By Myself

Yesterday, I took the girls to the beach by myself. After a migraine that thwarted a much needed girls night out, a failed shopping trip earlier in the week, and feeling generally lonely, I was pretty down. I needed to go to the beach. Going always snaps me out of whatever bad mood I'm in and makes me feel refreshed and happy. The beach is good for my mental health. The only problem was, I have never taken the girls to the beach by myself. I was scared.

I was mostly scared of the water. Beatrice has no fear of it. Quite the opposite, actually. She loves it and runs for it as soon as she sees it. It terrifies me that she has no grasp of the power those waves possess. I was afraid that she would run for the water while I was nursing or something and I would have to choose which child to tend to. Or that I wouldn't have enough hands to grab her if she needed my help. I decided that having my hands free at all times was the way to go.

My other fear was not being able to lug all of our beach gear and 2 babies from the car to the beach by myself. Typically, we require several buckets and shovels, a blanket, drinks and snacks, camera, and a bunch of other stuff to do/sit on/eat/drink. I decided that I would pack light and only bring the necessities. Also, I had to fit it all in a small beach tote that I could easily throw over my shoulder.

So I packed our bag and threw on the Bjorn and we went to the beach. And you know what? It was pretty awesome. We arrived late in the morning on the most beautiful of days. Instantly my mood lifted. Penelope fell asleep in the Bjorn, Beatrice never ran for the water, I managed to get us to and fro with ease. It was a wonderful day. And I'm totally psyched knowing that I can do this by myself. 

Easy peasy.

Support System

Today, the bloggity blog is being featured on Table For Four. Thanks to Nicole for asking me to write a little something for her fun blog! Here is my post:


Before my family moved to California a few months ago, 2500 miles away from all of our friends and relatives, I accepted very little help when it came to my daughters. Sure, I took my mother in law up on babysitting every 8 weeks or so while I got my hair done, but I never took advantage of the free childcare for the 22 months that I had it. To be honest, I never thought I needed it. I stay at home with my girls and using a babysitter seemed like I was abusing the system a little. I mean, watching the kids was my job after all. Letting someone else watch them made me feel a little guilty. Plus, it feels awkward to accept help when it comes to my kids. I feel like I should do it all, all the time.

Then I moved to the other side of the country. I found myself with no mother in law, no mom, no grandmother or sisters in law or best friends close by to help with my girls. I sort of panicked. Who would be available for my hair appointments or, God forbid, when I got sick? Who would I call when I ran out of milk and needed someone to drop some off? I suddenly realized that the support system I took for granted back home was really an essential part of this whole parenting gig.

I did the only rational thing one could do when they find themselves in this predicament: I insisted that we move back home at once. Naturally, that didn't go over so well with JD. So, I prayed. I prayed for new friends that could be my California support system. Friends that could watch my kids when I am in a bind, friends to commiserate the terrible 2s with, friends to recommend pediatricians and grocery stores and kid-friendly places. And friends to be friends with, too.

Almost immediately, I made some friends and my support system was established. Having these women has made adjusting to our new life out here so much easier. I don't feel like I am completely alone each day. If I run out of milk or get sick, someone in my support system would have my back and come over. With milk. I have learned to treasure this help because most of the time, having a support system is not about the kids. It's about the mom. Sometimes the mom needs a break. Sometimes the mom needs to know that there are others who care enough about her to make themselves available to help out. Sometimes it is enough to know that there are people there to help, even if you don't need it.

So for the first time in my 26 months of motherhood, I am utilizing my support system. I now know the value of having people available to help a mama out. And not just for babysitting, but for encouragement and advice too. And fellowship. Sharing experiences is a huge part of the parenting journey. Having a listening ear and a shoulder to cry on is just as vital as having a trustworthy babysitter. That's what the support system is all about. And I have learned that having one and utilizing it makes all the difference in the world, whether you live near your family or 2500 miles away.

Perfect

Look at this sky.

It's pretty much the perfect sky to represent perfect weather. I have tons of photos just like this. California is paradise.

I was afraid I would miss the seasons Tennessee has to offer. I will never forget my first Tennessee autumn. Seeing the trees seemingly combust in bright orange and red was amazing after a childhood spent in perpetual Florida summers. I didn't know trees could do that. Heck, I didn't know there were trees other than palms and pines. I quickly fell in love with the snowy winters, the balmy springs, and crisp falls. Humid Tennessee summers are unbearable.  Nobody likes those.

