it hurt?

Surely if we all had Jesus... but surely that'd be too much to ask. (Sense the sarcasm.)

Wednesday, August 25, 2010


HONESTLY- I just don't really try and impress anyone, because really it doesn't matter.

I could tell you of all of the awesome wifely things I did today or last night... but really I'm just a good old normal wifearoo. (But the best mom on earth.)

It's my goal to write it all down, but not to impress anyone, that is FAR too exhausting. So whether I share an awesome feat, or a silly moment, ahhhh, to just be real about life is so freeing, and I am so happy I've always been okay with doing that.

Today, I had so much spit up between my toes, down my shirt, covering my arm and even in my carpet that I should have re-showered and gotten the shampooer out. But I didn't. I grabbed a baby wipe and took care of business, because honestly, I am JUST TOO STINKING LAZY to shower twice today, and keep my baby from napping to shampoo the carpet (never mind I don't have a shampoo-er)

I didn't flush the toilet today until I pooped, yup, I poop. In this house, honestly, we live by the phrase "If it's yellow let it mellow, if it's brown, flush it down." I'm all about saving the earth, one less flush a time. So, that means when company comes over, I nonchalantly use the restroom just to flush the toilet. So... if you ever come over and there is pee left, you know why.

I struggle with this thought- Stop writing every little thing about your life on facebook, no one cares that you woke up with a pimple, it's really okay NOT to tell us all your minute by minute plans for the day... but then, I blog. Hmm, is it hypoctrical? I'm not sure, I have a self discussion, a little something like this weekly:
"Oh my word, seriously?"
"Jeanny says, 'Oh my word.'"
"I know, that is why I say it, I feel like it's okay since she's the pastor's wife."
"Whatever, no really, oh my word, are people really that narcissistic that they have to post pictures of their lunch, or log on to facebook and change their status 5 times an hour... all day long?"
"Well, you blog about your life."
"Right, but this is optional to read."
"And facebook isn't?"
"Well... I mean, it is more so, you know?"
"Sure, I KNOW... but you decide to log on and go through the news feed and read everything."
"True. But really, it just comes up."
"Then don't log on to facebook."
"Right, but you know blogging is totally separate, people have to seek this out, or click the link, Facebook is just right there, and seriously?"
"You're crazy."

See the dilema? Gah.

I still haven't vacuumed. Honest.

I don't think I'll ever want Brooke to sleep in her own bedroom, I like having her right next to me. And no, Jon and I don't have marriage problems. Everything is extremely lovely and peachy... ahem. I just like having her in our room, it is so much easier, and snuggling as a family is always an option.

Honestly, I almost got teary tonight as Jon and I left visiting baby Haylee, and her parents of course :). Jon said he'd like to become a member at Faith if we're really ready to make it our home. That scared me. That's a big step. That's like a real divorce if in 10 years our kids want to go to church with classmates, then again, I think it's wrong to leave a church just because your kids say they want to go elsewhere... so I guess I just turned THAT down. Put your fists down crazies, I really think it is. I have always believed that you are married to the church, not just THE church, but your church. Leaving is like a divorce. And we do not want to divorce the church that we select as our home base. I'm cool with our kids going to youth group at other places, but our family church will remain. Some of you may call me crazy, and think myself a witch, because this means Jon leaves his home church. We have cried, prayed, cried, fought, listed, and tossed and turned over the decision. Both, or one of us would have to leave our church eventually, we did not come from the same church. It is just happening that we feel Faith is the better home for our family. What does that mean though? Egad! There really aren't that many people in this phase of life/age bracket at Faith... but that doesn't mean we shouldn't listen to what has been placed on our hearts. Because shoot, the people who are in our age bracket are cool, and I think maybe we have TIME for each other, which I feel is totally a foreign concept some places. I hope to really build strong relationships with people at our home church. We talked about where we fit, what ministries we think we'd be a part of and both said: HONESTLY, if we are over-involved, we'll burn out. If we do more than 2 things a week, we'll probably tire out. But that is just where we are at in life. How cool to hear your husband think about doing a super early morning bible study? Or to discuss a ministry he'd like to be involved in, or start? I didn't even think he knew that it existed. He's super hot, and awesome.

