Link Love

This photo is making the green thumb in me want to come out and play.
Loving this song. It makes me excited for summer. So does this 80 degree weather. That’s 25 Celsius for all ya’ll on the other side of the globe. Good song though, no?

Wishing I could afford this top. It’s $180, on sale, mind you.
This photo is so simple, yet dreamy. It’s by Lonnie Webb, one of my favorites.
I’m loving on this song too. Such a beautiful intro.
Wanting to do this DIY when the time fairy chooses to grace me with her requested presence.
Supporting this documentary and all it stands for.
Side note: Thank you all for your thoughtful comments on yesterday’s post. There was some great dialogue and I felt a lot better after reading what ya’ll had to say. My favorite part about blogging, hands down, is the support we can all give one another. So cool. Thanks for inspiring me and for supporting me.

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Christmas Cookies + Mommy Wars

{My new favorite top because it has polka dots and is breastfeeding friendly. It’s vintage, from Threading Marigolds, and was a Christmas gift from my sister.}
My house is an absolute mess right now. I’ve called two separate cleaning companies. I’ve left three messages with one and two with the other. My third message to the first company wasn’t very nice and I’m assuming they won’t be calling me back. If they do, I’d probably tell them to fuck off anyway. So while I’m impatiently waiting for the other company to return my call, books are strewn about the floor in every room, the dishwasher is waiting to be emptied, dirty dishes are piled up in the sink, empty plates from last nights dinner are still on the table, clean laundry is getting wrinklfied in the dryer because it has yet to be taken out and folded, Hooper has pissed all over the place the past two days (dear potty training, you’re really helping the cause), Sarah woke up and barfed this morning, and oh ya, there’s those ingredients for homemade cookies waiting patiently on the counter to be baked. The dirty mess has become the norm and while it is disgusting and killing my creativity, it is actually the un-baked cookies I want to talk about.
You see, I  planned on baking them with Hooper for Christmas. I bought cookie cutters in the shape of snowflakes and stars just for this occasion. And on the counter still sits the flour, the baking soda, the vanilla extract, sprinkles, frosting, and those cookie cutters. Everyday that I enter the kitchen, I look first at the pile of dirty dishes and then I notice the unbaked cookies and, well, it makes me feel like a failure of a mom. Why can’t my house stay clean? Or, more importantly, why won’t the damn cleaning companies call me back? And why can’t I make the time to bake those fucking cookies with my son?
My sister shared an article with me recently titled, “Why You’re Never Failing as a Mother”. It’s written by Amy Morrison from the Pregnant Chicken and it’s a fantastic article. I re-read it again this morning in hopes of not feeling like a piece of shit mom.
While the article agrees that mothers have been mothers for a long time, Amy adds that parents today face a greater deal of scrutiny than ever before.
She writes, “As for the past generations that like to tell you that they raised six kids on their own and did it without a washing machine? Well, sort of. Keep in mind child rearing was viewed pretty differently not that long ago and you could stick a toddler on the front lawn with just the dog watching and nobody would bat an eye at it — I used to walk to the store in my bare feet to buy my father’s cigarettes when I was a kid. As a mother, you cooked, you cleaned, but nobody expected you to do anything much more than keep your kids fed and tidy”.
Nowadays, motherhood seems to involve much more and there’s an underlying pressure to keep up with what is perceived as the norm. This false norm includes things like breastfeeding for a year or more, wearing your baby everywhere as opposed to using a stroller, cloth diapering, co-sleeping, making homemade baby food (and make sure it’s organic), teaching your baby sign language and a foreign language, reading books on parenting (Is your baby the happiest on the block?), and maintaining a career, a happy marriage, and a spotless home. Just the other day I read that parents are doing something called “elimination communication” and teaching their SEVEN month old how to shit in the toilet. I mean seriously? No, really, seriously? I’m serious. I know, I know, it’s crazy. I want to scream at the top of my lungs, “Stop raising the bar you mommy war freaks!”.
No one has said it better than Amy herself, “Feeling like you also need to keep on top of scrapbooking, weight loss, up-cycled onesies, handprints, crock pot meals, car seat recalls, sleeping patterns, poo consistency, pro-biotic supplements, swimming lessons, electromagnetic fields in your home and television exposure is like trying to knit on a rollercoaster — it’s f*cking hard”.
I follow the lovely Naomi from Rockstar Diaries on instagram and couldn’t believe the scrutiny she received for taking a photo of her child in the infamous bumbo seat without the safety buckle, which is actually a separate piece that has been added because of one of those silly recalls. I mean here is an adorable mom taking a photo of her adorable child and her very own followers are giving her shit for not following up with a recall for a seat her child is sure to outgrow in another month?! It’s sad that many mommy bloggers now feel they have to sensor what they share for fear of being scrutinized by their own readers. It’s a recipe for a seemingly shallow blog when, in actuality, the scrutiny they’ve faced is the culprit behind many of the untold stories.
When did we all turn against each other? What’s with this mommy war business?
So the take home message is this: Don’t be so hard on yourself. I’ve always stood firm in my belief that we all do the best we can as mothers. The decisions we make are the decisions we individually feel are best or need to make in an effort to maintain our own sanity (and that’s okay too).
One of these days Hooper and I will tackle those Christmas cookies. I hear snowflake shaped cookies taste the same in spring as they do in winter so rather than beat myself up every time I walk past those ingredients on the counter, I’m going to pretend that they’re actually whispering, “Ready when you are”.
Go pat yourself on the back. We all deserve it. And have a glass of wine tonight. I’ll join you. And we can all think of one another. Are you getting the kumbaya feeling? I am.
Side note: Standings are reset over on Top Baby Blogs… So it’s time for me to beg and plead for your votes once again. The Stork placed in 7th this last quarter so now I’m setting my sights on top 5. I know, I know, I’m crazy. Vote for me and I’ll bake you a damn snowflake cookie sometime this year. No, really, thanks for all your support. I’ve watched my blog slowly inch it’s way up which means that a handful of ya’ll are voting on a consistent basis and that really makes my world a pretty happy place.

