Recurrent chemical pregnancies (A delightful holiday tale!)

This is a weird and hard post to begin and complete, so I'm going to take the burden off myself to make it perfect or even memorable and just throw down some words. I know I ate up anything I could find on this subject, so maybe some little thing I write might help somebody, somewhere.

It was really easy to get pregnant the first time. I wanted a baby, so we did what you do and on the second month I was knocked up. And it stuck and she came out big and healthy and that was that.

When I was ready to try again, in September of 2011, I assumed the process would be roughly the same. I was a little older and Clay had gone through chemo and I was certainly stressed, so maybe it would take a few extra months?

After probably three cycles of trying, it happened. But almost as soon as the line turned dark, it faded. It was a chemical pregnancy. It was jarring and it freaked me out. Even though chemicals are really common, I had this gut feeling that this was the beginning of a longer process. We were living in the rental house in Westport and it was Christmastime and I Googled a million different searches to read about what to expect ("AM I NOW BARREN") but not the fun kind of what to expect.

I eventually shook it off and we went back to trying. In May 2012 I got pregnant again. Ooo, perfect: Another February baby! And they'd be three years apart exactly, which was the age difference I'd wanted. This time I went to the doctor for a blood test because I was interested in my HCG levels. The day after my missed period I was only at an 18, which is really low. (It should be in the 100-1000 range...) They were all "it might stick!" but I knew it wouldn't. Just like before, three days after my missed period the line was gone and it was over.

I started to panic a little/a lot. I got hooked up with a reproductive endo who told me there was probably nothing wrong with me, that these things just happen. He ran a bunch of tests, took a bunch of blood, and checked out my uterus. And hey oh! There was a big polyp in there! So I had a surgery in September 2012 to remove it. I was so excited that there was this actual, concrete problem. It had to be the reason.

Through all this, I felt so isolated. I already had a kid so I felt like I couldn't legitimately complain. It had only been about a year of trying, so that wasn't that bad either. I didn't know anyone who'd gone through this so I didn't know who to talk to. Clay didn't seem bothered and didn't want to discuss it. So many people around me were onto their second or third babies, but I felt like I had to make up reasons why I wasn't. "I've always wanted a big spacing!" "It's so nice to have sleep finally!" "I know it'll work out!" But inside I was 100%, all-the-time freaking out.

After my surgery, I had two quick pregnancies. October and then November of 2012. Both ended exactly three days after my missed period. I'd now completely lost faith in the second line on a test and couldn't believe that some people posted the picture immediately after taking it. Or announced it right away. It seemed insane and so naive.

I felt so in limbo and so sad. I didn't want to buy cute clothes because what if I got pregnant and my body changed? I didn't want to look for a job because what if I got pregnant? I didn't really want to do anything because I couldn't think about anything else. I was obsessed (o-b-s-e-s-s-e-d), but felt like I completely had to hide my obsession. I dealt with it all very privately and worked to perfect my answers to all the inevitable "do you want another?" questions. I felt awful because I wasn't working, my whole role was full time mother, and yet I felt like I wasn't doing "enough" (whatever that means!) in terms of mothering. Because I couldn't grow another baby.

There were all sorts of women who I (admittedly insanely) felt were showing me up. Like Clay's ex-girlfriend who was working full time in a fancy job and had just had her third baby -- and I felt like a complete failure. What the hell was I doing? She wanted to have brunch with us, to bring over the new baby, and I just could not handle it. I avoided people, I stopped following pregnant people on Instagram, I told myself terrible things.

I stopped going to the reproductive endo because his next move was IVF and I just wasn't ready yet. I didn't know what I was going to do, but I wanted to try something alternative first.

So after reading a lot of positive experiences about it, I started acupuncture in January of 2013. I told myself I'd do four months of it, not worry too much about trying in the meantime and go from there. I went once a week until April and hated every minute of it (though I did love the actual acupuncturist, she was amazing), but I could feel subtle changes in my body. When I got my period, they felt like they used to pre-Harper. I won't go into graphic details, but I just felt like my old, super hormonal self.

Toward the end of treatment, I went to see a second reproductive endo, this time one I really liked. I wanted to make sure I had every blood test possible to make sure I really was starting on a clean slate after acupuncture. I got 20 vials of blood taken and a lot of extra blood sugar work because my blood sugar had come back a little strange. While I waited for the results and my next appointment in June, there was a well-timed marital encounter in late May 2013.

Just nine days later, in early June, when my friend was over with her two kids and 12 weeks pregnant with her third, I noticed how sore my chest was. That's not a symptom I get monthly -- wasn't even a symptom I had while pregnant with Harper -- so I thought hmmm? When Harper was in bed that night I drove way too far to find a Dollar Tree so I could stock up on a thousand pee strips and obsess over faint, faint lines. Except that when I hurried into my bathroom and took the test, the line was definitely not faint, definitely not a maybe. On just nine days past ovulation it came up immediately and was super, super dark. Say wha?

And that was Bea.

They think I was probably pregnant with twins to start with. They saw a weird undeveloped blob on an early sonogram and my HCG levels were through the roof from an early, early stage. (64,000 at my first appointment -- I think they were looking for 1,000-5,000.) It would explain the really dark, early test and why I got morning sickness before I even missed my period - - which coincided perfectly with a 10-day writing seminar I took at Yale. I kept dry heaving during panels of editors and weeping uncontrollably over waffles in the dining hall. Of course the whole time I kept taking those Dollar Tree tests in my dorm bathroom, expecting them to fade at any minute. But! Soon the test line was darker than the control and I just kept getting sicker and sicker, depressingly unable to enjoy the Shake Shack that was within walking distance.

And as long as that whole, lonesome journey had felt -- it was suddenly over. I was going to have the two kids I wanted. All that junk in the past was just junk in the past.

I have no idea what caused those four chemical pregnancies, or what took me almost 2 years to get pregnant. And I don't know if the four months of acupuncture helped (I really think it did -- but I'll never know how or why) or maybe the fact I got a root canal done the week before I got pregnant or that I lost 5 pounds a few months before. Was it because I started going forward with life plans -- taking a weekend away with girlfriends in New York, doing the Yale thing? Was it nothing and just time passing would have solved it all? Don't know, don't know, don't know.

I do know that what I went through (not the chemical part, exactly, I think that's kinda weird still) is not uncommon at all. So many women have a tough time getting pregnant -- either the first time or second time or third time or anytime. For all the people out there who brag "my husband just has to LOOK AT ME and I'm pregnant!" there are just as many thinking "NOT ME!"