Honestly, I am tired tonight. My thighs hurt from walking the baby. That is pathetic, we walked around the block. But even more honestly, I'll probably drive aforementioned block tomorrow to prove to myself that it is longer than it seems... and uphill.

Honestly, I have been thinking a lot lately about old friends, and I hope they are doing okay. And really, I've been praying for more people to connect to and share life with. And I am so excited for what is happening at Faith, and in general in my life.

God is good, honestly.

And, I'm just going to continue to be really honest, and not try to impress you, I hope that's okay.

Monday, August 23, 2010

Why every dad needs a daughter

I read a book once called Why a Daughter Needs a Dad, and cried tears of joy and longing as I thought of my husband and his precious daughter who would soon be born.

Then I got to thinking, why a daughter needs a dad? Why every dad needs a daughter is more like it.

Every dad needs a daughter to remind him to treat his wife with love, honor and respect, to teach her what to expect from a man.

Every dad needs a daughter to remind him he is a hero, her hero.

Every dad needs a daughter to love him for who he is, including his silly belly farts on her tummy.

Every dad needs a daughter to teach him patience, even when it means plugging a paci 300 times in twenty minutes into her rosy lips.

Every dad needs a daughter to encourage him to work hard every day for her.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him gentle.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him on his toes.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him in shape.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him cleaning his guns.

Every dad needs a daughter to hold on to.

Every dad needs a daughter to snuggle.

Every dad needs a daughter to keep him on his knees, praying for her life, her future, and who she will become.

And not every daddy gets that daughter, but I know Jonathan is the most blessed father because he has his little girl Blyn, and I really thank God for that.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

I used to...

People say that when you have kids, you will not remember what life was like before then.

I remember and look back fondly, but I understand what they mean. Clearly you won't "forget" what life used to be like, but it is so different now.

I used to watch countless hours of television at night, NOW, I snuggle a little girl who needs me, I plug pacis in countless times (ok, about 10 tonight), and I rub the roundest head I've ever seen until her sapphire blue eyes close in the darkness.

I used to cook without an apron on, NOW I wrap my child to my chest as I cook in the most beautiful kitchen in the world.

I used to vacuum before bed, NOW I don't vacuum. Really. I don't. Haven't since we moved here, it's been almost 10 weeks... that's kind of gross, but I swiffer often. Don't judge.

I used to have my phone volume all the way up, NOW I'm not sure where my phone even is.

I used to run to answer the phone, NOW, it can wait, whatever it is.

I used to shower every other day, NOW I shower every day, twice a day because of the most beautiful spitter upper on the block.

I used to want to walk hand in hand with Jon through the neighborhood, NOW I dream about him holding Brooke's hand on our family walks, I'll still hold his other one for the rest of my life. :) I think that's important, no matter how many children we have, we will always be hand in hand. AMEN.

I used to do my hair, put on foundation, blush, eye liner, 2 eye shadows, mascara, and chapstick, NOW I'm lucky to get on some mascara and brush my hair.

I used to do laundry once a week, NOW I do it every stinking day.

I used to go to work every day, I used to wear dress clothes, I used to wear a size 10/12, I used to wonder what my babies would look like, I used to do so many things.

Now, I listen for cries, watch the lights on the monitor, change about 5 diapers a day, plan my life around a 13 pound miracle, and watch my best friend cherish every moment with his little girl.

I would not change my life for the world and hope my Blyn finds the same as she grows, to love every moment, just the way it is.

To carry my daughter, kiss her face, hold her hand, and pat her bottom are the sweetest things to spend my days doing. What did I USED to do again?

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Mommy Memory

It will happen.

