((This is a phone post so it’s not gonna be particularly fancy with gifs and memes I’m sorry 😐 but I’m at least able to use emojis from phone posts, so w00t! 💯💖😂🤷🏻♀️))
So clearly I didn’t end up posting the next week, or even the week after my last post. But, this is better than going 4+ months without posting anything, right? 😅 I’m getting there, you guys!
The next post will actually be about how to repurpose old formula tins. Not that you couldn’t use your perfectly capable imaginations or look to Pinterest for ideas, but maybe, just maybe, I have some ideas that they don’t 😉
Anyway, being at home all of the time with my son is a blessing. It really is. Having said that though, after a while being a full time SAHM admittedly has kind of, well, sucked from time to time.
I’ve been having a rough go of it lately, for reasons I’ll get into later…but during these trying times, My patience has become paper thin. Actually, is there a substance thinner than paper?
My son has been going through his one year leap, too, and as a result he has been testier than usual. And on the particularly bad days, I’ve found myself thinking “mean thoughts.”
To be clear, these are not harmful nor destructive thoughts, just kind of, well, mean. I feel like I’m not the only one who’s thought similarly, though, so I’m here to share them with you!
Here are some Mean Mom Thoughts I’ve had and what they mean!
💭Advice to women whose husbands ask you to about trying to start a family: You know how when you were a kid and you asked your parents for a puppy, kitten, what have you, and you promised to take care of them, feed them, clean up after them, etc? And how many of you actually held up your end of the bargain when you eventually got your beloved furry companion?
💭This is like that. Like your parents and your dog, you will end up doing all of the hard work while your husband enjoys the fun parts like snuggling and playing, etc. It’s a bum deal. Proceed with caution.
((It should be noted that my husband is 💯 percent the real deal when it comes to sharing the burden. He’s proactive and sympathetic, and I don’t know what I did to deserve him. I try to give him his well-deserved time off, too, although he claims helping out with our son is time off to him. Honestly, he is amazing. #dadsdontbabysit 🙌🏻))
💭*child is wild’n out for absolutely no good reason*
💭*googles if it’s harmful to the body to give night time cold medicine to someone who doesn’t have a cold*
((I would NEVER, of course, but sometimes…))
💭Husband: Idk I think it would be nice to have 5 or 6 kids…
💭Me: Well I’ll tell you what, they’re gonna be our live-in cleaning staff otherwise why would you do that to yourself? That’s the only reason people had that many kids back in the day, it’s the only logical explanation.
((Let it be known, I have nothing but admiration for people with 4+ kids. Seriously, more power to you! And I get the whole more to love mindset, but honestly, I’m walking the delicate tightrope of patience and sanity with just one, I cannot imagine what state I’d be in (mentally and maybe even geographically at some point…) if it were a bad day with three times the crazy I have now. God bless Moms of lots! 💪🏻))
💭*Baby begins his waking klaxon call upstairs 2 minutes before anticipated to wake up time.*
💭*Me, completely invested in a Netflix binge ignoring sink full of dishes and a pile of laundry with a two mile summit at the bottom of the staircase*
💭Nah, d00d, he’s just talking in his sleep he’s fine. Carry on.
((Sure enough he usually isn’t just talking in his sleep and I do get myself up to tend to him. What becomes of the dishes and laundry is a story for another day…))
💭*Grandparent asks if they can take the child for the day at the end of the week*
((We all need a break once in a while. Even the ones who are inseparable from their progeny at some point, I imagine, must need some space to b r e a t h e. Every Mom needs a MOMent to herself, for her health. I don’t feel too bad about this one. What’s that they say about empty cups?))
And for the sake of this being too long, I will end it here. I may or may not have a sequel to this, though. Most likely, yes.
Formula can story first, I promise!! 😜
But long story short, we all have “Mean thoughts” as moms sometimes. It doesn’t mean we don’t love our little ones, nor does it mean we are actually mean moms. It means we are human, we are tired, and we are coping.
