The last three days with BumBum were awesome and I can't help but think how much more awesome it would be to be able to be a stay at home mom. Obviously, financially it's impossible for us and that just makes me really pissed off. I can't stress enough how strongly I feel that there should be some sort of compensation for choosing to be a mother who wants to raise her kids for a living. I can't think of a more worthwhile way to spend my time -- or a more rewarding way. I understand that after the children are old enough to go to school for a full day, then the stay at home mom definition changes to more like...homemaker. After all you aren't watching the kids for the majority of the day.

If I want to stay home and take care of my daughter instead of leaving her with someone else for over 40 hours a week, I have to take a total loss on my income and almost become a financial burden to the family unit. It's a truly backwards society where mothers aren't urged to stay in the home for more than a measly 6 weeks post partum. I'm all for women's rights. I think it's excellent that I'm allowed to do what I do in a male dominated field and make as much money as my husband. But in this case, it's as though the knife cuts one way. We've fought so hard to get OUT of the home that now there's no compensation or demand for women's rights IN the home.

There are Moms that stay home with kids and treat them like shit and let them run around in the streets and smoke crack and kill cats all day long. Those mother's shouldn't be compensated. Those mother's should be arrested. But the Moms who want to make a happy, nurturing, close-knit family unit by staying home with their children shouldn't be choosing between raising their children full-time and not putting food on the table. It's insane.

Since when is ensuring a happy, healthy, secure upbringing for our children not monetarily comparable to say, working at McDonald's? Which is really making the world go round? Educated, well rounded kids or cheeseburgers? Why can I get minimum wage to flip burgers but not to be at home with my baby?

I’ve always liked stories that start with “There’s something to be said for….” And then follow with something really wise. So, I was going to start this post with that, but then I realized it was taking me way to long to come up with the something wise. I’ll have to settle for something…mundane.

There’s something to be said for being scared out of your mind. As I currently am. In case that sentence was lost on you. It doesn’t take much these days to make me wonder what the hell I’ve gotten myself into. I mean, I’m supremely happy with my life. As far as I’m concerned, short of winning the lottery, I’m the luckiest person I know. Who can complain about a loving marriage to their best friend and the amazing little pixie princess they created together? And what about this new little peanut on the way? Not even a peanut really…more like the little bean part inside the green bean. What did I do to deserve such luck and happiness? And terror?

Sometimes the logistics of every day life just seem so overwhelming. Finding a sitter, who’s taking who to the doctor, oh no the car is broken, the dogs got into diaper genie and now their breath smells like baby shit. Somewhere along the way all the chaos became normal and now I’m freaking out because we’re having another baby and it’s going to be even more chaotic (and happy and wonderful and we wanted this but holy shit!).

So, I’m pretty scared. I’m just figuring out how to be a Mommy and after a year I almost feel like I’m learning something. For all those women who pop out a baby and stick it on their boob and the heavens open up and rainbows follow them around as bluebirds change the diapers….that was not me – and I hate you. I never took a birthing class or a new parent class or anything. I read every book I could get my hands on and the rest we just did from instinct. I think it came pretty naturally to me, holding the baby felt completely right, not all awkward and creepy like when I held other people’s babies. And all of a sudden my vanity went out the window. Not that there was much left after nine months of Oreos and cheese fries…but still…becoming a Mom changed everything. And now I’m doing it again and wondering how in the world I will juggle everything and spread my love across my husband, four cats, two dogs and two beautiful babies.

People do this every day – much harder things in fact so I’m not deluded into thinking this is some monumental feat that I alone will accomplish. But in my little microcosm, that’s exactly what it is. It’s huge. And scary. And I can’t wait.

And She's Back

When I first heard about "blogging" about 5 years ago, I instantly fell in love. Ever since I was a little girl I had kept diaries and journals and "happy books" (photo albums I filled with pictures from magazines and leaves that were pretty and notes) but as I got older I found I was finding less and less time to just sit and write out what I was feeling. Inevitably I would gravitate back to the journal in times of crisis (most recent heart break!) or excitement (moving out of Mom's house!) but all the "in between" parts of my life went largely undocumented. So then I found the blogging community, and for almost 5 years I blogged pretty much daily. I shared my life with hundreds of strangers, and for a girl who has never made a lot of "real life" friends, it felt amazing to have people communicating with me and sharing stories. I blogged my entire pregnancy and bared my swelling belly to the world.

Then, I had to shut down and delete my blog. Not by choice, but in an attempt to keep food on the table, I had to delete 5 years of my documented life. I cried. All the words of love about my husband, my new baby, the trials of my early 20s...all gone with the click of a button. I hated it. It felt like someone had broken into my house and stolen everything about me -- or worse yet, they walked up to my porch and I handed them all of my most precious memories and let them walk away uncontested.

