An Open Letter To The Other Parent

The past few weeks of conversations heard around the workplace, on Facebook, and over a glass of wine with friends has inspired me to write this – what I’m calling an open letter to the other parent.

As in the one not giving birth.

Now it kind of excludes the equally as important adoptive, surrogate birth, and foster parent audiences, as I talk a lot about life shortly after giving birth and hormones, but who knows, maybe we can all relate to it in the end.

To the other parent:

This is not written to one specific person, but rather specifically written to every single one of you who has a partner expecting a baby or a new baby at home. Whether you are male, female, gay, straight, single, married, or somewhere in between all of these, I ask you to consider this advice.

I’m going to let you in on an obvious secret. Your partner is pregnant.

Yep, that’s not just a big lunch in that belly. It’s a baby. A baby that is (insert your preferred adjectives here – miraculous, amazing, beautiful, tiny, big, sweet….) but also a baby who has been growing and living by sucking the life out of your partner since the day of conception.

Ok, that’s a bit dramatic, but imagine giving your blood supply and fluids and hormones and skin and organs and brain over to growing this said (insert previously chosen adjective) baby?

Obviously worth it, of course, but an ordeal in and of itself. Your partner hasn’t slept comfortably, absent eight body pillows, in weeks. And hasn’t made a single decision for just themselves without taking into consideration this budding baby since that pee stick turned up positive.

Not to mention the fact that their brain is kind of mush and their body – well, let’s just say things start looking different – and they are on this crazy hormonal roller coaster as their bodies pump that placenta up until the big birth day.

Gosh, I’m tired just writing it. Imagine living it. For an average of 40 weeks. Or longer, if your sweet things decide to make a late appearance as both mine did.

And I’m sure you’ve been a super champ. Getting late night take-out to satiate cravings and going to birth class and rubbing Fred Flintstone sized feet. So thank you for that.

Then, ta-da, baby is here! And he or she is all of those adjectives you thought of above AND MORE! Holy cannoli you and your partner are on cloud nine. High fives all around.

Yes. All is good in parentland.

But here’s where I feel like the baby brain and sleep deprivation sets in on you. So many “other parents” leave the hospital (or doula center or wherever) thinking, “Yippee-skippy, baby is here and things can get back to normal”.

Let me say, Pregnancy is hard. Post-birth is even harder.

This partner you’ve created life with is about to go through the biggest come-down from a hormonal high – like the detox of a hormone addict – which is going to trigger all kinds of unexpected feelings and physical/emotional/mental changes.

It took 9 months to build up to that hormone height, it’s gonna take some time to recover from the crash.

Sure we all expect things to be hairy, as the books and blogs and docs warn us repeatedly, but your partner really won’t know how they are going to feel until it’s 3:00 a.m. and their breasts are leaking (or in my case, not leaking, only causing me to panic more that I don’t have enough to feed my baby) and they haven’t slept in, what feels like, 10 months and suddenly they realize that maybe they aren’t feeling all that grand.

Patience is a virtue, right? Well it’s needed more than ever during these “dark ages” (as my husband lovingly nicknamed the first three months of life with an infant).

Believe me when I say that your partner is probably filled with (insert happy words here – joy, unconditional love, gratitude..) for this little being that has expanded your hearts and your family.

But they may also be feeling like an alien in their own bodies, recovering in some way from the glorious medical miracle that is birth, and a foreigner in their own minds and totally out of control of their emotions.

Just to name a few.

So here’s my suggestion: approach this detoxing, sleep deprived, battlefield recuperating, alien in someone else’s overstretched and sagging skin with caution. And by caution, I mean love and patience and compassion and humility and the ability to look at “the shit’s getting real around here” and know that a new normal will set in… Eventually.

And soon enough you’ll all be high-fiving each other, baby included. And some of you will forget the dark ages and decide to do it all again (like we did).