And I know that sometimes when you're in something like infertility it can feel murky and dark for so, so long. But looking back, it wasn't really the longest or the worst and it somehow just passed. As time always seems to. I wish I hadn't been so hard on myself, I wish I'd seen how much I was doing for Harper, and how it gave me time to write more and sleep a bit more and have some great adventures. (Spain and Disney and Chicago and New Haven!)

(And now I feel like I'm writing Oprah's What I Know for Sure column...)

I know that the people who seem like they have it all together probably don't. They're feeling stressed by too many kids maybe. Or a career they're unsure of. Or their marriage is rocky or their parents aren't well or they're just plagued by typical and boring shortcomings like the rest of us. We have no idea what's going on behind others' walls and it's a waste to worry about it. Off with your head, Pinterest and Instagram!

It can be hard to hear "it'll be okay!" from someone on the other side of this, so I'll resist the urge to go there. But I do hope anyone treading these waters knows they are definitely not alone and they're definitely not crazy for feeling crazy or obsessed or worried. It's all normal and it's all life and I guess I just want to say -- I hear you and hang in there.

I spent the weekend in Brooklyn

The girls and I won't move into our apartment until a few days after Christmas, but we spent the weekend there to get Harper excited about her new room/bed/bedspread and to help me see what's missing from the apartment (all of our things that aren't furniture).

Some observations:

1) I have been living in strange and suspended animation out here in the boons. I went walking with Bea in the carrier a few different times around the neighborhood -- to get coffee or groceries or just look at stuff -- and I would suddenly catch myself acting a total fool. Smiling at, like, rooftops? Or chuckling, shoulders shaking, at something a crazy person selling flasks said. I was almost on a manic high from the combo of real! live! people!/lights/tiny-dogs-in-sweaters/constant coffee access/men in crazy fur hats and couldn't believe I'd waited so long to live in a city again. *hitch kick and a Mary Poppins song*

2) I dragged us to see the Rockefeller Center Christmas tree and decorated windows. At 6:00 PM. On a Saturday night. With two overtired tiny people. It was madness and there were so many Santas ("Um, mom? I just saw four girl Santas? I mean Mrs. Clauses, I guess...") but it still thrilled me that that's a (relatively easy) thing I can just go do.

3) Both girls had their first NY Subway ride. Mixed results. And I remembered, from my many years in Boston, how much I haaaaate being bundled in winter gear and smushed inside a train. The sweat trickling down and the static hair and just so, so hot and no room to take any of it off. PANIC. 

This reminds me that senior year of college at BU, I had a few Psych classes with this one girl. She was Japanese and so pretty and pulled together and chic. She had a certain backpack and certain jeans and these black lace-up shoes from Diesel (do they still even exist?) and I would stare at this outfit and know true happiness would reveal itself to me if I had it. So I went out and bought every single part of it and straight up wore it, too. THAT IS SO WEIRD. And also really unlike me. I still have the backpack and still love it. And okay, true happiness didn't splash upon me, but I did look pretty cool. For 2003 at least.

4) A 5th floor walkup with an elevator is cool/fine/sure/nice view until the elevator breaks. *hospital emoji*

Grace in small things

I used to do these posts -- waaaay back in the day -- where I'd list 5ish things from the day that I felt grateful for. It was a reminder to focus on the little-but-good things that are sometimes too easy to forget. Especially important during times like oh, uh moving when change/transition/chaos feel like the norm.

1)  My INSANE (but truly beautiful IRL!) white, flocked, artificial Christmas tree. Never thought a fakey could bring me more joy than real, but oh ho ho yes. I love it so hard. Harper and I keep hugging it, overcome by tree love.

2) The way Bea scoot/crawls around. Kind of like a crab. Kind of like a weird spider. Also a turtle.

3) My new long-sleeve tees from J. Crew. That were on major discount. Soft and lush, but also sturdy. I bought three and am having a hard time putting on anything else.

4) Looking at Bea's vaccines all typed out on a sheet. It's like my mothering body of work.

5) Frozen cheeseburgers made unfrozen in a skillet, squished between rye toast. Just yeah.

6) Harper yelling "I just love you 159!"

On writing, part 2

Last week was a hard week that punched me in the face a few separate times. I kept wanting to escape into my writing to deal with it and use my anxious energy for good, but the project next at bat was that dealing-as-a-cancer-spouse book idea. And you know what? Turns out that's not something I want to dive into when I've finally found a delicious and sacred hour to write. Because every time I've tried to sit down and really get rolling, my whole body/soul/mind/breakfast recoils.

And then I was reading one of my 1200 Buddhist/mindfulness books this morning and a passage was focusing on, what else, living in today and only today instead of yesterday and all the old yesterdays and hark! I realized no, no, no -- this isn't for me.

And anyways, yo, what I need to push myself to do is write fiction. It's why I did that summer writing program at Yale (the very week I found out I was pregnant with Bea -- oooohhh there were some very queasy editorial panels I sat through) -- to find out if I could actually do fiction. Like at all. To see if I could do more than write about my life in short bursts. And I came away after those 10 days feeling like I could, like I can.

But it's a lot harder for me (I think for anyone) to sit down and work on a story than to sit down and bang out a quick anecdote. So I fight it a little and look for other things to do (there are just so many closets to clean!) when all I really want is to write a great -- or good, I'll take good! -- story.

I want to work on a world that I'll want to escape into when it's time to work. Like Mma Ramotswe's Botswana or sure okay it's not a book but it's heaven -- Stars Hollow. I love that kind of stuff and I seek it out like crack and I want to try my best to make my own. (Insert Walter White joke here.)

Writing about writing is another delay tactic of sorts, sure, but who cares. I feel a weight off my shoulders typing this post because: Do not have to write sad cancer book! Can write warm and hopefully funny novel book! Tarzan happy and drink hot cocoa under covers now!

Oh and coda: Behold my baby who turned 9 months this weekend! I don't type about her nearly as much as I did Harper on my old blog, but trust me when I say she is a w-o-n-d-e-r-f-u-l baby. Funny and curious and loud and loving and just happy. My tiny bumble Bea.

Limits

In my San Francisco newlywed days, I used to walk to Whole Foods, pick out and pay for 30 dollars of groceries, and then walk back to our apartment. The dollar limit was for two reasons: 1) Half of our two person unit was gone Monday through Thursday of every week and we just didn't need a lot of food and 2) I'd learned the hard way that I could only carry 30 dollars worth of loot.

