I Stopped Trying to Have a Perfect Home

In college, I watched the TV show Hoarders every week. I obsessively planned to watch each new episode. And after each episode, I would mop my floors, vacuum, fold my clothes and put them away, make my bed, reorganize my bedside table, clean out my drawers, etc. I cleaned, in short. I cleaned my house from top to bottom. 

As time went on, each episode got harder and harder to watch--and my post-Hoarders cleaning spree got longer and longer. I realized that Hoarders made me way too anxious. There is no reason to go through life making yourself miserable over and over again, so I vowed to never watch Hoarders again. 

Despite the fact that I stopped watching Hoarders, my obsessive cleaning didn't stop... and my sense of never having a clean enough house increased. After I moved into my new home in December 2013, I have ping-ponged between "it's not so bad" and "I should just burn this house down." 

But sometimes, it just didn't feel like enough. When my house is dirty, I feel very anxious and easily angered, very on-edge. It drives Danny crazy. At times, I felt like my house would never be as clean and cute as I want it to be.  

But then, someone will come over and I'll mention how messy or disorganized it is, and they'll give me this look of vague disbelief. "Michelle," they'll say, "your house is, like, nearly perfectly clean and organized and decorated. You're crazy." 

My due date group recently had fun making home tour videos: everyone walked through their house, filming with their phone, and posted it. When I posted mine, I, of course, included, "It's so messy." And you know what? Most people said it wasn't messy. 

I look around and I see stuff; I see the dog hair I've been meaning to vacuum up for a week; I see the trash that needs taken out, the book shelf that needs gone through, the Goodwill piles I need to just load up and move. But other people don't see those things. 

My house is never going to look magazine-ready. My living room has been taken over by primary colored baby toys and a monstrous baby gate; my kitchen has a high chair in it, the counters are covered in bottles and formula, and I have a massive bottle drying rack next to the sink. Martha Stewart is never going to come here and compliment that. 

Growing up means giving up things that were important to you. One of them, for me, is the perfect house. As people, we are messy and disorganized. We don't always keep the counters clean or our desks organized into perfect still lifes. And that's ok, really. It doesn't need to be. It's ok to be messy sometimes. 

Let's Move on from Jungle-Themed Baby Stuff

What's one terribly random problem I encountered when I was pregnant with Forrest? The fact that everything for babies is jungle-themed. 

I have nothing against a nice jungle theme, but sometimes, I just want to get a piece of baby equipment that isn't decked out with monkeys. Especially when it comes to boy stuff, it seemed like it was jungle or nothing at all. 

This is something Danny and I really struggled with. We wanted things that were gender neutral and theme neutral. I don't like monkeys, in general, and I wasn't 100% sold on having them covering everything in our living room. We did well on most things, opting for a neutral swing (no jungle animals hanging from it) and neutral toys (limited monkeys). 

Things got difficult, though. Our Fisher-Price Kick'n'Play mat was only available in a jungle theme. Our Fisher-Price Sit-Me-Up chair was cheapest in, you guessed it, a jungle theme. I was willing to give in on those two items. We spent hours searching for an activity center, a bouncer that didn't have a rainforest or jungle theme. We settled on a Finding Nemo bouncer that seemed like a safe middle ground. 

This leads me to a very important question: what is it about jungle theme? What about it is so appealing to toy producers? Why not forest themed or water themed? Why is everything jungle? Why not just plain shapes? 

When I think about something like our Fisher-Price Kick'n'Play mat... I have to wonder why it had to be a jungle. Why not just a plain colored mat with the plain colored keyboard? The toys that hang off of it don't have to be animals: they could be plain colorful shapes, shaky toys, and ropes. They don't have to be animals. 

I'm ready for more neutral baby products. That's all I want: basic, simple, pretty baby products. 

An Ode to Working Moms

If you'd told me, 10 years ago, that when I had a baby there would be something called "mommy wars" on the internet, I would have said two things: 1) you're a liar because I'm not going to have kids, duh and 2) that sounds seriously stupid. 

