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February 2025

The Stork and the Beanstalk

A Mother's Journal

A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well
as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.

Category: Motherhood

Perspective

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

I had a conversation with a friend the other day about the “golden hour”. You know, that seemingly blink of an eye when the light is as beautiful as it ever has been just before the great big sun gives way to the dark of the night?

And I was saying how badly I wished it lasted longer. It goes so fast that instead of focusing on it’s beauty, it makes me anxious because I know how fleeting it is.

But perspective is everything, isn’t it? After bitching and moaning I ended the conversation with the acknowledgement that it happens every day. Every day the sun rises and the sun sets. And that, my friends, is pretty spectacular.

And with that I felt greedy for wanting it to last longer.

Recovery is the same way. Every day, several of us live seemingly normal lives and because much of what we’re able to do is similar from one day to another, we forget how great it is to have the energy to get through a day or – dare I say – make it through a day without pain or discomfort.

I’ve spent many days of my recovery feeling sorry for myself yet, as a nurse, I care for people all the time that have chronic conditions; people who live with limitations and pain in their “normal” every day life.

Perspective.

A friend from work came over last night to pick up some bags filled with clothing and household things I put together for her to send to her family in the Phillippines. The typhoon has left her family homeless, without any clothes or belongings. Families have been torn apart, children have

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lost their parents and vice versa.

Perspective.

On this Thanksgiving, I have a heavy heart and a clear perspective. I’m thankful for the setting and rising sun, the love and support I’ve received during my recovery, and both my family and the home that contains our love.

Wishing

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everyone a beautiful Thanksgiving tomorrow.

*Top photo was an outtake from Janet and I’s trip to Salvation Mountain and bottom photo was from this post.

Life

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting

I happened to have my camera in the undercarriage (ha, undercarriage… am I the only one that thinks that’s a funny word? It might be up there with “moist” on my list of would-rather-not-use-words) of the stroller back in September when we were out shopping. As a side note, don’t let the easy flow of that sentence fool you; I go shopping as often as Ray Charles sees the sun. In any event, I snapped these two pictures of Hoop. Maybe I should mention also that I shot these before my surgery because these days I only dream about getting down on the floor like that. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to bend and twist and lift. I wish I wouldn’t have cut of his feet in the first photo, but you can still barely see his toes on his right foot. No shoes, no big deal. He spit all over that mirror. He’s real into spitting lately. Then he insisted on going in the fitting room with Willy, when I snapped the second photo. Oh ya, and he refers to all mannequins as “monsters”.

What does shopping with your kid look like?

A Guest Post, from Sash @ Inked In Colour

by Ashley filed under Guest Posts & Interviews, Motherhood

Sash is one of those bloggers that pulls on my heart strings. I can read the first two sentences of any of her posts and always relate, instantly. She’s adventerous and raw, wild and free, loving and real. I wish Australia weren’t so far away because she’s a mother I’d like to cheers my glass to over and over again. Long live the blog world for making the whole world seem like a smaller place, a? I only wish it were…

I have heard one thing over and over again throughout my parenting journey. Children thrive on consistency. There are a thousand articles all over the internet shoving those words down the throats of unsuspecting parents: children thrive on consistency. In fact, they need it, according to many experts.

So if this is the way to raise children in our fast paced, consumer driven, western society… I have something that I must admit…

My name is Sash and I am… Inconsistent.

I am happily inconsistent. In fact, I thrive on inconsistency. I love nothing more than the thrill of change. The light and bright air of the open road. The breakfast for dinner. The pyjama days. The late nights under the covers watching movies when I know we “should” both be in bed.

I’ve tried to be consistent. I really have. I’ve tried to serve meals at the same time. I’ve tried to work “real” jobs and fold my laundry and wash my dishes and be organised. But I’m not any of those things. It feels like playing house, and whilst at first (after a glass or two of wine) it might feel novel… like all of a sudden I’m all grown up (am I alone in my late 20’s where I

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still feel like I’m light-years from being a grown up? surely not!)… but soon enough the novelty wears off and I throw the clothes in a heap and the dishes in the sink and I grab the paint and the chalk and the dinosaur tails and we escape real life into a world of make believe… or better… we escape to far off lands where we are surrounded by wonder and language and culture and the great unknown.

I’m a terribly inconsistent person. I’m an inconsistent blogger. I’m flighty and I get caught up in my own imagination and find myself easily tempted down the path less travelled. I spent months in India when I should have been studying… I went and lived in a bungalow on the side of a rice field and drank beer and played hookey from real life when the rest of my friends were climbing the corporate ladder. I have tried and tested a thousand and one lives and in the end found that none of them quite fit… I’m a single mother to a beautifully well adjusted, happy and joyful toddler who eats curry and dances to the symphony and laughs and licks and bites and drives me bat shit crazy and I love her to the end of the earth and back again… to infinity. And just a little bit more.