Hang in there, Mom. I see you. And I know you see me, too.
Thanks for reading, my gals! Now let’s see if I can make another post within a month! 😂🤣
I’ve been putting this off for a long time now. It’s like I’ve been afraid of it, for some reason. And the longer I went without updating, the more afraid to post I’ve been. It’s become more than my signature procrastination at this point–I’ve been Stupefy’d with fear of failure/not being good enough.
I’ve almost been feeling like I’m losing my ability to write these days. Which is devastating, as writing has always been my primary source of expression. This is how I communicate. You would never guess if you actually had a face-to-face conversation with me that I am actually able to string words into sentences in any way.
These past few months I’ve felt like I’m no good at writing anymore. I’ve hated every single thing I’ve worked on, including this. I have a few drafts I haven’t posted for fear of whatever it is being the actual worst thing to ever be posted. I’ve been looking back on my old posts and have been cringing at the way they came out–way too long, the formatting is hard to look at, etc, so I’ve been afraid to keep going.
Basically I’ve been back on my bullshizz and I’m trying to come back.
I have Mom brain. Really bad. I can barely speak or understand my native language anymore, it seems, and I can’t look away from a task for more than two seconds before forgetting what it was that I had been doing. I leave lights on when I leave, drinks on top of cars–you name it, I’ve done it. Dory would be concerned for me.
I’m sure this goes without saying, but once you have a child, the part of your brain reserved for memory, focus, and basic motor function is replaced with deciphering different cries, coming up with baby food recipes, and Raffi song lyrics.
Add Mom Brain to selling an apartment, buying a house, moving, and the pressure of freelancing, ghostwriting, and the subconscious desire to pursue ever-expanding personal projects with super-writer’s block/mental constipation, and that’s the equation for my semester-long silence on this blog.
I’d like for this to go somewhere. I want to believe that I have something to offer other Moms. But I know we all have to start somewhere, and we can’t improve what we give up on.
That’s why I can’t give up on this blog. Even if it’s a little incoherent now, I know it can’t get better unless I work on it. That’s why every week/bi-weekly I have to have some kind of post on here. Even if it doesn’t make sense or it, “isn’t that great.”
I’ve been so afraid and unsure of myself, comparing myself to other mom bloggers with bigger (actual) followings that I’ve allowed myself to be self-deprecating and self-sabatoging. It’s so easy to do as a Mom to compare yourself to others, and as a result feel completely incompetent and like every single thing you’re doing is wrong.
I’ve come to realize that if I give up on this, I’m partially giving up on myself, and I can’t allow that for a second. I have to set an example for my son. Of course it’s only natural and human to have doubts in everything, including ourselves, but we have to overcome them. I want my son to believe in himself, and in order for him to understand how, I have to model that for him.
I’m going to be working on updating the aesthetic of this blog and possibly getting my own domain name so maybe that will help with the performance anxiety a bit. So stay tuned on that!
Thank you for bearing with me. I know I keep promising that repurposing formula scoops/tins post. It’s coming, I swear!
Some updates for you:
Recently we said goodbye to our old two bedroom, 650 sq ft apartment in favor of a townhouse twice the size and there’s so much more room for activities now! We are also right next to my SIL at Becoming Rivera! Vinny will be right next door to his baby cousin! ❤ ❤ ❤
We anticipate doing several renovations to the house, but all aesthetic! I’ve never lived in a space this large, so it’s a little overwhelming. But we’re going to make it our own, even if we end up making it #nailedit experience.
Vinny is ten months old as of June 12th! He’s already somewhat walking, and as always is completely ravenous all the time! He continues to grow like a weed! He’s been going through growth spurts, teething, and developmental leaps so he’s been having good days and really not so good days. Overall, he’s an amazing baby, and I look forward to seeing what comes next!
Here’s some pictures to bring you up to speed!
Thanks for hanging in there with me! This really is the toughest job there is, but we got this! Thanks for reading, my gals (and d00ds). Till next time!
