Monthly Archives: May 2012

Mother’s Intuition

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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? 

We Went Without the Internet for Three Days!

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Have you ever wondered how addicted you are to your mobile device and the internet?  Try going without cell service, data service and the internet in general for three days.  I gotta say, it was pretty rough for me.  I felt like I was transported to the stone age.  Okay, maybe just the early ’90s.

The small town that we’re living in right now is like a black hole of AT&T mobile/data service.  My phone doesn’t even get Edge data service here!  My phone reception shows three bars, but every call I have attempted to make has been dropped.  Remember those cell commercials from several years ago?  I feel like I need to hike to the highest point of town, perhaps scale the tallest building, to get full bars! ;)

I realized just how connected I am to family, friends, work and the blogging and PPD communities.  I rely so much on the internet and social media in my life, relationships and work.  Luckily, Hubster and his brother figured out how to get the internet working.  My life is complete again!

Do you think you could go without the internet and your cell phone? 

I’ll Become a Squatter Before I Ever Move Again

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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}

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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!

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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}

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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!

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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 2nd 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 11th (my son’s birthday).

I had gone in for my 40th 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}

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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.

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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.

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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}

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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.

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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.

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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.

I Never Used To Care Much About Music by Charity Cole {Guest Post}

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I’m happy to introduce you to Charity, a wonderful, strong woman I’ve had the opportunity to meet through #ppdchat on Twitter.  She puts her soul into her writing, and it’s beautiful.  Thank you for being here today, Charity!

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Thank you Kristin for having me today.  I write about faith, family and mental health over at Giggles and Grimaces.  I share about life with three little girls, ages 5,4, 1.  Sometimes my writing, like this one, is on the serious side, other times it is about the funsies we have doing projects together!  Come check us out!

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I never used to care much about music.  Sure, I listened to the radio and owned some CDs, but otherwise, it didn’t feed my soul.  But over the last year that has changed.  Now, rarely a day goes by that I don’t turn my music on as soon as I get to work and listen as much as possible throughout the day.  And once I get home, a different playlist gets turned on to get me through the evening chores and activities.

I developed postpartum depression and anxiety after my youngest daughter was born 21 months ago.  It has been a rough road as the ups and downs have gotten worse and the depression has morphed into something beyond the initial illness.

There have been many hard times since Patrice was born, but there have been gifts.  I have met wonderful people, like Kristin, through Twitter, I have actually been more involved in my family life as that is often the only place I feel safe and I have discovered the healing power of music.  I am so thankful for these things.  Please find below one of my new favorites by Rob Thomas.  Please read along with me as I share some of my heart along with the lyrics.

 “Her Diamonds”

Oh what the hell she said
I just can’t win for losing
And she lays back down
Man there’s so many times
I don’t know what I’m doing
Like I don’t know now

There are a lot of days I feel like no matter how hard I try, no matter how much I look at the positive that I can’t win for losing.  I try to focus on all the good, I do, but depression is not that easy, unfortunately, it steals the joy out of the happy moments right before you.

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Says it’s funny how the night
Can make you blind
I can just imagine
And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
But if she feels bad then I do too
So I let her be

Depression is a family affair.  My husband is an amazing support, but he can’t “fix” me and I know that is hard on him.

And she says oh
I can’t take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can’t help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best but now she can’t win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She sits down and stares into the distance
And it takes all night
And I know I could break her concentration
But it don’t feel right

I’ve recently been in the midst of not being able to take anymore.  Honestly, there has seemed no escape.  People have tried to encourage me by distraction and it helps, but the pain is still there.  Still haunting, still devouring.

By the light of the moon
She rubs her eyes
Sits down on the bed and starts to cry
And there’s something less about her
And I don’t know what I’m supposed to do
So I sit down and I cry too
And don’t let her see

And she says oh
I can’t take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can’t help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best but now she can’t win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

She shuts out the night
Tries to close her eyes
If she can find daylight
She’ll be alright
She’ll be alright
Just not tonight

She shuts out the night—oh the hope in this, to close my eyes to the darkness, it may not allow me to wake up to light in the morning, today, but it will one morning and I’ll have more to fight with, I’ll have more to give, more to push  off the night.

