Tag: motherhood

Categorizing Grey Hair {Women’s History}

Categorizing Grey Hair {Women’s History}
Written by Sweety Darlin’.

When Julie sent out the call for March guest posts I tried to think of all the women that I felt had influenced my life and who I admired. I had a long list… Catherine the Great of Russia, Queen Elizabeth I, Eleanor Roosevelt, Madonna, there were more it was a strange list. Then I realized while I admire all of these women they didn’t really shape me into the person I became.

My post last month was a letter to my mom, and while I don’t want to seem like I do nothing but sit around pining for my mom it was just the luck of the draw that the next month was about women’s history. My mother is a critical part of my personal history, and she had a theory of her own history by categorizing her grey hair. She would either hold small bits of hair or lay her hand on large patches and explain some of the following….

This area is for when I married Steve Brady. This is for when my first child died at the tender age of eight days old. This is when I had a healthy daughter. This is when I left Steve Brady due to his alcoholism. This is when I was raped. This is the abortion I had to have from that rape. This is the cancer diagnoses (that one got a big patch). This is for all the trials of motherhood (big patch again). This is for the next three rounds of cancer. This is for running my own company. This is for marital trials and tribulations.

Then she would explain that the non-grey hairs were for all the happy times. Watching my daughter grow up. Finding a man that truly loved me. Having success in my career. Seeing my daughter marry a man that loves her. Seeing my first grand child born, named for my deceased daughter.

When we think of the history of women, we should really think about the history of mothers. Our mother’s love(d) us beyond understanding, punish us when we deserve it, weep for us in prayer, put bandaids on boo boos, and then after all that effort have to let go of us and pray that they did the best they knew how.

Now that I am a mother I realize that even though I did not agree with my mother’s behavior and all the crazy things she did, she was only doing what she thought was the best for me at the time with the information she had. Did she regret some things, I have no doubt that she did. Hindsight is 20/20. However she loved me madly and only wanted me to become the best possible.

So this month as we read all the various posts regarding the History of Women, remember that those people all had mothers that made them exactly what they are, so I deem this the Month of the History of Motherhood.

You can call me Sweety Darlin’. I am a 29 year old mother of two teenagers, don’t argue! I love to sew and design and make things. If it goes through a sewing machine I am game! My kids are amazing when they are sleeping, and pretty decent the rest of the time.

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Quest(ion) {Love Story}

Quest(ion) {Love Story}
Written by M. D. of Glitter & Rainbows

For me, despite deep desire and prolonged effort, this remains a question: Children are the future?

My husband and I have been trying to have a baby for a few years. Sometimes this dream of ours has seemed more like a quest, in the literary sense. Our Holy Grail, our Golden Fleece is a child to love, raise and call our own. We have confronted many obstacles, if not literal dragons, in our path.

On this journey I have cried, I have blamed, I have questioned, I have prayed. I have been hopeful and depressed. I’ve done my research, and I received advice — good and bad, helpful and hurtful. I’ve been ashamed and secretive. I’ve decided to be as open as I can, and through blogs I have met many others who are trying to find their way to the same goal.

I have had my feet in stirrups, scopes through my bellybutton, dye shot through my fallopian tubes. I’ve taken Clomid, Femara, Metformin, my temperature. I’ve had five inseminations and zero positive pregnancy tests. Hubby has been checked out and shot up, all to no avail.

I’ve been fingerprinted and background-checked. I’ve frankly answered multi-page questionnaires about my upbringing and marriage. I’ve put check marks on forms asking whether I will accept a child who likes to set fires or defecates inappropriately, or whether it is OK if our child has AIDS or uses a wheelchair.

I still can’t answer whether children are our future. Being of modest means, in-vitro fertilization and private adoption seem out of our reach. We are at the mercy of a budget-friendly fertility treatment miracle or the public foster-to-adopt process, both of which we are pursuing. Both are frustratingly slow.

There is a chance our child has already been born, or perhaps not born but conceived. There is still a chance for a pregnancy of our own. I can’t know what is to come; on faith I just keep moving forward, keep fighting. Our quest continues. I can only hope the last chapter tells of a little child being tucked in to sleep in a bright-green bedroom.

M. D. is married with two fur-babies. She writes about trying to add to her family at Glitter & Rainbows.

My Loud, Crazy House {Love Story}

Several months ago I noticed that the post theme for February was “Love Story”. I immediately started making plans to write a happy little post about my life in rural Arkansas and how much I love it. Then I was standing in my kitchen trying my best to perform the most routine of chores, and it hit me what I really love so much.