So, I've been trying to tell myself it's ok to get back out there. People probably won't like me as much as they did before. My life is much less provocative now. I'm married, have a one year old and a steady job. I read and take pictures for fun. I'm boring. So I'll share that boring-ness with the world, and hope it receives me well.

Army Crawl - Accomplished

Last night, Charlotte did her first official "crawl" across the floor. At 6 moths old, it was less crawl-ee and more paraplegic-dragging-himself-to-watering-hole -- but she moved allll the way across the living room by herself! Wiggling that little butt, stretching her chunky little arms...it was adorable. I found myself calling to her like a puppy -- "c'mon, you can do it! come to Mommy! Get your toy, get your toy! Gooood girl!" I don't know if she'll remember that, but I think it's on video, so she'll surely look at me with the stink eye when she's older.

Somehow, my Jew is the only one that can make her laugh now. It used to be me, blowing on her tummy or burying my head in her ribs to tickle her. But now she just smiles at me when I do it -- kind of like I'm a moron who's trying way too hard to make a baby giggle. Abram does the exact same things I do and she cracks the hell up. Crazy screeches, baby giggles, kicks and grabs -- it makes me want to kick him. Does she not like me anymore? What am I doing wrong? Grrr!

I'll get over it. She's just as adorable when she's stoic and not giggling too....

None of that mushy stuff...

There is something to be said for praising relationships that are really just, happy. While I've been through my fair share of crappy relationships and bad break-ups, I really am quite excited about who I've ended up with.

Like last night -- we are in the shower and my Jew puts soap in my mouth while my eyes are closed and covered with shampoo. He's laughing uncontrollably as I flail around blindly trying to hit him. Spitting soap. Smiling. Then, farther into the shower, I'm rinsing my body and feel something cold -- I'm in front of my Jew, closest to the shower head -- and then I see his devious grin. I turn around and realize that he had turned the automatic shower cleaner thingie on with me standing right in front of it. So, my back, hair, and even a little of my mouth was Scrubbing Bubbles clean.

Then I used his tongue scraper when he wasn't looking.

Kidding. That would be gross for me too. However I did dry off with his towel, taking special care to dry my sunburn-peeling back and shoulders really well before he got out and used the same towel.

That's love eh?

Relativity

This man used to scare the bejeezus out of me when I was growing up. He is my grandfather. He was strict and tidy and every ounce the Captain his career had made him. I was never all that comfoprtable around him, as I was used to my grandmother's laid-back, liberal humor and demeanor. I remember thinking I would never live up to his expectations. He would hang his head in shame when people looked at my pierced and tattooed family photos on his walls. That was then....

This is now. He is the most loving, generous and helpful man I know. He's completely self-made -- which I now understand is why he was so tough. He's is active, involved, and intelligent. He has a lot of money, but hangs out to talk with every Average Joe he comes across. But most importantly, he loves me, and he loves my daughter.....

Geographical Pride

I grew up in Norfolk, Virginia. I lived two blocks from the beach for the majority of my life. I have sat on a boardwalk banister and watched some of the most amazing storms roll in off the ocean. I feed seagulls and walk my dogs on the beach. I've watched fireworks exploding in a millions colors over the water....from my roof. I've walked to the "candy store" for sugar "cigarettes" with my best friend when I was 10. I've stolen ornamental cabbage from a yard around the block because it would make a wonderful "potion". I've fallen asleep on the deck of the USS Briscoe while it pulled out of the largest Naval Base in the world.

I can honestly say that I love my hometown. Lately, I've been more and more sensitive when I hear people say "I hate Norfolk, what a dump!" And I've heard it tons. I moved away, to what many people consider to be a much nicer place to live, Charleston, South Carolina. Obviously, it never felt like "home" to me. But beyond that, I never really liked the atmosphere. There was such a division of wealth and the entire "downtown" area felt like one big high school. The cliques were obvious. It wasn't comfortable. It was a beautiful place, no doubt about it. But I found the people to be pretentious and shallow. I missed home.
Now, back in my "dumpy" Norfolk, I feel a sense of pride and passion for a place I never thought I would care too much about. The history is rich and quirky, and in my neighborhood specifically, I find myself wishing I could go back in time to when it was a booming and respected destination.
I don't think I've ever been anywhere that I absolutley hated enough to tell someone who is from there how crappy I thought their town was. Maybe, it's a matter of class. Maybe some people just don't have an attachment to their own cities so they assume no one else does either. Whatever the motivation, I find it pretty offensive.

Am I the only one that feels defensive of their hometown/city? Maybe I'm just lucky enough to be from a place that so many people dislike -- more Norfolk for me then.