After I logged out of FB for the last time in mid December, I had a growing feeling that it was for good. I had a few false starts, but the headlines about social media’s role in our culture confirmed what I knew – that FB and I needed to break up for good.
I had it all planned out.
I was going to log in one final time, download my archive, and delete my account. I even did a search ahead of time so I would know what I was doing and wouldn’t have to spend any more time than was necessary on my account.
Yesterday, my second youngest turned three. The snow was falling softly outside and was coating our yard of frozen mud so that it was starting to look dreamy. I asked him if he would come outside with me for a birthday photo shoot, and he said yes.
(Photo Credit: Arri George. This is one version of my uniform.)
There’s nothing like pregnancy to give you a moment to step back and look critically at your wardrobe. Half of it doesn’t fit, and the other half won’t by the time you have your baby.
That’s where I was this time last year. To further complicate matters, I had donated or given away all my maternity clothes after our sixth baby because he was the “last” one, until an unplanned miscarriage broke our hearts and we decided to go for number seven.
Since I knew Seven really was our last, I couldn’t justify buying a ton of maternity clothes, so I aimed to use the clothes I had as long as I could, and make sure I got as much bang for my buck as I could with the maternity clothes I purchased.
Reading The Curated Closet (not an affiliate link) and doing the activities while I was pregnant was a great way to help me feel like I was making an effort with my appearance, and also deal with my clothes while I had enough distance to look at them without too much sentimentality. The goal of the book is to help you identify your personal style, and get your closet and shopping habits in line with that style.
When I look at that face, I don’t see the face of a warrior. A survivor, maybe.
I was going to share my birth stories here.
One of the ways I got ready for having my babies was reading other people’s stories. I especially enjoyed the ones where the woman would feel a little “off”, and then deliver a baby 15 minutes later.
In my experience, the travel home is easier on the kids than it is on the adults. The kids have traveled recently, so they know what to expect, and they haven’t been sleeping well. They look forward to things like the meal, juice, and the movie. They are able to sleep when they’re bored.
For us parents, we’ve also been sleep deprived, but we have to be available for help with food, toileting, and making sure none of our kids are kicking the back of someone’s seat. In our case, we typically drive to my parent’s house not far the airport a day or two before we leave on our trip. On the way home, we drive straight back home. This means our return trip is always hours longer than the trip there.
Our return flight was boarding a little after six a.m., and my husband and I got up with less than three hours of sleep. We made it to the airport without any trouble, thanks to the generosity of family and a friend who were willing to wake up before dawn to help get us there.
When the woman who was checking boarding passes saw us, her lips pursed and went off to one side as her brows lowered in annoyance.
