It’s called a toddler that decided sleep is for the birds.

That was at 4am.  He finally conked out at 4:30am.

He has two nightlights.
It’s not night terrors (those have an entirely different cry).
He has loveys.
He’s not hungry or thirsty.
He really doesn’t need to drop his nap because he’s not napping 50% of the time anyway.

Basically?  He wants to eff with us.  Which might be a strong sentiment except I’ve only had one cup of coffee & four hours of sleep.

(also, the difference between a newborn being awake all hours &  a toddler being awake all hours is the amount of noise. when a newborn is awake, at least one parent can sleep.  when a toddler is awake, even folks in china hear him.)

It started innocently right around the time I lost my job & we feel for the little guy because it’s obvious he feels the stress in the house.  There have been a lot of changes in his wee world over the past few months & my heart goes out to him.  First Daddy was home a bit, then we were both at work, then Momma came home & he’s overjoyed but missing his Auntie & why isn’t anything the same anymore?!  But Momma needs her REM cycle back & more importantly, the kiddo does too.  After nights of rocking & rocking & rocking in the small hours of the day & Doug camping out on a pallet in his room, & purchasing a star turtle & giving him warm milk, we realized yesterday that it was time to pull out the big guns.  All three of us were at each other’s throats constantly from pure exhaustion.  I snapped at Harrison, something I very rarely do.  So Doug & I shook hands & decided that last night was the night.

We dusted off our Ferber book & got the stopwatch on my iPhone working.

We turned Harrison’s lock around so that we could lock him in, thereby taking back control of his ability to leave his room.  (shall I pause here & clarify that we still go to him, but it means homeboy can’t sneak out at 3am?  good.)

We took out his workbench & garbage trucks.

I turned off his light at the fan so that he can’t party all night long under a ceiling light.  (oh buddy, did that piss him off!)

& we hit the sack by 9pm.

I got a pretty awesome workout going back & forth to his room last night, calmly telling him to “Get back in bed, it’s night-night time.”  Tuck him in, give him a pat on the back, & close the door behind me.  I’m hoping that tonight it won’t take 2 1/2 hours for it to sink in that Momma ain’t fooling around.  Also, this is what we woke up to this morning:

I think it’s fair to say he was pretty ticked that Harrison Rave 2012 was thwarted.

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& in good news, the reason that Momma can’t hang at 4am anymore is because I got an offer from Microsoft as a contract for their marketing department.

SAY WHAT?!

It’s a contract so I’m still on the hunt for a full-time job with bennies.  The great news is that the contract is on my terms as far as how many hours I work per week & when the contract ends & they fully understand that I am still looking for a job.  So Harry is with his Auntie a few hours per week so I can log in some hours at home & take conference calls & keep interviewing with other companies.  What’s that you say, Charlie?  WINNING.

Remember how you didn't want me as an admin? That's cool. Microsoft thinks I'm worth bringing in to their marketing department. So have a seat, please.

So when Harrison starts screaming at bedtime & I’ve told him firmly to get back in bed three separate times, he stares up at me with tears falling & says, “Up!!”  oh, my heart.

I find myself all sternly inner-dialoguing how I’m setting us up for failure when he’s three as I make my way to the rocking chair.  But then I remember how I’m knee-deep in my uterus & how soon, Harry will be going to sleepovers where he will be embarrassed to ever admit he was rocked to sleep & I can’t help myself.  I sit & I rock & tell him stories about the man on the moon until he’s calm.  His heartbeat slows & his breathing steadies & I know he’s asleep because that’s the kind of thing that mother’s just know.

He’s drooling on my shoulder.  It’s time to put the kiddo to bed, but in his earlier rage, all blankets & pillows ended in a pile on the floor.  Which means that I have to get up from the chair & put the bedding back together with 30 lbs of live ammunition on my shoulder.  Doug to the nursery, I think into the universe.  I wait a few minutes.  Hey, buddy.  To the nursery for pillow recon.