My first walking trip to that Whole Foods (affectionately referred to as "WH" in our house because for YEARS I abbreviated it that way in texts, not once realizing it should be WF... ) had me all excited and jazzed to be Euro style, with my walking and my canvas tote and my fresh produce getting. I would choose what struck my fancy and then whip up a locally-sourced-organically-grown-unicorn-picked meal.

Anyway. I got in there and behaved like I'd never set food in a grocery store before. Who even knows what all I bought (we were really into goji berries in days of yore), but I filled my XXL L.L. Bean tote to the brim and then some. I paid and picked it up, quickly realizing there was no way I could carry that thing home like a normal human, using straps and arms. It was much, much too heavy and there were far, far too many hills. So I dragged it home. All along the city sidewalks, up and down and over... Pull pull, pause, rearrange the eggs, pull pull, pause, now the cilantro. 

I ruined that (brand new) bag, put huge holes on the bottom and ripped some of the seams. I was so mad at myself! Also embarrassed. Also my arms were killing me.

So I learned that 90 dollars of groceries wouldn't work. But 30 could. 

I run into things like this all the time with mothering a second child. Things that used to have me choking back tears with Harper just don't take me down anymore. It took a few years, but I've started to learn my parenting limits. I don't have to tackle the grocery store and then do story time at the library and then return shoes to Target and then do housework and then drive against rush hour to meet a friend at an inconvenient park and then cook a locally sourced unicorn meal and then put a load of cloth diapers in and then and then. I was always racing against a clock, or trying to fill the hours manically, and ended up ripping a lot of metaphorical totes along the way.

Last week I had an errand to run at the Apple Store. I usually dread going to the mall in any scenario, let alone with an infant person. But then I remembered I didn't have to tack on forty eleven extra errands to the day. If I felt tired or overwhelmed (uh I'm not so much of a hothouse flower that the mall wilts my will to live, but there have been a lot of 5:00 mornings around here and adding up the preschool driving and mall driving there was going to be 2+ hours in the car), I just had to do the usual tasks and this one bonus thing. I left plenty of time to get to the mall and to park. I made sure Bea had been nursed and had solids. I used the bathroom, I fed myself, I dressed nicely, I packed my stroller. (Sure these sounds like basic things, but with baby HJ I was always in scramble/reactive mode.) 

And so? I actually found myself smiling as we walked out of the mall later that morning. I'd had fun, yo! It was a sunny day and Bea was a happy clam and I was holding a holiday coffee cup. I'd done my errand, a little window shopping, got a Starbucks, walked a bit for exercise, and enjoyed the ooohingaahing over my cute nunnerson in the pink booties. Then...left! 

Who knew, 28-year-old me? Limits! They're a thing. 

A list of Wednesday things

- NYTimes just pushed through the message "Spacecraft Lands on Comet's Surface" and I burst out laughing.

- Sitter smalltalk is the worst for me. I feel like a teenage boy nodding and smiling and saying sure, I love you, all to get some play. Wait, strike that. What I mean is, when she gets here I want to leave as quickly as possible -- I'm on the clock, woman! I've timed nursing and naps and school pick-up and all myriad things so that every minute counts. I super don't care about your kids and though I'm completely certain that makes me a monster... Seacrest out! 

- At drop-off today, I overheard two moms talking about a playdate in the works. One told the other (who would be hosting) to make sure she got "some greens" into her daughter. That kind of ruined the next 5 minutes of my life.

- It's slowly dawning on me that in 4 short weeks, I'll be home with 2 kids all the time, full time. We had yesterday off because of Veteran's Day and while in many ways our day was better than a school day (baby could take real naps, there was no morning scramble, we were all relaxed and uncrabby for the most part -- except come 4:00 when I needed to call it a night), there were a lot of hours to fill.

So I think I need to research/potentially purchase some "homeschool" books for Harper. She is very into projects and worksheets and word problems and math equations and the like, and I think our days will flow if we have a rough schedule with some definite "school" (I don't know why I keep putting that in quotes, let's roll with it) time. Are there any recommendations for such a thing/things? I'm usually disappointed with the workbooks I find out and about mainly because she whips through them too quickly, so I'm looking for something that is a challenge without being crazy hard. 

She'd probably love something where you read a book, then do some comprehension questions, then do a make-a-puppet project that ties in. While I like the idea of "tell me what you're interested in and we'll go do it!", Harper 1) seriously enjoys traditional structure 2) she's constantly doing her own weird open-ended chemistry and/or craft projects and I'll let that check the box on creative, tactile learning. Plus, I've always been very focused on incidental teaching/learning, so wherever we are or whatever we're doing there are LOTS of questions/answers and discussion. LOTS. 

Anyway. Any and all tips are welcomed. 


- I'm guessing this will change once I'm in the BK, but I've always found home coffee to be preferable to store/cafe/restaurant coffee BUT store/cafe/restaurant lattes to be everything worth living for. Am I visiting the wrong coffee establishments? It would be nice to enjoy the cheaper of the two options while erranding. 

Bye. 

Zzzz

So you know how my blog title might seem like it's about living on a ranch-ish property? I can see where you'd get that. But actually, no, it's from my postpartum days with Bea, when I realized how insane this house is when you're trying to care for a 4-year-old, an infant, and a crazy Frenchie all day everyday. It's up and down and over and down and up and across and yelling "I can't hear you from any other room than the one you're in, Harper, but I'll be RIGHT THERE TO WIPE YOU! I'm just taking Georgie out/changing Bea's diaper/putting clothes in the dryer/peeing!" And then scrambling and sliding down stairs to find her.

I started saying I really wanted a reasonable ranch. You know -- mid-century style, easy breezy one-floor livin'. Give the kids a bath and then saunter to their rooms and then saunter to the kitchen and then saunter to the living room and then saunter to bed. Basically, I envisioned massive quantities of sauntering.

No shouting through the ancient walls to get heard or tripping over millions of staircases or strategically placing multiple space heaters and keeping a woodstove roaring from 6 AM to keep the temp above 55. Did I mention the dog who needs to be let out 175 times a day to very particular spots of land? Too much, I say!

This is all the definition of #firstworldprobs, of course, but I'm just zapped. It's beautiful here and sometimes magical and would be just lovely at a different stage of life, I'm sure. It's basically a great house to visit, but not to manage. Because for now, for me, I am constantly in a scramble from cold room to cold room, trying to keep things together and the kids happy (with their very different, 4-years-apart needs) and the dog fed and the husband fed and maybe not myself fed since I still have 7 pounds to lose and it's exhausting in this layout. #crymeariver #iknow

This is one of the reasons I am so excited about apartment living. I know we'll be cramped at times, I know it's going to come with its own list of frustrations and limitations, but it's going to be a better fit for me. For us, I hope. I know how to keep an apartment clean. I can keep a kitchen and one bathroom and a few extra spaces tidy. I'll have all that on lockdown and won't feel like I'm always one (or one hundred) steps behind on housework.

