Category: Olive Juice

Olive Juice, Personal

 

There are days where I truly think Amelia Bedelia is my spirit animal. I always cringed when she would screw up the simplest of things… but I’m now realizing her and I have more in common than I care to admit. Wanna hear about my day? Probably not. But I’ll share anyway because I’m an “over sharer.” And one day I’ll read my blog post and think it’s funny. But today I don’t think it’s funny.  I never have liked alcohol, I pretty much think it’s gross. But I may take up drinking wine after this fun day. My friends seem to think it’s the answer to most problems… So cheers to vino!

January 29, 2018: 1:00 am- Olive wakes up. Olive refuses to fall back asleep. She whines. She cries. She screams. I want to cry. I do cry. I’m exhausted. I’m laying on the floor begging her to lay down. She would rather jump up and down, cry, laugh at me, throw her stuffed animals at me. Anything but sleep. She finally fell asleep at 3:30 am. So needless to say, I was tired the next day. And my day only got worse.

Most Amelia Bedelia morning so far. I put Olive down for a nap ( thinking she would fall asleep right away based on how our night went) to which she refused to actually nap. But I left her in her crib because I was showing her discipline. Just kidding. I left her in there because I was hoping for a miracle. So after 20 mins of her throwing every stuffed animal she has, all her blankets, her glass bottle, everything out of her crib, I hear her whine and say “poopoo.” Not a huge deal. She thinks farting is poo poo. So I let her whine and keep “disciplining” her. After a few more minutes she’s getting angry and starting to scream at me. So I walk into her room. 4 of her bunnies are on the floor. Her two “blankies” are also on the floor. Her bottle with milk leaking out is on the floor. Her pants are on the floor. Her…… diaper is not on the floor. It’s in the crib. And yes ma’am you guessed right! DING!! DING!! DING!! She had indeed had “poopoo’ed.” Did I mention Olive had a LOT of blueberries for supper the night before? And that she had a blueberry spinach smoothie for breakfast? Ya. You get where I’m going with this. Fibre, lot’s of fibre. Greenish/blueish colours. Squishiness. Her bare, non clean bum hanging out. I put on my big girl panties (more like grandma panties) and dealt with the blueberry situation.

I made a fairly grand supper. A casserole, salad with homemade dressing (if you don’t make your own dressing- please get in touch with me. I’ll give you recipes and they are delicious and easy. Anyways, moving on). I even made dinner buns. Like…. from scratch. So I guess you could say I was pretty heroic. At supper, we force feed Olive at first. EVERY. TIME. It’s the only way she’ll eat. You force it in her mouth, then she realizes she actually likes it and then she’ll eat it on her own. So Dane forces it in her mouth and she starts wailing. But she swallows it. I give her a piece of bun and she chews it, gags and then pukes. She was not a fan of my heroic efforts. So she ate cucumber for supper.

I, for whatever reason think chocolate chip cookies should be made. So I make some. We have a gas stovetop. So when I take out my cookie sheet and place it on top of the stovetop, the edge of the cookie sheet turns on not one, not two, not three, BUT FOUR burners. SO the parchment paper where my perfectly golden, crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside cookies are situated perfectly, catches fire. Like an actual flame. I have oven mitts on, and I can’t seem to figure out that I need to take them off in order for my hands to actually work. So my cookies are engulfed in flames (slight exaggeration), I’m standing there with thick oven mitts on trying to turn off all the burners, Olive is freaking out because she thinks I’m hurt and she’s crying, Dane is staring at me like he’s just walked into a madhouse. Finally the flames are extinguished, the cookies have been saved, the burners have been turned off, Olive has calmed down. I take off my oven mitts and kinda chuckle while looking at Dane as if to say “oh man, what gong show…” then sear my forearm not in one, but two places on the cookie sheet that had just been in flames. The same arm that mere moments had a huge oven mitt on. I can’t make this stuff up.

There are days that are exhausting and they suck. This day was one of them. But man, that kid lights up my days. I love her laugh. How her tiny, soft hand feels in mine. How she scrunches her face and says “ohh! toot!” whenever she sees something she thinks is cute. How she runs down the hall and she thinks she’s sprinting. How she is obsessed with ice. How she loves all her stuffed animals. How she’s perfect.