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Tidbits of Motherhood

Yup, there I am with my baby dolls again. I can see Hooper’s little mischievous face in my own. That rascal. Think my haircut is cool? Yeah, me too (not being sarcastic at all, wink wink). Onto the tidbits…
I used to brush my teeth, slap on some chapstick, and go to bed. Now I wash my pump stuff for the morning, brush my teeth, slap on some chapstick, and turn on my baby monitors. Yes, monitors is pleural.
Woman are the superior sex. They just are. I never had such admiration for other woman until I became a mom. I used to view men as the king of the households, the warriors, the caretakers. But now I realize woman are the Kings and men are the princesses. And after giving birth, I’m pretty sure all moms are warriors. And I won’t even touch on the caretaker role, because we all know who fills those shoes. So in an attempt to remind mi amor of his manliness, I pretend to be impressed with how he can sit through the pain while being tattooed. And when he suggests that I could never handle the pain, I laugh with visions of two nine pound babies exiting my vagina with no pain medication and say, “ya, probably not”.
Just the other day I was giving the boys an afternoon bath and started to question why I was hungry. My first thought was this: it’s 4 o’clock, past lunch time… What’s wrong with me? My second thought was this: Oh my god, I forgot to make myself lunch. My thrid and final thought was this: It sure sucks we have to take time out of the day to eat. I could get a whole lot more done if I didn’t have mouths to feed, my own included.
Before I became a mom, a productive day consisted of crossing off several items on my to do list. Now, a productive day means I bathed and fed three people. That’s it. It’s been a challenge to accept at times and is probably the reason I feel so behind all the time. It’s hard to watch things marinating on a to do list for days on end.
I have cried over spilt milk only it was breast milk so cut me some slack.
I used to associate silence with wide open spaces, deep thought, and peace. Now, it’s just down right worrisome and means I have to get up off my ass to see what’s going on. Then, nine times out of ten, the previous silence involves some sort of clean up or scolding or something else that’s not fun or peaceful. The exception is nap time, then silence is the most beautiful thing in the world. Especially if I’m lazy enough to nap too.
It takes me a long time to clean the house how I see fit. I usually clean up while Hooper is asleep. Within the first hour of Hooper being awake, it appears as though I’ve done nothing. I have finally excepted the realization that I cannot do it all and, as a result, have given in and decided to hire a housekeeper.
You can view the first post in this series here. Please share tidbits you have learned through the journey of motherhood and I will compile your revelations in a separate post!

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Tidbits of Motherhood

In this moment, can you ignore the fact my mouth was open (my mouth was always open) and that my hair looks like it was cut underneath a lopsided bowel and concentrate on all that is fantastic about this photo? Like the carpet. In particular the color. Burnt orange carpet? Yes, please. Wall to wall sliding glass windows? Yes, sir, I’d like some of those too. And that beautiful potted plant… What I wouldn’t do to pour some water on you. I won’t even mention the plaid tweed sofa cuz that would be too much.
The point of the photo is the baby in my arms. I always had a baby in my arms. Babies always facinated me. Becoming a mother was an easy transition and felt very natural. That’s not to say I haven’t learned things I didn’t anticapate learning, because I’ve learned a ton and none of it was anticipated. When I was a child pretending to care for a child, I knew nothing of what it actually entailed. Now I know a lot. Reality has a way of slapping the nasty truth in your face. So today I’m starting a little segment sharing tidbits I’ve learned as a mom. I’m encouraging everyone to share tidbits you too have learned as a mother in the comments below. If you are not a mother, feel free to share tidbits you’ve learned in watching others take on the role of motherhood. At the end of this little segment, I will compile your responses into a separate post: Tidbits of Motherhood: What You Had To Say. Here we go…
The five minutes of shut eye I get while lying on the table to have my eyebrows tweezed is my new version of a nap. I wish I were being sarcastic.
When I’m running errands by myself, I insist on turning the music up very loud. It matters not what’s playing, just that it’s load. The radio has blessed me with “My Sharona” twice and each time, I glanced upward to the mom gods and whispered “thank you”.
As much as I hate my role as the boss of the family, there is no two ways around it, I am the boss. Ho hum.
I no longer have my own car. This is not to say we don’t have two cars. We live in southern California. We practically have to have two cars. But, because of our members and their special munchkin seats, we are constantly swapping vehicles. I adjust the rear view mirror every time I get in the car and it never feels quite right.
We’ve adopted and named our own kind of parenting. It’s called humor parenting. And it works by conjuring up ridiculous ways to assign motherly and fatherly tasks. Like if Hoop has a shitty diaper, we both put our hands up, side by side, and simultaneously ask for a high five. Whoever he high-fives first has to change his shit.
When Willy has to wait in the car while I finish getting ready, I no longer make excuses. I’m a mom. And therefore I’m entitled to try on as many different outfits on my new mom figure as I want.
Your turn.

