To the Mommas Gettin’ By

I went to a mommy and me yoga class a few months back and the instructor had us participate in a little sharing sesh where we introduced ourselves and our babies. Most of their stories went something like, “Hi, my name is Gretchen and Allison here is 8 months old. We meditate together every morning after sharing a bowl of organic rolled oats. She has already read all of the Harry Potter books…aloud. She likes long walks on the beach and will most likely start college soon. She also sleeps through the night and has 20 teeth.” Meanwhile, I was over yonder yanking on Ari’s arm to keep her on our mat and from crawling over to the momma + little boy next to us. Huffing and puffing like the closest we got to meditating was when I prayed for the Lord to give me strength to endure Ari’s never ceasing screaming in the back seat on the drive over!

I also follow this DIY mom on the instagrams and she has 6 kids…SIX. This wonderlady posts a DIY fixer-upper for her gorgeous (and spotless) farmhouse just about every week. Like what sorcery is this?! Who did you sell your soul to and are they looking for more?

All of this to say: I’ve been in a rut lately. I feel like I do a lot, but nothing gets done. I chase a lot. I feed a lot. I wash bottles a lot; I blow bubbles, hunt ladybugs, and read picture books a lot but I can’t say I fold clothes a lot… or vacuum enough… or that the bathroom is spotless often. And that is hard for me. I want something to show for my exhaustion at night like: look. listen here. I am exhausted this evening because I did a, b, c, and d. But my clean baby tonight will need a bath at the same time tomorrow and my tasty dinner will be transformed into dirty dishes within the hour. The cleared floor will be a toy graveyard after pattering feet momentarily bring them to life again in the morning. Early morning.

Although I don’t think I will ever achieve the level of finessed momhood that the yoga moms and the DIYers have reached, I can say my baby is healthy and happy. I have no reason to complain (but if you have figured out a way to feel rested with 4 hours of sleep… slide through my DMs). In this season of life, I can’t really describe what I am doing as “thriving”, but we are certainly getting by. So shout out to my mommas out there getting by. I’m told it gets easier…  and I’m proud of you.

-Ari & I

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Language Barrier

Ariessa is half Filipina. I hope that one day she will be fluent in both English and Kapampangan (a dialect in the Philippines). Her Lola and Lolo (grandparents on Daddy’s side) speak to her in both languages and she really connects to them. Nobody can teach her new “tricks” like they can! That being said, my daughter and I have already experienced a language barrier.

One day I noticed she knew how to blow kisses and it was the most adorable thing ever. However, she would never do it after I asked–begged really: “Ari, show grandma how you can blow a kiss!” “Ari, can you blow kisses to daddy?” “Ari, please blow a kiss.” Not only did she not do the requested action, but her face was void of any recognition–as if she had absolutely no idea what I was talking about! Nobody believed that she could!

Recently, Ari was hanging out with Lola in the other room when lo and behold I hear: “Baby, do a plying kees” which was quickly followed with an “awww, good girl!” My husband and I start cracking up as we begin to realize what had happened. I walk over to see her blowing kisses left and right! Lola taught her the motion, but to them it was a “flying kiss”! Now, I’ve altered my vocabulary to include their term and I love it. I guess it’s never too late to teach an old English major new tricks!

*Sending flying kisses* -Ari & I

 

Ari and the Great Outdoors

Ari loves to be outside. She enjoys long walks on the beach with the wind in her hair. No seriously. If she is fussy and generally unhappy get that girl in a stroller and you’re good as gold.

A few weeks ago she was not having it with “inside life” so Daddy & I took her outside. It was ridiculously hot, so we opened the garage and sat in the shade. We were bird watching. A sweet little bird was hopping around on the side-walk when lo and behold! a literal hawk (or another predator bird– I’m no bird expert) swooped down and grabbed the sweet fluffy baby in its talons. This is not what we signed up for.  If I wanted my daughter to witness this I would have stayed inside and turned on Animal Planet. As if that wasn’t enough, the hawk remained in the vicinity to eat flufbaby. It flew atop the light post and we were showered in tiny down feathers. *crying*.

At this point we are very unhappy with our outdoors experience. Okay, fine. am very unhappy about our outdoors experience.  Ari is oblivious. Every now and then a feather would catch her eye and she would follow it until it hit the pavement, but she knew nothing of it’s significance.  So I grab a fallen apple off the yard’s ground and tell my husband to throw it at the flesh devouring beast. He says it’s no use at this point. I insist. He throws and it gets very close to knocking the brute over. However, on the apple’s decent it was a mere inches from crashing into the neighbor’s car. Not one of our finer moments. The savage animal flies away, taking fluff mcbaby with it.

I snatch Ari up and stomp inside…to prepare us a chicken dinner…

-Ari&I

 

 

 

Cleopatra and Her Chariot Plebs

Ari is a glutton for adrenaline. She has a need for speed and I have a feeling she will soon be on the go (crawling, scooting or something in between).  When my husband and I take her for our nightly walk, she perks right up.  If we decide to go at a leisurely pace, she reclines and places one or both feet up on the little cup holder tray on the front of the stroller. When she commits to something she does it wholeheartedly. If she is going to relax.. she is going to do it right. However, the opposite is true as well.  If (on the rare occasion) we want to take a jog, she sits straight up–with the best possible posture. She even takes it upon herself to be the head honcho, the alpha female, the queen bee, the mob boss, or POTUS –whatever you want to call it.  It makes no difference to us as long as you know she runs the show: she slaps the tray and urges us on with high pitched screams and squeals–akin to whipping the horses of a chariot. It’s Ari’s world; we’re just living in it.

-A&I + Daddy