And she says oh
I can’t take no more
Her tears like diamonds on the floor
And her diamonds bring me down
Cause I can’t help her now
She’s down in it
She tried her best but now she can’t win it
Hard to see them on the ground
Her diamonds falling down

Our tears our diamonds, they are our joys and sorrows, our hopes and dreams, pain, the sorrow, each is precious and worth capturing.  Our falling diamonds bring relief and healing, they give strength and perspective.

Don’t despise the tears you are given, they just might be what get you through your own night. 

Lyrics from A-Z Lyrics Universe

Impossible Expectations of Mother’s Day by Jen {Guest Post}

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I met today’s blogger, Jen, through #ppdchat on Twitter.  I’m constantly amazed by her positive spirit and her ability to rally around all of those who are struggling.  Thank you for being here today, Jen!

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I’m Jen of the blog tranquilamama.wordpress.com.  I have been happily married to my best friend for 9 years.  We have two girls who I refer to as Munch (4 ½ year old) and Skeeter (19 months old) on my blog.  My husband and I try to juggle parenting, professional responsibilities and housework.  I started my blog to help other moms who were struggling with postpartum mood disorders.  I received so much support from the online community that I felt called to pay it forward.  I was diagnosed with postpartum anxiety and postpartum depression seven months after the birth of my youngest, Skeeter.   I met Kristin through #ppdchat.  We bonded over our lovely home state of Wisconsin.  I am so excited that she will be moving back to the land of beer and cheese.  I am looking forward to getting the chance to meet her and her adorable C when she is settled into her new digs.  Thank you so much for letting me post and get a chance to vent about a family member who sometimes reads my blog. 

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The Mother’s Day holiday has always been fraught with impossible expectations for me.  My first Mother’s Day we went to a restaurant with my husband’s family.  Munch was seven months old.  I was so nervous about how she would behave.  I was very insecure as a first-time mom.  I was very uncomfortable with the idea of nursing in public.  When Munch needed to nurse, my mother-in-law suggested that I take her to the bathroom.  I was mortified and horrified by the suggestion.  I ended up taking Munch to our car and nursing her in the parking lot.  I was seething with resentment.  I ended up calling my sister because I was so upset.  Munch nursed like it was an all you can eat buffet.  This meant that nursing sessions took 45 minutes.  I kept a lot of these feelings inside.

Last year I took Mother’s Day back for myself, and it was the most wonderful gift I could give myself.  One of the main reasons was that I could not bear to be around anyone but my immediate family and my parents.  I was deep in the throes of postpartum depression and postpartum anxiety.  My requests for last year’s Mother’s Day was to attend Mass, go to a yoga class in the afternoon and have my husband prepare dinner.  That yoga class was my wakeup call and realization that something was wrong with me.

This year I informed my husband that I did not want to go anywhere.  I wanted to stay at home and relax.  I wanted to be able to spend some time just reading books, magazines and blogs and take a bubble bath.  I asked my husband to wash my car inside and out.  One of the main reasons for staying at home again was to rest up for the start of my new job.  I had been promoted at work.  I would be on the same campus, but I would be in a different building.  I needed time to relax and be physically and mentally refreshed.  We had received a call from my mother-in-law earlier in the week about going there for dinner, but my husband told her that we already had plans.  Never underestimate the power of Catholic guilt.  My husband received a text message late Saturday night from his mom asking us to come to dessert at 3:15.  My lovely husband is very protective of me, and he simply chose not to tell me about this.  He knew that this would infuriate me.

My little ladies woke me early to present the gifts that they had made at their daycare.  Skeeter made a birdhouse with wind chimes on it, and Munch had painted a plate with our family banana bread recipe.  Their cards were so sweet and thoughtful.  My husband gave me a stereo system that will allow us to listen to my iPod, listen to the radio or play CDs.  I also got the Grease 2 soundtrack CD.  These gifts were so unexpected.  My mother-in-law called us at 10:00 a.m. on Sunday to ask me if we were coming.  I told her that I didn’t know about this and that we would get back to her.  I reluctantly agreed to go for one hour to see two people: my wonderful sister-in-law and my husband’s grandmother.  Grandma is 95, and she has been declining this past year.  My sister-in-law has been struggling with lots of personal stuff the past few weeks.

