Lazy Saturdays

Archive for August, 2012

I had a lot of fun while I was pregnant dressing up my baby bump, so I thought I’d put together a few thoughts on what I learned during my pregnancy.

First trimester: This is the trimester that you know you’re pregnant and your looking bloated and your boobs are growing to sizes you didn’t know possible BUT you may not be ready to let everyone in on your happy news yet. If all the sudden you start wearing baggier and baggier clothing, you may throw up some “I’m pregnant!” flags. I have a tip for throwing people off, but you have to start when you start trying to get pregnant OR as soon as you find out before any changes have happened. One day wear a looser fitting top, one that would hide anything that you potentially may be hiding. Then the next day wear something form fitting. Anyone who suspected a pregnancy yesterday won’t the next day when the see your normal figure. And repeat this process slowly incorporating more and more loose fitting garments. It will just seem like you’re trying out a new look for yourself. I started doing this as soon as we started trying to get pregnant and not a soul suspected me until close to the second trimester. I even hid it from my mother till we surprised everyone at Christmas. And my mom can call anyone out on a pregnancy. I was pretty proud of myself and how shocked she was to find out how far along I was before we told everyone.

Enjoy wearing all your favorite clothes NOW! Once they become too small you will miss them. And if it’s your first pregnancy, your body may change and sadly it may not fit after or it may take a while to get back to where you can wear them again. Sigh. Also, wear all your nice items because you may not want to get spit up or any other kind of explosion on your silk dress or dry clean only sweater. So enjoy your lovely clothes now, because it may be a little while before they come out of the closet again. Of course you can alway get a sitter, get dolled up in that silk dress, and head out for a fur night with your man after the babe arrives.

Second trimester: This was my favorite trimester to get dressed in. Your baby bump is showing and many of your clothes still fit. When I got pregnant I swore I would never buy anything “maternity.” I eventually ate my words. As my pants grew tighter I decided to try the hair tie thru the button hole trick. I did that once, felt like everyone I saw knew that my pants were only half on and went and bought my first pair of maternity pants. And I was in heaven. They were ten times more comfortable than I would have imagined. So what I learned from this was to be flexible. You may have an idea of how you want to dress as your belly expands, but leave room for new ideas. And go buy yourself a pair of maternity pants. I bought this pair from Old Navy and loved them!

As you can see from the pictures above, my favorite accessory was the belt. Anytime I wore a belt with an outfit, I got complimented. It did make my belly look a little bigger than it was, but I think it made it stand out in a fun way. And I was proud of my belly and had no problem showing it off!

What are your tips for getting dressed during the first and second trimester?

Read my third trimester tips here the awful fourth trimester tips here! 

 

I am over-the-moon excited to share this special guest post from my lovely friend Megan from Meg in Progress. I’ve known Meg and her husband since high school. When she started a blog, I was thrilled! Her posts will make you laugh to tears, become overcome with emotion, and more than once I’ve found myself saying, “I can’t believe I’m not the only one that feels this way!” You will love her blog. Promise. When I started putting together posts for the time while I was recovering from labor, I knew immediately that I wanted Meg to guest post. Read this post on motherhood and see the amazingness that is Meg. Then go read everything else she’s written. *Krista

I have been a mom for three years, four months and 3 days. It has been a terrifying and beautiful kick in the pants. Motherhood came with many things I very much expected. I knew there would be sleepless nights, dirty diapers and the occasional meltdown. I assumed I would love the little darlings and that there would be kisses and story time. I even anticipated the sad damage having a baby would wreak on my once perky who needs to wear a bra ever breasts. (Oh, 18 year old Meg. Who needs to wear a bra? Silly girl. Six years from now you will be talking to the nice lady in the lingerie section at Nordstrom. And you will hear yourself say to this nice lady, “So I need a lot of lift. Like, industrial crane placing the star on top of the Rockefeller Christmas tree, type of lift. Do you have anything that offers that?” They do. It comes in beige, white and old lady.) Becoming a mother also came with a few surprises.  I didn’t know that the word “love” couldn’t even begin to describe the soul bursting emotion I feel for my children. I had no idea I would have to clean human waste out of a bath tub…more than once. And nobody ever told me that motherhood, that most universal of institutions, would often be just so very lonely.