(I know I said I’d post about reusing formula tins and scoops, but I’m sickly, tired, and I need to vent about this. It may not be very coherent, but I present to you my horror story)
Today was a day.
So it started out okay, went to the doctor for a good old Pap smear and blood test, and found out I have a virus making its way through me. 😷 Nothing a little vitamin c and rest won’t fix, tho.
Except there ain’t no rest for the momkind. Not even when we close our eyes for good, because we all know we’re gonna be hovering over our kids as ghosts just to make sure they’re taking their centrum and brushing their dentures.
But I digress.
So I’m running around feeling sick as a dog, getting my doctor stuff done, getting a phone interview done, running to the bank to get some cash for OfferUp Baby Supplies purchases I had lined up and fixing my debit card, and then I had to pick up my son who was at my mother’s so I could bring him to his 6 month checkup.
Well everything was running relatively smoothly, albeit tight. When what do my new super mom-ears should hear, but my darling son grunting and pushing into his rear.
Okay, so he’s pooping. I think to myself as I approach the halfway point between my mother’s and my family practice. I can just change him real quick at the doctor’s.
Except, oh wait, no I can’t…left the damn diaper bag at Mom’s for the sake of saving a good two minutes. Didn’t think I’d need it in the one hour and change I would be out.
Big. Mistake. 🤦🏻♀️
I pull into the country store on the way to the doctor and take my boi out and point out a grinning bulldog for him to reciprocate the sanguine gesture to. Then we wander around the tiny shop in search of a pack of overpriced diapers and a 10 pack of wipes.
Well, quite the assortment of condoms, but no baby amenities…
I hastily made a hand sanitizer purchase and made my way out, having my son wave bye-bye to the smiling doggie. As I went to put him in his car seat, I felt something drip down my wrist.
I looked down in hopes of seeing drool, but no such luck…
This was a big one.
In a viral, mind-hazed panic, I raced to the CVS down the street from my Doctor’s office. We wandered around looking for the smallest pack of diapers and wipes to get us by in this emergency situation, but I swear the price tag of every item read, “Arm, Leg, and Kidney.” In desperation I grabbed a 28 pack of size four diapers and a to-go pallet of store-brand wipes.
After I gave the convenience store clerk the down payment on a Ferrari in exchange for some infant essentials, I made our way to the bathroom, awkwardly dodging yet to be stocked inventory and pulling the plastic bag out of my son’s Kung-fu grip.
So we get into the ladies room and naturally, it is equipped with everything but a changing station…so I have to make due with what I’ve got. I pull my son’s shorts off to confirm that they have indeed been compromised, so I have no choice but to have him go without.
Let me just tell you, changing a category 6 diaper in a car seat on the floor of a public restroom is literally the worst.
💩💩💩 e v e r y w h e r e 💩💩💩
While I’m sweating like a mofo, I wrestle with my son to keep his hands out of his diaper whilst simultaneously trying to pry single wipes out of this cheap container like medieval basic bros trying to pry Excalibur from the fabled stone, only to have them come out three and four at a time. It’s either peel them apart and save some of them and risk my little boy do what little boys do and have all hell break loose, or sacrifice a few wipes in the interest of getting him clean.
And that is how that whole entire inventory of wipes got cleared tf out.
This whole time he’s squirming, uncomfortable, and crying, people are beginning to knock, and I’m losing balance while trying to get him clean without getting anything over his car seat. It was a challenge to say the least.
Finally I manage to get him cleaned up as best I can, throw the diaper in the open trash receptacle (in retrospect I totally forgot to cover it so I feel bad for whoever walked in on that…) and get the dock out of fudge, of course 10 minutes late at this point, with my baby in a tank top and diaper only.