Well, surprise 17-year-old Michelle, both those things are real.  

One of the many, many mommy wars (ugh) is the working moms and the stay at home moms. Those who participate in the (totally ridiculous) battles believe that, ultimately, they have it the hardest. The truth is, both working moms and stay at home moms struggle, just in different ways. 

I walk the line between being a stay at home mom and a working mom. When I go to work, I am at work: I have my work hat on, I try to dress in something other than sweatpants (a struggle), and I try not to think or talk about Forrest unless I'm asked.

It's easy to think that working moms just, you know, go back to work. They just get right back on the horse and work and go home and that's it, easy peasy. But it's just not so. Before I was one, I had a hard time conceptualizing why it was hard to be a working mom.

When you're a mom, the work doesn't really stop.

I get up everyday around 5am. I shower. I put on my makeup. I get dressed. By 6am, Forrest is starting to stir in his crib. I get him dressed, feed him a bottle if he hasn't had one for a while. I get him ready for the day before handing him off to Danny (if it's summer) or driving him to my mom's (if it's not). In the time I'm taking care of him, I get my coffee ready, put my breakfast and lunch in my lunch bag, and gather everything I need for the day. I go to work and when I get home, I keep working. I take care of Forrest, cook dinner, and feed him. I change diapers, play, and give him a bath. Once he is in bed, I clean the kitchen and living room and then do any freelance work I need to do. By 7 or 8pm, I might be able to sit down and watch a little TV, but I try to be in bed by 9pm at the latest. 

Spending all day away from your baby is awful.

The first few days I went to work, I cried the entire drive there. Some mornings, I still do. When Forrest has slept good and is in a great mood... I can't help but want to stay home! It's difficult to know that someone else is having fun with your baby while you're working, cuddling them, making sure they eat and sleep. It's hard for me to let go of the responsibility of being the primary caregiver. Since Forrest was born, I did most of the feedings. I got him to sleep for naps. I played with him and took his picture. Stepping away from that, and relinquishing control of his care is difficult for me. But it makes getting home to him even better. 

It's hard to feel like you're doing a good job at either thing. 

I sometimes feel like I rush through my days. I rush through my morning routine to try to get to work earlier. I rush through work to try and get home to Forrest. I rush through the evening to get to cleaning and to have everything ready for the next morning. In the end, I wonder how effective I am at being both a mom and an employee. I think about Forrest when I'm at work and I think about work (and all the things I didn't get to) when I'm with Forrest. It's stressful to try and do everything. 

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Being a working mom is hard, it's true. But it can also be really fulfilling. I firmly believe that I need to work to remain happy in my life. I find fulfillment both in being a mom and in my career. I think it is absolutely possible to do both things--it just takes a little bit of sacrifice and finding what works. I'm getting better at balancing my work and my life. I'm getting better at reducing my stress outside (and inside) the office. 

But to all the other working moms out there: you aren't alone. We're all trundling along, doing the best we can. This is for you, you hardworking, professional ladies. 

I'm Ready to Talk about Postpartum Weight Loss

While going through a journal recently, I discovered a plan I had written for losing weight after I had Forrest. The date on the page in my journal says July 26, so it's been almost a full year since I wrote down possibly the funniest, stupidest plan ever. I listed times I would go walking, workout plans, meal plans to follow. 

You know what happened? None of it. 

I had neither the time nor the confidence to take Forrest on stroller walks three weeks postpartum, let alone three months postpartum. For the first three months, I survived entirely on lactation cookies, grilled cheese sandwiches, and whatever I could cook for a few minutes while Danny held Forrest. After 3 months, I was so tired of paying attention to what I ate that I just gave up. I canceled my gym membership. I never went walking. 

I could have lost the weight by now. It's true. And actually, I am at my pre-pregnancy weight right now (but my pre-pregnancy weight was not exactly where I want to be either). I could have lost all kinds of weight by now, but sometimes, we just aren't ready. 

And we aren't ready to talk about it either. 