I’ve had people tell me that children crave stability. They like to sleep in their own fancy bedroom, that their own bedrooms and own beds and own space make them well adjusted human beings. I’ve been told that there are a hundred and one gadgets that will help us parent, that will allow us to be consistent right down to the sounds our children hear when they go to sleep. Children like to do the same things day in and day out because it makes them feel safe… say the articles. Inconsistency breeds unknowing which breeds fear which breeds instability which breeds… well, unhappiness. I call bullshit. I called it loud into the air off a Balinese volcano as we perch on the top, my baby and I… it was way past nap time and we were eating sticky rice and laughing at the wind. And you know what? We probably didn’t have a bath that day and I can guarantee we didn’t even care. I’m sure children do thrive on stability. I’m positive of it. These child psychologists and parenting experts and baby whispering guru’s are probably

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all right… but you know what they aren’t right about? The other side to the story. The side that says that kids thrive in all sorts
of lives in all sorts of ways all around the world. There is no one right way to raise a child. There are hundreds of right ways that are wrong ways from time to time. There is no one right way to do anything, ever. Kids thrive when surrounded by love. Be consistent with rules and routines or don’t be consistent, whatever. Just be yourself! Why don’t parenting articles say that? Screw the rules! Just be the parent you are with all of your heart because that’s all your kid really wants. They just want you…

I’m consistently inconsistent in so many areas of my life… but I consistently love her, my Bo. I consistently hold her when she cries and whisper stories to her and kiss her face and hold her hands and laugh with her and dance with her and take her on wild adventures and find her with arms wide open and sparkling eyes. She consistently licks my face and drives me to the edge and back again. She consistently laughs and reads and sings and locks me out of the bathroom.

I’m consistently in awe of this child that came from my body. This child I created. This child I grew and then nursed and held and nurtured from the comfort of chairs and beds and bungalows all around the world. She is me and she is not me all at once. She has my heart and she walks around with it, in her hands. Motherhood, man, it’s a wild ride. There is so much to see and so much to experience and so much joy and life and love right there… I just don’t have time to be watching the clock waiting for bedtime or snack time. Life’s too short… childhood too fleeting… Moments too blissful. Sometimes things work out just the way they should when you just stop trying so hard to do it right… and sometimes they don’t.

But that’s what tomorrow is for, right?

Thank you, Sash, for stopping by! Check out Inked in Colour by clicking here // Instagram // facebook

Life

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

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When I’m in the moment, sometimes I want nothing more than to be out of the moment. I hate saying that because I know how important it is to be present. But sometimes the kids are just all sorts of crazy and I can’t think about anything other than the mess I’m surrounded in, the dishes, the laundry, the shower I want to take, etc… and the moment slips away.

I photograph my children a lot because it’s something I enjoy doing. I love documenting all the mundane moments… even when my mind is elsewhere. And it’s a funny thing because I’ll upload the pictures after I put them to bed and all I can think of is how precious they are and how lovely that moment really was even though, at the time, it felt so chaotic and relatively unfulfilling.

Motherhood is such an oxymoron like that, isn’t it? What’s a snapshot of your life look like today?

The weekend before

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Family, Hooper, Motherhood, Van

The final days before my surgery felt like a mad-dash. You know the feeling, right? Like I had to squeeze in all I could, filling every crevice of time with something real, something meaningful. My surgery had been weighing on my mind so heavily that I really hadn’t anticipated life after recovery, my brain frozen in time, my calendar cleared with the words “recovery” written in month after month.

So we celebrated my dad and sister’s birthday early, down in Ventura. It was a warm October day, the time of year when the Santa Susana winds howl wildly and the air feels like someone with hot breath is breathing on you. My sister and I took the kids down to the water’s edge where Hooper made cakes out of sand and Van gave himself a sand beard.

And as the last of the light shined in I realized another day had passed and that meant my surgery would be another day closer. The impending feeling of doom, the ambiguity of what would be, all the uncertainty made better only by the company of family and

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We got this

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

The kids and I tagged along on another one of Willy’s business trips out in Palm Springs a few weeks ago. Being a mother to two young children is not easy even on seemingly quiet and easy days at home. So anytime we travel, we know, shit can hit the fan.

Lately, however, life with the boys has been a breeze. And for the first time, on our drive out to the desert, I looked over at Willy and said, “We got this”.

Van is at that age where he is no longer a baby and not yet a tyrant toddler. He’s so enjoyable and easy. I’m done breastfeeding and now that I’ve gotten past all that hormonal bullshit, I’m throwing myself high fives left and right. Breastfeeding is great, I’ll be the first and last one to defend it, but being done is so freeing. It’s easier to look at my family as one unit as opposed to Van and I off in the corner keeping to our own private schedule of neurotic feedings.

Life is running at a less chaotic pace and we’re all enjoying the tranquility. Perhaps it was the calm before what is soon-to-be the storm. Be it what it may, we had a fabulous time and life has been treating us good. Today, I’m counting my blessings and feeling grateful.