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You Be The Judge…

Ignore the fact we both have rubber duckies in the photos above. Total coincidence. I always thought Hooper was a pretty good mix of both of us and based on the fact Van looks pretty dang similar to Hooper as a baby, I assume the same will be true for him. But after looking at our baby photos, I’m thinkin’ these boys look a lot more like their Papa. What do you think?

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Mama Style

I scored this little vintage Levi’s  jumper the other weekend when we were in San Francisco. I hesitated buying it because, you know, it’s Fall n’ all. But my heart belongs to Summer and apparently Fall belongs to Summer too because it hit the triple digits here again last week. If you follow me on instagram (thestorkandthebeanstalk) you may have seen my photo of the 109 temperatures steaming up your feeds. Anyway, this jumper has been my go-to on these warm days. Super comfy and super breastfeeding friendly, which is always a major plus in my book. And I just love jumpers… even if they are a little jail-house-ish.
In other mama news, I have another round of birth-related links to share with ya’ll. All of these are really deserving of their own individual posts, but when lack of time and organization gets of the best of you the answer is to clump. So here is my clump o’ links. Hope they’re helpful.
This article discusses how both Cigna and Aetna are leading the way in a new movement to lower the c-section rate. Aetna is adjusting the price they reimburse for c-sections, making the cost closer to a vaginal delivery to eliminate the profit hospitals and doctors receive when going the surgical route. Cigna is aiming for the same and is additionally offering bonuses to hospitals that are able to lower their c-section rates. Leave it to the money-hungry insurance companies to be the ones making a difference. Who cares if their motivation is money if the end result is better care for birthing women, right? The article also states that hospitals are working toward no longer allowing doctors to induce labor prior to 39 weeks, unless a reason for an emergency induction is documented. Anyway, I’m curious to know your thoughts…
This article discusses why it is hard for the birthing mother to say “no”. The topic alone is enough to raise your eyebrows, right? Your thoughts?
-A wonderful love letter to c-section moms, because not everything in life goes according to plan and we all deserve respect. This is a real beautiful article that I urge everyone to read. Again, would love to know your thoughts…
Here’s a collection of great resources and links for first time moms. The 30 of the best blogs for new moms covers everything from sleep patterns to diapering to feeding and then some. Loads of info.
And lastly, the winner to last Monday’s giveaway from Truly Sanctuary is Taysha Murtaugh. Congrats! They will be notifying you via email. For everyone else, please remember you can use promo code STORKANDTHEBEANSTALK for 15% off your entire purchase!

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Meet Your Parents

Dear Hooper & Van,
We bought our first home just a few months before our wedding. It was built in 1957 and the woman who lived in it prior to us was the original owner, I believe. We spent the first month or so ripping out floor, ripping off multiple layers of wallpaper and indoor wood shingles (I know, it’s like an indoor roof… not sure why), and painting walls.
Working on your home is hard work, but like raising children, it’s the best work. Take pride in your home and care for it like you would a child. The best work of art is one that contains the blood, sweat, and tears of the artist. Think of your home as a blank canvas, but leave the decorating to your wife. And, when you’re finished, reward yourself with ice cream. Or a beer. Whatever suits your tastes.
Love,
Mama

A Sponsored Giveaway

I’m all kinds of excited today. We have a lovely giveaway and my first gif. I was showing off my gif capabilities to Willy who since has repeatedly made fun of me for pronouncing it like “gift” without the “t”, which according to him (and probably everyone else) is wrong. Schwhatever. I taught myself to gif (yes, it’s like a dance) and to that I say kiss my arse you phonetically gifted fools. I digress, we have a lovely giveaway from these two lovely people over at Truly Sanctuary. Say Hi to Ron & Beth, otherwise known as R & B but not to be confused with those that don’t see nothing wrong with a little bump and grind. Seriously, please give a little wave at your computer screens right now.

Truly Sanctuary has an array of designs to chose from. I’m talking everything from Ol’ Dirty Bastard to Gandhi (my apologies, Gandhi) and everything in between like Mr. T, Bob Dylan, and Woody Allen. Not to mention phrases like “My Beard Hurts”, “No Hablo”, and “I have tattoos”. And I can’t leave out Edward Scissor Hands, whom my dad refers to as Roger scissor fingers (seriously, that’s what he thinks his name is).
Truly Sanctuary has been kind enough to offer one of my readers any item of their choice. Choose wisely (wink wink). You can enter by visiting their store and leaving a comment below with the item you prefer. The winner will be announced next Monday. Please make sure your email address is valid so I can notify the winner via email. Good luck! And special thanks to Ron & Beth. You two are adorable and have one awesome store.
Should you not win the giveaway, Ron & Beth have been so kind as to offer a 15% discount off your entire order using the code STORKANDTHEBEANSTALK. So, if you don’t win, you still win. It’s a win-win people! Get to shoppin’, the holidays are coming!