I remember the first time I felt it. Margaret was five weeks old and the postpartum depression was eating away at me like I was some sort of bacon covered dessert. (I love bacon and sugar…I assume depression does, too.) I stared at ceilings and wondered how someone that had forgotten how to feel could cry so much. My new baby had never taken to breastfeeding, so I spent hours of each day attached to a breast pump. The whirr and whoosh of my high end milking machine (look ma, no hands!) made me feel like I was a dairy cow struggling with depression, which was somehow much worse than a Meg struggling with depression. It was simply the last thing in a long list I just couldn’t do. So I decided to quit. And the joy, THE EFFERVESCENT EVER FLOWING JOY, of putting away the pump and buying formula! It was such a revelation to me, that not every part of parenthood entailed struggle. Oh my goodness, I thought, maybe I have a say, maybe there can be compromise, maybe I get to know what my child and I need. Maybe, just maybe, I can do this. And then I had a conversation with a friend  who looked at me and my new decision and said, “Meg, It is hard for everyone and we get through it. Breastfeeding is really the right thing to do. You just need to do it.” I spent the rest of that day on the internet. Every pithy blog, earnest statistic and mom endorsed article said the same thing, if you care for your child you will breastfeed. According to those “that know” the question of formula vs. breast milk defined who I was as a mother. And I didn’t measure up. The pump stayed put away but I was ashamed and told friends my milk had suddenly dried up, and Yes, it is just devastating and No, I don’t know what the baby and I are going to do without that time together. And they shook their heads and nursed their babies and felt badly for me. What I really wanted to say was,  But this is so much better for me. I haven’t had to stare at the ceiling for days. I am almost happy. I am, I wanted to shout, never going to try breastfeeding again. But I couldn’t say it. Because somehow those mom’s knew that there was a RIGHT way to do things. And there was something wrong with me. Motherhood, it appeared, had rules. And it only took me five weeks to break the most important one.

The Beatles had it wrong. Rule breaker is, in fact, the loneliest number.

The rules of motherhood are varied and often contradictory. They change according to region, socioeconomic status and time of day. What is held to be sacred truth at one play group is often considered heresy at another. And now a list of just a few I have encountered, in no particular order: All children should read by the time they leave preschool, if children read too early it will ruin their intellectual growth, cloth diapers are the only answer, cloth diapers waste too much water, babies should be taught sign language, teaching sign language stunts a baby’s language development, if your child throws a tantrum it is due to bad parenting, if your child does not throw tantrums he must lack spark, babies should be breastfed until they ween themselves, breastfeeding past a year old is “creepy”, more than a half hour of TV a day is detrimental, micromanaging the way your child spends his day is harmful, mothers should work outside the home, mother’s who work outside the home are missing out on what matters, if you want to bond with your baby you will give birth without an epidural, an epidural is the only way to enjoy your birth experience, homeschooling is the only responsible education, public schools are the only way to achieve proper socialization, parents should co-sleep with their children, co-sleeping with your children makes them too dependent, children need a firm hand, children should be given a long leash. And on and on and…on. Women, WOMEN! how we LOVE to enforce these rules. To judge and question and then discuss the judging and the questioning. And sometimes in the middle of the “I can’t believe she let her kids…” and “Well, I just know that I would never…”, I realize that I am the type of mother they are talking about and I start saying my goodbyes. Because maybe I can get out the door before Zuzu decides not to share, or throws a fit, or acts in any way like the three year old she is. Maybe Viola will start to cry and just won’t stop. Please, I think, let me get to the car before they realize exactly what I am and exactly what I am not.  And on the drive home I feel apart and as if I have wandered away from a path I never really found.

It doesn’t have to be this way.

Maybe I am naive. It is more than possible that I am a below average mother making excuses for my poor performance. I mean, honestly, I haven’t wiped off Margaret’s face all day. She has started touching the dried milk on her cheek and calling it a beard. Really.

But here is what I think.