The End.

 

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Olive Juice, Personal

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You’ve done it. Don’t lie to yourself. We have at one point in time before kids said “I will NEVER do that when I have kids…” But you have to say that in a self righteous, valley girl kinda voice (what IS a valley girl anyways? Is it from sweet valley high twins from your preteen years? Is it girls who live in the valley? What’s a valley? These are legitimate questions I have). Here are my “I will never do that when I have kids” things that I now do regularly. Or things you swore you ALWAYS would do, but now never do. Tell me yours in the comments.

1). I will never bribe my kid. Real life- I bribe Olive everyday. Every hour. “If you eat this i’ll give you a “nanny” (candy in her words). Chocolate chips are my new best friend. “Olive, if you let me cut your fingernails and toenails Mommy will give you chocolate chips?” She ate 20 chocolate chips in one sitting that day… but she also had 10 fingernails neatly trimmed along with 10 neatly trimmed toenails. (Ok, “neatly” is a slight exaggeration).

2). I will always make my own baby food. I’m not really sure what to even write about this. I literally never once made Olive homemade baby food. I even went so far as to buy the plastic pouches. I returned them back to homesense for store credit and bought myself something for me, and just went and bought baby food at the grocery store.

3). I’ll never let her go on my phone or watch electronics. Insert *wailing, whining, screaming child* “Olive, do you want my phone?” I actually WISH she would sit for longer than 37 seconds in front of the computer watching whatever kid show I find on Netflix… but she’s still too little and would rather beat the keyboard, stand on it, or throw the mouse across the living room. But man, for those 37 seconds I sure do live it up.

4). I’ll only feed her organic stuff. I’m no Kim K, so I can’f afford that stuff. Also, because I’m able to use some of my brain cells to trick people into thinking I’m somewhat intellectual. Also cuz my behind … I got that from my momma and my Latina ancestors. Not from a turkey baster filled with silicone or fat from my love handles. No, I still got them handles.

5). I’ll never let my kid have a temper tantrum in public. Again, insert *wailing, whining, screaming child* “Ok, you wanna have a temper tantrum in the middle of costco? I don’t care. Mommy is gonna keep shopping. Let me know when you’re done.” All the while your face is red from embarrassment, your forehead has beads of sweat from tensing your whole body, and you’re fighting back tears……………….. because you just walked by the cookbook section and your husband said you’re not allowed to buy any more cookbooks.

6). I’ll never let my kid look like she just rolled out of bed. I hated seeing little kids in their pyjamas in the grocery stores, hair stuck out like they just got electrocuted. I dunno why, I just hated it. I technically hate seeing adults in their fleece pyjamas more, but that’s another blog post for another day. I haven’t taken her out in her pyjamas quite yet, but her hair has definitely been questionable at times. And I didn’t even care.

7). I will always sanitize my bottles. I don’t reminder the last time I sanitized them. Maybe a year ago? I mean, I wash them. With hot water and soap. But do you guys remember boiling a pot of water and dumping them all in there? That was short lived. Very short lived.

Wether you’re a mom who still sanitizes bottles, or somehow has managed to make mangosteen green smoothies for her kid every morning, or wether you’re a mom who gave her kid a donut for breakfast this morning, or wether you’re a mom who let their kid watch paw patrol all day, just keep going. You’re doing good either way. Could you do better? Probably. The one thing I’ve learned though is that your kid wants to laugh with you. They want to interact with you. They want to sit with you. They want to play with you. They want to be chased by you. They want to be held by you. They want to be thrown in the air by you. They want to eat next to you. They want to be hugged by you. They want to be kissed by you. They want….. you. Their Mom. And you’ve already succeeded in being that. So pat yourself on the back Momma, you’re tough as mother. Tomorrow is a new day. Tantrums are waiting. Poop is waiting. Messes are waiting. Freak outs in public are waiting. Refusals of eating are waiting. You got this. And if today you sucked, tomorrow is another day to suck even more. But there will come a day when you don’t suck. And that day is the one day that keeps us going for the next 3 sucky days. And they’re kinda worth it.