The dreaded Mommy Memory, you know, where mid sentence you have no idea what you were going to say?

Or perhaps you wake up in the middle of the night with your shirt pulled up exposing yourself and you swear you just fed your kid... but did you? Yea, I still have NO IDEA if I fed Brooke in the middle of the night last night. 5am, I remember that, anytime before? Clueless.

Possibly you forgot to throw out your breast pads before tossing the bra into the washer. Maybe you left them on the floor of the bedroom because the nearest trash can is just too far. At least your husband can use them in the middle of the night for a bloody nose, not that we'd do that... That's just gross...

I forget the laundry (ok.... maybe I just "forget" that), grocery items, what time I was supposed to be somewhere, where I put that stinking fill in the blank.

Ah, the joys of the mommy memory, I'll take it any day!

Sunday, August 15, 2010

She get it from her Mamma...

I honestly sing this song by Juvenille in my head all the time... but only the "She get it from her Mamma" part, I don't know the rest of the words, honestly, I'm a white girl who listens to KLove only- peace out.

So ANYWAYS- Today, my little punk is 2 months old, and no I won't go on and on about how big she is, how old she is, or how fast it has gone, because it hasn't gone that fast. One day I'll look back and go WOAH! Or possibly even LIKE WOAH! But, not today, or yesterday, or tomorrow, I revel in each day, so much that I reek of spit up, revel in that! :) But I was thinking, my 2 month old pictures look quite a bit like my punk, because well duh, she get it from her MAMMA! :) Some things at least!

Tonight, I put her to bed at 8:13 and she was asleep by 8:45, early bedtime? SHE GET IT FROM HER MAMMA! (You can sing that if you like, in your head of course, because it is not like you'd be reading this out loud anyway...)

When in aforementioned bed, she wiggled her little wormy body in her sweet sleep sack (A bag like contraption you zipper your child into for torture, scratch that, comfort without a blanket.) all the way to the side of her bed, right next to her mamma. I slept with my parents until I was 14, legs entangled with my mamma, altogether now, SHE GET IT FROM HER MAMMA!

Farts, need I say more? She get it from her mamma. (Should that be embarrassing? It so is not, it's a scientific fact, everyone farts, shocking? I know!)

Her sweet dark hair, she get it from her mamma.

Her sense of extreme flexibility with change- she DOES NOT get from her mamma! This child will go with the flow, change of pants, she's game, change to a new outfit, sold! Not this woman- don't change your hair color without warning, I might feel nervous. Don't move, I will think you're leaving me. Don't change anything, okay? I like my little world just the way it is, thank God Brooke got that flexibility for change from her daddy!

And so, in my head I am hearing...

Oh, where she get her eyes from? She get it from her mamma... (Who knows!)
Oh, where she get her thighs from? She get it from her mamma... (Probably, poor kid)
Where she learn how to cook from? She get it from her mamma... (I hope so, or else she will only eat macaroni and hot dogs, and REALLY have some thighs to sing about!)
Oh, where she get them looks from? She get it from her mamma... (Uh huh, yaaaaaaaa hahaha)
But where she get that bootie from? She get it from her mamma... (I love my black girl bootie, I hope she gets it! Oh an Puh-LEASe, don't be offended.)
But where she get her class from? She get it from her mamma... (Clearly, classy is my middle name.)
Oh, where she get that chest from? She get it from her mamma... (That is inappropriate, but some day, we'll pray for it)
Where she learn how to dress from? She get it from her mamma... (Yes Brooke, follow my lead)

Oh Juvenille, she get it all from her Mamma.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

I'll send up a...

Glory for 2 hour long (plus) naps!

Hallelujah for grandparents who babysit for free!

Amen for food in the house, AC, a warm bed, and a toilet that works!

That's right for my Moby carrying ability, seriously, LOVE this thing!

Uh huh for having a job I can do from home!

Oooooeeee for pacifiers, because honestly, they get my kid to sleep until 9am on a Saturday.