But for now, do your best to “bring the light” back in. You know – whatever your signature move is – humor/comic relief, chef in the kitchen, laundry folder extraordinaire, dance party master, cuddler, and so on.

And pinch hitting for a few diaper changes goes a long way.

Sincerely,

Your comrade in the craziness

Brooke

Imagine That

We are just over a month into the preschool year for my son and he brought home a total blast from my elementary school days past: the Scholastic book order!

Who remembers this gem?

This paper flyer used to get passed out when I was a kid at Island School and it seriously was one of my favorite times of the week. I absolutely loved to read as a kid and this Scholastic flyer was like the Mecca for a bookworm like me.

Flash forward 25 years and the whole Babysitter’s Club book series later, and my son is bringing home the same order form – the key to unlocking all of your book ordering dreams!

It still looks the same and smells the same and feels the same. Yes, I smelled it. Glorious memories. Except now there’s an option to order online, making it easy-peasy. And I swear inflation has not reached this puppy because books are still like $2.99. Best deal going!

So my son and I combed through the pages to pick out 2 books for him to order. He could choose anything from the 5 pages. He picked a book about Tigers in soup and the ninja edition of the Three Little Pigs. Perfect.

Then I saw the headline over his choices:

Stories for BIG Imaginations.

Yep, that sums him up. This boy is all adventure and energy and goofiness. But most of all, he is pure imagination at its finest. He can, and does, entertain himself for hours with his imaginative games. Morphing into lions and tigers and bears (oh my!). Sailing away with Captain Hook. Chasing the three little pigs.

He takes ordinary household items and transforms them into extensions of his imaginative vision. The lid to a box becomes a fire truck. The vacuum hose is his elephant trunk. My belt becomes a leash around his “puppy dog” waist.

I may not always know or understand what he’s talking about, but I do know it must be grand. This kid creates play in style.

And when I do get a glimpse into his story plot, I’m always impressed at what he’s come up with. I smile and say, “huh, imagine that”.

Cleansing and Cocktails

This week I’ve embarked on a 5-day cleanse. It’s actually not that dramatic. No liquid meals or starvation. No sludgy shakes. Just wholesome, portion controlled, super healthy meals and snacks.

I’ve done the cleanse countless times before – starting back to almost a year ago when I was simultaneously starting the long journey of losing the 70lbs I gained in my second pregnancy while also eating enough calories to keep breastfeeding and producing enough supply. The cleanse was an extremely convenient and healthy way to do this and I simply supplemented with lean proteins and healthy fats to aid the milk production.

Over the last 12-months, since joining Elevate Fitness, I’ve lost – and kept off – over 80lbs. I’m leaner and stronger than I was before going into pregnancy (though despite my focus on Core strengthening, my stomach is a legit freakazoid that defies scientific reason… AKA people still offer me seats on the train thinking I’m sporting a baby bump. And some days I accept. But that’s a whole other tale.)

One of my favorite parts about this yearlong journey is that it’s been that – a journey. Not a quick trip. Not a sprint. Though I’ve done my fair share of sprinting up and down Elevate’s driveway. I’ve lost the weight in a healthy way and I know this because I’ve been able to steadily maintain and lose and maintain all of these months. When I’ve done diets in the past, like South Beach, all of my weight loss efforts are cancelled out the minute I eat bread and pasta again.

So, needless to say after a summer of total happy indulgences (Beer – lots and lots of cold beer, ice cream – lots and lots of cold ice cream, and a week of Uncle Paul’s breakfast creations – lots and lots of croissants and bacon and deliciousness), which slapped a quick 8lbs back on me, I was very excited to have this Cleanse week come around so that I could reintroduce myself to proper portion sizes and detox sugar cravings.

The only problem was I had already made plans with a friend to get cocktails after work last night. We were really looking forward to it and I didn’t want to cancel, yet was totally torn about what to do. Yesterday was day 3 of the cleanse and the day when your body has finally rid itself of the toxins, so the cravings for sweets and more meats have subsided and it’s easier to finish out the week strong. Kind of a hard day to reintroduce liquor. And with me, liquor comes hand in hand with appetizers.

