So, Tell Me About Yourself

August, 2009. It was the first day of Business Communications class. I had heard the class was an easy "A" and was fairly relaxed. My professor walked in the door, introduced herself, and went over her expectations for the semester. After a few minutes, my professor looked straight at me and said, “So, tell me about yourself.” Uh-oh.

I froze. My mind was completely blank. Surely I knew enough about myself to answer such a simple question? But the answer wasn't readily there. I sat quietly for what felt like an eternity. I thought to myself, "Who am I? How do I introduce myself?"

I told her my name, my major, and that I was a varsity lightweight rower. But the answer felt somewhat generic and hollow. I should have been able to say something more profound... more interesting. There was an awkward moment where I felt I should add more. But I had no idea what to say. To fill the void I asked, “What else would you like to know?”

My professor smiled and said, “If I do my job this semester, you will no longer need to ask me that.” She was right.

One of the first skills I learned in that class was how to handle introducing myself in many different environments and circumstances. No longer did I feel that sense of dread when someone uttered the phrase, "So, tell me about yourself." I was given a useful tool to guide my responses, and I relished it. In the business world, this tool is often referred to as your “Elevator Pitch”.

An elevator pitch can be described as a 30 second response to any situation which requires an introduction. Every business student is taught that an effective elevator pitch can make or break a future job prospect, promotion, sale, or valuable relationship. The most effective introduction will not only address who you are, but will also explain why a person should be interested in what you have to say. It will highlight your strengths and give your audience just enough interest to warrant further conversation and a deepening of the relationship. With practice, a carefully crafted elevator pitch becomes second nature and is a useful tool in a variety of circumstances.

In life, we are not often afforded an extended period of time to make an impression and introduce ourselves. First impressions begin to settle almost immediately upon meeting someone. Life is busy. The opportunity to make a connection may be as short as an elevator ride from the first floor to the fourth, if not shorter. We must, therefore, be able to introduce ourselves fully and succinctly within the limited time we have available to us.

I wasn't initially sure how to frame my introduction to you today. I didn't know what I wanted to say or how I wanted to say it. I had no idea where to start. Then, it hit me!

While an introduction written for a blog is very different from an introduction given in person, I feel there is a lot of applicability in utilizing this handy tool my professor gave me almost a decade ago...

Without further delay, I give you my "Elevator Pitch":

My name is Rosemary. I met the love of my life in 2007. We were married in 2012 and life has since carried us in directions we could not have fathomed when we first met. I’m currently a full-time stay at home mother to two beautiful little girls, who are truly my world. When I am not devoting myself to the needs of my family, I am active in my church - running the nursery program and teaching Sunday preschool classes. I have a broad range of interests. These include music, the arts, reading, outdoor adventuring, fitness, history, economics, food, DIY projects, traveling, college football (O-H!), and whatever random tidbit happens to catch my fancy on a particular day. I am a student of life and seek to continue learning about myself and others through shared and differing thoughts, experiences, struggles and successes. I am truly honored to be a regular contributor to this blog, To Each Their Own. I sincerely hope that, as we begin this journey together, we might form a strong and beautiful community; a community which thrives on openness, acceptance and diversity of thought and experience.


Thank you for reading this post and being a part of our community! I can't wait to see where this blog takes us!

My Otherness

Hello there. Now I’m a bit of a newbie when it comes to blogging, so please pardon any of the awkwardness that may follow. I’m Melissa, a 27-year-old Central Florida native and crazy cat lady who spends WAY too much time watching HGTV. I have always struggled a bit to define myself, although as the years go by I am finding it less and less of a necessity. (Call it the wisdom of age.)

Now, if I am being perfectly honest I was a little reluctant to write for T.E.T.O., especially after taking a look at the other contributors. I wasn’t sure I would exactly fit in. I have worked very hard in my life to surround myself with people that fit the labels placed on me. I’m not sure if this was out of a desire to seek comfort or if it was solely out of fear… probably both. Even now, as an adult, I still let my fear and past experiences keep me from living a life that is wholly true to myself. 

One part of my identity that has caused me a great amount shame and fear over the course of my years is my sexual orientation. I am Bisexual. This was something I have always known, even before elementary school, but wasn’t ready to admit to myself until around high school. Even then, I treated it as a novelty because that is how I saw it portrayed in the world around me. My sexual identity seemed other, out of place, and if I tried to embrace it as anything real I worried about a backlash. So I dated boys. This was not to say I didn’t care for them, far from it in fact, but there always seemed to be something missing. 