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Breastfeeding

Today is the first breastfeeding posts of a couple I have planned. I know some moms that chose not to breastfeed have some residual guilt about that, so I want to preface this series with this statement: I truly believe and trust every mom does what they feel is best for them and their child. It’s a simple statement, but it’s packed with meaning. I believe pregnancy, birth, and motherhood are highly individual experiences. Just as a home birth may not be for you, breastfeeding may not be either. Truth be told, if I worked a Monday through Friday job, 9-5, I probably wouldn’t committ to breastfeeding either. In any case, what I’m saying is that I pass no judgement. For thsoe that are breastfeeding or plan on breastfeeding, I hope you can find something in this series that helps you out. Here we go…
I recently had conversations with a friend who is pregnant and my hairdresser who just gave birth a couple months ago and was a bit taken back with the lack of support they received for wanting to breastfeed. I was somewhat over-the-top with my commitment to breastfeeding Hooper, but even with that intense commitment there were several challenges and obstacles and times where I really really wanted to throw in the towel. What kept me going, you ask? Support. And it wasn’t as if support came knocking on my door in those hard times, it was a conscious effort on my part to seek it out in those tough and trying times. For starters, I had the knowledge of the fact that I was solely breastfed for my first 12 months of life. In my own mother, I had a role model. My midwife at the time, Sarah, was also a lactation consultant and made herself more than available for all of my “what should I do?” and “should I keep going?” questions. She was great and I’ve already had conversations with her this time around for continued lactation support.
Breastfeeding is hard. I had the best of circumstances in that Hooper and Van latched perfectly and I had little discomfort, and the whole experience was  and still is incredibly difficult. If I wasn’t so intensely committed, I wouldn’t have persevered. I know that. That’s why I think if you make the decision to breastfeed, you have to set yourself up for success before the baby comes. Here’s some advice I would like to offer:
-Seek advice and support from others who were successful. Lots of people quit for lots of valid reasons, reasons I can surely sympathize with, but when you’re trying to persevere these aren’t the people you want to turn to. Instead, find a role model. I luckily had my mother and knowing she made the sacrifices for me was enough for me to be committed to making the sacrifices for my boys.
-Take a breastfeeding class. It’s so important to know what to expect and to have some sort of knowledge prior to starting out. The first few months are the hardest and I think this is the easiest time to give up. I would recommend doing research before hand and coming to the class with a few questions or concerns that are personal to what you envision your circumstances to be.
-Research breastfeeding support groups in your area. I believe the La Leche League is nationwide. I never used our local La Leche League, but I never had a lack of support either. Again, it’s the breastfeeding mother’s responsibility to set herself up for success. If you assess your situation and lack of support is something you notice, you need to determine where you are going to get the needed support.
-Have a conversation with your husband. It was difficult for me because I felt pressured several times throughout Hooper’s first year to supplement with formula. This pressure did not come from his pediatrician, who fully supported my dedication to solely breastfeed, it came from Willy. It was out of love and concern, but at the time it felt very harsh and un-supportive. I finally sat down with Willy and we discussed my feelings. I told him that what I need is nothing more than continued support and a pat on the back from time to time. I assured him that Hooper’s health was also in my best interest (we worried because he’s always been so thin) and that if he had concerns he needed to bring them to the pediatrician instead of me as there was no way for me to make him drink more or to feed him anymore than I was. I swear, that boy lived at the breast for his first three months. Anyway, make your desire to breastfeed clear to your husband and request his full support. Help him understand that support takes many forms. It means encouragement to continue even when you’re complaining or hurting. It also means bringing you a glass of water to help keep you hydrated. And it also means accepting a grumpy wife who has been up all night because only she can feed the baby.
Feel free to leave any additional advice you would like to offer in the comments below.
photo source

Mama Style

Dress, Modcloth // Tights, Target // Shoes, Chelsea Crew // Clutch, borrowed // Bracelet, Forever 21
I bought this dress a couple seasons ago from ModCloth and had never worn it until Friday night. I had forgotten about it, to be honest. Come Thursday I had no idea what I was going to wear to the wedding the following night. I had planned on running out to buy something but with two little members, that’s not always possible. Time got away from me and next thing you know I was shopping in my own closet. Sometimes your own closet turns out to be the best deal. This fancy little number still had the tags attached and once I stumbled across it, I looked no further. I can’t wait to wear it again. That is, so long as those damn beads hold up… they started coming off mid-way through the night and seems as though they are all strung together. Not the best quality, but it sure was a fun dress to wear.
How was your weekend?
Here’s a couple videos to make your Monday a little brighter…
-If you are not one of the over 330 MILLION people that have viewed THIS video, you must view it NOW. Willy and I cannot get enough and, as luck would have it, Hoop is addicted too. It’s like a pringle, once you pop, you can’t stop.
-How cute and incredibly talented are these little girls?