And! I won't have to leave Harper alone in remote corners of the house while I do baby things or George things. How will we ever adjust to communicating without (kind but very loud) yelling...?

Anyways. I'm working extra hard these days because on top of reg cleaning maintenance, I'm pushing to clear this house of extra stuff (there's a lot) and organizing what we want to take with to Brooklyn or donate or leave behind. I've always got a closet to clean or drawer to organize or box of clothes to sift through and I've always got a tiny baby Niecy Nash who's giving me sass while I do it. It's a strangely satisfying kind of work and I'm feeling more and more on top of things, but by the end of the day there's little left for anything too fun or soul/brain oriented (like book writing!) I'm okay with focusing on the mundane for now, though. Just knowing it's not forever keeps me buoyant.

All of this is to say: I'm tired, but excited -- and I'll be happy when the stuff's gone, I'm in my reasonable Brooklyn ranch, and there's a pocket of time for me (and probably a cronut).

Things Harper said when she came in on the end of a Gilmore Girls episode

"Are these real? These...people?"

"Is this supposed to be funny?"

"So...nothing really happens?"

Nosy

Lately I've had the weirdest things with smells. Something pretty generic and everyday normal that I smell all the time will send me swirling back to the most specific things.

Examples:

Last night I was making hot cocoa with a Swiss Miss pack. (A guilty pleasure, shhh.) Even though I drink hot chocolate constantly, I was suddenly BAM back in 6th grade, February vacation, watching Grease on repeat.

Two days ago I ate a clementine and was BAM at my grandmother's house in elementary school at Christmas time.

And other ones my tired brain can't think of right now. I feel like this is something that should happen when you're 95 and in the winter days of life, remembering the peppermint candies your Mamaw made? Not 32, hangin with a baby and washing the sofa slipcover.

Anyway. Back to those slipcovers.

While my bulldog gently wheezes

Things that bother me more than they should:

- When someone writes "Awww" in response to another person, in earnest, posting a sad or bad event. -- e.g. someone posts on Facebook that their beloved grandpa just died. For the love of God, please don't reply: "Awwwww!"
"Awww" is only okay when someone posted a picture of a kitten stuck inside a boot. Capishe?

- When someone exclaims how much they love their children. I... ???????????????????? Of course you love your kids, ya nut. Are you actually trying to say you maybe love them more than average? I don't think that's a thing. I think we all love the shit out of our kids. When someone says this to me I'm always a) really weirded out and b) confused how to respond. It seems really lame to say "I love mine, too!" because ick, however if I don't reply in same I'm a sociopath.

(Lemme clarify because upon a reread it sounds like I don't want peeps saying they love their kids. Nope nope. There's just a certain kinda person who professes their love as a brag, as if it's unique...or a love contest. Okay, Scrooge peacin out.)


- Getting water down (up?) my sleeve while I do the dishes.

Now some nice and/or neutral things:

-My girls and dog have all been so lovely to each other lately. Gentle cuddles and sharing/swapping toys and giggling over everything and ear biting (okay that was just Bea to George) and each one just putting up with the other in an easygoing way. We weren't rolling like that a few months ago and hey, I know we won't roll like that always so I'm really enjoying it in the now. (I REALLY LOVE MY KIDS!)

- Just discovered the Mark Morris Dance Group has both adult and children's classes in Brooklyn and I'm aeoirpeaorecorievunrenroaeirune !!! over this. Modern dance is my truest of loves and I cannot wait to get down to it again.

- This weekend I watched both Hobbit movies with Clay, in 3D, on our couch, and though initially it was under duress.. I am now obsessed and fixating and cannot wait for Christmas. My preciousssss. Smaaaaaauuuug! Orlando Bloooooom.

- I'm a little panicked about Georgie becoming a city dog. He is zero aggressive and loves all of God's everything, including serial killers I'm sure, but he doesn't have good leash manners. He barks and pulls and goes insane over everything that passes by. Blerp. I'll fix it with gross dried meat products in my pocket, but it's going to be rich. My plan is to lie that he's only a puppy. Need to get him a bit of Botox first.

- Harper laughs exactly like my paternal grandmother (who has long since left this world). I don't understand how that can happen? It's sweet and scary all at the same time.

- There's a 30% off sale at method and I'm much more excited about this than I should be.

Okay. As you were.

(The longest recap) of a Day in the Life

Okay SO. My cyber bud (but let's be honest, now I just think of her as a real bud because we text constantly and know very, very personal and peculiar details about each other and sometimes text about what exact vegetables and salad dressings we love on a Friday night ahem) Laura has been running this great Day in a Life series for years now. Bloggers document the minutiae of their day and then she links to the posts on her blog. (I think the round-up post is happening in a couple weeks.) 

It's fun to see how people all over the country, working or staying home or working from home or whatev, do their thing and (this was my main goal) it's fun to look back on such a specific day in time and space and remember all the rememberings. I got super detailed with my words because I type too fast maybe. This was a ton of work, but glad I did it. Here goes -- do not blame if you just skim skim skim. 

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Clay: 37

Amy: 32

Harper: 4.5

Bea: 8 months

Georgie: almost 3

Taking up most of King size bed. Just like her mama.

Kind of a strange morning because Harper and I had a sleepover in my bed last night. She'd been asking for a couple weeks (after an impromptu one last month when Clay was traveling), so we put Tuesday night on the calendar. Clay has softball Tuesday nights and comes home late and sweaty, so it felt like a good choice... He slept downstairs in the guest room. Probably delighted to have a break from my flopapotamous ways.

I wake up at 6:30 when Bea starts fussing (she nursed at 4:00 AM after going to sleep at 6:00 the night before -- 12+ hours with one easy feeding is heavenly for me!) and I hurry to get her before Harper stirs.

Chewing an iPod nano from 2006. Birthday present from Clay. Now baby teether.

Black tea + milk + agave

Bea and I go downstairs and I nurse her, change her dipe, and make myself some tea. Then we just play and chat a bit, walk around outside (it's so warm and she loves being out there and also there's a better chance Harper will keep sleeping if we're out of the way...) and get Harper's breakfast of frozen novelties (French toast sticks, drizzle of Agave) and a glass of milk ready. 

Sunrise! 

She LOVES our rooster weathervane. Obsessed. 

250-year-old stairs to Harper's room. 