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Olive Juice, Personal

Someone I’ve never met DM’d me a couple weeks ago telling me she loved reading my blog, thought I was funny and relatable, and that my bluntness “was a breath of fresh air.” I’m writing this 100% to brag to you, and have you guys know that someone out there thinks I’m funny. And that I’ve been compared to a “breath of fresh air.” No other reason other than that. So ya, that concludes this post.

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Just kidding. I got to thinking about the word relatable. So I looked up the word.

re·lat·a·ble

2 “enabling a person to feel that they can relate to someone or something: Mary-Kate’s problems make her more relatable.”

I’m not Mary-Kate, but I do got problems. So I hope that in some way I can ENABLE you to feel like you can RELATE to me. So this is my blog post today. It’s about telling you guys the truths of motherhood. And maybe it’s the truths you won’t say out loud, you just think them in your head. It might be the truths you feel you can’t say out loud because you’ll be judged as a mom. Or it could be the things you do as a mom that you would be horrified if someone found out. So I’ll say them for you. And you can judge me, just not out loud. Only in your head. Capish?

1. Have you ever considered (or actually given) giving your kid tylenol when they didn’t need it, only because the label said “may cause drowsiness?” Ya, me neither.

2. Kids books are boring. And so not believable. Like, you’re telling me this stupid hungry caterpillar ate chocolate cake, a pickle, a lollipop, salami, an ice cream cone, cherry pie, sausage, swiss cheese, a cupcake, and watermelon, plus all that fruit… and he magically becomes a beautiful butterfly? If I ate all that there would be very little about me that would be “beautiful.” A more accurate story would be that the caterpillar was a glutton and died of clogged arteries and diabetes. And that is why gluttony is a sin. And that kids is why you drink a green juice. THE END.

3. Do you ever worry your kid might grow up and not be smart? I’m being honest. It is a legit worry of mine. What if Olive sucks at school? I did. What if at parent teacher interviews you get the “Olive is a bright student, if only she would apply herself….” (I only know the wording because, well….. my parents kept my report cards). Whatever.

4. You are somewhat happy your kid can’t quite talk yet. Or her words to her dad might be “west ed” and “McDonald’s.”

5. Your kid is boring. Like, they’re cute and all, and you wanna kiss their cheeks…. but you can only play peek-a-boo so many hundred times in an hour before you start to wonder “Does this kid seriously not know that I’m not hiding?”

6. “Leave me ALONE.” DO you ever think that? I think that a lot. Like when I’m cooking. Or on the toilet. Or in the shower. Or at 6:00 in the morning. Or trying to eat. Or trying to enjoy a friends company. Or trying to make out with your husband. Or vacuuming. Or doing my makeup. Or doing my hair. Like I said… I think that a lot.

7. Wishing naps lasted all day. Or at least until your husband came home. I ONLY think that when I have a ton of stuff to get done (*wink wink*) But man, a 6 hour nap would definitely help a mother out.

8. Ever given your kid fruit snacks and junk food for lunch? Or completely forgot to feed your kid all together? Cool, me neither.

9. Used them as an excuse to not go out? “Olive is super tired, so I won’t be able to make it to the book club this month. And she’ll probably still be super tired for next month’s as well. Thanks so much for the invite though!”

10. Here’s the one that I probably shouldn’t admit. But Mary-Kate and me gotta stick together. I sometimes wish for my life before her. And I promise it’s not often. It used to be, but not anymore. But there are days that are really hard. And not physically. But emotionally and mentally you’re spent. You have nothing else to give. You’ve been screamed at, smacked, whined at, had food thrown at you. Been puked on. Had poo go under your fingernail. Had them “help” empty the dishwasher. Found your keys in the garbage (true story). Had a hard book corner hit you in the eye. Your arms are are tired from holding them. And you still have to clean up the trail of mess they’ve left and make supper. Those are the days where I think “what would I be doing 2 years ago?” I would probably have been baking. Or shopping (in peace). I could have watched a movie by myself. I could have hung out with a friend without lugging around 18 lbs of diapers, wipes, extra clothes, snacks, etc. I could have been organizing my sock drawer. Anything. And sometimes when I think about it I get the slightest of tears in my eyes. Like last week. When Olive sucked all my energy and I went into the pantry to take a deep breath and cry. And when I came out Dane asked why I was crying and I said “it’s the onions.” (luckily I was chopping onions right before).  It wasn’t the onions. It was Olive. Those days are hard. Those days I think back to two years ago. Before Olive.