In the end, I remembered this is a journey, not a day trip, and one night out for some needed girl time was in order. A pit stop, if you will.

And boy was that cocktail divine. Grey goose vodka, St. Germaine, grapefruit juice, lime, and prosecco. Shaken up nice and cold. Delicious. Paired with a cheese board, savory meatballs, and the ultimate cleanse naughty snack: Garlic Parmesan polenta fries. Ummm, I almost melted on the bar eating those. I switched from martinis to my fall favorite Pumpkin Ale and ended the night full, happy, and grateful to have had time with my friend.

Worth every calorie.

And only up a pound this morning! Considering the hubby made me late-night bacon before bed, I was actually relieved to see the scale didn’t hate me after all.

This morning, I licked the last taste of salty bacon grease off my lips and headed to the fridge to heat up my tofu oatmeal. And enjoyed every morsel.

Cleansing and cocktails. Kind of the ultimate pair 🙂

It Was A Good Day

I’m playing a little catch up on some blog posts right now, so the “good day” referenced in this title actually refers to this past Sunday (though yesterday and today were good days, too… I digress)

We became Godparents to this sweet little boy:

Rhys is our nephew and we celebrated his Baptism on Sunday amongst family and friends. This baby has to be one of the chillest little dudes ever and so it did not surprise me that he was perfectly content getting water poured over his head. Makes sense, if you know his parents, they are pretty happy folks and their beautiful family is so much fun to be around.

And yes, that’s his Godfather photo bombing the picture.

Sunday was also the official moving day for my mom. We celebrated by taking a walk down to her front yard (The Beach) to watch the sunset and the Harvest Moon rise. It was beautiful.

It was a good day.

A good day, indeed.

New Beginnings

The alternate title for this post is, “Holy Changes Batman”.

It seems when one change approaches, I decide to embrace the momentum and make several changes all at once.

This week marked New England’s semi-official “end of summer” with a last Labor Day barbecue hurrah and wearing of white. Already it feels as if the summer mindset has shifted focus to fall, along with the store aisle displays and clothing line-up at Target. You’d be hard-pressed to find a beach pail and shovel in any store as those, once seemingly endless, stacks have been replaced by autumn wreaths and – dare I say it – Halloween candy. Boo.

This weekend also marked the end of my first full week at my new job. After spending almost 7 years at my previous job, it is so strange to be the “new girl” and starting over in a completely different place. There was plenty that I loved about my old job, especially the awesome people I got to work with every day. It’s hard not seeing those faces on a daily basis, not hearing their laughs or being able to anticipate their reactions to things. Obviously there is great comfort in an established routine at a tenured job, but it really was time to step outside of my comfort zone. Hence, the big change.

All in all, I’m getting adjusted and excited about this new career opportunity and the chance to fire up my thinking cap once again. I’m getting used to the company culture shock (“what do you mean there’s no Freaky Faux Fur Friday contest?!”) and getting ready to do great things. And learn a freaking ton.

Speaking of learning, this also marks my hubby’s first week back to school. Though he’s going into his 8th full year of teaching in this district, each new year brings major change. New students, staff, administration, rules, expectations. He’s busy thinking up ways to engage those 3rd Graders so that they love health and fitness as well as plotting ways to stay sane with a class full of new Kindergarteners. Picture Arnold Schwarzenegger in Kindergarten Cop. Enough said.

My son starts a new school year with a new teacher and speech therapist as well. And a new Nanny…

Cause if there wasn’t enough change going on, why not add having your Mom move to Massachusetts to the mix? Good idea!

And good thing Mom thought so too – or at least we drugged her long enough to get her to sign on to this agreement before her wits returned.