Bea helping pick HJ's outfit. Pulls out EVERYTHING from EVERYWHERE phase.

Around 7:30 I hear Harper stirring (okay, she's yelling for me...) The girls say hello and snuggle/wrestle and then Harper gets Georgie out of his kennel. He goes pee and then Harper feeds him.

(Because Clay slept downstairs and hustled out quickly to catch the train to the city, there were but brief goodbye kisses to all 3 ladies and I didn't catch a pic.)

I will miss how easy this was when we're city livin. Big time. 

She loves a good job. 

Reading 'The Big Book of Why', one of her favs. 

I put on Harper's rock 'n roll/90s Christina Applegate headband and she eats her breakfast and reads books and asks questions.

I always wonder what the teachers think of her feasts. Meh.

Someone should wash this carrier.

I pack her lunch (crackers, raisins, celery sticks, and water). On Wednesdays, her school has homemade bread and butter for snack and the kids eat a TON. They eat that around 10:30 and lunch is at noon, so we've all learned to just pack a snack. Bea is tired and a little crabby, so I wear her for a bit. But she's not into that (she used to love the carrier, but now prefers to be squirming freely) so I put her on the ground to play with blocks and the other random things she prefers to actual toys (spoons, cups, remote controls). I tell Harper she's gotta get dressed and brush her teeth while I do dog stuff (he always has to go to the bathroom 100 times in the morning).

Lolz re: Harper's face. She's mad I'm taking so many pics.

Walkin to the minivan. 

School bus crew. Plus Bea, facing backward out of sight.

At 8:20 we head out the door and pile into the van. We start with Music Together jams, but Bea is not happy with life, so we put on Peter Pan for her. Instant fix. We pass by a cute roadside stand I like to get burgers and onion rings from. Harper reads a new hand painted sign they have up:

"Hot and cold cider. What? Why would I want hot cider?" (the horror!)

"Ohhh because it's so yummy in the fall! Sweet with maybe a little cinnamon. And sometimes even whipped cream. Mmm..."

*thoughtful pause*

"I think I'd just like hot water."

Okay, ya nut. I like how Harper generally likes to parent herself in making healthier choices. "I'm too young to see a movie in a theater." "Water will be better than that orange juice." "This Barbie show looks like it's for much older kids." And on and on.

Takes about 20 minutes to get to school in the morning and then drop-off is easy. Just park and walk Harper inside to put her lunch in her cubby and then take her back out to the play yard, where they start every morning. I head back to the car and chat with another mom for awhile about how our dogs are a ton of work. Then I nurse Bea so she'll be happier on the ride home. I load her up and scurry back, worried she'll fall asleep in the car.

Made it!

Mmm. Caffeine juice.

We pull in and I hustle upstairs to nurse Bea and put her down. She's been awake for 3 hours, so it's definitely time. She goes down easily and I go back downstairs. I get the coffee going and take a deep breath for the most odious of tasks. Removing a giant tick from George (another! The hell?) and applying the gross tick juice to him. (Frontguard? Is that what it's called?)

I reward myself with coffee + giant splash of half and half (oops haven't eaten breakfast yet), then pay a medical bill online and submit preschool tuition expenses to a tax deductible reimbursement program that has honestly always confused me, but I roll with it. We've got all these things I've gotta get used up and done before Clay's last day of work next week. Eep! Hurry.

Bea is up 20ish minutes after putting her down. Sigh. Got halfway through my coffee and completed 3 not-fun tasks. Nurse her and then change her dipe and put her into some real clothes. I'm confused by these Gap leggings I bought for two dolla off eBay. New with tags but so, so short for 2t (I buy big because her legs are long and I can roll them up a bit and use them for longer). Maybe capris? Meh.

I feed her a little in her highchair, but she's always least interested in this morning meal. Realize I still haven't eaten and have a bowl of cereal. I usually don't go this route because I've got weird blood sugar and cereal in the morning makes me feel weird, but -- easy.

Heart our land.

I talk to my mom on the phone for a bit while I do general tidying around the house and carry fussy baby (she's got a cold). I get off the phone because she is just not her usual happy self and still obviously very tired. I don't do many carrier naps these days because she does real crib naps pretty successfully and because ow my back, but... I need the exercise, it's like 70 degrees and she's sick. So we go for it. She's asleep in 5 minutes and I walk for about 30. George tags (very slowly) along and I listen to one of my thousand podcasts (Baby Geniuses this time -- not about parenting!)

#health

Come back inside, nurse her again and then strap her into highchair for some goo. Mmm goo. She eats the whole bowl and then I dole out some puffs while I clean up the kitchen a bit. I make myself a hot dog (purchased for and rejected by Harper -- always trying to get protein in her, even if it's gross protein) and use a slice of whole wheat toast as a bun. And then eat two mini candy bars. I've had weight loss success by eating less calories, but higher fat and protein. I find that often means eating sort of gross junky foods. Whatev, it's temporary.

Best teether.

Harper and best friend Ruby on the left. I love them so.

12:40, time to leave and pick up Shem. Take George out and then put him in kennel. One ride to school in a day is enough, thanks. Bea whines the whole way there, but cheers up when we finally get to sissy. They hug and soon Harper and her best friend Ruby are off to their "car playdate" which we have to have most afternoons. Ruby's mom and I chat and I nurse Bea again and other moms come and go for a little chat. The girls hang out for 40 more minutes, which is longer than usual. I know I'm pushing it because Harper will be hungry and crabby and I can see she's tired. But it's nice to kill some time on a beautiful day...

Lo and behold, she starts to lose it (usually in the form of extreme indecisiveness and slowness doing anything) and I quickly hustle us into the car and hand her some mini blueberry muffins she loves for after school. We cruise home in silence (well, Bea is squawking a bit). We get inside, I make HJ wash her hands, then set her up with a snack (sliced apples and mini rice cakes) and a show (Paw Patrol, I think?) I change an ick dipe, put Bea in something warmer for sleep (her room is always freezing) and take her upstairs. I nurse her and put her down. She wails for 20 minutes, but is clearly exhausted and collapses right at the 20 minute mark. Now it's time to take care of the dog's needs. Take him out and give him his lunch.

I cuddle up with Harper for a bit on the couch and drink a cup of tea. No pictures because she's watching her show on my phone, a strange but typical choice.

Bea wakes up 45 minutes later. We all play blocks and wrestle the dog a bit before I set up HJ with a pumpkin and paint and glitter to do with it what she will. That keeps her busy for about an hour before she finds an Anne Geddes book (remember her?!) she picked out at the library book sale. We all look at that together and I feed Bea little pieces of Fig Newton. I have a slice of toast with pb and j.