11. “If the baby wasn’t here, my life would be normal.” Ever have that thought? And then immediately think to yourself  “I can’t tell people that. I can’t say that out loud. If you say these things people will think you’re an unfit mother. Someone will try and take my baby away. They’ll put me in a mental hospital. Maybe there’s something wrong wth me? Maybe I’m actually a bad mom? Moms don’t think these things.” Well, I’m here to tell you that I don’t know if these are normal thing to think. I’m here to tell you that I don’t know if other moms think this way. I’m pretty sure (like 99.9%) that it IS normal, and that other moms DO think these things, but I can’t say for certain. I CAN tell you, that I, Claudia Redel…. think these things.

 

Olive has changed my life. I’m not gonna write “for the better.” Not yet. But she has changed it. I’ve become more patient. I have become more nurturing. I’ve somehow learned to run on no sleep. I’ve become more organized (most days that isn’t very apparent). I’ve become more understanding of what my mother went through (AT 20!) I’ve learned to trust my instinct more. I’ve become more sure of myself. I’ve become more confident (not in the mom bod department). I’ve become more protective of what is mine and my territory as a mother. I’ve become less judgemental of other women. I’ve become more compassionate to other moms. I’ve had to learn to stand my ground on what I think is best for my daughter.

I’m learning to juggle what it means being a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, a friend. Some (most) days I feel like I’m failing at all of the above. But I’ve kinda learned to not give a flying squirrel’s booty. Because Olive needs me more than anyone in this WHOLE ENTIRE WORLD. And while that is some intense pressure, it’s also one of the most rewarding (so cliche, but also kinda true). Because when she sees me her brown eyes light up and she runs to me and says “MAMI!!’ Or when she grins with her teeth when I’m being a silly brain and she laughs at me like I’m literally the funniest person ever. Or when she puts her head on my shoulder and pats my back and says “Shh, Shh” cuz she’s trying to put me to sleep (nice try Olive). Or her little hand that insists on helping me put lotion on my skin after the shower. Or when she wants a sip of my drink she makes eye contact and bobbles her head up and down and points with her tiny finger and says “ya? ya?” Or when she needs help or wants something she shows all of her little teeth and says “peaaaassss.” Those moments are worth it now, when she’s asleep in her crib. But not in the bad moments. In the bad moments you just wanna scream so loud and cry so hard. (See? Honesty).

Hey Olive, have you changed my life for the better? Ya. You have. Thank you.

Olive Juice, Personal, Series

So I made a post last year with this exact title. Turns out, I still kinda suck as a mom a year later. Here’s the thing. Pretty sure we’re all gonna have sucky mom (and dads!) moments until our kids are adults. So this weeks edition of “I suck as a mom” is brought to you by yours truly.

1). I was at west ed on Monday, she didn’t wanna be in her stroller. So I let her walk beside me, but then she only wanted to be carried. So I carried her. Only to have her puke all over me and the mall floor. Right smack in front of abercrombie and fitch, you know… where all the teeny boppers go and are really mature. Shout out to the dude who made a huge dramatic face and covered his nose with his shirt. Bro, be happy you’re not the one with barf down your boobs and on your crotch (my daughter is talented in getting it in the best places). Joke was on him… he was wearing a Crooks and Castles shirt with a diamond stud I’m pretty sure he stole form his little sisters earring collection from Claire’s. I’ll take barf on me any day if my option were a). barf or b). his outfit.

2). Olive refused to eat the whole week.

