When your lifestyle makes you sick.

I have come to that wonderful place in life where it becomes time to weigh pros and cons. There are a lot of things that I do (or don't do), eat, and drink that I enjoy very much, but unfortunately they make me pretty sick. I think I have finally arrived at the place where enough IS enough, and it is time to do something to change my life.

I came to a pretty realistic conclusion about a year ago that I had a mild to severe gluten intolerance. Since then, I have yo-yoed back and forth between eliminating it from my diet and ignoring the symptoms. My weight has fluctuated more than it should at 25 years young as a result, and I have suffered some pretty nasty digestive issues that required too much testing to determine nothing that a change in diet couldn't have.

It wasn't until my recent return to work that I realized that the issues I have are more than just an upset tummy caused by too much wheat. My immune system is pretty shot. Within three weeks of working, I have dealt with four separate skin infections that I have a hard time kicking. I have spent way too much of my life on antibiotics to trust their effectiveness any longer, or to risk a mutation of the bacteria into something resistant and more dangerous, so I started googling.

My research found that in addition to a ritualistic routine of bodily cleansing, my diet was feeding the bacteria and allowing it to keep breeding like rabbits. Bacteria is fed by sugar. Sugar isn't just consumed in the form of sweets, but also in starchy carbohydrate bashed foods that are broken down to sugar in the body. That includes all of my favorite things: pasta, rice, bread... alcohol. So here I am, faced with the life-choice to eliminate all of these things for good in the interest of my health and the health of those around me. It's a hard one.

Wow, I could use a drink.

Definitely not company-ready

Our house is a mess. A big mess. It is driving me crazy. I would do something about it, but why bother? Within an hour, any progress made will be undone by my Tasmanian devil of a child. Toddlers are messy; it's a fact. Look it up.

Toys are everywhere BUT where they should be.

Oh, look! There's a trail. Let's follow, shall we?

I definitely cleaned his room yesterday.

You believe me, right?

Whoever invented the alphabet play mat was a sadist.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Alright kid, I'll cut you a break because you are cute. Messy as hell, but cute.

Discovering new levels of busy

I thought I was busy in high school. In college. Working. As a mother to a newborn. To an ever-more mobile infant. To a Tasmanian Devil/Toddler. I was wrong.

Adding work back into the mix has left me wondering where the days go. On the days that I work I fight the clock, battling to squeeze in cleaning, cooking, the never-ending nightmare that is laundry, and quality time with Wyatt. On my days off, I end up wasting them catching up on sleep and anticipating the next day of work. Blogging is difficult. Nonexistent, really.

I do enjoy it though, and I am doing the right thing for our family at the moment. Plus, I am sure one day I will look back and wonder where I got all of the energy.

Luckily, I have a lot of things to look forward to in the near future: a new camera, a visit from my dad and sister, planning a baby shower, the anticipation for fall...

...which will arrive sometime in December. -__-

The newest chapter.

As of yesterday, I am a working woman again. As in a paying job. As in outside of our little home. As in back to slinging pizza and beer. As in I will be having adult interactions with someone other than my husband between one and four times a week. The change is welcome.

Jason and I have been toying around with the idea of me finding work again since finding out about his layoff. We had a hard time working the details out. Finding a new job would be difficult. In today's economy, finding a job in which I would be able to only work weeknights and some (few) weekends, with all holidays, birthdays, family events, etc. off. Add to that the fact that I have a toddler who will inevitably get sick and a husband who occasionally has to do estimates in the evenings, and the result is a pretty undesirable scheduled employee.

The only real option was to go back to my former job as what I like to call "a freelance server." Put my phone number and availability up on the written schedule so that the other servers, hosts, and bartenders can call me to pick up their shifts. No strings attached. I have the right to refuse. I don't have to worry about requesting off for a weekend at the beach. Work as much or as little as works for my family on any particular week. Have the comfort and security of knowing that it is a successful and very busy establishment where the money I make will be worth missing Wyatt's dinner and bedtime a couple of times a week.

The idea is still a bit surreal to me. I haven't worked in almost eighteen months. I can count the number of times that I haven't been the one to put Wyatt to bed on two hands. At the end of the day, though, it is the right thing to do for my family and for our future together. Plus, who knows when I will have the opportunity to work again once Jason's business grows to the point that I may be needed or once we have another child. I am going to relish this newest chapter while it lasts.

Simple Sundays

I have had a lot of thoughts bouncing around in my head the last few days. What does the future hold for us? What is the next step? Why am I elbow deep in a bag of Doritos (again)? Why don't my shorts fit (see previous question)?

Sometimes the best thing for clearing your head is to grab your husband and your little one and head outside to play.

There is something so humbling about a toddler that sees the wonder in things like sticks...

...or a chair...

...or dirt.

It can be so easy to find yourself wrapped up in selfish fears, insecurities, or desires, but when it comes down to it what really matters are the simple, quiet moments that you allow yourself to enjoy with your loved ones. 

What doesn't kill you

...makes your marriage stronger.

About a month ago, we found out that Jason was losing his county job. In an effort so save money, they chose to lay off the whole pest control department and outsource to a third party company. I think part of us had been expecting this layoff to come eventually, but I don't think we had really prepared for its imminence. I mean, I feel like every time I turn around I am hearing another story about a friend or family member who is now forced back out into the job market. This time it was us.

Luckily, Jason's business has been growing steadily for the last couple of years. There is still money to be made. No one is going hungry come July 1st. It does, however still raise some big (and scary) questions. What about insurance? Are we still going to be able to buy a house next year? What about plans for another baby? What about the PLAN?

The unknown can be...well, it can be a bitch sometimes, to put it plainly.

Despite the uncertainty of the months to come, there is a silver lining: no one is going through this alone. This new predicament has us talking. It has us scheming. It has us dreaming. It has us counting our blessing together. Together we are simplifying our lives and finding ways to be truly happy with what we have.

And what we have is love. Lots and lots of love.

Photos courtesy of Tara Sproc Photography

Bye Bye Boobie

After 15 months, we have officially left breastfeeding behind.

Even before I found out I was expecting, I was very passionate about nursing. I knew that I would definitely be breastfeeding my children, and I planned to do so for an extended period of time. Our bodies were made to feed our babies, so to do otherwise not only seemed unnatural, but alien to me.

I did not have an easy start. Wyatt and I had some latching issues, and I was issued a shield to use. I did what I could with that, and with a little hard work and a lot of dedication, I weaned him from the shield and established a nice latch when my little man was about two months old. From then on, we were in cruise mode.

I loved breastfeeding. I still do. I embraced everything about those special, stolen moments that no one else could have with my son. I would get up in the middle of the night to feed him. Laundry would sit unfolded, dishes unwashed. I would proudly take my prenatal vitamins every morning and chug ungodly amounts of water throughout the day to keep my body up to the task of producing up to 30oz of milk every single day.

After Wyatt's first birthday, I decided it was time to move towards weaning. Our lives were getting busier, and Wyatt was getting much more active, so I could no longer just pull out the girls every couple of hours and sit around while he topped off. For the past 3 months, I have gradually dropped feedings to make the transition easier for both of us. And trust me, the transition is probably harder for me than for the little runt. We have been down to the very last night time feeding for a while. I realized it was me who was going to have to make that very difficult decision.

Tonight, Wyatt took a couple ounces of cow's milk from the bottle. I read him a story. I put him to bed. When I put him down, he just looked up at me and smiled. Then, he rolled over, closed his eyes, and then fell asleep. My heart broke and soared all at the same time. He was ready for me to let him go.

My baby boy is not a baby anymore.