Old Gap sweaters are the new fancy baby wearing technique. 

Fennel. Harper eats fistfuls at a time. Strange, strange child.

Harper gets way into dressing up her dolly and then insists we take her outside to swing. The weather has decidedly turned cooler, but it's also the time of day (5:00) when both kids are feisty and I'm often out of ideas/energy, so sure. I try and keep Bea bundled in my sweater, but she'd rather scoot around and crunch leaves. Harper swings and then pretends to Irish step dance and then throws dolly everywhere and then eats fennel from our garden. I pick up Bea and chase George around which makes her giggle hysterically. It starts to rain and we scoot inside.

Heart emoji.

I plunk Bea in her highchair and mix her up some oatmeal and fruit. I heat up some brown rice for Harper and pour her some water. Celery from lunch (zero of which got eaten) is repurposed. Super fancy and high calorie dinner. They both eat and the dog catches every dropped crumb. Helpful and annoying.

It's 6:00ish and time for me to do the bedtime shuffle with Bea. Harper is still eating, so I let her have my phone again while I change another ick dipe, do a washcloth bath, and bundle baby up for the night. She loves getting ready for bed, always has. Strange! We have a nice, lovey nurse and then I place her in the cribby. She smiles up at me, I walk away and zzzzzz. She's the easiest at bedtime.

I come down and start grownup dinner while HJ is still working on hers. I'm making pasta with sauteed chicken sausage. Very easy and will give me some lunch leftovers for tomorrow. Harper and I chat while I cook and she CONTINUES to eat (going on 1.5 hours now) and does a variety of things. I really enjoy this last hour or so of the day when it's just the two of us (or Clay, but he's been in major busy work mode lately). I give her a little whipped cream in a bowl with a spoon and she is utterly delighted. I've figured out it's almost the only dessert (aside from plain shortbread cookies) that she'll reliably ingest. We don't usually do dessert because it doesn't interest her, so it's fun for me (sad?) when it does. "Whipped cream and water are the ONLY things you can have after brushing your teeth! It's great!" Since she hasn't brushed her teeth yet, I'm not sure why the weird trying to convince me, but sure.

Ham.

The cleaners came yesterday. Won't look like this again till they're back.

We head up to bed and it's pretty late for her now, almost 8:00. We chat while she gets undressed and brushes her teeth and puts on jammies. She pees for something like the 5th and 6th time in the past 20 minutes, something she always does before bed. She runs down to get dolly and puts her to bed in the drawer-with-a-blanket we fashioned on the floor a few months ago. 

I put on her music (some tinny Mozart from a music box she's loved since she was 1.5) and get her tucked in. Lots of talk about how you can divide 10 so nicely into two parts, but man -- 5 just won't work out. So you're left with an extra piece. Which she demonstrates by holding up her middle finger? I'm all yep yep, I loooove division, cool. Gottagotho! Lights out, a few smooches, and Seacrest OUT! I don't hear another peep. Hallelujah. 

I make myself a bowl of pasta and get cozy on the couch with a blanket and a dog. I've got a bunch of podcasts to listen to, but I'm in a teev mood. I put on the pilot for Gilmore Girls, a show I've saved up for years and years now. It feels like time! Melissa McCarthy's on it?! S-O-L-D. 

No more pics after this because my phone was dead and so was I pretty much...

Clay comes home around 9:00 (this is why he'll be crashing in the city at our new place when the lease and job start -- 4+ hours of commuting a day ain't alright), gets some pasta, we chat a bit about our days and then he watches the World Series while I stumble upstairs. Around 10:30 my head hits the pillow and that's all she wrote, friends. 

On a Monday night

I just got Harper down for the night (well, hopefully -- though she's usually pretty breezy about bedtime, there are nights such as tonight where there's a lot of "I miss you so much when you're away from me and I care about you all the time and you should stay near me all day" and that can result in a few up and downs on ye 250-year-olde staircase) and my throat is so dry and sore. From the talking. So much talking.

Not only are there the normal 4-year-old things I must go through of word definitions and world explanations and such, there's just so much extra wordage with her -- because of her special her-ness. An example:

"Would you like a piece of Halloween candy after dinner?"
"Maybe."
"Okay cool, keep me posted."
"I said...MAYBE."
"Gotcha. No prob. Let me know."
"I didn't say YES or NO. I'm not sure! I don't know if I want candy!"
*I naively try silence*
"Hello! I said I'm not sure!"
"Right. You're not sure. That sounds good. Sometimes I'm not sure and I let people know and it helps just to talk about it. There's so much to decide in the decision of whether or not to have candy! I really see why this is a little stressful. I'm here if you need me. Okay?"
"Yeah. Okay."

Not in any way an exaggeration. And applies to myriad daily situations.

So when I think about the upcoming winter, and how she won't be in school, how we'll "homeschool" ... I might feel a little squirrelly. She'll do public kindergarten in September 2015, but since there'll only be 5ish months left of this school year once we're settled in Brooklyn (I love typing those words!!), and I don't want her to deal with too many back-and-forth transitions (and because she'll be THRILLED to be home and because it's f-r-e-e and because it's kind of awesome to stay snuggled inside during the polar vortex) it's just easier to to keep her out of school.

We'll sign up for art and dance and be busy exploring our new 'hood and all that, so I know we'll be fine and good. I just... think I'll need a lot of lozenges.

Friday

I really wanted to figure out what I was going to "be" before I had kids. Because I knew how hard it would be to go after it once they were in my life. But then, nevermind! I really, really wanted to have babies and that was so powerful a drive it won out before the career stuff got figured.

And sometimes I kick myself over that. I look at women who waited a bit longer, who got their Masters first, or put in 7 or 8 solid years of a career first... and I feel definite envy. They have these sick outfits and big projects they're leading and bowls of expensive Ramen they're slurping. They'll have that compartment of their life squared away and then they can do up Kid City. Whereas I've got the kid thing down, but at 32 I'm still on the journey of What's Next. The thought of catching up feels daunting.

But then I go wait! Look at these two delicious plums! I adore them, I need them, they're my team. I got it done, I had my kids -- check! I'm not 32 *insert old lady emoji* I'm 32 *insert cute lady wearing an Easter hat (?) emoji*  It's okay to do kids and then career and it's possible. There are still bowls of fancy Ramen waiting and maybe even a fancy croissant hybrid. *insert image of Mary Tyler Moore tossing a slouchy hipster beanie*

5:30 on Tuesday

I'm hanging a piece of yarn, strung with crumbling sparkly leaves, across the dining room window ("for our fall decoration look!") when I hear a knock at the door. Don't have my glasses on or my contacts in, so it could be Santa or the UPS man or a serial killer. My dog reacts the same to any and all: JOY! BARKING!