My husband and I ended up in a huge argument as we were on our way to his mom’s house.  This time I wasn’t seething with resentment.  I was letting out all of my emotions – anger, irritation and guilt.  I ended up taking a Bach’s Rescue Remedy pastille on the way to my mother-in-law’s house.  It helped lower my anxiety to a dull roar.  After our discussion in the car, my husband and I made up.  As I was still stewing, my mother-in-law gave me the sweetest card about how I wasn’t a daughter-in-law, that I was a daughter to her.  She has been wonderful since I told her about my diagnosis of PPD and PPA.  So I felt like a chump because I was still upset.  I struggle with balancing my needs and articulating how the guilt trips make me feel.  All I wanted was some time alone and some time with my husband and my girls.  So I am thinking that I will write her a letter next year asking for a détente in the Mother’s Day guilt trips.  Shouldn’t that one day be guilt free?  If I write the letter ahead of time detailing my plans, it should save us from any last minute plans right?

Why New Parents Must Go To Yard Sales by Jason Ross {Guest Post}

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I’m pleased to welcome Jason Ross today!  His blog is filled with awesome parenting tips, and I enjoy reading his perspective.  Thanks for being here, Jason!

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Jason Ross is a proud father of a 1 year old daughter, Abby, and blogging partner of Lauren Ross.  Not too long after his daughter was born he began blogging on Ordinary Parent as a way to offer his thoughts, opinions, and stories of parenthood that may help other parents, or expectant parents, along their journey.  His wife, Lauren, joins him with frequent posts as well. They are a couple ordinary parents, offering their advice for other ordinary parents. 

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My wife and I have been dating for over 11 years now, and married for 5 of those years.  And ever since our high school days we’ve gone to yard sales.  We started as a way to make some extra money by buying furniture and household items we would later consign.  But now as parents, yard saleshave brought on a new meaning.  They are now an excellent source for everything new parents need.  Below are the reasons my wife and I try to make yard sales a weekly event, and plan to for years to come.

Save Money and Avoid Retail
First and foremost yard sales can save you lots of money.  My wife and I wouldn’t enjoy them or go to them if they didn’t save money.  A couple weeks ago at a yard sale we got a set of “little people” along with a school bus and car for them, a large doll house, and a set of stacking cups…for $3.  Everything in this photo would have cost at least 15 or 20 times that amount if bought new in a store. Not everything in a yard sale is a deal, and you have to make sure not to just assume something is a deal.  Sometimes people try to reclaim what they paid for the items years ago, and that’s just not possible.  But when our kids grow out of these toys, I don’t think we’ll have much trouble getting our $3 back.

Get Exercise
This last week I made sure to wear my pedometer to see just how many steps I would get.  Nearly 6000 steps later, our yard sale outing was over.  That’s roughly 3 miles worth of walking that was relatively unnoticeable as we ventured from one house to another at the neighborhood yard sale.  It’s pretty hard to convince me to just head out for a 3 miles walk.  But when it’s broken up yard sale perusing, the exercise is easily overlooked.

Get your child(ren) outside
A little vitamin D never hurt anyone.  But we want our daughter and any future kids to appreciate being outside.  Our daughter spends enough time inside.  Letting her spend a couple hours outside in the cool mornings is a welcome change.  She enjoys seeing all the people, all the animals, and the occasional new book or toy to play with.

Teach your children about money
Our daughter is still too young to understand, but I remember first learning about the value of a dollar at yard sales and want my children to do the same.  You can tell them they have a certain amount of money to spend, and limit them to it.  They get to make the decision of what they really want, and start to learn how to spot deals of their own.  Frugality is common place in our family, and I hope it rubs off on our children.

Teach your children manners
Not only can your kids learn about money, but yard sales are a great place to teach your children how to be polite.  They have many opportunities to say please and thank you, and be respectful of other people’s belongings.  I remember learning that I wasn’t allowed to touch fragile items at a yard sale (you break it you bought it…or paid it off with chores).  I look forward to teaching my daughter how to interact with people, and sharpen those manners frequently while visiting multiple yard sales each week.

Every new parent should really spend some time each spring and summer attending yard sales.  I’ve provided a short list of reasons why my family will go to yard sales, but there are certainly more.  Sure, some items may be a little worn, but with young kids they won’t know the difference.  And it won’t take long for them to grow out of the clothes or toys anyway, so why waste money on spotless, scratch-free toys.  They are kids…they’re going to scratch things up anyway.

Tips For A Happy Move by Marisa {Guest Post}

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My friend, Marisa, is taking the reigns today with our first guest post!  She has some excellent tips for those of us who find ourselves moving this summer.  Thank you for being here, Marisa!