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Fasten Your Seat Belts

This post is dedicated to first time moms traveling for the first time because I’ll bet any mom that has traveled with an infant more than once will have additional tips and tricks of the trade. Feel free to share by using the comment link below. Here we go…
-When you purchase your flight, you’ll need to let the airlines know you are traveling with an infant. If you buy your ticket online, some sites will have a box you check but others won’t. Sometimes you have to pick up the good ol’ telephone and give em’ a little jingle to inform them of the parasite traveling on you. They don’t need to know if you have crabs or lice, however, just a baby. You’ll also need to make a copy of your baby’s birth certificate or birth record or immunization record (anything that has his birthday on it). Bring this with you, as you’ll need it to check in. I usually leave a copy in the diaper bag because it’s easy to forget. If you do forget it, they can call your pediatrician’s office and have them fax something over… but that only works if the office is open and even then there is the obvious delay. It pays to have your shit together, trust me.
-Pack the night before. Leave a little note for the time fairy begging and pleading for this to be made possible. Leave a list on top of your suitcase for things you’ll need to add in the morning. For me, this list included things like the white noise maker (which we use every night), the swaddle sac (also used every night), pumping supplies (used every morning).
-Come up with a breastfeeding game plan. I like to feed just before we leave the house and then during take off and landing. Make sure you pack your hooter hider or blanket in your carry on. Or let it all hang out. Seriously, the seats are so close together that the weird guy next to you would probably have to lean forward and kink his neck in your direction to sneak a peek of your ta-tas anyway. And if you do spy a creeper, just tell em’ your milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. And then squirt em’ in the face.
-Have your travel companion (if you’re so lucky) drop you off curbside with all the stuff… because lets face it, if you’re traveling with a little munchkin, you’ll have the dreaded “stuff” I speak of: luggage, stroller, car seat, car seat base, sanity, good attitude, patience… it call gets dropped off curbside. As a side note, it’s easier to travel with a snap-n-go. I leave Van in the car seat/snap-n-go until boarding and then check the whole contraption in at the gate. You can pick up the proper tags at the gate. I check the base of the car seat in (which is always free of charge), along with the big luggage (not always free of charge. Screw you, Delta.), before going through security. As a side note, if you’re not knowledgeable about hooking the car seat into the car, you should review this before you leave to make the transition into the car at your destination smooth. I always review it with Willy before I leave if I’m traveling by myself. There’s nothing worse than getting to where you’re going only to be held up by trying to figure out the car seat. This situation is made worse if you have a crying baby to top it off. Save yourself the frustration.
-When you check in, inquire if the flight is full. Try to hold your infant in your arms when you ask (to rake in the sympathy points). And if your baby is cute (ha! I joke, they’re all cute), turn him toward the lady (fingers crossed it’s a lady… or an older man… or just a sympathetic person) and lift up baby’s arm to give em’ a little wave. If the flight is not full, ask if they could kindly leave the seat next to you open. This has happened to me several times and each of these times I felt like a lottery winner. Seriously, it’s the best.
Some airlines don’t assign seats and allow you pick your seat as you get on to the plane. If this is the case, don’t clean the spit up off your baby’s onesie and fart so there’s a nice aroma in the air as they pass you (because they will pass you. No one wants to sit by a baby, let alone a smelly baby. Despite their reluctance to be your neighbor, these will be the same people that tell you how cute your baby is and praise you for how good your baby was. These lovely compliments only come after the plane has landed and only if your baby was seen and not heard. No one says anything nice beforehand, carefully reserving the right to hate you and your child should your child ruin their flight).
If your baby does cry, try all your tricks (duh, right?). If nothing works, get over it. It’s not your fault. You don’t have any more control than the drunken fool two rows behind you. Hate the game, not the player = Hate the high altitude ear poppin’ pain, not the baby. If you get a dirty look, give em’ the good ol’ tongue. You thought I was going to say finger, huh? Nope, the old-school stickin’ your tongue out like a sassy second grader is the card I play in this situation. Really though, as you walk off the plane leave it all behind and enjoy your trip.
-How did we already get on the plane without mentioning the dreaded security? Back to before you get the whole shebang on the plane… Going through security can be a pain the ass with or without a baby. As fate would have it, it seems as though every time we wheel up to security, the baby is asleep. When the sleeping baby was Hooper and I was a first time mom, I couldn’t believe they’d make me wake a sleeping baby. I thought for sure I’d be an exception to whatever rule. Turns out the TSA agents are not the ones gloating over a sleeping child. Nor are they the ones responsible for getting that child back to sleep. Thus, they don’t give a shit about you and your sleeping baby. Just like the shoes and the belt and the wallet and every last straggling dime in your pocket, the car seat goes onto the belt. As a result, you must wake your little one up and carry him through with you. This never fails to piss me off and I always have to remind myself that I ought to hate the terrorists, not the TSA agent. But, without fail I leave security wanting to slap someone. In any case, this is why you pack your patience and good attitude.
-If you’re traveling with breast milk, review both the law (you can bring milk on a plane, even if it exceeds the 4oz. limit) and storage instructions. While I was in Utah, I kept to my pumping schedule (I pump 2 to 3 times a day in addition to breastfeeding) and thus had milk to bring back with me. Because milk cannot be frozen, then thawed, then frozen again, I stored my milk in the fridge while in Utah, then packed it with a bag of ice for the flight, and then froze it when I got home. If you’re going on a long flight with milk, it’s best to bring a zip lock bag and refill the ice as you travel to keep the milk cold. You can get ice from a restaurant near your gate as well as from the flight attendants. If you’re worried about the TSA agents giving you trouble, you may want to print out a copy of what the law says to keep with you. I did this once for piece of mind, but honestly have never had a problem.
Hope these tips are helpful. Feel free to share your tips and tricks too! Best of luck and hope I’m not the unlucky lady (did I really just refer to myself as a lady? I prefer girl… adult girl) who gets stuck sitting next to you and your crying smelly child. I’ll totally give you the stink eye. Just kidding.
As a side note… If you are a man reading this… or even a nice non-child totting woman… help the lady and her baby out. Hold the door, help squish her carry-on into that much too tiny overhead compartment, offer to hold her baby (only if you really want to hold him, of course) while she buckles her seat belt… I cannot tell you how many people have walked right past me while I’ve struggled to get a stroller up stairs. I silently say very mean things to them and if, by chance, they trip… I laugh and roll past them.