So my Mom is making a move next weekend to come spend some time up our way. Technically she only has to stay September – June, but it’s a huge change for her. And us. And my sister. And the universe. And… You get the point. I am thrilled that she’s coming – it was half my idea – and thrilled that my kids will have 3 of 4 grandparents in their daily lives. I’m also nervous, panicked, and downright anxious about the whole thing. But there’s something to be said about Courage and Bravery… No, really, there is some great line my Mom keeps throwing out there about it, but I forget how it goes. Good thing she’ll be here soon to remind me.

So “Change” is being embraced, tightly, by my family this month. We better hold on tight because it’s sure to be a ride.

Preferably in the Batmobile.

We Like To Potty

You’re looking at the proud face of a boy who likes to go potty.

And this is what this blog is all about, really.

Making pee-pee in the potty.

Aren’t you glad you stopped to read this?

Well, I’m sure as heck glad that we are finally aboard the Potty Train. It has been a long ride. And with an easily distracted boy, I’m guessing this ride is far from over.

But progress is definitely being made – here is sticker chart proof (by the way, the summer goal was to acquire a bunch of stickers and trade it in for “a bike”… Until Mom spent all the money on Hawaii, so this kid will have to make-do with his Na Aina Kai souvenirs and suntan. I’d say he made out just fine.)

Credit really goes to my husband who has tirelessly and patiently sat in our itty-bitty bathroom and been the #1 potty fan. He, apparently, was tired of wiping multiple butts, multiple times a day, so toilet training seemed worth the headache.

He was right.

Especially because it brings great gems like this story: last night, I walk into the bathroom because the door was only slightly ajar, but instead of it being vacant, I find my son sitting like King Tut on El Toilet. He has the iPad propped at his feet and is watching a movie while doing his business. He sees me enter and says, “I going potty, close the door, leave me alone”. I wasn’t sure if I heard him correctly, so I repeated back what he was asking me to do. He looked at me like I was uber-rude for still being there and repeated, “Close the door!” But this time with agitation.

So me and my own full bladder retreated. This “only one bathroom” thingie is going to be a problem.

But his sticker chart is sure festive!

The Jetlagged Lag

After 5 flights in 9 days, I can say one thing for certain: My daughter is a terrible flying companion.

As in, the worst.

Oh I know, she’s cute and sweet and amazing most of the time. Except on the airplane. On the plane, she is the kid who makes the Flight Attendant wish they had called out sick. The crying baby who serves as a double dose of birth control for all of those newlyweds traveling to and from the Aloha State.

Needless to say, our mommy-daughter return trip was exhaustingly unforgettable. We landed in Boston and I would’ve kissed the ground, but I was too busy hefting the cranky girl into her daddy’s arms. Peace out Girl Scout.

I thought a good night’s sleep would put it all behind us. However, I underestimated the power of jetlag on a small child. Since coming home, she’s been keeping all sorts of hours and pitching all sorts of fits when we attempt to get her in bed before midnight. This girl is stubbornly operating on Hawaii time. Her lagging jetlag is making it very hard on us to get back to East Coast time and, more pertinently, back to being functioning adults in the workplace.

I find myself impatiently murmuring the same desperate plea I said for 5 hours straight on the plane ride home: Go to sleep.

She doesn’t listen.

Instead, she only protests louder.

At least there is no lag in her comprehension. This is a kid who knows what she wants.

Here’s hoping tonight, she wants to reset her time zone.

Besties and Babies

This is what it looks like when two long-time friends are juggling their babies and trying to get out the door to the airport, then suddenly realize they haven’t taken a single picture together all week and need to grab a quick “selfie”.

I call it, “Best-Friends-With-Babies-Selfie”. Also known as a masterpiece photo.

This sums up the week on Oahu.

Lots of quality time with my friend, Erin. Lots of snuggle time with her newborn, Hendrix. Lots of juggling of kids, schedules, meals, and hormones. And lots of goofy grins.