More photos from our time in Palm Springs and our return to the Salton Sea to follow.

Breastfeeding

by Ashley filed under Breastfeeding, Motherhood

You can’t see things straight when you’re depressed, you just can’t. I knew enough in those dark two days after I weaned to know that I was in a funk, that things that were once exciting were no longer exciting. I shared my thoughts here and here. The fact I’m still writing about it has got to tell you I’m an emotional person. I mean I declared that post to be my last breastfeeding post and that was what is now four breastfeeding posts ago. Good grief, get ahold of yourself Ashley.

And, well, I want to give an update because I don’t think it’s fair to leave things on a sour note. My mind is clear and I’m back to my happy place, so I can reflect on our breastfeeding relationship with a sparkle in my eye as I reminisce on how things were at one time, in the beginning.

And that’s part of why ending your breastfeeding relationship is hard; it’s the end of a very long and tiring and emotional first chapter.

But there’s a second chapter and a third chapter and so on and so forth. As I type this, Van is handing me an over-sized birthday card my Aunt and Uncle gave him for his first birthday. When you open it, music plays and each time he drops his little bottom back and forth toward the floor. He sees my chapstick on my desk; it’s the same chapstick I had to take away from him yesterday when he managed to get the top off and began eating the contents of the tube. He whines and points in the chapstick’s direction and when I take the chapstick and hide it away in the drawer, he cries. He looks at me with tears in his eyes and I comfort him, his thumb in his mouth, his head on my chest.

Every time he has his thumb in his mouth, I think about it being my replacement. When I was breastfeeding him, he never sucked his thumb. And as I look down at him, I think how amazing it is that he’s able to comfort himself. I see, for the first time, the beauty in his independence.

And so, you see, the second chapter reads just as beautifully as the first. It’s just different. He’s not a baby anymore. But he’ll always be my child.

And thank you, again, to all of you that leave such beautiful comments. Sometimes it’s your own words that make me see things differently and I appreciate new perspectives more than you know.

You can check out my other posts on breastfeeding by clicking here.

Surgery & Nesting

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Motherhood

Planning a major surgery reminds me a lot of planning for another child. They are the same in that I have this impending feeling of doom looming over me; that feeling that things are about the change in a major way first for the bad and then for the good.

Just like those final weeks of pregnancy, my surgery has been consuming my everyday thoughts. The sense of uncertainty is the same; is everything going to be okay, how will the kids handle not having me like they’re used to, how will my family deal with caring for my household, how will I feel handing over my household… The sense of wonder is the same; how will I feel, how will I look, how will I recover…

And, I’m nesting. It’s crazy. I suddenly feel this mad rush to get everything in order. I have multiple to-do lists; one of them even has “clean out email inbox” on it. You know you’re in trouble when cleaning up your online mess makes the list… I mean no one even sees that mess. Other things I want to do: clean out the kids drawers (I can just see someone else dressing my kids in clothes that are too small because ‘they were in the drawer’… and God forbid they be put in clothes that are too small), stock up on things like paper towels (because God forbid we run out), organize my closet, etc, etc. I’m becoming a raging lunatic, I tell ya.

It dawned on me that I’m scared. And just in saying that out loud I get that choked up feeling in the back of my throat. My life is not only about me anymore and it’s scary to think of my family… my loving husband, my two perfect boys… all while I’m being put to sleep and a surgeon, with my life in his hands, cranks on my spine and reconfigures it using nuts and bolts. It’s terrifying.

The uncertainty, the wonder, the fear… it’s been consuming me. And like a light bulb, I realize now why I’ve been zooming all over the place as of late; I’m trying desperately to pass the time.

But the time has come. Ready or not.

Tomorrow will be the first of a few guest posts I have planned from some awesome friends

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that have been so kind as to fill in in my absence. I also have quite a bit of catching up to do… more bits + pieces for the last few months, portraits of the kiddos to share, our last trip to Palm Springs that I have yet to post, some Insta-meets, some photo sessions, a final post on breastfeeding, and a new travel series I want to start… I thought you would be hearing some crickets, but turns out I’m so behind that I’m ahead. Ha!

In any event, please keep me and my family in your thoughts this week. And thank you, always, for your love and support.

Preparing For Surgery

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

I did a lot of things to prepare for the home birth I had planned with both my boys. When I was pregnant with Hooper, I went to prenatal yoga classes. We took all the classes on natural childbirth as well as the class on breastfeeding. I was as prepared as I could have been.

I had little idea of what the pain would be like. People tried relating it to taking the biggest shit of your life, others said breathing a certain way might help, yadda yadda yadda. But truth is, childbirth hurt. A lot. But, not so much that it’s not possible and not so much that I wouldn’t do it again; because I’ve done it twice now.