3). On Wednesday I decided to have my monthly shower. I usually just let her in the bathroom with me. But today I didn’t wanna have a toilet brush, toilet plunger, toilet paper roll, or whatever else she finds thrown in the shower with me. All of these items have been thrown in with me in the past. So I closed all the doors to the rooms and let her roam the living room and hallway, free as a bird. I shower for literally 3 mins, and wrap my towel around me. *side note* Dane used my towel the night before because he’s constantly leaving his in our bedroom, so I yelled for him to bring me a new towel. He brings me the towel that I bought because it was “cute” and had tassels and pretty embroidery on it. It barely goes around me. So here I am in this barely there towel and I come out and start looking for Olive troll. I don’t see her. So I go into the bedroom. She’s not there. I come out to the living room. She’s not there. But the front door is wide open. I’m brown, I have the all year round tan going on…. but I’m pretty sure I looked like a white chick in that moment. I run out into the street (in my barely there towel) screaming her name over and over again. I can’t see her anywhere. I realize the gate to the backyard is swinging because it was raining and super windy that day, so I run back there somewhat relieved because she’s at least not on the street. But she’s not there either. So now I’m running back into the house to call 911. I can’t find my phone because that’s what happens in situations where you desperately need your phone. I start screaming her name again inside and I hear “mama, mama, mama?” I run to the pantry/laundry room and swing open the door. She’s not there. I’m just kidding, she’s there. She’s trying to get to her fruit snacks, and decided the best way to do so without getting caught is to close the door behind her. I grab her and my knees kinda buckle and I just hug her. I keep telling her she scared me, and that I’m sorry, and she just looks at me and points to her fruit snacks. I get it kid, I like them too.

4). Because she’s barely eating, and she clearly likes fruit snacks, I decide I’m gonna make some. You know, the healthy kind. So I scour Pinterest looking for recipes until I settle on one. Its got spinach, strawberries, no sugar, blah blah, healthy, you get it. I make a huge batch and wait for the pectin to do it’s thang and set into delicious healthy fruit snacks. My fruit snacks don’t really set and look like whale blubber. Dane pointed to it and went “Sooooo……. not really hey?” No. No Dane, not really. Not at all. I put them in baggies and he thinks they’ll be good in smoothies. That’s his way of saying “I saw all the organic crap you put in there,you’re not allowed to throw that out.” We’ll see how many smoothie get made.

5). Here’s the real doozy. I had to go back to west ed on Friday (it’s a long story. Ok wait, it’s actually not that long. I like shopping). So I had to go back. And that morning Olive cried for 3 hours straight and would not let me put her down. I thought she was just being whiny and I was getting super impatient with her. So at the mall I did what I had come to do, and on our way out, Afton and me just happened to sneak into Anthropologie for a quick gander. Afton was in line paying and Olive was getting fussy in her stroller, so I took out fruit snacks (not the whale blubber ones), and offered her one. She shook her head and said ” no!” and stared at me. It was in that moment white, chunky, smelly lava exploded for her mouth. Like SO much. And it wouldn’t stop coming out. I just stared at her in shock for a few seconds, and then I calmly went up to Afton and told her I’d meet her in the bathroom. She took one look at Olive and her eyes went all wide eyed and her mouth just made a huge “O.” I walked calmly to the bathroom, people giving sympathetic looks the whole way. I just smiled and gave “haha, just a bit sick… I’m fine, I’m fine, really! I’ve got it all under control” look. As soon as I got to the baby change area of the bathroom I may have freaked out a bit in my head. Taking of her barf soaked shirt was fun, when I pulled it over her head it got on her face, her neck, her hair. Her pants are covered, the stroller is covered. She managed to get it inside her shoes. It’s basically cottage cheese that reeks and is EVERYWHERE. Afton comes in and is slightly looking like she might also puke, but she runs off to winners and buys a towel, baby soap and wash cloths. So Olive had a bath at the west ed bathroom. In the sink.