And so now I have to desperately explain to the receptionist, who very patiently and politely pretends to listen to my plight, the series of events that just unfolded in hopes that I will not look like a neglectful parent. To what avail, I’m not sure…
We get our favorite medical assistant, at least, and we get him measured and weighed. Then the doctor comes in to look him over and of course I look down when he removes his diaper to see that I had MiSSeD a sPoT when I was cleaning 😨😰😩 But other than that, he got a squeaky clean bill of health. At least something was clean today…
So we finish up the 6 month requirements and go to check out and make his 9 month visit, all while I try to face his car seat away from people so they don’t see my baby in just a diaper and shirt like the son of rif-raf. Once I take the appointment card and go to do my walk of shame, what should happen but a convoy of the slowest moving people make their way into the practice, while others make their way out, all looking at my practically naked child, and then to me, judgement clearly plastered on their faces. I made my way to the car, buckled my upset son in, and made my way home in a sickly, sulky funk.
While all of this was happening, I felt like the biggest loser of a Mom. I started thinking crazy thoughts like, “I can’t do this!” And, “I don’t deserve to be a mom…” I let this one time I was not overprepared have me believe that I was a failure and a bad mom. I know you’ve been there, too, and I know I’ll be there again. We all have those #momfail moments that drain almost all of our HP and make us want to ragequit. But we know we can’t, and so we persevere.
I had a long talk with myself and realized that if I really was a bad mom, I wouldn’t have felt as badly as I did. I realize that I made a mistake, I did all I could do at the time to correct it, and I’ve learned from it. I know now that I should always have supplies on me, even if I’m only out with my son for an hour or even less, because you really never know when the Call of Doodie will strike.
So my Gals (and d00ds), be sure to keep an extra bag full of diapers, wipes, creams, powders, etc, and most importantly a change of clothes in your car at all times!! Learn from my mistakes!
We all feel like we suck at this game, but we got this!! It doesn’t get any easier, but we are always leveling up to meet whatever boss battles come our way.
Thanks for reading! Next post will be on ways to reuse those formula cans and scoops so you can really get your money’s worth!!
Whatcha gonna do when menstrual-mania runs wild on you??
((I’m not the biggest wrestling fan, but the title just felt fitting))
So I’m up past my bedtime, my Baby sleeping against my chest, scrolling through social media when a link to Kylie’s secret pregnancy video diary/reveal/what-have-you pops onto my feed.
I scoff to myself. But click it for satisfaction of thought.
Now, Ya Grrl’s not normally one of those emotional, chick-flick-tropey, chocolate and tears type of gal. But something about this stupid video hit just right.
Maybe it’s because I’ve got my period, and I’m still acclimating to the Keto diet, which apparently does stuff to your hormones as the estrogen melts out of your adipose tissue (nature, you freaky), so all of that’s messing with me. But I got a little weepy.
It’s like all of the times I was “supposed” to cry and didn’t all came at me and pinned me to the mat–the positive pregnancy test, the first heartbeat, the first ultrasound/gender reveal, the baby shower, the birth…all of those times Moms normally cry, I didn’t have a tear to shed…
And then out of the deep blue this cheesy tabloid celebrity Baby video knocks the wind out of my tough girl persona sails (“It’s not like I like you, or anything, B a k a!!1!!1!! 😂).
Don’t get me wrong, I get misty and I do cry, just maybe not as much as a normal girl? 🤷🏻♀️
My baby, who was once a tiny little chia seed inside my belly, is now nearly 25 pounds of little man, and at 6 months fits into 12 month outfits. He went from a string-Bean troll doll to an actual baby to basically a toddler in under a year.
I feel like I didn’t embrace pregnancy and the half year stretch as much as I could have. Watching Kylie’s video made me wish I had taken the time to document more of my journey and connect with my son from the very beginning…maybe it could have helped with some of the issues I had in the third trimester and postpartum. I feel like I missed out on something somehow.
So maybe I blubbered a little bit like, well, a baby. But I can’t do it again, even if I want to, and I have to make the best of what I have right now.
And right now, I think I’ll snuggle my peacefully sleeping baby a little more, dry my eyes, eat a handful of Lily’s sugar free chocolate chips, and try to get some sleep myself.