I’m having the better part of my entire spine fused soon and I’ve been forewarned that the pain is intense. While part of me wants to shrug it off entirely like they don’t know who they’re talking to, the other part of me knows this pain will be much different and felt for much longer on many different levels; there’s post-op pain, there’s two days after surgery pain, there’s getting up and walking pain, there’s I’m feeling better but the next morning I feel worse pain. I’m scared.

Some might argue that now is not the time for as major of a surgery as I am having. Part of me agrees. Recovery is not going to be easy. I have two young children who need me all day long. But I also have the rest of my life to plan out and, in my mind anyway, this is something I have already put off for years. The thought of having a third child is a very real consideration (for me, anyway, and for Willy, at times) and between waiting for the right time to have a third, getting pregnant, growing a child, and breastfeeding a child, I’d be looking at another three years at-which-point I’d be exactly where I am now, only with one more kid. Not to mention it’s a young person’s surgery, meaning that the correction that can be acheived and the recovery time is better the younger you are.

I’m talking out loud here. Welcome to the conversations I’ve been having with myself. I’m digressing. Back to how I’m preparing.

I grew up doing competitive gymnastics. I went to gym Monday through Friday from 4pm to 8pm from the time I was about 11 until I was 17 years old. I’m that girl that can beat her husband in a push-up contest (that either means I’m really strong or my husband is… well, I’ll let you decide for yourself). In any event, I haven’t worked out in years. So I reached out to a friend who was on the men’s team who now runs Fitness On The Run. I was at the gym the night Jon broke his neck. It was crazy and the thought of the silence that filled that huge warehouse that evening still sends shivers down my spine. You can read about his story here. He hooked me up with his wife, who was a college gymnast. You can read more about her by clicking here.

Here are some of the many perks I’ve noted while working with Cari:

-She comes to me. I cannot tell you how much of a hassle it’d be otherwise. I didn’t want to sign up for a gym membership knowing that there’d be months following my surgery I wouldn’t be able to use it. I also didn’t want to join a gym cuz, um, gross. I had a fellow nurse once tell me about a patient who had an open anal abscess infected with MRSA. When she instructed him, upon discharge, about wound care he replied, “I just soak it in the spa at the gym”. Um, gross. No wonder why everyone has MRSA. Gyms just aren’t my thing. Gymnasiums, on the other hand… Really though, I love the beauty of never having to leave my home. It makes it so much less of an ordeal with the kiddos. Cari almost always came over in the morning, before the kids were even out of bed. Easy peasy.

-Cari assessed my abilities, my limitations, my hopes and desires and tailored her workouts to meet my needs perfectly. Each workout brought me right to the point where I didn’t think I could go any further. And she always left me with homework and ways to change the exercies just a bit to make them easier or harder, depending on what my body could handle.

-I loved Cari’s attention to form. I know from my own gymnastics foundation that it’s not what you can so much as it is how well you can do it. I love that she’d rather have me hold something for 30 seconds with good form than for a minute with sloppy body mechanics.

-Flexibility. Cari worked with me and my home so well. She encouraged me to do some cardio each week and when finding the time to get out and ride a bike or hike up a hill didn’t work out (thanks a lot, motherhood) she came up with a cardio routine I could do in my home.

The first week was so difficult for me. I could barely hold a pen without my arm shaking, but it felt great. And it got easier as I got stronger.

Sure, I’m terrified of surgery. I won’t know how I’m going to deal with the pain and the recovery process until I’m in pain and in the recovery process, but I do have the power in knowing I prepared as best I could to meet the physical demands.

Live in the So Cal area? Check out Fitness On The Run. They are based in Newbury Park and I highly recommend them.

Don’t live in the So Cal area? Checkout some of their videos on YouTube. They also post some great recipes on their blog. And the sell several great products here.

This is not a sponsored post.

Life

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

A cut above his right eye, evidence of a new walker.

Over-sized birthday card for the newly one year old.

A shirt that’s much too small for an ever-growing boy.

Weights, in preparation for back surgery.

Sarah scratching her neck, a reminder to order flea medicine.

And shoes on the little one’s feet, because he adamantly insists.

What’s a snapshot of your life look like today?

First Haircut

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Motherhood, Parenting, Van

I did then what I knew how to do. Now that I know better, I do better. -Maya Angelou

We can’t bring ourselves to cut Hooper’s hair despite the fact the poor kid can hardly see with all those blond locks constantly hanging in his face. We like his hair and, truth be told, we’re attached to it. We’re waiting for the day we can finally stick it behind his ears. Nevermind those baby hairs underneath it all that have yet to grow.

Van lost hair as a newborn and, as a result, his hair was longer in some areas and shorter in others. I won’t even mention the weird kinky texture of his hair or else you may start asking me questions about who his daddy is.

So we decided to shave his head in hopes it would all grow in evenly. Because next thing you know, he’ll be two with long blond locks and we’ll we be fighting back emotional ties anytime the thought of cutting it gets thrown out on the table.

And just like that, there’s a little ziplock baggy of dirty blond hair tucked away in his baby book with “first haircut” scribbled on a post-it.