I remember a weekend trip to Disney World with my Mom, my Nana, and one of my best friends. We stayed at the Grand Floridian and it just happened to be the first weekend in June. Now if you have ever been to Walt Disney World the first weekend of June you may remember the sea of red shirts and rainbows announcing it to be the annual Gay Days meet-up. We had been frequent Disney-goers in my childhood so this was far from our first time at Gay Days, although it had never been anything more than coincidence or just enjoying the festive atmosphere that always seemed to accompany that weekend. Well, anyways, the friend and I after a long day at the parks and with the adults back at the room decided to enjoy a nice evening swim. In an entirely un-serious manner, at one point we kissed. I know I was never anything more than a friend to her, but in that moment something felt so very right. Kissing a beautiful girl in the hotel pool during Gay Days at Disney just felt right. 

One of my first shows with the Rich Weirdoes.

That was when I started to take my still-shaky identity more seriously. It was around college that I began to find my place. Between acting in/directing The Vagina Monologues at Stetson, getting a job at Disney and finding myself amongst queer peers, and eventually getting up the courage to join The Rich Weirdoes (a Rocky Horror shadow cast) I began to meet others who made it okay to be queer. I was no longer other, and that meant the world to me. I remember evenings spent dancing or watching friends perform their drag at Pulse nightclub and the butterflies in my stomach when I went with my first girlfriend to see The Hunger Games on opening night. 

As time goes on and I shift away from the lifestyle that seems to fit so well with what I wanted to be I find myself questioning again, only this time it is not my sexual orientation so much as it is my identification with the community I once belonged to. I don’t drink. I don’t smoke. I’m not a great dancer. Loud noises and crowded spaces make me incredibly anxious. My desire to participate is overwhelmingly trumped by my desire for comfort, and so once again I feel my otherness taking over. Part of it also comes from fear, although I am more willing to push through the fear than the discomfort because I know fear is something that doesn’t affect only myself. The fear comes from memories of nasty looks while I held my girlfriend’s hand in public, it comes from being run off the road and screamed at to “Go to hell you f***ing f**got!”, it comes from the emptiness in my gut when I think of the events of June 12th and waking up that morning praying that my friends weren’t dead. 

I am not trying to bring these events up to be divisive, but in the hope that someone who has never experienced this particular type of fear can be a little more understanding of why “coming out” is such a big deal for those on the LGBTQIA+ spectrum and why it is a choice every day to simply be yourself. I bring these up because it is difficult for me to embrace that part of my identity when I don’t feel like a part of the community in the way that I used to. I know there is not just one correct way to be queer, but every day is a struggle to remind myself of that very fact and to live truthfully. 

       I have always been a fan of the Bard so I will leave you all with this fitting quotation as I am running late for work and in desperate need to wrap things up.

“This above all: to thine own self be true”  Hamlet, Act-I, Scene-III

Finally, Eventually

Remember that time I quit my job and started my own “LuLaRoe Boutique” because I was finally pregnant with baby #3, and I was finally going to get to stay home with my little ones, and I was finally figuring out who I was?

Funny word “finally”…there doesn’t seem to be a whole lot of finality in this life. 

One year later and it turns out I’m not a lot of the things I thought I was going to be 365 days ago. 

I didn’t get my third baby like I had planned.  Being a direct-sales clothing retailer was not my forever home. And while I am home with my little ones for the time being- I only have a faint idea of who I am. 

I began To Each Their Own (T.E.T.O.), a blog on life and womanhood, in 2013 with five other (amazing) women.  I was very different then too.  Teaching middle school science was a huge part of my life and identity.  I had just given birth to my second boy- and after the summer was over I was juggling the working-mom thing.  I thought it would be a great idea to have a blog where women with different perspectives on life- but eventually life got in the way as life often does and put it on the back-burner for “someday”. 

Recently, as I was closing out my LuLaRoe boutique, my heart ached and I began to feel that familiar feeling- like I was quitting.  I knew it had been the right choice to join LuLaRoe at the time, and I knew it was the right choice to leave now- but it made me sad to think of losing the community that had grown in my group, and all the connections I had made. I wasn’t going to be the “LuLaRoe lady” anymore.  Just like I wasn’t a “teacher” anymore. I wasn’t a lot of things anymore. My life suddenly felt full of finalities, full of endings.