I hop down (leaves unceremoniously fall to the ground) and grab the baby while I hustle to the door. Both feet/legs/abdomen all become tangled in ball of string. It unravels and tangles through many chairs/block towers/exersaucer as I make my way to the door.

Oh, cool! It's the pest guy. Who, with zero warning, always shows up around dinner time to check our ancient house for pest activity. I just can't with this.

George is losing his mind. Harper ran outside to hunt for more leaves and I can't see her anywhere. Baby is screaming and trembling because pest guy is giving off Weird Man Vibe. The boiling water for rice is overflowing and the hotdog is burning and I am a mummy of string.

But yes! I am super excited that you and your muddy boots and Weird Man Vibe are here to look around my house for tiny mouse activity. This is a really good time for that.

Things that I only have 1-2 sentences for at the moment

1) I haven't read a book in years that I've so constantly wanted to highlight passages or quotes from (since college? when I had to?), but now I'm reading Julia Child's My Life in France and it's all such gold that I find myself constantly reaching for a pen. Her whole life and world view are like a street drug of inspiration for me.

2) Things I want once a year: Fig Newtons. Pineapple juice.

3) Bea is doing such a bad ass job of sleeping. She goes down without a peep at 6:00 and then zzzzz without a peep until she wakes around 4:30 when I'll nurse her (I initially ditched that feed and we were up for the day at 5:00 and no just no) and then she'll sleep again till 6:30ish usually. This means everything in the universe to my soul.

4) I can't stop thinking about Mindy saying "I'm a masculine woman and he's an effeminate man!"

5) Oh oh! We found an apartment! More details later, but I am so excited that sometimes I actually can't sleep at night. Cannot remember the last time I've had that feeling.

6) HOLY WHAT WITH ALL THE TOY CATALOGS. Can I just haz the Sears Wishbook and call it a day?

7) I have to go ask Clay to take a tick off Georgie's neck because that is something I am unable to emotionally handle. Killing a rat with a frying pan? Sure. But no, not ever this.

Moving on up, or I guess just south

Okay, so because I've been feeling antsy in the country... we're moving! Joke joke. Clay actually got a big ol' new job in Manhattan (go, cc! Very proud of him) and the commute into the city from out here would just be brutal (like 4 hours or more a day brutal) and we'd never see his face. And yes, okay, I have been feeling antsy. I'm not a boonies kind of girl, people.

For now, we're planning to try and keep our house and also rent a pad in Brooklyn. This means sticking to a real budget and maybe we'll rent out the apartment again and maybe we'll wave the flag and go no, too much! But we do love this house and want a place to traipse the fields and see zero people and let the girls swim and so why not give it a try.

The plan is still coming together, but I think we'll finish out Harper's school through Christmas break and then move. I haven't broken the news to her friends or teachers or even her yet, so that will be a process. We may very well sign a lease before December so we can get things set up and Clay can have a crash pad. It all depends on what we find and when it's available.

I'm pretty sure lots of people will think this sounds crazy and stressful and what? And to them I say nobody can eat 50 eggs. Or actually I'll just say I'm excited! It's okay and good and the girls will be just fine. I pretty much can't deal with all that's going to be near me/walkable/subwayable.

Tomorrow we're looking at places in the neighborhood where the Huxtables lived so, yeah, JOY. (We're going to have our own sitcom material with 4 people going from multiple bathrooms to 1.)

And that's kinda that! (Working title for said sitcom?)

On writing words

I want to write a post about secondary infertility and recurrent early miscarriage (say that 12 times fast), but it feels daunting and heavy -- so once the girls fall asleep I usually drink my cocoa and stare at my hands instead. But I'll get to it. It's such a weird and lonely thing and I'd like to throw a little comfort out into the universe.

(Woah to be clear, I'm talking about the in-between time from Harper to Bea. Not present day life. I'm a-l-l s-e-t on the kid front. Shew.)

Okay here's another heavy:

Another thing I want to write is a book-length (hey! I guess that's just called a book!) telling of our family's (Clay's) experience with cancer. It would really go into the whole story of how we got to a diagnosis (a musical made us take things seriously), middle-of-the-night emergency surgery, being in my 20s and seeing a chemo spill kit in my linen closet on the reg, caring for a baby through it all, living away from family, going crazy with healthy eating (like making bone marrow broth for after treatments...) and managing it all while keeping life mostly happy and un-cancer-centric. It would be intense, I'm sure, but also -- I hope -- a good and even a funny read.

I feel like this might could be a solid memoir, but am I way off? Would anyone read it? I need a big project to focus on and get passionate about and maybe this is it. Or maybe I'll just keep writing lots of unfinished short stories? And/or drink cocoa and stare at my hands.

How can I jolly this post up? Oh! Here's a fun bite: We're moving to Brooklyn (maybe maybe Manhattan but mostly probably Brooklyn) in the next couple months. Put that in your pipe and smoke it?

*puff puff pow*

Tuesday morn

We've been in Maine this week, hanging with my mom and taking walks and eating whoopie pies and then taking more walks because of the whoopie pies. Harper had no school Monday and Tuesday (flashback to one of my first posts on my first blog, 8 years ago, when I was bemoaning California's lack of Columbus Day and someone made a comment about me enjoying mass genocide cool cool) so it was a good time for a trip.

The long drive with the two girls is fine until it isn't and Bea is screaming for 2 hours straight. Nothing cuts through a heart/resolve to keep living like car crying. We're heading home tonight and actually leaving at night to take advantage of her off switch that happens at 6:00... Here's hoping.

Speaking of which, last night Bea slept from 6:00-6:30 without a peep. All hail sleep training! All hail.

Tomorrow we jump back into real life again, this time with dog in tow and chilly temps on the way. Time to start shoving poor Harper into woolen long unders and begin my wake-up-and-immediately-build-a-fire-like-I'm-in-Downtown-Abbey routine. Super vintage of us, I know.

(Side note: Is anyone other than my mom and me listening to the Serial podcast yet? It's so good! I have so many thoughts! I'm alone with these thoughts! Help!)

Throwing up a few words while Bea naps and my Lean Cuisine "cooks"

1) Looka those two! This weekend was pretty perfect in the way that fall weekends just seem to be. Saturday was rainy and cozy and Harper went to ballet and then bought giant teddy bears with Clay at Costco, Sunday was bright blue and sunny and crisp. We all ran around the yard and kicked a ball in a pseudo soccer game, Bea on Clay's shoulders, laughing hysterically. We did puzzles and ate sushi and BBQ and crunched leaves.