6). We go straight to the walk in clinic and she gets seen right away. She has a fever of 39.4 and they tell me she has a chest infection. They prescribe her antibiotics and send us on our way. I give her the antibiotics against my better judgement (I’m the granola mom that doesn’t immunize her kid and isn’t fond of antibiotics. You can judge me and send me hate mail, all good!) After her second dose of antibiotics, my kid is COVERED in hives. Face, arms, legs…. covered. And I’m pissed. So turns out my kid is allergic to penicillin. I’m pissed because I didn’t feel comfortable when the doctor was rushed in seeing us because the clinic closed 15 mins after we got there. I’m pissed because she barley checked her and then said “I’m gonna say it’s a chest infection, but I can’t be sure. If she gets worse take her to emergency.” I’m pissed because I should have known better than to go against my judgement. I’m pissed because my baby has huge welts covering most of her body even as I write this.

 

Ok. Before I get death threats, calm your self. I 100% believe in doctors, and I am grateful beyond words for them (Uhhh… have you not read my post “The C- word?”) Will I take my Olive to the doctor? Yep. When needed ( I took her this morning to our family doctor!) Do I go to the doctor? VERY rarely, but yes. I go. My mom works for the health care system, trust me…. I’m not against them. Will I immunize Olive? As of right now, my answer is a strong no. Have I researched as to why I don’t want to? Yes. Do I judge people who immunize their kids and themselves? Strong no. Will I ever change my mind on immunization? Possibly! Like I said, I’m not against the medical system, doctors, nurses, antibiotics, none of it. I just have my OWN opinions as to when they are needed for MY child and myself. This post isn’t about immunizations, our health care system, doctors. It’s not about antibiotics, or political views, religious views, or whether you think unicorns are real or not. This post (and this blog for that matter) is about me being a sucky mom that is learning to have grace with herself, patience with her daughter, love and even more patience with her husband (he drives me bonkers), and maybe a good recipe or two. Or maybe even a good hair day, or if I find an outfit that doesn’t make me feel like a baby whale, I’ll post about that too. Stranger things have happened you know.

The moral of this story, post, whatever you wanna call it is this. DO NOT BUY THE CUTE TOWELS. Buy the big Bertha (I was gonna wrote big, juicy Donna ones but then I got worried Donna is too much of a common name) towels. You know, the ones that wrap around your ENTIRE body. Also, if you have any good fruit gummy recipes that don’t turn out like whale blubber, please share.

 

DISCLAIMER/WARNING

One of the images you are about to see contains graphic content and may not be suitable for wusses, or for people who probably don’t have kids.

 

Picture 1). Olive snuck and got her gummies and has a mouth full. Picture 2). My “fruit gummies.” More like fruit fail.  Picture 3). No explanation necessary.

 

Olive Juice, Personal, Series

 

She turns 1 today. Am I emotional? No. I’m happy. I literally kept a human alive for a year, and thats a huge deal because I could barely keep my nano baby alive (does anyone remember those?) I’m not that mom that will cry and say “she’s not my baby anymore” or “she’ll always be my baby.” Either one. No. I know what the passing of time entails, and it entails your newborn becoming a month old, and then a 4 month old, and then pretty soon you have a 1 year old. And before I know it I’ll have a toddler. I’m not sad because if I’m being totally honest, which I tend to be, it’s that the baby phase was tough and I did not enjoy it as much as maybe most moms. I got mastitis twice, which then resulted in needing antibiotics, which then resulted in thrush twice. Second round lasting a solid three months. My milk flow sucked, so breastfeeding was torture (again, thrush with that was even worse). Olive was a tough baby. She only wanted me, she woke up every 2 hours though the night, and she was loud. Like, REALLY loud. But now she’s at the age where her giggle is the best sound I hear, her toothy grin is the cutest, and her personality is the funniest. She is a little turd, and everyone agrees. She has more personality than I thought a baby could have. She’s got attitude, spunk, she’s funny and she knows it. She can charm any watch off your wrist and slobber on it like nobody’s business. Enough about Olive, lets talk about me. Here’s a few things, tips and tricks I’ve learned in the past year as a new mom. A new less “ish” selfish human being.