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Yesterday, but it is today.


I wore two shirts, and I probably should have worn five. My perfume smelled a little funky, because it was not perfume at all. I put the laundry away and swiffered the floor. The dishes found their places, and are already dirty again.

I drank 56 ounces of water, and was still thirsty. I got a frosty-chino because I could. We went to the bank, and I told the teller to take his time.

I got my morning typing done and let out my brother's dog, Daisy.

I took the baby to my mom's house and she spit up over all of us- yes, Gram gram, Papa, Momma, and Daddy even I think! And big sister Harley licked it up.

I missed my baby, because I didn't put her to sleep. How pathetic am I? I worked last night, fed the baby, laid her down and let daddy take over. She was an angel, right to sleep. Then I went to bed and felt awful, I didn't put her to sleep! I missed it, even though putting her down makes me crazy, which makes me sound like a lunatic. There is something about putting a paci back in her mouth 100 times...

And I did so much more yesterday, but I just can't remember. Because really, my days are filled with loving on a little punk, feeding her, changing her, burping her, and snuggling her. And even more really, I forget the rest of the day when she's in my arms.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

I didn't realize I loved you so much.

Is it embarrassing to admit that just this week I told my husband, "I have always loved Brooke, but after this week, I don't know, I just, I REALLY love her," ?

I have loved her for many reasons ranging from the fact that alone, she is my daughter, to her cute smile, her nighttime giggles, her sweetest cry, or even her tiny dirty toenails. (How do they get dirty?!)

But this week I have seen the little person she is becoming, a personality and all and it makes me love her that much more. Can I list personality traits? No. But precious, loved, adored, adorable, silly, cute, beautiful, inquisitive, cautious, trusting, calm, expressive, and cherished are all words that I can use to describe her. Oh Blyn, how I pray that you will grow to be a young girl, then woman of so many things! Brooke, it is my desire that you will know just how much I love you for who you are- my daughter, and that is all enough in itself.

I spent a good deal of time tonight with a niece and nephew. Thomas is almost 11 and Shannon is 7, they both got a little Brooklyn loving time and it is so precious to me to see them holding her. Shannon tries not to smile, but she beams. Thomas is so gently awkward with her as he stares adoringly at her. Sure, maybe I just see it that way, but man does it melt my heart. I remember holding Thomas, only 3 years older than he is now, when he was that age. I remember snuggling Shannon just 7 years ago. Time flies, but it isn't with Brooklyn. Maybe because every moment of every day is consumed with her. I cherish each little change. I swear I can SEE the zits forming on her cheek, and disappearing the same day. I do not take this for granted, and never will. I am beyond blessed to even HAVE a child, let alone a healthy, beautiful one (Who went to sleep tonight perfectly mind you- HOLLA!) As the kids held her, Shannon got nervous with a few little whimpers. Maybe I should have scooped her up, after all, Shannon said, "Take her, take her!" But I told her no and instructed her of how to comfort Brooke, and she did. I hope she felt good about that. And I handed her off to Thomas, just a quick plop as I was going to grab her in a second, he was nervous, but did JUST fine! :)

I am so proud of my life and each person in it. I have the smartest, cutest, kindest, gentlest, most innocent nieces and nephews on the planet and I adore each and every one of you. Brooklyn is so lucky to have her Thomas, Lexie, Shannon, Hunter, Callie, Brody, and Haylee (Who was born 2 days ago!).

And- Brooke got to see all of her grandparents today, umm, hi. LUCKY. Blessed.

Friday, August 6, 2010

I feel like a bad mommy when...

I can't figure out why my baby is upset, then I remind myself we speak different languages, and we'll get it eventually. (7 weeks isn't enough apparently, however, if I moved to Mexico for 7 weeks I'm sure I'd be fluent in Spanish... baby must be the hardest language to learn. Go ask a professor.)