Damn the rules. Do you know what makes a good mother? Loving our children, teaching our children, hoping for our children, praying for our children. We know what our babies need. We know it whether they sleep in our beds, whether we work outside the home, whether they have memorized every episode of DORA! or have never seen a TV in their ever lovin’ lives. We are Mommas, for heaven’s sake. We bring life into this world and then raise it up to the light the best way we can. And it doesn’t have to be lonely. We do not have to divided by labels, methods and philosophies.  We are not defined by the way we diaper or discipline.  What if for just a moment, we all acknowledged the grandness of this thing we are a part of, this blessed, God given role? What if we held each others hands and said, “Isn’t it heartbreaking, bright, boring, beautiful, tear-out-your-hair frustrating, and just so magical it hurts?” What if we loved each others children, tantrums and all, because they are just learning and aren’t we all and isn’t it just so hard sometimes? What if we decided that we were all doing just fine, every last one of us? What if, at the end of each day, we realized we had done our best and that was enough?

My word.

Anyone want to give it a try?

Thank goodness. I thought I was the only one.

Pictures via Instagram. User name lazykrista.

So life could be described as idyllic right now. Newborn cuddles are quite possibly the best thing in the world. I’d apologize for the silence on this blog, but I’m doing exactly what I want to be doing. So I’m not feeling at all bad. Plus it’s taking me a little longer to recover than I anticipated. I guess being a small person giving birth to a giant baby after a really long labor does a number on your body. Ah well. More excuses to just sit on the sofa and cuddle. I’ll take it.

And thank you for all the sweet comments on our baby announcement post! I loved reading every single one of them.

Here’s a super easy accessory project for you! I had an old polka dot bracelet from my teenage years that I decided to give a facelift. It doesn’t look horrible in the picture below, but in person, the bracelet was bad news. It was covered in a plastic material that I removed before starting. You can use any chunky bracelet for this project.

You will need a bracelet, cording, fabric paint with paint brushes, and a glue gun.

Start by using your glue gun and cord to wrap the bracelet. Work carefully as it’s easy to get glue on your fingers during this project… I may have found out the hard way.

When the glue dries, use fabric paint to add color to the cording. Let dry and you have a super easy new piece of jewelry! I love it! It’s unlike any other piece I own and can’t wait to give it a spin out on the town. 

Our little Maxwell Peterson is finally here! Born July 25th at 12:24PM and weighing in at a hefty 9 pounds 5 ounces and 21.5 inches long.

I went into labor on Monday night and Max arrived Wednesday afternoon. I was in labor for about 36 hours. It was long and exhausting. Time seemed to stand still as did my progress. Two nights straight of no sleep. And I’d do it all over again for this little guy.

One of the most life changing moments was the first time I laid eyes on my new son. I had to push for over three hours. I was so exhausted that I fell asleep to the point of dreaming between each contraction. I had my eyes closed tightly as I heard everyone in the room yell “look down!!” And there he was. This perfect little stranger that brought a bigger heart for me with him. Thru a day and a half of labor, I never cried. I kept myself as in control as I possibly could. But the moment I saw Max, I lost it and couldn’t hold my emotions in any longer. I sobbed and sobbed as I looked in his newborn grey eyes, watched as he grasped onto my fingers and as I spoke to him and saw he recognized my voice. Everything I sacrificed to bring this little life into the world flashed thru my thoughts. The sleepless nights, the stretch marks, the morning sickness, how hard it has been to breathe and move, the pain of labor, the trauma my body just went thru. It was worth every bit of it.

I also fell in love with my amazing husband even deeper than I thought possible. Mason was a rockstar thru everything. He took care of me and rubbed my back and held my hand as I labored at home for hours and hours. He was the best coach a girl could ask for at the hospital. He slept about as much as I did(you can see his exhaustion too in his eyes in the picture below). I could see how hard it was for him to watch me go thru the delivery process. And if that wasn’t enough to make me want to marry Mason all over again, seeing him hold our child for the first time certainly threw me over the emotional edge. Watching Mason become a dad has been one of my favorite things I’ve experienced in our marriage. He’s an amazing father.

So now, we’re home and enjoying time as a new little family. I’m still recovering but am feeling better every day. I can’t believe I’m no longer pregnant and how quickly my body is snapping back. We’re getting TONS of cuddling in along with tons of poopy diapers, sleepless nights and adjusting to breastfeeding. It’s been an amazing experience and we’re soaking it all up.