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Meet Your Mom.

Dear Hooper & Van,
You’ll experience things in life that have a great impact on who you become. For me, it was the summer of 2006 and it was the trip you will hear stories from for the rest of your lives. It wasn’t just any trip, it was the trip. Much of my perspective and outlook on life today was built on those few months of that summer when the sun scorched our skin and our curiosity lead the way.
We arrived at the pyramids, crossing one more wonder of the world off our list of “yet-to-see”(We arrived in Egypt after visiting the Taj in India). We’ve all seen the pyramids photographed in every light and from every angle, but seeing them through my own two eyes was like being taken back in time. Cross the road to the entrance and poof!, magically you’re taken back thousands of years. The seemingly endless Sahara desert stretched further than my eyes could wander and off in the distance camels and horses roamed up, over, and across the sand dunes. Every so often I was tempted to wipe the dirt from my eyes and turn around on my camel to glance back across the street at the KFC in an effort not to play games with my mind, which was suddenly confused as to what year it was, what land I was in, and how the hell I mysteriously ended up in King Tut’s neighborhood. “Walk like an Egyptian” kept playing in my head. That, and the thought that the seven dwarfs may have been involved in the pyramid building process; For the entrance into the pyramid was made for none other than Dopey, Sleepy, and Grumpy alike. I remember being taken back by the grand scale of the outside versus the claustrophobic inside which was seemingly just enough space for Snow White to rest peacefully.
But my memory of the pyramids themselves is not what I want to share with you. Instead, I’d like to talk about the bottle of Coke you see me holding in the picture above. If you look closely, you’ll notice the Coke is full. Why, you may be thinking, is the refreshing Coke full when I’m on a camel in the desert in 100+ degree weather? Because the Coke was also hot. Very hot. Too hot to drink. Which begs the question I know you’ll be asking next: Why would I buy a warm Coke? To which I’d answer, I didn’t buy it. Well, not initially at least. It was kindly given to me by the man leading us around on the camel. Only “kindly” isn’t really the right word. He insisted I take the Coke, even after I sincerely said “No, thank you”. And by “given to me”, I quite literally mean placed in my hands. So to be polite, I took it. And, to be polite, I took the smallest of sips. It was flat and warm, as I suspected. When the camel tour was over, the man helped me off and held out his hand for more money. He didn’t speak English, but it was made quite clear that it was the Coke I owed him for; The Coke I initially refused. The Coke I only took one sip of. The Coke that was flat and warm. Just as the situation started to get heated, I gave him some money and vowed never to be polite again.
Not everything in the world is fair and not everyone in the world is nice. Don’t be afraid to trust people, but know there are scam artists. Don’t become one of them. Offer your guests a cold and refreshing beverage and tell em’ it’s on the house.
Oh ya, save your money and visit the pyramids. And go with your best friend. It’s worth it.
Love,
Mama