(Not) A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy (not) Far, Far Away…
Not much more than a year ago, my husband and I were enjoying married life. We went to work and came home to each other, made dinner, talked about our days, and then unwound by playing video games, laughing at memes, binge-watching animes, etc. Things were pretty peaceful in the Ruiz apartmenthold. 🏡💞💏
So when I saw that little faint pink line on that First Response stick, I was shook. Literally. I could not stop shaking–though admittedly, it was the result I had been expecting.
It was a few months prior to this that my husband had approached me and had brought up the prospect of starting a family. We had been married for a couple of years, and we weren’t getting any younger.
I had gone back and forth on the subject, having gone into our marriage entertaining the idea right away at the tender age of 24, but after hosting a couple of parties, I’d decided that I wasn’t ready to relinquish my youthful antics, and forwent the family path in favor of “living my life.” But as it would turn out, “living my life” wound up just being a lot of day drinking on weekends while playing a lot of Gamecube (not a bad life, all things considered).🍻🥡🕹
This conversation took place shortly before my sister-in-law’s wedding (who by the way, also has a blog on this site, and is due with my first niece in February *squee!!1!*💖🎀), which would take place in late October. We were already both entering shaky territory in our respective career lives, he had just started an electrical business with our brother-in-law, and I had been only about 90 days into a new job with promise of advancement into local journalism (not the right path for me anyhow, as it turns out), so I was a bit hesitant to add a baby into that mix. But the more we talked, the more it just made sense to take a leap of faith. We were at an age where we had had the opportunity to have fun with life, we had enjoyed being husband and wife for a good couple of years, but we were still full of youthful vigor, enough to keep up with the boundless energy of a small child, and young enough still that we could enjoy a good few years of retirement by the time our last child was out on his or her own (he wanted to have 5 children, I wanted 3…so far we’ve settled for 4…). And so, we decided to leave things in God’s hands see what happens.
And happen it did. Which brings us to the morning of Saturday, December 17, 2016–one year ago today.
I held the stick out to my husband with a trembling hand. “Look,” I said, eyes wide with wonder and fear. He studied the device for a moment, then looked at me with eyes filled with awe and love. We smiled at each other for a moment, a wave of mixed emotions washed over the two of us. It was beautiful and terrifying. 🤩😨
my still (relatively) taught belly, as if I would get a response from the microscopic life forming inside of me. My husband told me not to squish our tiny seed, and then he ran his hand over my midsection in circular motions, saying, “I just want to rub you like a genie all day.” But alas, duty called, and he had to leave us, his wife and brand-sparkling-new microbaby, to go to work. 😥👩👦💡
Looking back, I wish we hadn’t taken the test on a day he had to be gone for 8 hours tending to his then budding business (it’s blossomed since), as it would have been really nice to soak in the moment with him. I don’t really remember the rest of the day from there, until we went to see Rogue One with my sister-in-law and brother-in-law later that night. Then I remember flying off the handle at the fact that we had to move our cars out of our apartment parking lot and onto the street in preparation for the impending snow, not to mention clear one of them off, as it had already been snowing. I screamed every obscenity known to man, my white hot rage almost enough to melt all of the wretched, white cold stuff for me. It was just a preview for what was to come for the rest of my pregnancy.
ards the end o
vember 2016, our own little Thanksgiving miracle 🦃💫. I was feeling pretty good into Christmas, wondering if I would get away with a full first trimester without nausea (ha. hahaha. ahahahaha…). I enjoyed copious amounts of guacamole and veggie chips, as that pretty much all I wanted to eat 🥑😋. Not out of sickness or aversion (although the week before, I had found my stomach turning at my once favorite roast chicken ramen), but out of my insatiable desire to consume it. My tiny little chia seed baby must have needed something in that savory avocado mash and delectable potatoey veggie crispiness, as I put away easily 10 packs and 5 bags of the stuff a week. Christmas came and went, my husband and I keeping our precious secret, a gift too special to share so soon. Despite my general apprehension, I was feeling alright.