Side note: Much love for everyones well-wishes regarding yesterday’s post. I want to clairfy, because I know the x-ray is gnarly, that I actually don’t have any pain. As in, like none. I have to have the surgery because my curve has not stopped progressing. It’s a structural

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issue, not a pain issue. I feel for y’all that do have back pain… I’ve definitely had my episodes. Wishing everyone good health. And, truly, thank again. All your comments made me emotional…

Surgery

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Motherhood

So that’s a picture of an x-ray of what my back looks like today. It may be shocking to you, but it’s an image I’ve seen for years and years. I was first diagnosed with scoliosis when I was an adolescent. I went for check-ups and knew that, down the line, surgery may be part of my reality.

And now, it is.

The last time I saw a spine surgeon was seven or eight years ago, before I was a mother, a nurse, or a wife. I was told to come back the following year for another x-ray and, well, life started moving as fast as highway signs on the freeway.

I had to go on maternity leave early when I was pregnant with Van. I was in the worst pain ever. I don’t know how much of that was specifically related to my scoliosis, but given the fact I had significant diastasis recti after Hooper, my back had very little abdominal support prior to getting pregnant the second time. And a second 9+ lbs baby didn’t help matters, either.

And so, my spine has kept moving. So much so that I have seen two different well-renowned surgeons that have both told me I need to have surgery.

I’ll be having surgery in the middle of October. It’s a major surgery. I’ll be in the hospital for 7 days and will be on ridiculous bending/lifting/twisting restrictions for a few months. I’ve been told to expect to feel like I’ve been run over by a semi truck. I won’t be allowed to lift anything heavier than a coffee cup for the first few weeks and it will be months before I’m allowed to pick up my littlest loves (which also means it will be months before I lift Van in and out of his crib, high chair, car seat, etc… It’s going to be a rough road). Ho hum.

Life is going to be hard for a bit. I worry not for myself, but for my family. Willy will have a lot on his plate and the boys’ world will be flipped upside down. I’m trying to prepare mentally and physically as best as I can, but it’s hard to know how to plan for things you can’t envision.

I’ve invited a few friends to guest post in my absence. I’m quite behind in posting anyway so it might be a nice time to get caught up. But if it gets quiet around here, you know why. I’ll keep you updated as my surgery date draws nearer, but please send good thoughts my way.

A Girls Long Weekend, Palm Springs

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Bits + Pieces, Motherhood, Travel

Those who follow me on Instagram know I was recently in Palm Springs for some much needed girl time. I returned back just a few days later with Willy and the boys’ and had an awesome time hanging out with this beautiful family, but there will be more on that later.

I had been feeling so down and out after weaning, wondering when the funk would pass. I knew it was hormonal, but having the knowledge of the culprit did absolutely nothing in terms of digging myself out of the hole. I cried for two days. And I napped, which sounds dreamy – I know – but it was more of the depressed I-don’t-have-energy-to-do-anything kinda nap as opposed to the physically drained I-earned-a-nap kinda nap.

It lasted two days and even though those two days felt like marathon days, in hindsight it passed pretty quickly. Like having a newborn, when you’re in the trenches, not only do you not see the light but you don’t even know if you’re walking in the right direction. For all I knew, life was getting darker. Looking up depression after weaning, like everything else, was both a blessing and a curse; cool, I’m not alone… Ho hum, sometimes this lasts months?!

We had that nice weekend I spoke of here and a few days after that, I hit the road with my best friend.

And there’s nothing like the open road with your best friend. There just isn’t.

Sometimes when I’m away from the kids it feels like all I do is talk about them. But while our children came up in passing, we talked about so many other things: memories, work, dreams, travel, our husbands, things we are working on around the home, design, photography. We threw around quotes we had come across that made something clear that was a bit fuzzy before and we talked about some of the new documentaries we had watched. We listened to music, pulled over often to stretch our legs, and threw stuff in the back of the truck as if we had assistants back there to sort it all out for us.

It was just what I need and right when I needed it.

So please excuse the next few posts as I get caught up on sharing some photos from our adventure. There were no kids, so – ya know – we stopped a lot and drove a lot and photographed a lot.

Take that, you evil mom guilt. I’m not even feeling guilty about a

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few days away. I’m not. I said I’m not. And if I say it three times, I must be true.

The Perfect Ending

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Breastfeeding, Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting, Van

You can’t always get what you want, but in the end you get what you need.

I spent the first days after stopping breastfeeding mopping around, declaring myself to be in “a funk”; Unable to enjoy things that normally excited me, unable to be truly present to my children. I’m writing this in past tense because I didn’t feel like writing anything but dark, sad, moppy posts like this just a few weeks ago when all the tears were streaming down my I’m-so-sad-I’m-done-breastfeeding face.

Willy and I had been looking forward to this weekend for a long time. We had tickets to see Willie Nelson at the Hollywood Bowl and plans to leave the kids at my parents for the entire night. But I just couldn’t seem to shake the post-breastfeeding-blues.