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Mama Style

Dress, from TopShop (no longer available, but they have tons of other cute ones worth checking out. I wore this dress while pregnant too.) // Belt from Modcloth // Sandals, Seychelles // Purse, vintage (check out this one from etsy)
We’re still enjoying summer weather here in California. In fact, I still have tar on my heel from the beach that does not seem to want to come off. Truth is, I kinda like the black spotted reminders of sand and sea stuck on the bottom of my foot. Dear summer, you’re welcome to linger as long as you want.  
I’ve been compiling some birth links for a few weeks now and rather than touch on each one, I thought I’d provide the links for those of you that are interested. I may no longer be pregnant, but I’m still passionate about birth. I believe strongly in a woman’s right and responsibility to be informed and educated and think everyone ought to take a closer look at the current state of childbirth in the US. Here’s the links:
-Consumer Reports published “What to Reject When You’re Expecting”, detailing 10 overused procedures during pregnancy and birth. They also offer 10 things you should consider while pregnant and delivering.
-If you can ignore the narrators creepy voice, this is a great poem/video that draws much needed attention to the fact that birth has become more surgical than ever.
-On labor day, several “Improving Birth” rallies were held all over the nation. You can watch this footage from the one in Arlington here.
Here is a great article on doulas. If you’re not on-board with a home birth and feel more comfortable in the hospital setting, look into hiring a doula. I promise it will change your birthing experience.
Happy Monday! 
pssstt… The votes for Top Baby Blog reset today. Be sure to vote by clicking on the link below or on the TBB icon to the right. I sure do appreciate all your votes and special thanks to those who voted throughout this last round (The Stork & The Beanstalk finished 13th out of nearly 600 blogs, so I’m incredibly honored). 

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Utah, Part 1

I spent this past weekend in Utah, with my best friend. My heart is warm every time I’m with her. I feel inspired by her mere presence. If it sounds like I love her, it’s because I do. Every girl needs a best friend they truly love. Mine is Janet.
When we’re together, anything feels possible. The world feels small again. I swear I hear opportunity knocking on my doorstep and the footsteps of ideas running through my head. She leaves me feeling motivated and confident. Every time.
Hope you enjoy this little video of our time together. And thank you, J, for an epic weekend… The weekend where your Carla met my Van. They don’t know it, but their lives will never be the same 😉

Utah, Part 1 from The Stork & The Beanstalk on Vimeo.

1,095 Days Later…

Willy and I recently celebrated our third wedding anniversary. And we have yet to murder each other. Hell, the cops haven’t even been to our house. And trust me, they’ve been to the house down the street once or twice. Our marriage is far from perfect, but it’s perfect for us. There are things we both acknowledge we need to work on, but at the end of the day we love each other deeply and share an intense love similar to a fifth grade crush on crack. I’ve spent some time pondering what it is that makes our marriage successful. I asked Willy to do the same. And here’s what we came up with:
-Don’t keep score. I need to remind myself of this one constantly because it feels like I’m always keeping score and that I’m always ahead. Woman do things more efficiently, so instead of berating your husband for not being as organized, give yourself a pat on the back (because no one else is gonna pat it for you) and move the eff on. This also means not holding a grudge when you have to shit faster than you piss because of the two munchkins running around, while your husband makes it a priority to sit over his own feces and play angry birds while you breastfeed one and scold the other. No grudges, capiche? Let it go Ashley, let it go. Are you picking up on the fact this rule is my greatest challenge?
-Mind your manners. All because you’re married doesn’t mean manners go to the wayside. I think Willy and I both do a good job of being polite and respectful. He always asks my permission before making an appointment to have his tattoo worked on, recognizing that my days are busy too and that leaving me with both of our members could potentially create a problem. Running his plans by me first helps me organize and plan ahead and simultaneously helps things run smoothly.
I always try to remember to thank Willy on the nights he makes dinner, which are all nights other than the ones we eat out. Even though it’s something that over the years has become his duty and responsibility, thanking him for his efforts shows recognition and appreciation. Appreciating each other for things we do on a daily basis is important, for it’s those little things that are most easily overlooked but make a world of difference.
-Encourage hobbies and interests. It keeps a person sane, right? There’s nothing worse than watching a relationship develop where the two individuals seemingly morph into one and lose all individuality. Willy loves going to concerts. If there is a show coming up and it doesn’t interfere with anything else, I encourage him to go with a friend. This is because I’d rather step in a pile of fresh dog shit than have my poor ears subjected to the hootin’ and hollerin’ shit he listens to. If Willy Nelson’s playing, on the other hand, then there will be a problem if I’m not going too. If it’s a quiet weekend, Willy will take our members out so I can work on editing photos or scurry over to some of the local thrift stores or, on a rare occassion, get my nails did (uh huh, I said it. Now move past it). Especially with kids, it’s nice to help one another find time to enjoy things we like doing for ourselves.
-You can’t tell the other how to feel. This is somewhat connected to keeping score. When I get up in the middle of the night to feed Van, I’m tired the next day. It goes without saying, right? There is nothing worse than hearing Willy complain about being tired when I’m the one getting in and out of bed while he snoozes off in never never land. But if he’s saying he’s tired, it’s clearly because he’s tired. I have to watch out for it becoming a competition where only one of us can have the privlige of complaining about being tired and just accept the fact that dispite his nine hours of beauty rest, he may still be tired. So yes, you can’t tell one another how to feel. If you’re tired, you’re tired. Take a nap (me first though) and move on.
-Have a sense of humor. When Hooper was an infant, he’d cry a lot. Way more than Van. It was agonizing as first time parents to feel so helpless and clueless. To make light of the situation, we used to cusp our hand back and forth over Hooper’s mouth, making him sound instead like an Indian chanting. It didn’t solve the problem, but it made it more bearable.
What have you learned from the relationships you’ve been in? What works, what doesn’t work, for you?