That is, until the nausea hit. 🤢🤢🤢
Right around New Year’s Eve, I had started to feel twinges of upset in my stomach. I hadn’t thrown up yet, but I was starting to almost want to. I remember my husband and I had gone to Boston to celebrate New Year’s Eve, our way of getting out of having to be around our friends and get “found out” too soon. We went to PF Chang’s and I ordered crab rangoon (after first researching if it was okay for me to consume it–2-3 servings of seafood a week is permittable, aside from shark, king mackerel, swordfish, and tilefish, which was great because I still enjoyed tuna–after the first trimester, of course–and I found a pregnancy safe canned tuna!), and a small order of orange chicken. After a couple of bites, I began feeling ill. I ordered a ginger beer, and slowly sipped it in between bites, and was able to save my delicious dinner. Later that night, we would welcome 2017, me, my husband, and our precious, clandestine tiny one.
The next week I went to my very first OB GYN visit the very first thing in the morning. I went through the motions, allowing the Nurse Practioner to examine me, the reality of the situation still sinking in. I was in good health, I was told, and was given the estimated due date of August 15, 2017. I looked at the calendar on the wall–August seemed a lifetime away, and yet far too soon. Every emotion hit me at once–disbelief, excitement, anticipation, apprehension, love, fear…a lot of fear…I said a silent prayer and left the office that snowy January morning to go into work.
I kept my pregnancy a secret from the office until a good few weeks into my second trimester. Things were really rocky there, and they depended on me for a lot (although I hardly felt helpful, despite all of their praise). I knew that I was going to leave at some point to take care of myself and prepare for my baby, aside from the fact that I wasn’t exactly happy in my work. But every time I thought about revealing my secret (after the 11 week window) and put in my notice, something would come up, and I’d put it off that much longer…which did not do well for my emotional wellbeing. I put in time each day, trying my best to battle fatigue, sickness of stomach, anxiousness and moroseness and perform my duties.
The rest of my first three months were more or less a sickly blur, until 11 weeks, when we first heard our baby’s heartbeat. The Dr found him just about as soon as the Doppler touched my stomach. We listened to his tiny heart flitting away, and I heard it almost harmonize with my own slower, but pounding, heartbeat. My husband commented that it almost sounded like mine was guiding our little one’s along. 💕
As I lay there with my hand in my husband’s, his phone over my belly to record the sound for our friends and family, I felt in a state of nervous rapture. I didn’t cry, but just kind of stared down at my belly, still in disbelief that there was life–part me, part the love of my life–developing in there. 💓💗
We slowly revealed the news to our closest family and friends. I didn’t put anything up on Facebook until we were nearly 15 weeks in, as that was when I finally revealed to work.
My first trimester was more or less typical, full of nausea, dry heaving, headaches, anger, irritability, aching boobs, and tiredness. I only actually vomited twice during the whole pregnancy (I know, please don’t hurt me!) but the rest of the time, I sincerely felt like I was perpetually on the precipice of puking my guts out. And a little bit after New Year’s (7-8 weeks), I found myself retching at the thought of my once beloved chips and guacamole, and for what felt like the longest time, all I could seem to tolerate was applesauce, toast with peanut butter, and slices of deli cheese, and it h a d to be Hannaford brand American cheese, otherwise I’d be fighting back vomit the rest of the night. 🧀
It was around week 10-11 I felt I could pretend to eat real food. I’d make myself eat, and then want to immediately reject the entire contents of my stomach, but would manage to keep it down, though only through 10% luck, 20% skill, 15% concentrated power of will (lol “Remember the Name”-Fort Minor)…and the remaining percent pain. Definitely pain… 😬
I didn’t take many pictures of my first trimester, sadly. I wanted to, but at the same time I felt too self-conscious. I wasn’t as in shape as I would like to have been when we went into this, so I guess that was my way of punishing myself. 😪
First Trimester Hax So now you’ve come to the tips and tricks part of the post. How I made it through, basically. I felt sort of like a Saiyan, made stronger after being beaten down to near death (although in truth I really had it made compared to a lot of ladies…I’m so sorry for all of you out there who are going through, or have really been through the ringer. It doesn’t last forever, and you’ll be stronger for it. You the real Super Saiyans!)