I can’t tell you when the change occurred but what I can tell you is that Willie Nelson played his Stardust album from front to back and it was beautiful. There really is nothing better for the soul than music, in my opinion. We woke up the next morning and went to the Rose Bowl Flea Market by ourselves and in the absence of the munchkins, we got to dig through buried treasures and stroll leisurely through the aisles. We picked up the kids in the afternoon and went to the Ventura County Fair. We rode rides, pet goats, ate chocolate covered Twinkies. And when we got home and put the kids to bed, Willy and I climbed up on the roof and laid there under the stars to watch the meteor shower.

And, just like that, my funk disappeared. It only took a country phenom, some time with my main squeeze, a ferris wheel, and a sea full of falling stars to shake it. But alas, I shook it.

Then again, it was probably that chocolate covered twinkie because, um, hello they don’t even make Twinkies even more. Hash tag: deadstock. Oh ya, and I didn’t have to worry about breastfeeding. That was nice.

Oh ya, and you see that little San Francisco shirt Hooper has on? It’s something I bought when I lived in SF years ago, before I knew my husband as my husband… when I had only dreams of motherhood. And seeing my first born in it now not only makes me one happy Mama, but also puts things in perspective. Life is good.

The Double Edge Sword

by Ashley filed under Breastfeeding, Motherhood

Motherhood: Making the double edge sword sharper than ever before. Motherhood is funny in that way, isn’t it? I feel like I’ve encountered scenario after scenario since becoming a mom where the conclusion is the same: I can’t win.

Take Breastfeeding, for example. I dedicated myself to a year and I bitched and moaned the majority of the 365 days and you know what happened on Van’s first birthday? I felt guilty for wanting to quit. All along I’ve anxiously awaited my freedom only to be on freedom’s doorstep with a trickle of tears running down my cheeks, mourning the loss of my baby and our bond. I feel far from the celebratory state I imagined I would be in and then that makes me sad too.

Oh you little weaning monster, you really are an emotional jerk, aren’t you? (side note: thank you for all the sweet comments on yesterday’s post. Your words mean more than you’ll ever know)

The other day at work we were using leeches on a patient’s wound. The purpose being that leeches suck blood and increase blood flow. I know, gross, but bear with me while I share my epiphany. One of the leeches wasn’t sucking and the shift prior decided to tape the leech to the wound. The pharmacist laughed when I told him this because he said taping the leech wouldn’t make it suck. I said, “sounds like breastfeeding”.

Toward the end of Hooper and I’s breastfeeding relationship, I wanted to tape him to my breast. He was growing less and less interested and it was becoming such a chore to feed him. Nowadays I want to tape him to his chair to eat, but that’s besides the point. My milk supply diminished because Hooper weaned himself, not because my body failed to produce. And that was my epiphany. I blamed my body for a long time, you see, when in actuality Hooper was getting exactly what he needed and wanted.

I had a moment of clarity today and decided I’m going to stop beating myself up over wanting to wean. It sucks that I have to make the conscious decision to throw myself a bone and pat myself on the back. I hate that it doesn’t come naturally; that I need a moment of clarity in order to feel proud instead of guilty. I’m making a commitment not to feel guilty because commitments don’t come naturally and neither does not feeling guilty. It’s that double edge sword thing. I’m damned if I do, damned if I don’t. But the truth is, I’m ready to quit.

Throwing myself a my-ta-tas-are-my-own-again party doesn’t have the same appeal as it did a few months ago. Nevertheless, I completed my goal of a year of breastfeeding (and then some) and I have a cranky waddler pulling at my clothing to congratulate me. But, as is with all things, this too shall pass. I feel back to my normal self today, just a few days afterI wrote yesterday’s dark and depressed post. Thank goodness.

Breastfeeding

by Ashley filed under Breastfeeding, Motherhood, Parenting

It’s so hard to say goodbye.

This is the last post in my breastfeeding series and I’m writing it in tears, which is a far cry from the jumping up and down excitement I envisioned. Maybe the tears are from the thought of this being the last time I ever breastfeed, maybe they’re from the hormones associated with the transition, or maybe they’re from the unnatural ending.

It’s because of the latter that I feel this impending feeling of guilt. As much as I’d love to lie and tell y’all that both Van and I were ready, this is not the truth. In fact, I’ve been dealing with an incredibly clingy and cranky baby for the last few weeks of what has been a weaning process and as I admit that, another tear streams down my face. I was ready, he was not.

I had no experience with weaning. Hooper naturally weaned himself and our breastfeeding relationship ended very naturally. With Van, I cut our 8 feedings in half for a week, then in half again the following week. I fed him first thing in the morning and last thing at night for the past few weeks and when my supply diminished and my nighttime feed no longer put him to sleep, I stopped that one too. And just like that, Aunt Flo came back into my life despite me having referred to her as the weird, smelly Aunt; she never seems to hold grudges even though I wish she would.