I read an article recently about having your picture taken when you're not exactly your ideal weight. This is a fact: I don't have any pictures of Forrest and me together that aren't selfies. I don't let people take my picture. I just don't. I also don't take my picture without carefully posing and even then, I'll probably cry about how it looks if I see it. Another fact: I know I'll regret not having pictures, good ones, with him when he's older and when I'm older. 

Not having my picture taken is my attempt to deny that I've gained weight. I always have this idea that if I can put it off just a little bit longer, give myself more time, I'll avoid having to confront the idea that I am bigger than I've ever been. I have a fear of people I knew in high school looking at pictures and saying, "Wow, Michelle got big." I was self-conscious in high school and I'm still self-conscious now. I went through a phase where I finally felt pretty... and now I've lost it. I'm back to high school me, nervous and embarrassed about how I look, and it's not fun. 

One more fact: I am bigger. I have gained weight. Yes, I've gotten "big." But I like to think that, in reality, when people see pictures of me they won't think, "Wow, Michelle got big." Instead, they'll think: Michelle had a baby, or Michelle got married, or Michelle looks so happy.

I like to think that as a society we can move past the expectation that we will all stay at our ideal, pre-adult bodies forever; I like to think that we can move past the expectation that the minute you have a baby, you should start restricting calories. I like to think we've moved past the discussion of women's bodies as assets. I want to believe that we can move past the idea that women should only take up a tiny amount of space. 

The truth is: I'm bigger now than I ever have been. But my life is bigger now too. 

It doesn't mean I will stay like this forever. I eat healthier than most people I know: I eat banana pancakes and boiled eggs; I snack on cheese sticks and carrots; I cook chicken and broccoli for dinner more often than not. I won't pretend to see my errors: last week, I ate an entire box of Cheez-its in a day because they were there and if Danny even suggests Taco Bell, I have no willpower to refuse. This is my body, though. This is the size I am. I can't deny it anymore. 

It doesn't mean that I got here through laziness. I worked out every day for two years. Then I had a baby. Then I fed a baby with my body (via an electrical pump) for 6 months. 

I'm ready to talk about postpartum weight loss. I'm ready to say I'm just starting, that I'm working on it every day, and that I know I will succeed and move past my food issues right now. I'm ready to admit that I struggle every day, that I wish I could eat pizza as nonchalantly as most of the population. I'm ready to say that I'm tired of my clothes not fitting. 

I wasn't ready before, but I am now. 

Follow my weight loss journey on my new fitness Instagram, @fitforforrest! 

4 Simple Stress Relief Tips

I’d like to think I’m a beacon of zen, stress-free living... except that I am really, truly not. Anyone who knows me will tell you that I’m a horribly anxious person. I twirl my hair, bite my nails, jiggle my legs, fidget, and generally act like a personified ball of stress about 75% of my life. If I ever have a moment of 100% stress-free time, I immediately begin to wonder if I’m forgetting something to be stressed about. 

That being said, a mom has taught me that I have to find ways to deal with my stress... other than comfort eating. So here are my 4 super simple tips for relieving stress, whether you’re pregnant or not. 

1. Go for a walk or a drive. 

Sometimes, when I’m in the thick of serious stress or anxiety, I just need to leave. I need to get out of the house, stop crying, stop talking about what’s bothering me. I just need to get out of it. Usually, I will head over to my mom’s, but sometimes, I’ll just go for a drive. Other times, I’ll walk around the grocery store or the park. I always go back home feeling a little better about the situation. More than anything, by going to a public place, it gives me time to think over the problem (or whatever is bothering me) and find a solution without resorting to insane tears. 

2. Read, write, or cut up magazines. 

Do something with your hands! Anything! I’m a fidgeter, by nature, and if I occupy my hands, I effectively occupy my brain. You can read a book or a magazine, or just tear your favorite pictures out for future scrapbooking. You can write in a journal or notebook, draft a blog post, or send a message to someone you haven’t talked to in ages. There is lots you can do to take your mind off your anxiety. 

