When Friends Are Like Family

Posted on June 3, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

Last night, we celebrated my friend’s bachelorette party and it was a blast! I’ve known L and her fiance, J, since college. J was Hubster’s roommate for two years, before they both got involved in residence life. L, J, Hubster and I used to have a couple’s night about once per week. It was so much fun, and we all became very good friends. L and J are one of the few non-blood-relatives in my life that I know would be there for me no matter what. Life could take a million big shits on my face and they’d still be hanging around with their noses plugged.

I love them like I love my own family. There are no words to describe how happy I am for them and how excited I am to be a part of their big day as a bridesmaid.

We’ve lived out of state for a long time, and last night it was so amazing to be with friends who still called me by my nickname (my initials with my maiden name). It feels like they’ve known me forever. They knew me before I lost my ability to trust. They knew me before I was a wife. They knew me before I was a mom. They knew me before mental illness changed me. They know me and love me for me, and there’s nothing in the world greater than friends who are there through it all.

Congratulations to L and J. May your lives be filled with love forever.

My New Favorite Picture of All Time

Posted on June 2, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

We just received the digital images from C’s 1-year photo session. They are absolutely stunning. I’m in love with this picture of C and me. He’s so wonderful and I love him to pieces!

A big thanks to Katie, of Behind the Lens Photography.

Another Call for Guest Bloggers!

Posted on June 1, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

We’ve moved once…and we’ll be moving again! I’m looking for guest bloggers for June 20-26 while we move from our temporary housing to our apartment.

Please pass this along via Twitter and/or Facebook to anyone you think might be interested!

You may contact me via a comment, Facebook, Twitter or email: lilmamajama@gmail.com. Thank you!

Mother’s Intuition

Posted on May 31, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

Last week, I had my first experience with mother’s intuition. It makes me smile thinking about it.

We dropped C off with my parents the week of our move, so that he wouldn’t be getting into boxes and cleaning products as we prepared to leave our apartment. He did really well with them, and we made sure we Skyped every day until moving day.

When we moved and realized we didn’t have data on our phones or internet service, I was sad that I couldn’t see my baby and tell him that we’d come get him in two days. I woke up the day after our move and was so depressed. I was in the pit of my PPD and couldn’t bring myself to get out of bed. The reason? I missed my son so much. Hubster and I decided to go pick up C a day early and surprise him.

Meanwhile, unbeknownst to me, C had woken up that morning and stared solemnly at a family picture of us while he ate his breakfast. After breakfast, he grabbed that picture and carried it around with him. He even kissed it! My parents said it was the first time all week he had done that, and they knew that he’d had enough and wanted mama and dada back.

When we saw C, we gave him a big hug and almost instantly, I felt complete again. I was amazed when I heard the story about C and our picture. It was like I innately knew that we had to go get him that day. Mother’s intuition. Quite an amazing thing!

Have you experienced mother’s intuition?

I’ll Become a Squatter Before I Ever Move Again

Posted on May 29, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

Last week, we moved from one Midwestern state to another. We’re back in our home state now, which is awesome, but let me tell you – moving is a real bitch.

I’ve always gotten stressed out during moves. Factor in mental illness (postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression) and it’s about 1000 times worse. I had no idea that I’d find myself holding onto sanity by an unraveling thread. If anything had gone wrong, I’m pretty sure I’d be writing this from the nuthouse.

But wait! We’re only done with Phase One of our Moving Month du Jour. In less than a month, we get to move to our new apartment. For now, Hubster’s wonderfully generous brother is allowing us to stay in his home that he’s preparing to put on the market.

Did I mention how wonderfully generous this is? :) I’m so pleased and relieved that we get to have our own space during this month of transition. I don’t think anyone (except any lovelies who also experience anxiety) can understand how important it is for me to have my own space. I get super anxious about being judged for any minute thing (not that anyone would judge me; it’s just my perception of reality), our routine being altered, not having my “me” time when I need it, etc. The fact that we have our own home to live in right now is really invaluable, considering how difficult this whole moving process has already been on me. Thank you, dear brother-in-law, for your generosity.

Anyway, I’ve learned some valuable life lessons this week that I thought I would share:

Don’t prematurely pack the Band-Aids.
I’m pretty sure this tape contraption was made for slicing flesh. And if you manage enough coordination to escape unharmed, you’ll probably get a wicked paper cut from a cardboard box.

Don’t become apathetic about cleaning three months before you move.
I fell into the trap of, “Well, I’ll have to clean the microwave when we leave, so why bother wiping out that spaghetti sauce?” Then a few weeks after that, “Look at all those sauce splatters! Why bother covering this plate of explosive enchiladas that I’m about to reheat?” I’ll tell you why you should cover it. Because it will take you five times longer to clean that damn microwave the night before you move, when you have a billion other things on your to-do list that need to be done RIGHT NOW.