And so we stuck to one feed a day, first thing in the morning. And each morning, I’d look down at that little sweet face and reassure myself that indeed today would not be the last day, but instead tomorrow. And the truth is, I couldn’t handle feeding him knowing it would be my last time.

It’s like knowing your best friend is going to die tomorrow. How do you say goodbye? And I realized, I couldn’t… I couldn’t feed him knowing that I wouldn’t feed him ever again.

So, I fed him on a Wednesday. Then I went to work on Thursday and pumped one single ounce. Combined. One ounce, people. On Friday I had a meeting and I decided not to pump at all. And just like that, our breastfeeding journey has come to an end. I didn’t have it in me to say a formal goodbye.

And now, I’m in tears.

How was the weaning process for you? Did you experience depression after weaning? If so, you may want to read this post (I found it comforting).

Life

by Ashley filed under Family, Motherhood, Parenting

This photo is not my favorite, but it’s so reminiscent of life right now: Hooper standing, with his blanket, in his pull ups, surveying his brother’s every move… making sure he’s okay with whatever toy he’s playing with. Toys strewn about. A container of sunscreen on the floor, serving as evidence of the triple digit heat. A sofa cushion leaning up against the window, air drying after Hooper pissed on it (luckily we had an extra one in the garage). Van always on his 4-wheeler. And a lonely shoe, halfway down the hallway, endlessly searching for it’s partner.

What does a snapshot of your life look like today?

Side note: Many congrats to Ash for winning the Little Flourishes giveaway and to Noelle C. for winning the LookNook giveaway!

They come in all shapes and sizes.

by Ashley filed under Hooper Eats, Motherhood, Parenting, Then & Now

Hooper’s first birthday

Van’s first birthday

We took Van to the pediatrician the other week for his one year check-up and the fact that kids come in all shapes and sizes rung true all over again. Van is the same size Hooper was when Hooper was 18 months old and it blows my mind.

I don’t give advice because I know no two situations are the same but if I could go back in time and give advice to the neurotic lets-take-inventory-of-every-bite-eaten-and-every-ounce-drunk self, I’d tell her not to worry and not to obsess.

Maybe then I wouldn’t have a toddler who pockets watermelon and a baby who – through baby led weaning – is more independent at the table than his older brother.

In other news, apparently my sister is in charge of getting the cupcake

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into my kids’ faces and Sarah, well, she’s my sister’s “assistant”.

Mama's Corner

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

Just got back from Palm Springs and I have loads of pictures to upload that I can’t wait to share. Girl time is always the best, isn’t it?

Willy and I watched the Bombay Beach documentary the other week and it was so interesting. Have you seen it?

Listened to this song on the way to work and on the way home and I promise that if you rolled up next to me you would have been wishing you were my co-pilot.

Sweet Threads opened it’s brick and mortar in Long Beach and it does not disappoint. I mean check out these photos. Seriously? Sheila did such a great job designing the space. I love how she used the old chairs as clothing racks, as well as the old door frame. That store is almost edible and is filled with tons of one-of-a-kind treasures. And mad props to Sheila for following her passion and doing what she loves. It’s hard to make major changes in life and as I embark on starting my own photography business, you better believe I’m channeling Sheila’s determination and dedication. Homegirl is an inspiration.

What was then Hooper’s nursery was featured over on Baby Space. Such a cute blog. If you haven’t checked it out, you should. Bron had my heart when she opened this post by saying the following: “In some ways I think having a newborn is like going on a much-anticipated family holiday. It’s hectic and confusing with long stretches of nothing broken up by periods of high drama and pure bliss”. She nailed it.

I just about peed my pants when LookNook contacted me about wanting to work together. Haven’t heard of LookNook? LookNook is a team of interior designers that work with you one-on-one to design the interior of your dreams. Best part yet is that you don’t have to leave your computer chair, it’s all down online and is super easy. I have nothing but fantastic things to say about this company. You can enter the giveaway to work one-on-one with one of their designers by clicking here.

Also joining the sponsor gang is Little Flourishes. Little Flourishes makes beautifully designed baby wraps and blanket and their quality is superb. You can enter to win a feather blanket and wrap by clicking here.

Welcome new sponsor Broken Tricycle, who carries some of the cutest organic clothing around. How cute is this sweatshirt?

My mother-in-law sent me this video from KTVU morning news. There’s nothing funnier than watching pranks played on news anchors. News anchors are funny aren’t they? So much plastic surgery and ridiculousness. We have a no news policy in our house because we can’t stand it. Will Ferrell should make a comedy about… oh wait… nevermind.

On the same note, I heard another news story (it was on in the break room at work) about how drinking water out of plastic water bottles can make you age faster. The report went on to say drinking from the plastic bottle can cause mouth creases around your upper lip and to prevent this, we should try to relax our upper lip when drinking. No joke. What’s wrong with our society that we need to be paying attention to relaxing our facial muscles while hydrating? It’s in moments like these I shake my head and wonder how we can undo all that has been done.