I contemplate the length of my legs, wondering if I can grab the pillow corner with my toes & toss it into the bed.  If I can do that, then I’ll have a legit excuse to run away with the circus.  I feel the drool seeping through my jammies.  The kid stirs & I freeze & send imaginary red flares into the sky. & I’m all WHY IS HE NOT READING MY ESP?!  DOUG TO THE NURSERY!  DOUG TO THE NURSERY!

What good is being married almost six years if he can’t read my mind?

So.

I am unemployed.

YANK.

It was unexpected.

YANK.

(also?  ouch.)

.

More to come after coffee & getting dressed & figuring out my first day as a temporary stay-at-home-momma.

We began talking about blogging – conferences, sponsorships, traffic & posts & the urge to grow despite the pressure to succeed.  It’s a hard balance.

I worry about being irrelavent.

I fear nobody understanding or taking my words wrong; some nights, I feel anxiety over that blue “Publish” button.

I care about stats & yes, that summer slow-down where traffic goes belly-up while everyone is on vacation.  Even though I don’t want to care.

So I make resolutions not to check stats.  Then I break that resolution.

I doubt my ability by comparing myself to others.

I feel twinges of envy when a friend of mine gets a specific sponsor, opportunity, free lance gig, email, etc.

I hope to make Babble’s Top lists, even though I’ve never made one.

I tell myself that blog post isn’t good enough, funny enough, just…enough.  I get writer’s block from those thoughts.

I’m guilty of saying, “Just five more minutes…” on Twitter at the end of the night.

I think Neville is hot.  oops, I don’t know how that one got in there.

The point is, I think we’re all the same the moment we sit down to type out words.

It hits me when I lay down at night & my hips ache so badly & I wonder why I’m so tired.  I’m busy.

& I feel like I’m losing out on life.

Dramatic much?  But I spend 9 hours a day behind a computer, trying to make sense of my project manager & the boss man’s travel schedule.  I spend 2-3 hours per day in my car, trapped in bumper-to-bumper traffic.  I get home & throw on dinner, try to soak up time with Harrison, but the moment he is in pajamas I am back the the grind of taking out trash, picking up toys, & making the house presentable just in case they schedule a showing.  Just in case.

My one outlet, writing & sharing my thoughts & capturing them on film (albeit roughly), feels bone dry & I can’t help but fear if my lack of inspiration comes from lack of living.  My friend Nish often describes her blog as the spill-over of life & I’ve always felt the same – my blog holds all of the emotions & thought processes that I cannot keep to myself.  But these days, I feel like I’m on autopilot.

We race out the door every morning; my hair is flying & 75% of the time I have forgotten makeup, so I have yet to capture my attempt at growing my style.

The sun is down when I get home, so every night is a game of chase through the living room or vrooming cars around my ankles while I cook.

We did not take a winter long weekend to the mountains this year due to finances.

I see my friends grow & inspire & be viral & I shake my head at the emptiness of my own journal notes.  I’m being left behind.

I have no idea what’s happening with Zooey Dash-a-whatever or the other Kar-dash-a-whatever’s because I don’t have cable.  I have now been demoted to Former Pop Culture Princess.

I order clothes & Christmas presents & hell, even groceries online.

Some mothers ache for more interaction & more rigid schedule, but I long for days of a lazier pace & more sunshine with my tiny guy.

I just don’t know how to find it quite yet.

So.

In October, Doug was laid off when the company he worked for closed with no warning.  There was lots of swearing on our parts for about 48 hours, then we buckled down hard.  I dropped out of my project management class to get a refund on the tuition. Doug filed for unemployment.  I picked up the gig at Babble & any sponsored post offered (remember that week in December where there were three in a row?) to help alleviate the dip into our emergency fund.  We put the house on the market, knowing that we’d be in deep water if Doug went jobless for more than a year.  & in this economy, that fear was entirely possible.

Doug & I have always been conservative with our finances, which means that in any environment of uncertainty, we treat it like a crisis.

In the middle of November, we discovered that Doug & Harry were no longer covered by insurance, nor was COBRA an option.  This was after we attended Harrison’s two-year check-up, complete with three vaccines.  Plus six private speech therapy sessions.   On top of missing half our income, now we had a heavy month of uninsured medical expenses.

note: money is hard in marriage, even when there is plenty.  it gets harder when times are tight.