Then for some reason- I had the thought… what if I started blogging again?  I didn’t know what I would say, or who I would find to write with me.  But I had always planned to come back to T.E.T.O. one day, so why not today? I contacted the original authors to see if any of them were in a position where they could commit to writing, and while a few of them agreed to share some guest posts with us- no one was able to join the relaunch full-time.  Undeterred, I started scrolling through my Facebook friend’s list, and I reached out to four women who, to me, represent different kinds of strength and beauty that I knew would be an asset to our community.  I was thrilled to get a “yes” from all of them- and to find a referral for our sixth and final author, who also joined-in enthusiastically. 

A new chapter.

Right now, my life is in a transitional stage. Like new construction beginning after demolition, new growth after a forest fire, a new life with potential, hope, and undetermined possibilities. Old scars are healing and I’m working on figuring out how this “life” thing works again, and who I am for the first time.  

I'm Jessica Vergara. I am a 27 year old white Floridian woman who is married with two boys ages 3 & 5. I have a degree in Elementary Education, and a passion for writing and uplifting others. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints, and I am currently exploring a career in graphic design with an Etsy Shop called Conversation Design. 

I’m the mom who wears workout clothes in the parent pick-up line instead of pajamas so you think I’m practical and hardworking instead of just tired. Who feels like super-mom when I make chocolate chip pancakes instead of regular pancakes, but feels guilty for not reading bedtime stories the way I “should”, and the way I want to. Who stares at my little ones sleeping & kneels on the floor beside them with tear-filled eyes, and prays to God to protect them.

I’m the wife who after 8 years of marriage is still struggling to figure out how to let down walls and be the woman my husband sees; to be slow to anger and quick to forgive.  Who smacks my husband’s butt in the grocery store and pretends to be a hardcore rapper on long car drives to make him laugh.  Who sometimes holds his one hand in both of mine just to make sure he’s really there.

I’m the friend who worries if I’m doing enough.  Who sometimes over-shares & loves when you over-share back. Who loves going to the movie theater, getting ice-cream, and talking late into the night about anything and everything.  Who whispers sarcastic jokes to you when no one else is listening, but still takes things seriously.  Who easily gets my feelings hurt, and worries after our conversations if I said too much, and has to message you to make sure everything is still ok. 

I’m the daughter who shows up uninvited to her parent’s house, opens the door without knocking, and rearranges all their furniture when they’re out of town.  Who sees her parents as both the people they were and they people they are.  Who sometimes catches glimpses of them in the mirror, and feels both hesitant and proud about that.  Who calls my mom just to talk, and loves seeing my dad working in the garage to build something.  Who worries about them growing older, how they will retire, and whether or not my children know their grandparents enough. 

I’m the oldest sibling- the sister who thinks I have it all together except for when I really, really, don’t.  Who experienced having foster siblings in high school & adopted siblings as an adult, so I’m not sure whether to tell people I’m the oldest of 3 or 7.  Who feels different being the only one with a significant other, married, and with children. Who loves coming home for dinners & game nights- but no longer being on the chore chart.

I am a leader.  I am transparent. I am hopeful.  I am emotional.

I am finally figuring things out..eventually.

I can't wait to see where this journey leads.

Chapter Two

Three years later.

Chapter Two.

One amazing blog and a community just beginning!

If you subscribed to To Each Their Own during our original run in 2013-2014, I hope you will join us again in a new chapter! We have some beautiful new authors- along with some familiar faces guest-authoring for us, and we can't wait to share this new journey with you!

Another Useless Blog Post

Do you remember when blogging was new and you were considered pretty impressive if you had one? At that point in time, blogs were used for one of two purposes; to connect with people and keep them updated on your family life or to share knowledge of something, i.e. cooking, home improvement, business, etc.

Then something happened and blogging became a trend. And trends, in my humble opinion, have a crappy way of turning things that are awesome into a giant old pain in the neck.

For example, now that blogging is a trend, there is a tremendous pressure on blog authors. You can't just sit down and write any old thought that comes into your head. No, no. It has to be epic. You want to go viral. What I want to know is who in the blue blazes thought that "going viral" was the right term for this phenom? Let me tell you what I think of when I hear the word, "viral". I think of puke and fevers and rashes and the black plague and zombies (the flesh-eating kind, not the cute love-restored-my-soul kind from "Warm Bodies"). So it would be like saying to someone, "Hey, what you said inspired me so much...I think it deserves a puke bucket, some clorox and a pair of finely constructed rubber gloves."