This house is such a delightful weekend house, especially in the fall. It's hard to beat the sunlight and the willows over the pond and the twisting roads through orange leaves. But then it turns to Monday, a winter Monday especially, and I'm belting out "Castle on a Cloud" from Les Mis while Clay worriedly plays the piano for me. Let us just say I get a wee bit...isolated out here. There are major flashbacks to my life at age 11 in a similar town going WHAT IN THE WORLD IS THERE TO DO and eventually just lip synching to Amy Grant. But! I was really just saying this weekend was nice. And also: no house is perfect even if it looks that way on Instagram.

2) Mondays are wonderful because on Mondays all my podcasts turn fresh. Jordan, Jesse, Go! My Brother, My Brother, and Me! This American Life! Start Up! And now Serial, This American Life's new spin-off. Heaven heaven heaven. Who was I before podcasts? A shell of a human, from what I recall.

3) Last night I started work on a new blog for H's school, which I've taken on this year as my volunteer contribution.  They're hoping to use it for outreach when someone expresses interest or if they're Googling around for preschools in the area. My vision quest is to make the school sound inviting and charming, but not intimidating or confusing. No talk about Steiner or other pedagogy, I just want to focus on the homemade apple crisp every Friday and the fact that kids get to climb giant trees. (Er or maybe that's a deterrent?) But damn is it hard to write about all that stuff without sounding smug or insane.

4) Today is a magical sort of day because H got picked up and driven to school (only a Monday thing, as another family drives by here once a week at the right time) and is also getting picked up after school for a play date at her best's house. ("AND YOU WON'T BE THERE, MOM.") Helps a ton with Bea and all her napping needs, as well as giving me a big break from all the back-and-forth school driving, which adds up to an hour everyday. I know, I know -- world's tiniest violin, but when that hour is spent with a cranky baby in tow it adds up. Anyway. I admit to having a hard time saying goodbye to my girl this morning, knowing I wouldn't see her again till 3:00 and picturing her cruising around with other people driving. Am I nuts that the other people driving thing is my most hated part of letting go?

5) I made Clay watch Glengarry Glen Ross with me last night after never having seen it and always wanting to and excuse me? Oh, so very depressing. I thought it would be angry Mamet-y and intense and flashy 80s, but mostly it was full of a million sads. Must clear my palate with podcasts. Mmm podcasts.

Suppertime bedtime life hacks so I don't go crazy

Bea, Harper and I like to head upstairs around 6:00 and start the party in HJ's room. She's got a little table and chair surrounded by an ocean of coloring supplies and books and I'll get her stationed there with supper. The other night that was a big bowl of brown rice (with Braggs, always with Braggs baby) and a pile of fresh mango. I'm a miser about suppertime drinks because of nighttime bathroom visits, but I'll give her a little Dixie cup of water.

While she eats and reads, Bea and I are in the attached bathroom doing a quick tubby. Splash splash remove the caked on squash and unidentified goo, check. After a fresh dipe and clean jammies, I tell HJ I'll be back in a sec ("and please don't do anything weird") and head next-door to Bea's room. Sound machine on, check, quick nurse and cuddle and check! Down in her cribby. Grab the monitor and back to Harper who's finishing up her last bites and last pages.

While she luxuriates in her lavender bubble bath ("My friends are gonna loooove how I smell tomorrow!") I hand her a toothpasted toothbrush and zwoop -- toofs done.

After tubs, she puts on fresh undies and socks and then we'll pick out soft leggings and a cotton top. Already dressed for the morning kapow!

Into bed, curtains closed, a chapter of Stuart Little, snuggles and a few guilt trips, music box on, a few more snuggles and "I just care about you so much, Mom..."... Grab the monitor and Seacrest o-u-t.

Cue Mindy Project and a plate of chocolate.

(This is all trickier with George in tow, but he's on vacay till next week. So we'll just lalallala fingers in ears until then!)

Things I will never add to my online signature if I were ever to post on a mom forums which I won't

• How long I've been breastfeeding. Ah! This info always goes right next to your name and age, as if... it's as important to your identity? Fuh realsies? And then you write GOLD for a year and PLATINUM for...three? Fifteen? No idea. Don't care. Please please find a non-boob-related hobby.
• What kind of diapers I use. Again. What I use to soak up my baby's bio fluids is going to be one of the top ways I introduce myself? Help! Minds are being lost here!
• How and where my kid sleeps. Is this because Dr. Sears told us all that cribs are like prisons? And so we're explaining to the peanut gallery how we don't condone babies in jail? (Prisons!) (He's never watched OITNB, clearly.)

All this self-worth-from-very-specific-parenting-choices is coming from a very weird place that did not exist 200 years ago. No one cared what the hell you did regarding NAPS back then.

In addition:

Almost without fail, the people who DO feel the urgent need to say they've nursed for 134 years and birthed their 9 children in a cabin without electricity or running water are the harshest people on these forums. Whenever someone, usually a first time mom, tentatively asks (first mistake, newbie! Don't ask random Internet strangers!) if maybe they could put their baby down for a nap so that they themselves might nap or drink hot coffee with both hands or just have their body to themselves for 20 minutes .... these moms come out in full force (do they have Google alerts set up for these sleep deprived searches?) saying:

It's unnatural to put baby down/they would have died in the caveman days/you can get ANYTHING done with baby attached to you/babies will become homeless if not carried/it's EASY to carry a baby all the time are you SURE you really wanted to be a mother?

How I wish I were kidding.

Guys. I've just had it with all this bizarre, militantly crunchy bragging followed by fear mongering. And listen! I do alllllllll the crunchy things (refuse to list them!) and still need this to go away yesterday. It's just a nuanced way to shame other women, another way to bring down someone who's fighting the good fight. Maybe I'm supposed to ignore the forum bullies, tell myself it's insecurity on their part and it's harmless. But I don't feel like it is.

I used to think all these details (breastfeeding vs formula vs cribs vs beds vs strollers vs woven wraps) were more important than they really are, so I get it. I get how identifying as an Attachment Parent Who Is Anti Crying It Out can feel like the only thing to hold onto in the nebulous web of motherhood. But let's be cooler than this, ladies. Let's show the world we've got much more on our minds than how we feed and diaper our kids. And hey, when that is what's on our minds -- because inevitably, sometimes it just is -- let's listen to each other and let's be a bit openminded and a lot bit kind. Because can't we all agree that's more important than the rest of it?