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Hi, friends and followers of Little Mama Jama! I’m Marisa, college friend of Kristin and blogger over at count on me for life, where I write about life as a medical student’s/doctor’s significant other and my adventures with my husband-to-be. Thank you for letting me be part of your blog!

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This summer, Kristin and I have something in common – we’re moving.

Since age 18 (I’m now 27), I’ve moved fourteen times, including in and out of college housing, once each year of law school, twice after law school, and most recently, to a storage unit. Next month will be my fifteenth move in nine years. With this experience under my belt, I thought I’d share some of my best moving tips.

Packing for your move is a good time to throw out stuff you don’t need. If you live with a hoarder like I do, be decisive! I know my fiancé would have wanted to bring his greasy garage rags with us, so I threw them out, along with our grimy kitchen garbage can and the plastic lunch meat containers we sometimes use to store leftovers. I didn’t want to end up like the families I’ve seen who throw everything they own in boxes without looking at the contents. When they arrive at their new home and unpack, they end up filling several trash bags with unwanted junk, or worse, they continue hoarding. Moving is a great time to clean up and start fresh, so keep your trash can nearby when you’re packing!

Pack things that are alike together. You’ll be happy you did when you can quickly transfer your winter sweaters to a dresser drawer or put the box in your closet. Use several small and medium-sized boxes to pack like things together instead of packing a lot of unrelated items in a few large boxes.

Speaking of using small and medium-sized boxes, avoid boxes that are too cumbersome or heavy to carry. I’m not sure why I didn’t figure this out earlier. In college and law school, I had seven or eight oversized plastic containers that I used for moving. I couldn’t carry them more than a few feet. I slid my containers down flights of stairs and dragged and pushed them across carpet, linoleum, grass, asphalt, and concrete until I got to my car. Then, with an extremely attractive grunt, I would hoist them into my cargo space or trunk. After repeating the process seven or eight times, I was pouring sweat, my muscles hurt, and in the worst cases, I was either injured or crying. And my suffering was absolutely unnecessary. Only during my most recent move did I think to use manageable boxes. Although I needed to make several more trips to the moving van, and some of the boxes were still quite heavy, I didn’t cry once.

Pick your storage unit carefully if you need to use one. Buildings sink and shift over time, so concrete floors may have cracks that let water seep in, or land around the storage facility might not be graded as well as it once was, creating a downhill slope for water for flow right in. If you can, visit storage facilities in your area before selecting one instead of just calling and reserving one sight unseen. We picked a newer facility in a high area with drainage ditches on three sides.

Protect your belongings while they’re in storage. A friend of mine who is also moving lined the bottom of this storage unit with tarps to protect his mattresses and furniture from getting wet. That’s useful if there’s less than an inch of water in your storage unit. When storing your stuff in a storage unit, garage, or basement, I suggest raising furniture and mattresses on cinder blocks, putting plastic containers on the floor, and putting cardboard containers higher up.

Finally, if you’re moving for a new job or a job transfer, ask your company if they offer reimbursement for moving expenses.

Good luck, and happy moving!

The Month of Moving Begins

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I’m a little sad today.  Today is the last day we have as a family in C’s first home.  We’re dropping him off with my parents tomorrow, and he’ll be with them for a week while we pack up our things and move out of state.  I’m not too sad about leaving our first family “home” behind, because let’s face it – it hasn’t been that easy living in a one-bedroom apartment.  What saddens me more is that we won’t see our little C for a week while we start the first phase of our big transition.  Phase one entails living in Hubster’s brother’s house for the 3+ weeks before we can get our keys for our new apartment, on the campus of Hubster’s new job.

It’s as if C knows that we’re dropping him off tomorrow.  Despite being tired and cranky, he’s been showering us with affection.  I’m going to miss his sweet, mischievous smile and those darling hugs and kisses.  I can’t wait until we get to pick him up again!

With C around, we haven’t been able to get much done in the way of packing.  Hubster and I will be powering through the packing this week before we move on Friday morning.  Since I’ll be occupied with that, several guest bloggers will be featured here over the next week.  They’re friends, fellow bloggers, and talented writers, so I hope you’ll stop by to check them out!  Have a great week, loves.  This week is going to be a bit stressful – wish us luck!