At the same time, we have been oddly happier than we’ve been in a long time.  Living so intentionally has created a sense of empowerment & togetherness.  Simplicity really is a lovely thing when $8.00 Netflix is all you can afford.  Hell, we’ve even been having more sex because…what else are we going to do on a Saturday evening with no money?   In early December, Doug praised my Type A personality because Harrison’s Christmas gifts were purchased before the lay-off, which meant Santa would visit.  We took great joy in splurging for a $3.00 Almond Joy coffee creamer that Doug wanted to buy but felt was unecessary.  The smile on his face made me all warm & fuzzy.  He made me coffee the next morning with the creamer.

I wish I could do justice to how perfect that little $3.00 creamer was for making us smile & realizing that something small to share was even better than a dozen roses or a new set of golf clubs or even a vacation.

Things began looking up again as my new insurance kicked in & the boys were covered again.  We had good feedback on our house.  Doug had several good interviews and began helping his old coworker start-up a company under a new investor (it launched this past week!  he is gainfully employed again!).    I made a bonus & we were able to afford a few Christmas splurges. I still adore my new job.  Then Doug’s dad got sick & everything has turned into a bigger ball of stress since then.

The other night, driving in the dark for an hour with Harrison screaming for his Auntie, I thought I might be reaching a breaking point.  I felt like I was constantly working, never shutting off, with the weight of everything on my shoulders.  I felt that old nemesis trying to creep in, those choking thoughts that pull me under.  You deserve this stress, your baby doesn’t love you, you’re a distracted wife, you have a bitter heart, you’ll never get it right…I think the worst part is that even when I feel good & stable, there is this prodigal twisty part of my soul just lurking.

Waiting for me to slip.  Waiting for me to give just an inch.

But I’m not giving an inch.  I’m fucking making it after all, okay?

.

p.s. we are so lucky, so thankful that doug was able to get a paycheck again after only two months of unemployment.  we are bursting with gratitude towards my new job & the timeliness of babble’s job offer, which gave us security the past few months.  my heart goes out to anyone that feels that stress longer than us & i know there are plenty of you out there. i wish there was more i could do other than simply say that i understand.

p.p.s. it feels so good to get this off my shoulders.  like my body just took a huge cleansing breath.

photo

So they count it different ways.  Numbers on the scale, resolutions written in ink, goals scratched in journals, or one word.

I have been silent this week because I do not know how to begin 2012.  How do I begin with one word when I want to strive for so many words?  How do I narrow that down?  How do I resolve to get healthy before growing our family again without sounding cliche, all while waiting with anxious breath for one person to fall in love with our home?

The past year I fell in love with motherhood & battled demons & changed jobs & took on my first hard-core paid writing gig.  We balanced on a fence throughout most of the year, waiting for chips to fall & our lives to finally settle.  Some of them have, some of them haven’t, & I’ve found my voice oddly silent during these times.  Maybe that’s maturity & wisdom that being 28 in 2011 brought me & will continue teaching as I turn 29 in 2012.  Maybe it’s that little piece of me that keeps changing & growing & spinning bigger to where it’s not such a little piece anymore…it’s me.

All of me.

 The silly. The mother & wife. The spiritual. The career woman & homemaker. The blasphemous. The girl that struggles with life & contentedness & body image, who loves pretty pictures & yellow roses & yes, a good set of shapewear.

p.s. i have scribbled down words & resolutions & goals.  i’ll be sharing soon.

I started noticing it in pictures, first.  Then the mirror.  It’s becoming more blatantly obvious every single day but I feel like I need confess that my new hipster status is not because I’m listening to She & Him on repeat, but rather because my bank account is dangerously dry these days.

I knew we would be perfect candidates for Canon’s “Your Second Shot” project. (you know that cute ad with the couple going back to Barcelona? that camera! that project!) Last year, our camera settings were off in the fading day of Halloween, creating a horrid gold cast that ruined all pictures where Doug & I are posed with Harrison. I eventually converted them to a basic black & white, but you miss the amazing color that popped from the mums last year, or the pink tail of Harry’s mouse costume, or how I painted my nose with hot pink lipstick.