🤮For nausea, it was ginger Beer and Gin Gins!! I can’t stress enough how much Gin Gins have been the real MVP for me while at work and out in public! They have literally saved me from puking all over insertion orders at my desk, (being adjacent from the open kitchen downwind from the microwave and not losing it on a daily basis was a feat) and I’ve been able to just pop them in my mouth if feeling like I might do the technicolor yawn all over the supermarket floor. Seriously, if you’re in the battle right now, get your hands on some Gin Gins! #notspon
🏋🏻♀️🧘🏻♀️Although it pained me to do so, at least every other morning I’d do a First Trimester Workout circuit from YouTube. The video I followed suggested repeating it two times after it ended, but I could only will myself to complete one. During pregnancy, you get winded a lot quicker, even in the beginning, as your bodey is getting accustomed to its new hormone levels. That being said, I do feel like this gave me a little stamina boost, at least enough to get me going in the morning and carry me until lunch, when I’d start falling asleep on the phone. But, mornings are always hard for me, so doing some light exercise helped. I highly recommend you get some form of exercise during pregnancy, even if it’s just yoga or walking (always check with your OB GYN to confirm what you can/can’t do, as everyone’s journey is different). It will seriously boost your stamina for the rest of your pregnancy, and reduce your risk for gestational diabeetus, preeclampsia, and can also come in handy when it comes time for labor and delivery (more on that later).
👩🏻💻I found it helpful to watch Vlogs of other pregnant women more or less my age. I didn’t have any close friends who had gone through this before me, so this was sort of my way to vicariously commiserate and get helpful advice, and just feel like I had someone to relate to (sort of what I hope this might blog might be doing for some of you!). My favorite Moms on YouTube were Samantha Maria and Anna Saccone, but there are tons of momvloggers out there, so find one you like! I also liked to peek ahead at upcoming trimester blogs to see what I was in for in the weeks ahead. But mostly, these vlogs just kind of kept me calm during the dark part of pregnancy.
🤕 For headaches I tried not to take medicine too much, and found it helpful to wrap a Frozen Water Bottle in a pillowcase and roll it over my forehead and temples. For headaches at work, ginger also kind of helped to take the edge off, as well as pulling on my forehead hair and rubbing my temples. Talk to your OB GYN to see what dosage of what painkiller you can take if need be, as pregnancy headaches are the devil.
😭🤬If I felt emotional at work from anxiety, I would do a variation of the 4-7-8 Breathing Exercise. I’d take a breath in through my nose for 7 seconds, hold it for 7 seconds, and then exhale slowly through my mouth for 7 seconds, each time visualizing breathing in good, holding in positivity and love and surrounding my baby with it, and then breathing out bad. This saved me from full on bawling at work once, although I did have a couple of mini-meltdowns when I had people yell at me on the phone and when I messed up labels (sometimes it can’t be helped)
On a side note, it’s not healthy to bottle up your emotions. I’ve done this all my life, and it just leads to stomachaches, irritability and it just plain exacerbates everything. When you feel the urge to cry or flip out (yes, w h e n), honestly just go for it! If you need to take a break at the office and go into the bathroom and let a few tears out or scream into your sweater, do it! Getting that negative energy out will be good for you, and the baby. 💞👍🏼
What I would have done differently📸Take week by week pictures! I’m kind of sad that I don’t have any photos to commemorate those first few months of my pregnancy adventures, particularly when I was still “thin” and “pretty,” but there’s no going back now (unless I come across a glowing Delorean somewhere).
