… is that I overestimate myself. I’m a mommy, not a superhuman.
Rest is good. Sleep is good. Asking for help is ok.
I normally don’t approve of the F word, but I’ll make an exception this time since the wisdom of this philosophy is overpowering.
Presenting, the best parenting style I’ve ever encountered:
This video made me laugh.
My face when I catch my little girl eating some tissue
And then she burps.
Photos by Seth Casteel
I love my daughter down to the core, but sometimes she can really drive me nuts.
“I’m crying just so I can see how my mommy will react!”
Now that she’s a year old, I’ve noticed that my sweet little baby has been replaced with a real human being, complete with the ability to push other people’s buttons.
Although she’s still sweet 99 percent of the time, the remainder is spent testing her limits — throwing things on the floor then staring at me to see my reaction, touching things I specifically told her not to, and doing backbends when she does not want to get picked up. Fun.
When she gets into one of those moods, I approach the situation as calmly as possible.
“I want to tear my hair out!”
Other times, I just do a serene face to help my little darling calm down.
I think it’s safe to say that after a whole year of being a mom, I’m an expert at handling a fussy baby.
“Let’s just wait for daddy to come home.”
On those days, one thought keeps me going: I’m not here. I look forward to when I can finally step away from taking care of the baby and catch a break. Mothers, I am learning, need a breather from the emotional rollercoaster that comes with the territory of raising a person.
So, I take a break. Maybe I can even devote some time to blog. Frankly, these breaks don’t last very long. I come running back to my baby because even if she can drive me crazy, I’m just a mess without her.
“Waaaah. I miss my baby.”
I couldn’t resist. I encountered this painting by Eugène Carrière through one of my daily blog reads and it reminded me so much of Hannah as a newborn.
via Marvelous Kiddo
This picture was taken on the day we came home from the hospital. My little three-day old, gingerly touching my bloated face.
Wish your mommy a happy birthday, Hannah. It’s my first with you around, and I can’t even imagine life before you. You and your daddy are the reasons why this is the best birthday ever.
Rainy season is bug season. I never minded it very much before; but since Hannah arrived, I’ve become a lean, mean mosquito killing machine I now have bionic reflexes. I can grab mosquitoes in mid-flight and crush them at one fell swoop. If you’ve got wings and an intention to bite my daughter, you’re dead.
In less violent news, unless you’re fabric, I’ve discovered another skill. Crafting! Using this pattern as a guide, I made a fabric flower for Hannah. We were going to an event and I thought her plain white dress was a little too blah.
I’m totally high off the success of my little project. Today a flower, tomorrow the world. Martha, I’ve got my eye on you.