Don’t keep those shirts you wore when you were 18 and plan to fit into again.
Face reality, sweetheart. Unless you tape up your chest with commercial-strength bandages, you’ll never fit into those shirts again. Donate them.

Plastic wrap is your best friend.
No, not for bandaging your chest. It’s useful for wrapping silverware tightly, protecting mirrors, keeping drawers from falling out, and about 100 other little things.

I hope for your sake that you aren’t facing a big move; but if you are, keep these life lessons in mind. Have you learned any lessons while moving?

Your Child, The Social Justice Advocate by Jon Tingley {Guest Post}

Posted on May 28, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

Today, I’m happy to introduce Jon Tingley. Jon was a coworker of Hubster’s during the past two years, and I’m honored to call him a friend. He’s a writer and higher education professional. On his blog at jontingley.com he focuses on topics including social justice, student affairs and social media. Below, he shares his perspective on how you can talk to your child about issues related to social justice. Thank you, Jon!

If you’re reading this today, you’re probably someone who (either now or in the future) wants to raise their child in a world where people are respectful of each others’ difference and where we continue to bridge the gap between those who have power and those who are marginalized. Now I’ll confess, I’m not a parent, but I am an uncle to 4 little ones and I’d like to provide them with some understanding of what seeking justice in society means. I’m sure some of you may be thinking, “I don’t understand social justice, so how can I teach my child about it?” Many parents that I know have fallen into this mindset and think that it’s too complex an idea to share with their children. In a way, they’re right. Social justice as a system challenging, sometimes cliché term is sometimes complex, but the ideas behind this movement are not.

Let’s start at the beginning because you’re right, you might not want to talk about social justice if you don’t know what you’re talking about. The idea is pretty simple when you break it down to the original Jesuit principles of justice and equity for all people. There is an analogy that I’ve heard many times about what social justice is (and isn’t) and I’ll share it with you:

Imagine walking past a river in your community and you see someone drowning. Of course, you jump in and save that person and drag them to shore. The second you get up, you see two more people drowning and you pull them out too, this keeps happening until you’re too exhausted to help anyone else without drowning yourself, so people keep coming down the river and you can no longer help them. When you did this, you were providing a service—and that’s great. Providing service to those who are less fortunate is great and it helps those people for a short period of time. Think about that same situation, but instead of continuing to dive into the river you walked upstream and noticed that there was someone throwing people into the river. This time you walk up to that person and convince them to stop throwing people into the river—you were then acting as an advocate for social justice.

The basic idea of social justice is knowing who you are and what your privileges are (white, Christian, educated, heterosexual, male, able bodied, etc.) and recognize that simply because you are those things, you are afforded opportunities and access to resources that others are not simply because they are not white or not able bodied or not heterosexual. Now, how do you have this conversation with your children?

If you’ve read down this far in the post, you’re probably already doing many of the things that will prepare your child to be someone who is in-tune to their identity and is an advocate for those who are different from them. As you already know, many of us adopt the values that were shared with us as a child and if you value these things, you’re most likely passing these ideals on to your children. On the flip side, that also means that you should be aware of the language you use, the jokes you tell and how you choose to frame your conversations about people who are different. There are some resources out there to help you have these conversations like this great book list on Amazon.

It is highly likely that if you introduce topics about inclusion and individual difference, having deeper conversations with your child as they get older will be much easier. Something I do with students who live in residence halls is a cultural blob activity to help them understand their identity. This activity could easily be adapted to use with a child who is a little older to talk in basic terms about who they are. Here’s a link to download the instructions. If this is a topic that interests you, I’d also suggest picking up The Social Justice Handbook. It provides some easy explanations and definitions of justice and helps explain the several different issues that contribute to injustice in our society.

The biggest takeaway for you should be to continue doing what you’re doing by modeling an inclusive environment at home. You can enhance this by learning more about how you and your family personally benefit from privilege and then sharing that understanding with your children. The resources that I’ve listed above can help frame the conversations that you have in your family, but it really comes down to the day-to-day reality you create for you and your family based on the language you use and the judgments you make about those around you.

If there’s anything more that you’d like to discuss or want me to elaborate, leave your thoughts in the comments. I’d love to talk to you about it.

Becoming a Working Mom by Anna S. {Guest Post}

Posted on May 27, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

Anna, a college friend of mine, is here today to tell us about her surprise entry into motherhood and how she balances being a mom and working full-time. Anna and her husband are also raising their son in a residence hall. I had to laugh at her hubby’s reaction to her positive pregnancy test – that was Hubster’s exact reaction as well! Thank you for being here, Anna!