Nasty name aside, going "viral", can be summed up in one big fun-sucking word...pressure. People feel pressure to write that awesome blog post that everyone has to read and like and share and tweet and squeak and whatever the heck else people do with blogs now.

As human beings, we have an innate desire to impart something of ourselves and give to the masses. We want to feel like we have a piece in this giant jigsaw puzzle of life. I think this is especially true for stay-at-home mothers, whose roll in society is generally more restricted and often difficult to navigate. I think this is why many blogs began with, and are penned by, mothers. And I get that. We all have something to share and we all want to feel like what we share matters to someone, anyone. A dear friend (and coincidentally one of my favorite blogging moms) once told me that she felt like blogging gave her a sense of camaraderie with other moms. It made her feel connected to the outside world in a way that can sometimes be difficult to do in other ways. I whole-heartedly agree.

But we've created a bit of a monster.

Because now we are all stressed out and nervous. We can't write unless we know it will be good and it isn't good unless it gets shared and goes zombie and everyone is posting it on their tweeting-face-news-feed. And when it doesn't happen that way, we have surely failed and what we say is, as we suspected all along, not really that important. Thus the initial intention of blogging, to share something that we have inside us, is now biting us on the nose and keeping us cowering behind our keyboards, afraid that what we say isn't worthy.

Not only do we have to have a stellar, awe-inspiring blog post, we also need two titles. Have you noticed that? It's not just, "Public Toilets" anymore. It's "Public Toilets: Why I Will Never Walk into a Public Restroom and Have My Eyes Rest upon a Public Pee-Splattered Porcelain Menace to Society Again". As if naming a blog post isn't hard enough already...now I have to come up with a title and an accompanying catch phrase. Smack my head. (That's right, I wrote it out instead of using the abbreviated form...take that trend setters).

And as if that's not discouragement enough, we have entire blog posts floating around dedicated to the decomposition and mockery of other blog posts. It's like blogging snipers. They hide and wait. I swear, I think they float around cyber space waiting for a victim. Instead of taking a few minutes to stop and actually use that lump of zombie chow on our heads, we jump in like a pack of wolves ready to rip each other's work to shreds in hope that it will thrust us into the viral lime-light. Never mind that every single person who sits down to write anything has, at the very least, a beating heart and a head full of thoughts, experiences and reasons, and that freaking irresistible urge to share it with someone in this universe. We don't think about that anymore. Because blogging isn't really about sharing anymore. It's about popularity.

Maybe it's just my inner-outcast shining through, but I have a beef with popularity.

My grandmother used to say that we should be educated for the sake of education. To learn, to grow, to expand our mind and our beliefs and our capacity. The part of me that shares her genetic code beckons me to write for the sake of writing. For the sole purpose of taking something that is inside me and giving it away because it does matter and it is worth it. And it's not about going viral or having crafty titles or being that blog that helps someone finally realize that they actually want children, or want to become a chef or finally unlocks the secret to removing supposedly washable marker from any body part (but seriously, does anyone know how to do that, because I would like to read a blog post about that).

It's about being another tree in the forest, another star in the sky, another fish in the sea, another stupid blog post...and being completely okay with that.

Working on Staying at Home- Guest Post by Robyn

" Stay at home mom. "

          For some, this term brings up feelings of guilt at having to be a working mom, for others it may bring up feelings of confusion as to how someone could “sit at home” all the time, and for yet others it is simply the term used to describe what they are. 

The decision on whether to be a stay at home mom or a working mom is a very difficult one to make. No matter which decision you choose to make, there are judgments cast against you. Working moms are criticized for not being around to raise their children, for not being home enough. People say things like, “I don't know how you do it.” or “How could you leave your baby?” Stay at home moms are criticized for not helping to provide for their families and for sitting around all day doing nothing. People question how you don't get bored or joke about how nice it must be to have so much free time. The truth is, there are sacrifices to be made in either decision, and they are sometimes very hard ones to make.