3. Invest in a coloring book. 

And I don’t mean a little kid coloring book! I recently purchased The Secret Garden and it totally changed my life. Whenever I’m feeling particularly stressed out (by all the cleaning I need to do, by the laundry that’s been sitting, clean and unfolded, in my bedroom for a week, by all the prep I need to do for baby), I spend 15-30 minutes coloring. 

4. Take a shower or a bath. 

Clean body, clean mind? Maybe. I find showers and baths incredibly relaxing. Typically, if I feel dirty (if I haven’t washed my hair or my face or shaved my legs), I find it very difficult to refocus my anxiety. Everything just feels wrong until I get cleaned up and smelling good! Plus, the shower is the perfect place to think, mull over your problems, and even cry... without messing up your make up. 

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Do you have something you always do to relieve stress? Share with me on Twitter! 

I Woke Up Like This: Top 5 Secrets to Getting Up Earlier in the Morning

We all know someone who hits the snooze two or three or ten times every morning. 

That person, for me, is my husband, Danny. He hits snooze for about an hour every morning -- so by the time my alarm goes off, I've actually been awake for 30-45 minutes. Thanks, bro!

Getting up in the morning can be difficult. I go through cycles where I can wake up easily -- and then go into a phase where I wake up groggy, hit the snooze, and have no motivation. It tends to cycle around my eating and workout habits, which is incredibly motivating. Just kidding -- it's not motivating at all. 

I have found a few tried and true ways to get up earlier. Here they are. 

1. Don't hit snooze. 

I know, that's the worst. But don't. As I've written before, the more decisions you make, the harder it can be to make other decisions. So if you spend your mornings hitting the snooze, every time you decide to hit that snooze button, you're reducing your decision-making abilities for the rest of the day. Oops. Yikes. Uh-oh. Plus, hitting snooze doesn't actually give you more rest -- it can actually make you more tired. Which isn't very good. 

2. Promise yourself something. 

Bribes are not always the way to get stuff done unless you really like bribes. If that's the case, they are a really good idea. Basically, what I'm saying is: if you need to tempt yourself out of bed by saying "you can have a massive Starbucks this morning," then you should do that. Sometimes, I bribe myself with a treat, like a bagel for lunch or my favorite dinner, or something else, like a new pair of leggings I've been wanting. 

3. Set your alarm across the room. 

I know, we've all heard this one before. But it's because it works. Whether you use a traditional alarm clock or your cell phone, putting it across the room is the easiest way to get up in the morning. I actually put my phone on the windowsill so I have to physically get up and move to the coldest part of the room in the morning -- this pretty much instantly wakes me up! 

4. If you're getting up to work out, wear your gym clothes to bed. 

That way you don't have to change into cold workout clothes immediately upon getting up. It makes it so much easier to just get up and go. You literally have nothing stopping you -- you're dressed and everything! I know Charlotte at Girl Next Door does this and she runs marathons, so that's very impressive. 

5. Have everything ready. 

Waking up can be a huge pain, especially if you have a bunch today. But preparing a lunch for your work day, picking out an outfit, and getting your coffee ready to brew can make a huge difference in helping your morning go smoothly. Every morning, I have breakfast waiting in a Tupperware to heat up and eat as I get ready, plus my coffee starts brewing as I'm showering; my lunch and snacks are prepacked in the fridge, Forrest's breakfast is ready, and I have bottles prepped for the day. 

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Have your own tips for getting up early? Share with me on Twitter!

The First Story

I still remember the first story I wrote. It was about a girl who lived on a bus. I was 12 years old and had received a laptop for my birthday, something I wanted specifically to use to write. I'd written stories before, sure: tiny stories about my favorite band (98 degrees) or things for school. With that laptop, though, I felt like I could really become a writer. I remember that every day of middle school and high school, I got home and wrote. Every single day. By the end of high school, I had amassed hundreds and hundreds of pages of writing. 

The sad part: two years ago, I went through and deleted all of it. I had carried those digital folders of Word documents around on various laptops for years. It was time to let go. 