Hi, I’m Anna, a wife, first time mom, and full time working professional. My family lives in Ripon, WI. My husband is a hall director at Ripon College. We live in a 2-bedroom apartment on campus all year long. Our son was born in July of 2011; which was the best surprise ever.

My husband and I were not trying to have kids; however not preventing either (we will say). I never thought I would be raising a child in a residence hall; however my life quickly changed. An October morning, I woke my husband up early to come see the results of the pregnancy test. Yep, there it was on our bathroom sink = POSITIVE. He hugged me and went back to bed. Gee.. thanks for the chat and guidance. I guess I will continue to get ready for work and carry on.

My pregnancy was healthy. I gained a lot of weight; however my doctor never said anything and it all came off now J I had awful morning sickness that lasted the first 4 months. Otherwise after my 2^nd trimester, I did great. (besides a co-worker calling me a whale; due to the amount of weight I gained). I was doing well until July 11^th (my son’s birthday).

I had gone in for my 40^th week check up to have an ultrasound and see my doctor. However, after the first few swipes of the ultrasound on my belly; we found out my son was frank breech. I went from being a full time working professional (I was suppose to go to work the next day) and wife to being a mom within hours. I was supposed to see my doctor at 3:30pm; instead I was being prepped for a c-section. At 5:07pm; my son was born. My husband describes the event as “NASCAR pit stop.” It was absolutely crazy, between the nurses, phone calls to family and work, other medical staff coming in, and prep for surgery. Off I went down the hall….

Hello Motherhood! The best part of my life!

After surgery and on my way to recovery

I spent 3 months home with my son before returning to work. It was a difficult first month for me. I was recovering from a c-section, breastfeeding and hormonal changes. I cried one time when my husband was trying to open a garbage bag and it woke our son. I was so mad, because I had just spent the last 15-30 minutes try to get him to sleep (I love hormones). By the end of the 3 months, I was ready to return to work.

I work at a nursing home that is about 20 miles from our apartment in Ripon.

I had babysitters from the college coming in and out of our apartment. I developed a schedule to cover from 9-5pm every day. I had 6 girls that rotated and divided up the hours to care for my son while my husband and I were at work. He got 1:1 attention and never had to leave the home. The college girls loved the break from schoolwork and enjoyed watching my son grow up. My husband would stop in throughout the day, so if any problems he was around.

I felt comfortable leaving my son home. I never had to worry about him having enough food, diapers, clothes and etc. I continued to breast-feed; I knew he always had extra milk in the freezer if he had a growth spurt that day and ate like a pig. It worked for us and that’s what mattered to me.

My son with a college babysitter

My son is now 10 months old, the school year is complete and my husband is off for June and July. He will spend his days with daddy now and will be going to daycare in August. I want him to be around other children; exposed to germs, learn to share, interact with others, and have fun. I feel okay about this next transition; as he is older now. I have given him a good base. I breast-fed for about 8 months and kept him healthy through it all (only 1 cold); he has been exposed to different people on campus; and got the 1:1 attention he needed for that first year. It’s now his turn to explore and learn.

Our family (yes he loves any bottle!)

Butterfly Lessons by Lauren Hale {Guest Post}

Posted on May 26, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

When I first shared here that I had been diagnosed with postpartum depression, Lauren Hale found my post and notified the #ppdchat Twitter army to rally around me. I was overcome by the love and support that I received from strangers, and was so happy to find a community of women who embraced me for who I am. I’m honored to share this post that Lauren wrote for you today.

Addicted to bacon, chocolate, and music of most genres, Lauren Hale spends most of her time as an advocate for families struggling with Postpartum Mood Disorders. She’s a Star Trek-loving geek who also obsessively watches college football, F1, and MotoGP. You can find her on Twitter, at On the Air, and at her blog, My Postpartum Voice.

Butterflies are magical creatures. They start out in life as eggs, sprout into caterpillars which creep along the ground, trees, bushes, etc, eating a ton of food in preparation for creating a chrysalis, the very vehicle used to support their change into the magical gorgeous butterfly.

One of these magical creatures crawled onto my one of my fingers this past week, stealing my breath as it stood there, perched, flapping it’s wings with a purposeful precision. Once it flew away, a piece of my heart went with it, grateful for the experience.

We don’t see butterflies change. The transformation is often hidden from sight and takes place in a safe, hopefully undisturbed spot. But we do see butterflies flitting about once they’ve completed their metamorphasis into a magical floating flower. They are patient and accepting of their change, understanding it’s the way their life flows.

It’s the same with people, throughout life. We are constantly changing and growing. Thing is, we don’t often get to do so in the safety of a chrysalis. No, we get to do it on display as we deal with the every day challenges of life. We can’t tuck ourselves into bed under the covers and refuse to deal with life. Well, we can, but that’s typically a sign that there is something not okay with us.