            When I had my first son, there was no question; I was staying home with him for as long as I could. I stayed with him for nineteen exhausting and amazing months. It was a very tight, difficult time for my family, but I absolutely cherish every second I was able to spend with him, and in many ways they were the best nineteen months of my life. My son and I bonded in such a special way that I just don't think would have been possible had I spent all of those days at work rather than with him. Sometime towards the end of those months, though, my husband and I decided it would be best for everyone if I went back to work. We wanted to buy a house, so the money would be nice, and I needed to do something “useful” for my own sense of self worth. Going back to work was one of the hardest things I have ever done. I cried for weeks beforehand, and every time I dropped my son off to daycare for almost a year. I felt so guilty that I was spending more time at work than with my child and that someone else was essentially raising my child instead of me. Every bad habit that was brought home from daycare, and every new thing he learned was a reminder that someone else had more influence on him than I did.

           Shortly after I started working, my husband and I got pregnant with our second child. I was so excited, but with that also came the dread of telling the superiors at my job. Being a teacher to middle school children, I did not have the pleasure of hiding my pregnancy or breaking the news in my own way. My students were kind enough to call me out in class one day, something along the lines of, “Are you pregnant? You used to be really skinny and now you're not.” Thanks so much for noticing. By the way, I was only about eight weeks along. Fortunately, a lot of teachers are women so schools seem to be pretty understanding and accepting of pregnancies. It wasn't very long before the gossip started, though. While walking through the office one day, I overheard two coworkers talking about me and how they were certain I wouldn't come back to work after the baby was born, saying, “It must be nice to have money like that, wish I could just stay home”. This sort of judgment has never made sense to me. Lets face it, unless you are in someone's everyday life, you have no idea what their finances are or what sacrifices might be being made to make something happen.

            My second son was born in September. I stayed home for 8 weeks, though I received some grief for that from a few coworkers, including an email that was highlighted and done in bold stating the average maternity leave is only 6 weeks. I knew before he was born that I wanted to stay home with him for at least his first year. For various reasons, I returned to work after my 8 weeks off, with the intent of only staying for 5 weeks. I enjoy my job, but I enjoy being a mom more. I have come to the conclusion that it is impossible to give your all to both your job and your children. In the end, one or both ends up suffering. The hardest part about my decision to once again be a stay at home mom, was giving my resignation.

            I don't care how old you are, the principal is scary. Having only worked at my school for a little over a year, I did not know my principal well, other than that she did not go out of her way to talk to me, and she made me nervous any time she did. I decided the best thing for my nerves would be to send a resignation letter via email. Call me a coward if you like, but it was much easier that way. Much to my surprise, my principal was not only very understanding of my decision, but during one conversation she told me that in twenty years I will look back and know that I made the right decision. In another conversation she suggested that I could return to my job when my kids were in school, and in yet another she told me I was welcome back any time I like and asked if I would be willing to substitute once in a while.

            It has been three weeks since my return to stay at home mom status, and in so many ways it is different than the first time I held that title. I do not get to spend hours just gazing upon the face of my little baby, and I do not get to spend all day laughing and playing with my little boy. Life with two children is a little more chaotic than with just one. But it is also that much more beautiful. I have the pleasure of watching my boys interact, which can be one of the most heart wrenching, amazing things I have ever seen. I get to watch my sons grow and learn each and every day. I really don't believe a day goes by that I am not amazed by my toddlers intelligence, compassion, sense of humor, and imagination. The baby gets bigger by the minute I think, and is learning and talking and becoming his own little person as well.

            While I am sure at some point, perhaps even multiple times, during my time as a stay at home mom, I will feel unappreciated or useless or invaluable. See, we as moms are very hard on ourselves over everything. I am not sure that we can help it. As I have felt in the past, I am sure I will have pangs of guilt when I am spending money that I did not earn, or doing something fun with the kids while my husband is at work. Then I will remind myself, or likely my husband will remind me, that I am valuable and I do have a purpose and my job is important.

Mom Confessions- "I will NEVER"

^That picture was taken before I had kids. (See how cool I was?)  Before I had any clue about what my body, mind, emotions, and very soul was about to go through as I made the transition from girl to mother.

With the new year starting, my Facebook and Pinterest feeds have flooded with New Year's Resolutions.  As we stand on the edge of fresh beginnings and new horizons we find ourselves intoxicated with the sense of possibilities and a surge of good intentions.

Right about now you're probably starting to realize that running 30 minutes every morning before work may not be 100% realistic... and you're convincing yourself that your "no more soda EVER" resolution was really more of a guideline than an actual rule.