I’m kinda obsessed with the little boy in the glasses next to the gold fish shot from Week 28 of You Are My Wild. I’m having so much fun following along with this photo project. Such stunning images each week.

I shared some photos from our wedding along with a short story I may have told here once before and some tidbits on marriage over on Abigail’s blog. You can check out the post by clicking here.

And I had to share this video because linking to it just doesn’t seem appropriate when it’s this fantastic. Willie Nelson is really something, isn’t he? Willy and I just saw him at the Hollywood Bowl (we see him every time he’s in town). He’s 80 years old and he sounds like a million bucks. Anyway, this video is incredibly well done. Every scene is like a beautiful photograph. Do yourself a favor and hit that play button.

Conquering the day

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

I know I’ve said it before, but some days are so hard to get out of the house. So hard to break routine. Hard to interrupt or bypass naps. Hard to pack up everything I’ll need for the kids. Hard to get myself ready. Hard to get the kiddos ready. Hard to get everyone fed. By the time we get out of the house and close the door, sometimes I feel like turning right around and walking back through the front door; Sometimes merely crossing that threshold feels like a feat all on its own.

I wonder if other moms feel this way too. Part of me thinks that’s a dumb question because I know, logically, that I cannot be alone in feeling this way. And yet, I peek in on other’s lives, cyber-stalking through the blogsphere or instagram or what-have-you and see normal people, just like me, with small children doing things e v e r y d a y.

I know it’s dangerous to compare. And being a “blogger” myself, I know that one beautiful picture does not share the whole story. Sometimes pictures are a down-right lie.

I had a slew of days off in a row from work. Working as an RN part-time has some nice perks like that. I’ve had nice chunks off like this in the past and sometimes I walk out of work thinking, “holy shit, I have ten days off” only to walk back in those doors ten days later saying to myself, “My ten days are up already?”. And I replay the last ten days in my head over and over and my conclusion is always the same: I wish we would have done more.

Ten days off makes the possibilities seem so endless; I daydream of all the places we can go, all the things we can do. And then life gets in the way. Clothes pile up. Dishes pile up. The food in the fridge disappears. And I find that entire days are spent getting the house back in order, getting things restocked.

Trying to feel accomplished after finishing only a few things on a long ever-growing to-do list has been one of the biggest adjustments, for me, in becoming a mom.

What I have found is this: It’s always better to get out… to let the mess pile up and worry about it later.

I took the kids to the zoo the other day. The zoo is usually off-limits over summer because the heat will make you want to peel off your own skin and sit under a shaded tree a pile of bones. Really, it’s debilitating. But it was oddly overcast and even rained the night before so I woke up determined to make it to the zoo.

I put both boys’ down for their morning naps. I played whack-a-mole with Hooper who lately has decided that he doesn’t want to nap at all or goes down for a nap but wakes up thirty minutes later with poop in his pull-up or goes down and wakes up three and a half hours later. It’s so random and so hit or miss. This day was a miss.

One hurdle after another; Some days it feels like I’m playing hop-scotch blind-folded through fire, wind, and rain.

It seemed fitting that in my rush to get everyone out of the door, my phone rang. It was my doctor’s office who called to see if I had any questions following my appointment (Oh ya, I have to have back surgery in the Fall). The woman on the other end proceeded to tell me that for the first few weeks I should expect to feel like I have been run over by a truck. And if that wasn’t enough, she went on to say that the same truck reverses and runs over me again. She was telling me all this while my phone sat precariously cushioned between my shoulder and ear, Van sat on his four wheeler at my feet honking his little pretend horn, Hooper was running around in circles, and I was trying to put their lunch in a tupperware container so we could actually cross that aforementioned threshold.

We got out the door, I strapped the kids in their seats, and as I pulled out the driveway all I could think about was being run over by a truck… twice.

We got to the zoo two hours before they closed and despite the cloudy skies, I was sweating. I immediately regretted the decision to wear pants and felt a bit guilty as I pulled Hoop out of his car seat in his long pants and sweaty hair. It was humid and sticky, by California standards anyway. And in the back of my mind, I kept thinking of that truck reversing over me.

And you know what turned it all around for me? Watching my boys enjoy themselves; watching their excitement and genuine awe, their enthusiasm, the sense of wonder that spread across their little faces. And the kettle corn. If freshly popped kettle corn can’t take your mind off a dirty house and the impact of being run over by a truck, then I don’t know what can. And even with the hassle of getting out the door, I drove into the driveway thinking that was well worth it. All for their enjoyment.

And that’s the beauty of being a mom… Seeing the world how you once saw it, long ago, through the eyes of your child. It’s a beautiful thing and it takes all the hassle and all the pain away.

More to come on my surgery at a later time.

And check back tomorrow for a giveaway from Little Flourishes.