Rant and Roll

I love this picture because it's cute.  Yes, it's cute, but it's also a great shot of Eva's chopped up bangs.  She's so punk.

One of the things I really love about the second go-around of motherhood is no longer being a rookie.  Believe me, I wouldn't exactly consider myself a master, but I've happily evolved into something close to that. I look back on the stuff I wrote after Eva was born, and I realize how completely shocked I was when I realized how differently I was treated as a mother.  The 'working outside the home' vs 'working inside the home' was a massive conflict I had within myself, with people in my circle of friends, and with our society in general.  It was an explosive time for me, specifically because I didn't have my feet firmly planted.

Things are different now. 

The biggest change has been surrounding myself with people who understand. I felt very alone after Eva was born, and surviving that meant seeking out people (with and without children) who were willing to hold my hand no matter what.  These people were in place after Miles was born, ready with hugs and shoulders to cry on.  They helped combat the isolation, the sleeplessness, the fear, and have also been there to celebrate every epic and mundane milestone. 

I'm writing about this today because I had a brief run-in with someone who wanted to make sure I understood that mothering is 'not a real job'...that taking care of one's kids is work, certainly, but nothing compared to 'real work' outside the home. Three years ago, that conversation would have destroyed me. Luckily, I've come a long way (both personally and as a mom), and last week when those words were spoken to me, I didn't even bat an eyelash.

Because no matter what the opinion about mothering, it doesn't change the reality of what I do...every single day.  It doesn't change the reality for anyone with children no matter how or where they spend their time.

Everyone works hard. We all wake up every morning trying to figure out how to get from one moment to the next. Some of those moments are spent as a photographer, a social worker, a dog walker, a soother of tantruming children...the list never ends.

In this moment, though, I got to spend a few glorious hours as a watcher of blueberry pickers.

They Made Me Do It

Turns out, Miles is a tank.  Good thing, too, because Eva is up in his grill every single day.  Pile driving, steam rolling, body slamming goodness.  Those are the only WWE moves I know, but I'm sure there are plenty more that happened on my living room rug this morning.

But that's not what we're here to talk about.

Today, we're going to talk about my first session of personal training.  Go ahead and roll your eyes. I just did. I've been thinking about this for a really long time. Two pregnancies have shot my middle to shit and carrying these nursing cans around is killing my back. I hurt 90% of the time. I've tried massage and PT which were helpful, but not enough.  It's time to kick it up a notch.

My trainer is awesome.  She has three kids (6, 7, and 8 WHOA!) and, like me, had the type of body that held onto every single calorie while she was nursing. I envy the women who can nurse their weight away.  My body does the opposite...all those ass-padding calories sticking around just in case we encounter the Apocalypse.

We (my friend and I) spent the first session talking, answering health questions, doing physical tests and failing miserably, and finally making a list of our training goals.  I thought about stuff that would make Oprah proud like 'a healthy body' and 'my best self', but when it came right down to it I blurted out, "I wanna be BANGIN'."

Insert sound of screeching record player.

My sweet friend giggled and started to translate.  The trainer, however, assured us she needed no help with translation and put 'SHE WANTS TO BE BANGIN' on my list. Like a moth to the flame, I continued on and on about my postpartum ass which led me to mumble something else incoherent like, "I wanna de-saddlebag-ify." That item became number two on my list of goals. And on we went.

I want to be healthy and realistic and careful and measured with my body, but I also think that bringing two children into the world entitles me to a little chutzpah. I wanna be bangin'. And if I can crack some of this back pain in the process, I'll chalk that up as a major success as well.

The Method

There are two very important items of business to discuss today. 

1. A little over a month ago, I decided to leave my studio downtown. It's a bitter sweet decision because I loved my studio mate, and I had mega plans for the space.  I assumed, once Miles was born, I'd want to get out of the house as often as possible. The reality has been quite different.  I have small chunks of time making it nearly impossible to get over there. So Ferris and I decided to put Eva and Miles in the same room (sort of) and turn Miles' room into my studio. At this very moment, Miles is napping while I bust out a few items of business.  Over the next few weeks, I plan to move Miles' stuff into Eva's room and bring all the photography equipment in. 

The thing I miss most about my old social work job is my desk.  Without it, I realized how much I loved having a space all to myself, a space to be organized, a space to work. My vision for this space is no different than my old studio.  I want an entire room (back drop and seating area) to use for shooting. It's going to be well-designed and comfortable.  Most importantly, it's going to be accessible.  I'll keep you posted as plans move foraward.  Hooray!

2. Miles is a terrible sleeper.  At one point, he was only waking up once a night to eat.  Once turned into twice...turned into thrice...and it all went downhill from there.  I'm all for comforting, nurturing, and loving my children to the point of ridiculousness, but I draw the line when all of that nurturing becomes totally unsustainable.  I cannot CANNOT live without sleep, and each time Ferris tried the bottle thing Miles would wake up again for more....more MAMA.

So, we decided to cry it out.  There's a whole step-wise method to 'crying it out' which is entirely too structured for us.  Basically, Ferris takes over (because he has no milk in his tits) and does a bunch of comforting techniques (including letting Miles scream in his crib for a while) over a period of several hours.  It's brutal. It's brutal for Miles because he wants boob and who can blame him for that?  It's brutal for Ferris because trying to comfort a screaming baby is torture.  It's brutal for me because I have to resist the need to rush in and make everything better for everyone. But two nights later, by some miracle, Miles figured it out and slept 7 hours straight.  I fed him, and then he slept a few hours more. 

And we all lived happily ever after...

Amen.

Help.

We're leaving in a few hours to board an airplane to Louisiana. Ferris' brother is graduating from LSU with a masters in something-r-other.  Graduations are really big deals for the Hatz's, the biggest deals, actually.  To put it plainly, graduations are to Ferris' family as weddings are to my family. That's why I decided to do both...cover my bases.

In other news, Miles and Eva are in the running for the turdiest sleepers of all time.  He's up every 2 hours to eat while she's up at alternating times wanting to get in our bed...or she needs a glass of water or has a nightmare or has a boo boo or wants to discuss differential equations. Either way, I'm not interested.

I'm starting to feel crazy.  Not the postpartum crazy but the crazy that happens when you haven't strung more than two hours of sleep together in two months. It's the best possible scenario for taking two kids on an airplane. Wish us luck.

Week of The Mama, Sarah Has a Baby

Monday afternoon, Sarah and I took a nice walk through the West End.  She'd been on an informal bed rest for the past week because of some minor complications, so our walk was sweet and slow.  Miles crashed in the stroller while we sneaked around peeking in people's yards looking for garden ideas. Nothing like an enormously round pregnant woman and a top heavy nursing mother peering into your yard to stir up some commotion. Later that night, Sarah was induced and hours later a very healthy baby girl was born.  Both mother and baby are doing very well.

That's the thing about having a baby. Later that day, I went home and had bean soup for dinner. Sarah went to the hospital and had a baby. With both of my labors, I distinctly remember feeling like the world stopped in its tracks.  For Ferris and I, it had, but the rest of the world kept moving. So while I devoured that last spoonful of bean soup, I stopped to think about Miss Sarah and her sweet new family.