Coming down off the high of New Year's resolutions is expected.  (Besides- we have all year long to get back "on-track" right?) We've spent the last month reminescing, gorging, and justifying in the anticipation of this "fresh start".  It makes sense that we would set some unrealistic expectations.

But as women- we tend to be pros as setting unrealistic expectations. (...uhhh does the word "PINTEREST" mean anything to anyone?)  I am GUILTY!  For many of us- we spend a good part of our lives anticipating some of the sweetest milestones life has to offer; mainly marriage and motherhood.  If you think about how much we can build ourselves up before making our New Year's resolutions each year- it may give you a better idea how so many of us find ourselves looking up from a pit of unrealistic expectations when we finally reach those momentous events.  And the worst part: We dug ourselves into that pit ourselves.

I was no exception.  Along with the typical list of wants, hopes, dreams, and expectations for my life as a parent- I also had a pretty extensive lists of "I will NEVER"'s.  As an oldest child, teacher, and experienced babysitter- I felt like I had seen my fair share of "non-examples" and I was pretty sure there were some things that, when I became a mother myself, I would NEVER do.

But then I had a baby.

And then I had another one.

And then I realized...

1.) "I will never co-sleep with my baby."

Oh dear. I can already feel the evil glares pointed my way across the internet.
If you Google "co-sleeping dangers" (DON'T) you would be with me on putting this on my list of "NEVER"'s.  However...  you'd be surprised what measures you would take after only a few brief hours of cat-napping on the floor beneath your child's swing before they woke up and realized once again that no one is holding them and this is unacceptable.

I've come to accept that co-sleeping is an incredibly PERSONAL decision.  I've discovered that it can be an amazing aide in making sure my baby and I both get enough sleep to function, and it encourages breast-feeding when I might otherwise be inclined to cozy-up under the blankets while Daddy fixed a bottle.  It eases my mind when I can simply look over and see that my child is well and breathing rather than causing me to dash across the house and check in the crib when my "something is wrong!" mother-instincts kick in.

While co-sleeping is a personal decision, it needs to be an informed one.  There are a lot of things to consider.  For instance- you should NEVER co-sleep if you are drunk or under medication that would not allow you to wake-up easily.  You should refrain from extra-soft bedding such as large fluffy/heavy feather comforters, or multiple coverings/pillows.  (Less is more when co-sleeping)
You should be aware of bed placement and make sure the bed isn't pushed against a wall where the baby could slip down and get stuck.  You also need to consider your personal sleeping style.  If you (or your partner) tend to be a heavy sleeper or thrash around a lot, you may want to consider an option other than co-sleeping.

Co-sleepers are also a great option.  I made sure to research SAFE co-sleeping and for me- it was a surprisingly amazing option.  Albeit something I thought I would never do.

{Image Credit: Here}

2.) "I will never keep my baby in the carseat."

After horror-stories of dented heads and obese children with minimal emotional attachment I vowed I would never be one of "those moms" that kept her baby in the carseat carrier.  I used to look at mothers who toted their children to church in their carseats and think "How can they do that to their baby? He/she is getting so little stimulation! The poor little thing is trapped in its seat! How hard would it be for the mom or dad to just hold their baby instead of leaving them in the seat on the pew beside them?"

Apparently it would be pretty darn hard actually.  We were pretty great about holding rather than "toting" our oldest son.  The carseat generally stayed in the car unless he was sleeping or if it was a quick trip into the grocery story. But with the addition of a second child- my husband and I found ourselves significantly more stretched.  Balancing a toddler AND a baby means both you and your spouse almost constantly have your hands/laps/arms full.  Not to mention those families that have more than two children... single parents... or parents of multiples!  I seriously do not know how they do it.

Something I hadn't considered was the fact that those times when I see those moms and their carseated-babies, is only a TINY fraction of the time those mothers and spending with their babies.  30 minutes in a carseat once a week is really not going to cause emotional trauma to your child.  I had no idea how much time they spend cuddling, crawling, and exploring with their baby at home.

In addition- while my first son was relatively mellow and content to roll around on the floor or cuddle in my arms, my second son is nothing short of a restless explorer.  He is constantly pulling on things, sticking things in his mouth... you know the typical baby stuff.  At home we can baby-proof, shut doors, etc... outside of our house is a different story.  Sometimes I just don't have the energy to chase after my mobile minion and the carseat provides an incredible relief as a safe-alternative to running myself ragged.