That kind of dedication to creating is pretty impressive and I haven't met the output of my high school years yet. Everything I wrote was pretty bad; I mean, that's why I deleted it. But I still wrote a lot. In journals, on my computer, online, everywhere. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. I was always creating, always thinking, always having a new idea for something. 

I wrote significantly less in college. I filled a lot of journals, but I would argue that I never actually wrote anything. Pages and pages and pages of... nothing. I wrote a lot for school (including some papers for history classes and English classes that I'm still pretty proud of). My senior year was probably my most productive year, but that was out of necessity (several poetry workshops and a capstone), rather than actually wanting to. 

Since we started sleep training, though, I have had all kinds of time. After cleaning, washing bottles, putting away dishes, and generally doing all the chores I put off for nine months , I had more free time than I realistically know what to do with. 

So for the first time ever, I started writing again. In a few days, I sat down and wrote a short story, I wrote 6 poems, and I finished blog posts I have been meaning to write for ages . 

That first short story felt like the biggest triumph. Is it good? Not really. I would argue that it's actually pretty bad, but I wrote it and that's what is most important. It feels go to write again and to have the time to write again. I always dreamed of being the kind of mom that Forrest would remember writing and now I feel like it might be a reality. 

I Didn't Have a Birth Plan

In my 2nd trimester, I sat down and tried to write a birth plan. I looked up online what they usually included; I asked my mom, and my friends, and anyone else I could think of. "What even is a birth plan?" I asked Danny. He shrugged. 

It was easy to be an idealist when I was pregnant. I couldn't imagine a world where I went into labor early; I couldn't imagine a world where I didn't breastfeed; I couldn't imagine a world where I would be induced. It just wasn't a reality for me. I imagined Danny and I pulling up the hospital, me waddling inside the labor & delivery floor for the first time. 

As anyone who has read my blog before knows, that's basically the opposite of what happened. 

A lot of energy and emotion is put into birth plans. We plan our nurseries and our schedules and our maternity leaves--we assume we can plan our labor as well, or our entire pregnancies. But as good at planning as I may be, I couldn't plan preeclampsia. I had never known anyone who had developed preeclampsia during pregnancy and even though I had fears about it, I never realistically thought it would happen. 

But it did happen. In one doctor's appointment, all my plans went out the window. If I had had a birth plan at that point, it undoubtedly would have been mostly out the window. 

Since I overthink every situation, I found myself, in the weeks after Forrest's birth, wondering that, if I'd had a better plan in place, would things have been different? I found myself second guessing everything I'd wanted. Did the epidural make Forrest lazier, which made it more difficult for him to nurse? Did the inducement rush his birth? (Later, I would look back at this last question and say to myself, "That's the point.") I found myself asking over and over, did my preeclampsia cause every problem we have? 

Nothing I would go back and "do" would change my preeclampsia: preeclampsia begins at conception, even if you don't show symptoms until the end of pregnancy. Preeclampsia isn't something you make happen to yourself; it's just something that happens. There was nothing I could have done to fix my faulty placenta. 

At the same time, I realized something brilliant about my lack of a birth plan. Many moms who develop preeclampsia end up hating how they had to give birth. If you have a specific idea in mind (an unmedicated birth in a birth center, or at home, for example) and then medical necessity requires you do something you don't want to, it can be jarring, emotionally. That isn't to say you shouldn't plan for a home birth or giving birth at a birth center, but that you should be ready to have something change at the drop of the hat. 

It's very easy to let ourselves get bogged down by the things that went wrong. Even though a plan, I found myself sad about giving birth earlier than I wanted to. I wondered if I'd done everything wrong. But the truth is, pregnancy is just one big guessing game; you can try to get things perfect as much as you want, but the more you plan, the more you're likely to feel upset if things don't go "right." 

I'm not advocating for everyone to drop their birth plans--but I do think it's better to be more chill about how your labor & delivery goes than we currently are. There is no shame in a home birth or going to a birth center, but there is also no shame in going to a hospital, getting an epidural, or opting for a c-section. In the end, the baby will arrive. The most important thing is that everyone is ok at the end of it.