I am so grateful to have spent this time with her and her beautiful family. Erin has been a mother since the moment I met her. Just now, she has a baby of her own. She was always taking care of little ones – and us bigger ones – and keeping us fed and giving sage advice and having that maternal instinct. I sure as heck benefited from her natural mom abilities, so I know baby Hendrix is one lucky little fella.

We shared quiet moments, and dueling babies crying quite loudly in the backseat moments. And lots of white noise. The sound of the “waves” app still makes me want to pee my pants. There was delicious food shared, which is kind of a given when you hang with Erin. The girl is the original Domestic Goddess. Even with a 3-week old, she’s making spaghetti sauce and sausage and deliciousness. Mmmmm. Somehow we accomplished a whole lot and a whole lot of nothing all at once. Divine.

And my goodness, my daughter and I slept well! I write this last part as a whisper cause Erin was nursing the baby all night long and did not share in this sleep, but that’s her job right now and she’s doing great at it. Still, no one needs sleep rubbed in their bleary-eyed face.

It was worth the trip and the tears on the plane ride home.

Good thing we have this picture to help us remember later on 🙂

Am I Naked?

As my daughter grows bigger, stronger, and more squirmy, I find myself contemplating the same question while holding (AKA wrangling) her in my arms:

Am I naked?

It seems every time she climbs up me, or down me, or does the shimmy-shake in my lap, I am losing clothing and coverage left and right.

Last night, we were out to dinner with our friends that we’re visiting on Oahu. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, complemented by live Hawaiian music and delicious food being shared. At one point, I find myself serving as a step stool for my little girl who is actually trying to climb up me in order to get a better look at the musicians. As she goes up, I feel my strapless dress coming down. Sure enough, my bra is fully exposed and I’m having my own wardrobe malfunction.

Quickly, I recover my wears and hope no one has noticed. Next thing I know, she’s running in place on my lap, trying to escape, and my dress is bunching up beneath her treading toes and totally showing off some ultra high leg thigh.

Finally, I looked over at my best friend (whose newborn baby is sleeping peacefully against her chest) and said, “please tell me if I’m naked”.

Such a funny request, but gosh, such a necessary one.

I am much more aware of the fact that I most likely have a skirt tucked into my undies or a boob falling out or a midriff sneaking a peek at the world now that I have small, super active children. It’s as if the more I interact with them, the more naked I get!

In closing, if you see me out in public with my “goods” on display, please do help a girl out. Cause most likely, I don’t realize I am naked.

Here’s a pic of the little culprit:

Ohana

Our 6 days on Kauai have come and gone, much like the tides – or the Spam Musubi at Pono Market.

Most people said it was too short of a trip. And they were right, for the most part. We kind of needed another 4 – 90 days on the Garden Isle to really get our fix. But, somehow, 6 days was just enough time to do so much and spend time with so many, making it well worth the trip.

Each trip has a different focal point. Sometimes we are there for a celebration – like the back to back weddings in 2012. For me, this trip was all about my Ohana.

The people who know how to make you feel completely at home in their space. The ones who drop everything to make your trip easier/happier/memorable. They who pour so much love and attention into getting to know your children and making memories with them. The group you can count on to fully anticipate your need to “cry it out” on your last day. The voices who somehow blend into their own perfect harmony singing your favorite childhood songs on the lanai.

I can’t tell you how truly blessed I am to have this family – not just for me, but for my husband and kids to enjoy as well.

In our uber quick 6 days, we managed to see every side of the island… Including – wait for it – the West Side. We swam in the crystal clear ocean and soaked up sunrays and devoured shaved ice. We did a Mahalo Burpees challenge and toured a dreamlike Children’s Garden and hiked back to a hidden waterfall.

But, by far, my favorite parts of all of these awesome adventures was the time we had with our family. That’s when 6 days is just not nearly enough, but we sure did make the most of it.

And we miss the Ohana already.