The entire moment wasn’t lost, but the full story isn’t told. I hate it when that happens.

Canon graciously sent me the new Canon PowerShot ELPH 300 HS & I knew the perfect moment to capture – Halloween 2011 in full color. We carved pumpkins & watered mums & spread fake spiderwebbing & purchased a Captain America costume, all to create a memory that would last forever on film.

But.

Life got in the way. Family crisis & pouring rain left me alone with Harrison on the coldest, most dreary Halloween I can remember since my own childhood. The day grew darker & darker as rain pounded from the skies & we waited for Doug to get home. After Harrison crawled into bed, his third Halloween spent without a costume & trick-or-treating, I sat down on the floor in frustration. The project, lost. The evening, forgotten. Just like last year.

Doug came home & we turned off the front porch light. Some nights call for champagne & lingerie & music, but we put on comfy tshirts & crawled in bed with mugs of coffee & cider. The leftover Halloween candy was eaten as we laughed over episodes of One Tree Hill on the iPad (my Netflix choice, much to his dismay). The room was lit by one small 40-watt bulb, but I pulled out the Canon PowerShot & snapped this self-portrait, full of love.

It’s not the Halloween picture I planned or hoped for. You cannot always capture the moments, but when you capture it for a lifetime? These tiny moments? They are so much sweeter.

So thank you, BlogHer & Canon, for helping me create a Halloween memory that wasn’t orchestrated, but is so adored.

This picture made possible by Canon’s incredible new PowerShot ELPH 300 HS. With its 24mm ultra-wide lens & HS System, it is perfect for capturing low-light images without ruining the color or clarity of the shot. We own the Canon PowerShot SX100 IS & love it, so I was thrilled to test out this newer version. Verdict? It is amazing. I cannot wait to show you even more pictures that are better planned. It is also so slim & light-weight that it’s perfect for a diaper bag or clutch, to carry around as the go-to daily camera.

Canon & BlogHer supplied me with the new camera, as well as compensation for my time. They’re awesome, but the opinions & photography are mine.

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Thank you for your sweet congratulations yesterday!  You sure know how to make a girl blush & I’m just so sorry I haven’t been able to respond personally to everyone.

Thank you for following me over there, reading my words, & still hanging out with me here.  I told the folks on Babble that my readers e-friends were the best & funniest & most loyal that you could ever find, & HOT DAMN, did y’all prove me right.

THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU for sticking up for me & basically delivering the most epic troll beat-down I have seen in years.  You basically rolled in the STFU Truck while I was supporting a buddy of mine’s shop opening, & I appreciate you stepping in my absence.

(Also?  Thank you for keeping it classy & letting her look like the fool.)

As you may have seen on the Twitters, I discovered that the hurtful words were coming from a woman I previously thought as a friend.  I suppose I could spin it into a TRUST NOBODY! conspiracy theory about meeting friends on the interwebs, but the truth of it all is that no matter what parenting choices you make, someone will disagree.  Breast versus bottle, BabyWise vs Attachment Parenting, working mom versus stay at home mom.  We’ve all seen the battles but we never suspect our friends having cruel thoughts about us, always hidden behind a smile or sweet Facebook note. 

So my thoughts on the whole situation boil down to friendship, not parenting – as someone’s friend, you have the responsibility of protecting their heart.  Plain & simple.  If you think there is an outrageous wrong happening, then by all means speak up!  But do it TO THEIR FACE, with honesty out on the table.  If you must hide your thoughts behind anonymity & gossip, then it is probably not worth speaking.  & if you feel that negatively towards a “friend?”   You disagree so strongly with them?  It probably means the friendship ain’t worth it, so you cut your losses & find someone that you love unconditionally.

The good news is that in these days, most “friendships” can be desolved by defriending on Facebook. ::snort::

By the way, did I say THANK YOU enough for all the awesomeness yesterday?

Real friends dress up in cocktail dresses & fascinators, then go buy hot dogs on the streets of New York City.