She is crying and daddy can't figure out what is wrong, then I realize he doesn't mind the fussy Mcfuss, as he affectionately calls her. (And really... 5 minutes here and there, babe we are lucky!)

She eats for only 5 minutes- then I realize how HUGE she is and tell myself to shut up. (She gained 1 pound 8 ounces in 9 days- hello chubbaroo!)

I lay her down and she dozes on and off for an hour, because that is a whole hour I could have snuggled my bug, then I remind myself she needs her sleep and wouldn't get it if we played, and I'd be miserable later in the day with a grump a lump.

I forget my vitamins, there is always tomorrow.

We have to get crummy insurance because I want to stay at home, then I remember that Jon and I chose this for our punk, and good insurance or bad, what is important is her daily care from a momma who adores her and will protect her with her life.

She cries in the car seat, but then she loves to be on the move.

My daughter's butt gets red, but then I think of the the chlorine I'm prtoecting her from and the money we are saving, and I am so glad. Plus, a little bootie paste and it's gone.

She gets gas, is it something I ate?

But that is just it, I'm not perfect and I never will be. But I still stand by the fact that I am the perfect mother for Brooklyn. I believe God designed me to be her mother. He didn't look in a nursery in heaven and say- "You, long lean one, go forth to Jon and Alli, I pick you for them." It was all in a plan since the beginning of time, that Jon and I would parent this precious princess. We have been molded to be just right for her. God held B's soul in his hands and said, "I have the perfect parents for you, I have been preparing them for you, I MADE them for you and I MADE you for them."

So even though I have a red butted, in-sling sleeping, wriggling little punk, I know I am the perfectly flawed mommy just right for her.

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Languages of Mommying

In our house many languages are spoken, rules are made, and gestures are understood.

So if you come over:

-a headbutt to mom's cheek means I'm still hungry.

-crossing your fingers when sneaking into the room your child is sleeping in means maybe, just maybe she'll be asleep when you peek.

-crying means: I'm gassy, I'm bored, I'm tired, I'm hungry, I'm wet, I pooped my pants, I'm over tired, I'm lonely, I'm sick of this, or Where am I? (spoken by all 4 family members, dog included, although I will not divulge who cries what.)

-red faced grunts are normal, totally, especially between the hours of 4 and 7 am.

-white nostrils and a furrowed brow always mean poop, always.

-the sound of mom's blankets finally closing for the night, wrapping around her tired shoulders means WAKE UP PEOPLE!

-don't lock the dog in the bedroom with the baby, floppy eared dogs + sleeping babies = problem. As when ears flop... babies eyes pop open.

We passed through the "five week fussies" I read about in one book... then I read another book. Scoundrels, now it reads six to nine week fussies, child please (in Southern accent, aww reminds me of Cathy B and SLAM I think...!). They claim it is because the child becomes more social... well social in your dreams with Camille baby, because this mommy is not chatty at 4 am. But, if you really need to share secrets, I'll gladly snuggle you in bed and we'll whisper until morning.

We have been blessed, though, Brooklyn is not very fussy really. At night she fights sleeping, but that has only been for the past 2 or 3 days. It has happened in the past, but we survived . We try not to let her stay up more than 2 hours without napping, because that is when it is at its worst. The sleep books all say it too, so we feel better! Sadly, she can barely make it to 1 hour at times... oh well. We'll see how tonight goes. She slept 7-8... then like trumpets roaring, was awake and ready to go for another day. I don't think so Chunk.

So with one million sh-sh-shhhhhhs, paci plugs, and snuggles, I think she's out. Okay, and 500 extra nursing moments. But- mission accomplished of setting her down "drowsy but awake." That is the sleep goal for week 6 and 7, according to the BEST sleep book ever, you know, everyone has one of those books. :) Blyn has been great at drowsy but awake for all naps... nighttime has only been tricky those few days like I said...

We'll see how I slumber tonight.. or don't. But, maybe if I cross my toes too, we'll have some luck again??