So I've pretty much stuck with the new mindset of if he's happy- let him be. This doesn't mean I wait until he's screaming before I take him out, in fact I still think I'm pretty good about keeping him liberated from his carseat... but I'm not as high-and-mighty about it.

And I certainly don't judge other moms so quickly when they have a contained little-one in tow.

{Image Credit: Here}

3.) "I will never give my child something just because he cries for it."

Yeah... this isn't one I'm proud of.

It's really important to me that I don't raise whiny entitled children... but it's also really important that I don't have a nervous breakdown because my eardrums just shattered into a million tiny pieces.

We encourage using our words to explain what we want and how we feel instead of crying (whining) when we want something.   And I give myself a big pat on the back for having a toddler that usually does pretty darn good at it too.  But as anyone who has ever had a toddler knows- sometimes logic is the joke of the day.

Choose your battles mama.

If I'm sick, if I'm tired, or if I'm just having a really lazy day- sometimes I do myself a favor and spare the house from the 30-minute compromise of "You need to tell me what you want so I can help you" and I resort to the guessing game. (Note: this can often back-fire and turn into a HUGE mess so always proceed with caution.)

"Do you want juice?"
NO! (Angry)

"Do you want cheese?"
No! (Frustrated but happy you are recognizing their unhappiness)

"Do you want bread?"
Noooooo.... (Still crying but open to negotiation)

"Do you want toasted bread?"
Yes. (Still sniffling)

"Ok here is some bread- lets toast it"
NOOOO!!!! (freak-out mode activated)

"Do you want this? Do you just want the bread?"
Yes. (Sniffling but relieved.)

"Ok here you go."
Thank you mommy.  (Smile- note crocodile tears still streaming down face.)

Once the bread is gone and he starts whimpering again- you better bet I go straight for the bread bag and hand him another slice.  Sometimes... it's in everyone's best interest.

{Image Credit: Here}

4.) "I will never feed my child unhealthy food."

Cue laughter.

oh dear....  I really have nothing to say in my defense.  Graham crackers will be my undoing.

And those darn cookies.

{Image Credit: Here}

5.) "I will never ignore my child when they are crying."

No decent mother wants her child to cry.  We just don't.  It hurts our hearts. When my baby cries it's like every bone in my body starts screaming for me to DO SOMETHING!  That's why if someone were to have told me 5 years ago that I would occasionally ignore my child when they were crying I would have voted for them to be sent to the looney-bin.

But if I'm being honest... there come some moments in every mother's life where she needs five seconds.  And if you aren't a mother you may not realize how literally I mean that.

FIVE. SECONDS.

Time to yourself- without responsibility- is now a fantasy.  It's like when people say you have a piece of your heart living outside your body.  It's true.  I don't know if I'll ever be 100% worry free EVER again.  Even when my sons are grown with children of their own I'm sure I'll still wake up sometimes in the night and wonder where they are. (Maybe not... but it's seriously hard to imagine right now.)

This post has taken me almost a month to write- and I still won't get a chance to proof-read it because THAT is how precious time is when you've got little ones.

I remember a time after I had my first son when I was feeling particularly overwhelmed.  I felt like he was constantly crying, never sleeping, and always needing me.  I found myself becoming emotionally dramatic- crying, feeling so tired and angry.  That anger was like a red flag.  I certainly wasn't angry at my baby ( I wasn't angry *at* anything really) but I knew I needed to calm down.

A woman who came to bring a dinner (...yes I was having dinners delivered to me and still managed to get super overwhelmed- it happens.) saw how I was feeling and gave me some of the best mother advice I ever received.

Sometimes babies just cry.

This isn't exactly true... we all know that babies cry for a reason.  Either their hungry, tired, cold, uncomfortable, poopy, etc...

But what she continued to explain was that after you've exhausted all the options you can think of- once you've rocked, swaddled, fed, changed, rocked swaddled, burped, checked their toes twice for hairs, and fed, rocked, and swaddled again... sometimes you just need to set them down safe in their crib, shut the door, and take five seconds.

literally five seconds.

Enough time for some deep breaths.  Some visualizing.  A reset.

It's something I never thought I'd do.  It's something I never thought I'd need.


But mamas are human too.

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And that's ok.
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