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Mama Style

Get the look—> Same dress: Victoria’s Secret // Similar gray tee: Gap // Similar sandals: Saychelles  // Purse: try this one // Same Necklace from Etsy seller shoprarebird // Similar bangles: try these or these
In my experience thus far, I’ve ended up hating things I wore during my pregnancy after-the-fact. Like if I had a dress pre-pregnancy that I worked into my pregnancy attire I couldn’t stand wearing it postpartum. Not sure if it was the thought that wearing it would give me instant nausea or a sudden break-out of acne, but for the most part I end up donating much of what became staples in my closet during my pregnancy. This maxi dress is an exception. I wore it throughout my pregnancy and it was even something that worked all the way to the bitter and emotional end. And I still can’t seem to part with it. It’s incredibly comfortable. I paired it with a knotted gray tee that I’ve had for years. In the past, I’ve paired it with a jean jacket or a lace vest. It’s versatility also makes this dress a keeper.
I wore this for a special date night on Friday evening. Our first time out and about without either of our members, as we call them. We went to a bar in Ventura to see a friend play music. I sipped on shirley temples and cuddled up next to mi amor and it was a splendid evening. Willy keeps suggesting that we find a babysitter, but when all is said and done, it’s hard for me to leave my boys. Does anyone else struggle with this?
In other mommy news, my thighs and I are friends again as I have yet to find the time to do another workout. When the members are napping, I feel like I have to scramble to decide amongst showering, eating, blogging, napping, cleaning, editing photos, working out and well, gosh dang it, there just isn’t time to do it all. I need the time fairy to come visit me. If you happen to see her, please send her my way.

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Pregnancy Stats

{I’ve been meaning to share this for a while, so with no further adieu, here are some tidbits for my pregnancy with you, Van}
How I Found Out I Was Pregnant: We were just coming back from Hawaii and I was anxiously waiting for the perfect time to test. The test sticks aren’t the cheapest things around, so I held off on testing as long as I could. The first time I peed on the stick I saw only the faintest of lines. Later, the line seemed to disappear all together. I looked up “faint line” on the Internet and was encouraged to test the following day, giving the pregnancy hormones one more day to multiply. I said nothing to your Papa and kept it a secret over night. I love surprises, so I was hoping for a big one the next day.
How I Told Your Papa: Sure enough, I tested the next day and the line appeared cleared as day, signifying a positive result. Your Papa was at work, but we had plans for a date night later that evening. I took the stick and wrapped it up numerous times. I covered it in foil, a t-shirt, wrapping paper, newspaper, bubble wrap, whatever I could find. I weighted the little stick down with different items to throw him off as best I could. I included a toilet paper roll and a banana. It was a funny looking “gift” when all was said and done. But nonetheless, it was a surprise. We both looked at each other with similar feelings written all over our faces: “uhhh… what the hell are we doing?” and “yyyayyyyy!”.
How We Told The Rest Of The Family: It was your brother’s first birthday and we had everyone over to our house to celebrate. I bought a bunch of different disguises to take silly pictures with. I asked everyone to gather together for a group photo and asked Janet (who was in on the news) to take the picture. The countdown went something like, “On the count of three say ‘Ashley’s pregnant'”. It took a few minutes to sink in. I think everyone was shocked. Excitement soon set in.
Worst Parts of Pregnancy: The nausea in the very beginning wasn’t fun, nor was the food aversion. But, they passed quickly and gave way to horrible skin problems. The acne started on my back and eventually settled on my chin. It resolved around the 22 week mark and has yet to return. I took off work in the beginning of April due to horrible back pain. I had the worst kind of knot in my left mid to low back. The pain radiated all the way around to the front of my rib cage at times. The pain brought me to tears. Worst back pain I’ve ever had, hands down. And who can forget the emotional turmoil of going past my due date, again. I’m not even ready to re-visit that agony even as a memory.
Best Parts of Pregnancy: Like your brother, you moved a lot. I never worried about your well-being because you were always active. You also settled into my pelvis early on and thus much of the rib discomfort that bothered me with your brother’s pregnancy didn’t affect me until much later in my pregnancy with you (it was, however, replaced with horrible groin pain and pelvic pressure, but whatever). I also loved being in the care of midwives again and was so appreciative of the fact your Papa chose to support me in my decision even though it wasn’t what he was comfortable with.
Total Weight Gain: 32 pounds
Total Weeks Pregnant: 41 weeks, 1 day according to the latest due date based on ultrasound (due date of July 15th). 41 weeks, 5 days according to dates (due date of July 9th-ish).
Favorite Foods: I went through different phases of eating the same thing. I had a long stretch where I wanted banana pancakes all the time. I never liked bananas before. I also started eating pickles, which kind of grossed me out before. I drank a lot of vanilla flavored milk that was high in protein, partly because it tasted like a milkshake and partly because I knew the protein was good for me. Toward the end of the pregnancy the vanilla milk grossed me out and I could no longer stand drinking it. I have yet to buy another bottle. I also ate a lot of scrambled eggs with cheese, again partly because of the protein content. Otherwise I ate a lot of yogurt covered raisins.

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