But then I moved to Southern California and fell in love with the mildest of climates. Here, it rarely ever escapes the 70s, there is a constant coastal breeze, and the sky. Oh my, the sky. I think I fell in love with the sky first. It's so, so blue.

And for the winter lover in me, the temp drops considerably at night calling for fleece jammies and the heat to be turned on. California is cold at night.

I find myself going outside all the time. We are obsessed with the perfect weather. Us and the rest of California's residents. Love, love, love the mountain and the beach in the same view. Perfection, I tell you.

It only took 3 months, but I am officially hooked on California's weather. It really is perfect.

Sleepless

My baby is a terrible sleeper. There, I said it. I don't like admitting it because it feels like a reflection of my mothering, like she doesn't sleep because of me or something I'm doing wrong. Also, I want to pretend we are not really up all night, every night. And admitting it seems like accepting it, and IT IS UNACCEPTABLE to be up this much. But, here I am, letting you all in on it because honestly, I need help.

It all went downhill when we moved. She was sleeping 7+ hours a night and taking really good naps up until we relocated to California. I don't know if it's the climate or the house or what, but sister girl hates to sleep. She much rather prefers to take catnaps on me all day and night long. This does not work for me. I need sleep. Consecutive hours of uninterrupted sleep. Right now, I am up and down anywhere from 1 to 4 times a night for no apparent reason other than my baby likes to see me every couple of hours.

Naturally, this lack of sleep is taking its toll on JD and me. We are desperate and at the end of our rope, so to speak. We have tried everything to get this kid to stay asleep. We swaddle, we unswaddled, we rock, we let her cry, we put her in the bed, we put her in the swing, we hold her, we cover her with a blanket, we try white noise, we try total silence, we beg, we cry, we pray and nothing seems to change. Penelope is a terrible sleeper.

JD and I are not 100% sure if our family is complete yet. I always felt like we would have 1 more child, but 4 1/2 months of no sleep might be enough for me to say no more. I wish I were joking, but this child is wearing me out.

Penelope, I'm begging you to sleep through the night. Please, mama is tired and although I love my daily coffee IV, this much caffeine is not healthy for anyone.

Staying In

We didn't do any adventuring this weekend. Not away from home anyway. After my mom's visit and moving, we needed a weekend of downtime. So we stayed close to home and enjoyed the perfect weather we've been having.

We are blessed to live in a beautiful community with tons of outdoor fun. There are about 15 playgrounds within walking distance that overlook the ocean, walking trails, and manicured lawns for frisbee, kites, and lounging.

And ball. We like to play ball.

We like to play ball so much, we play with multiple ones at the same time.

Penelope and I are more into lounging on the lawn.

We also spent time making our new place home. I cooked a bunch, I finally cleaned, and we did enormous amounts of laundry. JD and Beatrice took care of some outside chores too.

We took a long walk, went to church, and drank a good deal of coffee this weekend. It was just what we needed. Now that we're all rested up, we will be back to adventuring next weekend.

Happy weekend out there!

The Basement

I don't have too much experience with basements. The only basement I ever spent any amount of time in was in my grandmother's house in Illinois. Half of it was finished and contained an awesome game room outfitted with my dad's childhood couch, pool table, ping pong table, and atari system. I have many happy memories of hanging out in that space with my cousins and relatives. Even with all the fun things to do down there, I was terrified of the basement because of the other half. The unfinished half. The dark, spooky, cavernous other half that was sure to swallow me up in the dark abyss never to be found by my parents again. Plus, it smelled weird. Like darkness. And fear. And mothballs.

Our new house has a basement. It houses our huge laundry room, our overflow pantry, a full bathroom, a storage room, and the playroom/bonus room/guest quarters. It is big and so useful. I love having the extra space. Unfortunately, I am scared to death of it.

My fears are largely based on hypothetical and very unlikely scenarios, Like boogeymen hiding in dark corners or snakes hunkering down behind the washing machine. And being buried alive in the event of an earthquake. I do live in California, earthquakes are a possibility. My brain tells me that these are unwarranted phobias, however my imagination doesn't give a hoot. I get the heeby jeebies every time I go down there, which is approximately 20 times a day. It doesn't help that basements have their own climate zone, totally different from the rest of the house. And tiny half windows. It really is the dark, cold underbelly of the house. Spooky. A lot could go wrong down there, I'm just saying.