  1. I can take a stain out of almost anything. Poop stains are my specialty.
  2. I have more patience I knew I had. Except with Dane. I think I have less patience with him now.
  3. I am totally fine with going to Costco with greasy hair, no make up, and socks I took out of the dirty clothes pile. (It was ONE time, and in my defence, my feet never stink…. so basically they were clean).
  4. I have learned to not longingly stare at people eating before me because I have to eat last due to a child that is whining and crying and is attached to me like an octopus (octopus sounded better than leech in my head).
  5. 3 minute showers, including shaving. Just buy bandaids. You’ll be fine.
  6. Take extra clothes everywhere you go. Even if you’re just going out for 20 mins. That’s when nature (nature is a poop explosion in case you’re wondering. Just thought I’d help you out) will decide is an opportune time to yell “TOLD YOU SO.” Just take the extra clothes.
  7. Take a plastic bag with you. For poop clothes. I once had to walk around the mall with poop clothes in the bottom of the stroller basket. People probably though I had crapped my pants. Also, shout out to GAP who refused to give me a bag because I hadn’t bought something. Clearly the $100,000,000,000 I have spent there on baby clothes doesn’t count as “something.”
  8. You can never have too many diapers.
  9. Baby food is disgusting.
  10. If you put something in your basket online and do the whole checkout process, but then don’t actually checkout, the company will email you within a few days with a coupon code. (This isn’t really baby related, but a very good life tip. You’re welcome.
  11. Baby Gap usually has a “One Day Only sale” every day. Just wait for the 40% off coupon codes. And its free shipping when you spend over $50.
  12. Buy sleepers for the first 3-6 months. So many sleepers. Your baby doesn’t wanna look fashionable. It wants to be warm and cosy.
  13. Buy yourself comfy clothes. You don’t wanna be fashionable. You want to be warm and cosy.
  14. NEVER underestimate how many wipes you will need. take wipes everywhere you go. Lot’s.
  15. Go with the flow. Roll with the punches. “You do you boo.” Flipping SURVIVE. That’s my last piece of advice. If that means crying until snot is rolling down your face, do it. If it means getting up before your baby to get stuff done, do it. If it means having a messy house because you are held prisoner by a baby, do it. No one should judge you. Unless they’ve walked a mile in your shoes… which why would they? That would be weird if a stranger just asked to borrow your shoes and walk a mile and then return them.

Story of the day: today we went to Calgary with my friend. I wore a white shirt with a white lace kimono. Olive wore her baby jeans with white lace and the cutest white lace top. We were adorbs. I got hoison sauce on my right boob at lunch from my lettuce wraps. Just under that was a black tire stain from trying to fold out the most possessed stroller of all time. My left side had something green on it. She then decided to hurl her glass bottle in the middle of the mall, have the bottle shatter and have milk go everywhere. Right smack in the middle of where people walk. Olive then decided to have “nature” (refer to #6) happen on the QE2, which resulted in having “nature” up her back, in her arms (like HOWWWW??) in her hair, all over her car seat. Afton was of wonderful help. You know, with the gagging and commentary: “that is foul.” “Oh man, that is rank.” Thank goodness for wipes and extra clothes (not this day nature, NOT this day). When washing her clothes in the sink in a dingy bathroom on the side of the road, I got my left side of my shirt soaking wet. SO I had a disgusting dirty, white shirt with a soaking wet left boob. Attached to my hip was a child that was not wearing the same clothes she left with, along with a slight smell of “nature.” Just go with the flow. Roll with the punches.

 

Olive Rose, today you are one. Olive Rose, today I celebrate you. I celebrate your 5 teeth, your perfect fingers and toes. I celebrate your grin and your dark eyes and dark eyelashes. I celebrate your tiny ears, chubby cheeks, your infectious scent. I celebrate your round belly, pouty lips, your dark hair. I celebrate your dimply bum, your stork bite on your lower back. I celebrate your laughter, your sweet kisses, your eyes that smile at me with love, your arms that always are held open for mine. I celebrate the way your breath still smells of sweetness and of innocence. I celebrate how you only see me as your protector, not as the flawed human that I am. I celebrate the gift I was given one year ago today, the gift I take for granted, the gift that changed the course of my life. The gift that will never let me be the same as I once was. I celebrate you little one, my little love, my little bug. I love you. I love you. And I love you. I will love you until I can no longer. Happiest of birthdays Olive Rose. You literally have no clue what today is, but I will still celebrate you and your first year of life on this earth.

 

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