💬Open up at work sooner. It can be terrifying to tell your boss that you’re pregnant (it was for me, at least), especially if they rely on you for a lot. But if you plan on taking maternity leave or for leaving work for good to pursue parenthood, the sooner you let them know, the better. Most places just need a two week notice, but in my case, it was more difficult for them to find a replacement for me. I had ended up giving a three month notice halfway through my second trimester and spent the whole time training a replacement for myself. I had wanted to leave by 5 months in so I could focus on myself, prepare for my baby, and plan my shower, but I didn’t end up leaving until 33 weeks in, and by that point a lot of what I wanted to do went by the wayside, due to fatigue, commitments, and still freelancing for work. However, I recognize that I’m blessed to have been able to take my leave even that soon, as a lot of women have to work even up to 40 weeks, and then go back after 2-6 weeks after their baby is born. Some women may thrive on that, and more power to them, but for many, this is a reality they would rather not face…maternity leave continues to be an uphill battle for a lot of families, and my heart seriously goes out to them. I’ll have a post more about that later on.
💪🏼Stuck with my workout regimen. I was pretty good about this for a couple of weeks, but after a while, I let the fatigue and sickliness do me in. But I found when I did work out, I managed to get by, if only just a little bit better. I also feel like if I could have gotten myself into the habit then, it would have been easier to keep working out, and I’d have that much more stamina into the later months when I was rounder, although it was still pretty easy for me to get around, even until the day before I went into labor. But I just kind of wish I kept it up.
🤮🤮🤮Let myself throw up. There were times when I was right on the edge of throwing up in the comfort of my own home and fought it, and honestly I wish I just did it. My sister-in-law at Becoming Rivera mentioned this in her First Trimester Survival Post that it’s best to just let it happen. It’s true, when I fought the vomit I just felt so much worse. Of course, if you’re in public and would rather not, that’s one thing, but at home, and you gotta hurl, just hurl. Brush your teeth, sip some water, and have some gin-gins. #stillnotspon
So yeah, that was my first trimester! How many of you are fighting the good fight? What got you through those rough first months? Share your stories! You never know who you could help! And I might use some of those tips for next time!
Thanks for reading! Tune in next time for my second trimester story!
If you or someone you know is engaged or engaged to be engaged, check out Becoming Rivera for inspiring, pure, millennial fairytale stories of house-hunting, wedding prep, and love, plus tips on how to plan a wedding, DIY’s, and a different take on pregnancy and motherhood👰🏼🤵🏽💍🏡🤰🏻💖
Okay, so this first post is honestly just to get myself into the habit of actually blogging, so it may not be the most polished and there may be a few typos (insert ‘sent from my iPhone footer here), which is honestly super cringy for a grammarnazi like me, but I just need to get this started.
It may not seem like it to most, but ya grrl going through some things right now (but aren’t we all?), and this platform may just be the outlet I need to heal. And I hope I can help people along the way.
So, what is “Scrunchymomz” all about? Is it a play on the fact that I, and old Millennial, born in the first year of the last decade of the 20th century can physically remember when people unironically wore those huge scrunchies in their over-hair sprayed hair? Well, yeah, I do remember that, but no, that’s not what I mean.
So like Pokémon, there are actually several different Mom “types,” two of which are “Silky,” and “Crunchy.” Its my understanding that Silky Moms are all modern, full Supporters of formula feeding, modern medicine, etc. Crunchy Moms are the opposite—all natural, vehement breast-feeders, naturopathic care, etc.
So now you can probably make determinations that “Scrunchy” is between the two, and that’s where I fall. I’m a baby-wearing (Crunchy), formula-feeding (Silky), organic-supplementing (Crunchy), CDC-pediatric-schedule-following (Silky), and so much more Scrunchy Mom, just making it up as I go.
So I know it’s only a matter of time until my son, 4 months old, wakes up, so I must make this brief, but in summary, I hope to make sense of my Momventure through this blog, and help you Moms (and Dads) who may be wondering what tf you’re doing, like me. If you’ve read this far, thank you!
Some things to come: Pregnancy memories and how I hacked it, Labor and delivery Story, breastfeeding pratfalls, tips and tricks, DIY’s and upcycling, and more!