I grew up in a very structured household. You ate your food in the kitchen. You played with your toys in your bedroom. Holidays and other events were planned months in advanced. And you never ran through the house or spoke above a normal inside voice. I had great parents and a great childhood. I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

I married nearly seven years ago. The two of us lived in our little house with our Jack Russell Terrier, Chloe. It wasn’t structured, but it was quite and simple. The most excitement was cheering for our Texas Longhorns (sorry Razorback fans) during big games.

Our perfect angel, Arlington (Ting), was born in June of 2009 and our life was turned upside down. Suddenly there was crying at all times of the day. Bottles and toys littered every room of our house. Cheering for our favorite team was no longer possible because either we were being quite so she could sleep or watching Nick Jr so she would be happy.

Here we are, 2012. Ting is two and a half years old and we are expecting a little boy in April. Our calm Chloe has gone blind and is constantly bumping into everything and barking at every single sound around us. We both work full-time outside the home so toys, clothes, and who knows what else lies scattered around our small house (which seems to get smaller each day).

As I stood in my kitchen Sunday afternoon, the Super Bowl was on the TV. I was trying to watch the game, cook chicken, prepare brownies, and wash a few dishes and a load of laundry – all at the same time. Ting was running around wide open singing, dancing, throwing dolls everywhere. I was doing my best to not trip over Ting and her toys. Chloe was barking her head off at every little bump we made. Hubby came home from work and was trying to talk on the phone. It was TOTAL CHAOS.

That’s when I realized, it’s the chaos that I love so much! I cannot begin to imagine my life as a quiet and organized life, and honestly wouldn’t want it that way. I love my loud crazy house. I love my chaotic life. I can’t wait to add another child to the mix… it’s going to be so much fun!!

Karen lives in South Arkansas with her husband and daughter. She loves reading and cooking and anything that involves spending time with her family. Her blog, Ting’s Mom, chronicles her daily life as a mom and wife, as well as an occasional review of products her family can’t live without.

New Year, New Phase of Life: The Return to Work {New Year, New You}

New Year, New Phase of Life: The Return to Work {New Year, New You}
Written by Stephanie McCratic of Evolved Mommy.

At the beginning of 2011 I started to feel like I needed to be doing something professionally. My year-and-a-half old daughter had a calendar packed with play dates; I had started a new mommy group with scheduled speakers, childcare, crafts and bonding activities; but I needed something more.

Freelance writing seemed like a natural transition. My blog had been gaining readership steadily over the past couple years, and I had done some freelance magazine writing and public relations work years ago.

A friend had also talked me into starting a jewelry home show business. The money was good and it forced me to get out of the house and socialize with people whom I’d never met. It’s not anything that I’m terribly proud of, but it taught me some good lessons.

After a whirlwind and dizzying year I now find myself gainfully employed as a social media strategist for a local marketing firm. And, no kidding, some of the biggest national clients I’ve landed have come to me directly because of my home show business.

The beauty of the situation is that my schedule is a flexible 30 hours per week. I started at 20 hours per week, which was a nice way to transition back to an office /day job setting. Now at the current 30 hour schedule I still get one weekday off with my toddler-turning-preschooler. If I were working 40 hours per week I would only see her for the 2-3 hours between when she gets home and when she goes to bed each night.

This arrangement is fantastic for our family, and it isn’t an option with every job. Although, I think it should be more common than it is.

How is my day different today than it was last year at this time:

Then Now

stretchy clothes Heels
10 am play dates 7 am professional development groups
Nap strikes anxious clients and lost emails
Quality time with baby Stimulating adult conversation

Returning to work isn’t for everyone at this stage, in just the same way that staying home isn’t for everyone.

Life has changed drastically in the last two month:

–          My body weight has increase, I’m assuming from stress eating or maybe business lunches or possibly even just winter.
–          My schedule is still a little wonky.
–          My husband and I haven’t yet figured out who takes our daughter to childcare and picks her up on what days.
–          The people I see regularly are changing (and this is the hardest part). I rarely see my mommy friends these days.

Hopefully, the dust will settle soon and the mental, emotional and financial rewards will be more obviously apparent.

No matter what, though, I still want a nap at 2:00 p.m.

Stephanie McCratic is the author of EvolvedMommy.com, where she writes about technology, trends and (mostly) non-sense for the modern mom. She has recently returned to work after two years as a stay-at-home mom. Her official title is Community Shepherd, but that’s just fancy, marketing speak for social media strategist at The Belford Group in Fayetteville, Arkansas, where she tweets and blogs professionally.