I wear a butterfly ring on my right index finger. It’s the ring I bought as a “nursing ring” to track which side I had last nursed my son on so I’d start on the opposite side the next time around. He’s four. The ring hasn’t moved since the last time I nursed him.

He was suddenly weaned at six months old. The pediatrician was extremely concerned he hadn’t gained more than 4-5 pounds since birth. She wanted me to pump. I had been down that dark road before and knew where it took me the last time. I had no interest in revisiting that dark place, a place I had worked very had this time around to avoid. I gave myself 24 hours to make the decision. At the end of the 24 hours, I drove to the store, purchased bottles, formula, and off we went. He was much happier and began gaining weight. He didn’t fuss and whine all the time any more which greatly improved my mood as well.

So the ring, the butterfly ring, sits on my right index finger to remind me that I did the very best I could for him. It’s also a symbol of the freedom I found in the peace with my decision to move him to formula. He thrived, blossomed, and exploded forth from his “chrysalis” of struggling to thrive. So did I.

Even when things are darkest, the light is still there, the beauty is waiting for you to find it.

Sometimes you just have to take a deep breath and hold your hand out to reach for it first.

Finding The Truth by Leelah Orion {Guest Post}

Posted on May 25, 2012 by Kristin @littlemamajama

Today, I’m happy to welcome Leelah, who has recently started blogging about making it while raising a family. She writes from the heart, and I really appreciate her being here today.

This is my first guest blog; I’m really nervous about it. I’m rather new to the blogging world. My blog is called Baby Steps. It’s mostly just a place to get out of my head but I hope one day it will stand up with the greats.

I’m a Sahm of a 19 month energetic, hilarious, independent little boy. I’ve been married to my best friend for 3 ½ years. We have been together for 8 ½. I love being at home and taking care of my family. I did make it out of college, and found a job, but then little one came, and changed my life. So now I’m on a new journey and I am happy about it.

When I was pregnant with my lil one I use to watch everything I used. Before I went natural I use to get relaxers for my hair. (Hair straightener) I remember all the research I did to make sure it wouldn’t harm my baby. Even after finding out that it was o.k. and getting one, I still had this nagging thought of what if it really was bad for him. I also remember eating some potato salad, and the person who made it assured me that there was no mayo in it, so there was no worry about the raw egg. So I ate it. Yum! All night I was worried that maybe the sour cream used wasn’t pasteurized. And how it could harm my baby.

Once lil one was born and I was breast feeding I still watched what I ate, in fear that it would harm him in some way. I would suffer through horrible migraines, and try as hard as I could not to take my inhaler even if I really needed it, because of the fear that it would some kind of way get into my milk supply and harm him.

I know baby needs mama to be healthy in order for him to be healthy. At least that is what all the doctors continued to tell me. My OB told me to put mama first and everything will follow. I heard her, and fully understood what she was saying, but each night as I took my PPD pills I couldn’t help but worry: How will this affect my son? What will this do to him? I guess as a mother you always worry about that. How the choices you make are going to affect your children. Hence, all of the “Mommy Wars”.

Well recently I found out that my mother didn’t worry about me. She could care less about what she was using, and how it would hurt me. I was a preemie baby. I weighed 3lbs 10oz. I saw pictures of myself, and I was just this little body with a HUGE head. My older sister said I looked like E.T. and I have to agree. Now my mother said that I was born early because she was playing softball (Don’t ask me why) on a hot day. And I believed her. After having my own baby, I have come to believe that isn’t true. Something else had to of happened. I use to joke that I think I was a crack baby. That’s the only conclusion I had. Well today I have found out that I might just be true.

Now I always knew my mother smoked cigarettes and pot while she was pregnant with me. She did it with all of us. But a person close to my family has confirmed that she was on more than just that while pregnant with me. That, when I was born, I really didn’t look “right”. He can’t pin point what drug it was, but, he is almost sure it was cocaine.

Am I shocked? No not really. My mom has had drug issues all her life. Am I hurt? Yeah, how could she do something like this to me? Did she not love me? Will I ever confront her about this? Probably not. My mother lies. If it doesn’t suit her she will lie about it, and I don’t want to deal with the lies.

What my wish is… That I knew what drug it was. So it could some kind of way help me prevent some kind of side affect in the future. I don’t even know if doctors know the long term affects. I don’t know. I just know that I love my baby and I would never do anything like this to him, or my future babies. I know that knowing the truth now has allowed me to shed some light into the future. If even just a little.

Little Mama Jama

The honest truth about the joys and wacky occurrences of pregnancy and motherhood.