Because I am terrified of the basement, there are a few rules established so the flipping of my lid is kept at a minimum. Firstly, a light must be left on in every room. It is common knowledge that boogeymen like dark places and if my basement is lit up like the 4th of July, none will inhabit it. Secondly, all doors must be left open. I want to assess the potential of snakes and/or boogeymen in every room before I enter it. Thirdly, someone must accompany me down there at all times, size or age of other person does not matter. And fourthly, I only stay in the basement for 5 minutes or less. It lessens my chance of being buried alive.

Of course, JD thinks I am ridiculous and closes all the doors and turns out every light just to mess with me. And it does mess with me. Big time. I find myself doing laundry standing sideways to the machines so I have full view of the open room behind me. I vacuum like this. And if I use the bathroom down there, I force myself to go really fast before the panic sets in. I have issues, I know. It's unfortunate since a huge chunk of our living space is there. And, you know, I'm an adult and all.

I really want to get over my basement phobia. My girls miss their playroom and the laundry is piling up. Any tips for this basementphobe? Be honest, have you ever found a boogeyman in your basement? How about a snake? A salamander? Will the house fall on me if I stay down there for too long? Help me overcome my fears!!

Nothing Terrible Happened

I have been trying to figure out how to slip this post in without anyone noticing that I have been gone for a week and a half. I feel like there should be this huge, dramatic reason for me not posting before now - and there is a reason, just not a very dramatic one - because not hearing one single peep out of someone for that long warrants a good explanation since some of you might be thinking something horrible happened to me. Nothing horrible happened, but there are some updates I think I owe you.

My mom came to visit.

She came the day after Christmas and left yesterday. It was great having her here, but weird to see her after being apart for 2 months.

I'm not gonna lie, I love having her around to visit with, but having her help with my girls was awesome. I went from having my mom, mother in law, and grandmother living a few miles away, always available to babysit to having no one to help out. Help is wonderful. Help is a luxury. I need help.

We had a whirlwind week sightseeing and eating. Boy did we eat a lot. Beatrice loved having her Mimi around.

Oh yeah, and we moved. Again.

Let me explain. Before our big move to California got delayed, we were supposed to move into an awesome historical home. When the move got pushed back 2 months, we lost the home. I was really sad. I knew I was going to miss the hardwood floors, wood burning fireplace, Spanish roof tiles, and harbor views the first place had to offer. Instead, we moved into a townhouse with lots and lots and lots of neighbors. Loud neighbors. Neighbors that smoked next to our open windows. Neighbors that played their xboxes at top decibels. Neighbors with kids that put worms on my 2 year old's head. Neighbros with kids that took their clothes off and put them in our bushes. Those kinds of neighbors.

Even without the neighbors though, the townhouse never felt like home. Everything was so white. White walls, white trim, white doors, white ceilings, white appliances, brown carpeting. There was a good deal of space and everything was nice and clean, but I really struggled with warming the place up. And to rub salt in the wound of what should've been, we had to drive past the awesome historical home everyday on the way to our townhouse. It was cruel and unusual punishment.

So we put in a transfer to move whenever the historical place came available. We prayed that it would happen before the summer so we could avoid anymore worms on our children's heads once the neighbor kids were out in full force. We were shocked when we received a phone call last week informing us that the historical home was available and we could move right away.

We weighed the pros and cons of waiting until February to move, but ultimately jumped at the chance to be in our California dream home sooner than later. Plus with my mom in town, we knew the help would be beyond awesome. So with just 2 months since the last time we moved, we called a moving company and loaded up our belongings yet again. We are crazy, really crazy.

We moved into our new place last Thursday.

Despite being crazy, we are really happy. I got my Spanish tiles, my hardwood floors, and my homey charm. Plus a ton more square feet so we will have plenty of room when visitors come. Oh yeah, I got my harbor views too.

We are basically settled in with only a few small piles to unpack. I read somewhere that moving and divorce are the 2 most traumatic things a kid can go through other than losing a parent. So far, my girls are handling 3 moves in 4 months like troopers.

So nothing terrible happened to me. I've just been up to my ears in family and moving. Hopefully I can settle into a more routine posting schedule now that the new year is upon us. By the way, happy new year! I promise not to disappear for too long again without warning you. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some hardwood floors that need to be mopped and some Spanish tiles that need to be admired. Yippee!!