Family

5 Things I've Learned About Parenthood (So Far)

Being a mom is more challenging than I thought it would be. You feed a baby, you change its diapers, you get it dressed—what’s so hard about that? From the outside looking in, it all seems easy. That’s the first lesson, really: it will never get easy. 

1. The things that seem easy actually aren’t

Between all the easy stuff (the changing diapers, the dressing), there is stuff that is deceptively difficult. I worried about feeding near constantly at the beginning (is he eating enough? how many wet diapers did he have yesterday?) and I did a Google search for every dip in my supply, every rash Forrest developed, every little thing. I researched sleep patterns, nap times, wake times, activities, and everything in between. I was obsessed with making sure he was getting enough, doing enough. Was his development on track? 

It seems so easy. The baby is hungry, you feed him. The baby is sleepy, you put him down and he falls asleep. But it’s not. It’s really not. 

2. When parents say they are busy, they are busy. 

Being busy, for parents, isn’t just something cute to post about on social media. It’s a reality. 

And amongst all of these secretly difficult parts of being a new parent—the feeding, the pumping, the changing, the tracking every detail, the reading, the holding him for every nap—I had to do basic things like clean the house, shower, cook dinner, pay bills, and eat. This is why I spent the first 4 months of Forrest’s life in leggings and sweatshirts. Don’t even talk to me about getting groceries when Forrest was younger than 6 months—it was an undertaking that required planning.

3. It gets “different” (not easier). 

It gets different though—not really easier, just different. That’s the thing about parenthood. I think I know just about how to survive and then Forrest does something different. 

By the time I had Forrest’s nap schedule, poop schedule, and feeding schedule down… he changed it up. He ate more per feeding, less frequently. Cool. He wanted to stay awake longer. Cool. He wanted to stay up late, or go to bed earlier. Or he went two days without pooping and then, bam! Like nothing had ever happened. 

I would love to be one of those parents who keeps their baby on a strict schedule: feedings, naps, meals, bedtimes. But it’s just not possible. I’m impressed by parents who manage to do this early on and can mentally keep track of it. Some days, Forrest’s schedule is set in stone and perfect; some days, he hasn’t had a nap all day and wants to go to bed at 4:30. It’s whatever. 

4. You spend money on stuff you never thought you would. 

A “treat” for me used to be going to Target and buying a new top or dress, or a new piece of home decor. Now, I splurge, almost every trip, on an outfit for Forrest, as many of the baby food packets as I can handle, and potentially a new toy. When we have extra money, we buy things for Forrest: a car seat, a music-playing projector, a big toy. I recently bought myself a new phone case for $8 and felt tremendous guilt about it. I haven’t bought new clothes for several months, but Forrest has enough clothes to last him until December without wearing anything twice. 

Our newest exciting purchase is a miniature toilet for Forrest to start sitting on. I used to spend $20 on a single eyeliner; now I’m researching and reading reviews on the best potty to potty train. 

5. You’ll do things you swore you would never do. 

Like sleep train, or formula feed, or join a mom’s group. Two things I swore I would never do: take a kid who wouldn’t remember it to Disneyland and throw a massive first birthday party. 

Well, Danny and I are planning both of those things for Forrest, so I’m really eating my words there. 

The truth is, you never know what kind of kid you’ll have (a non-sleeper or a good sleeper, a terrible eater or a great eater, an independent baby who can play happily on the floor for hours or a baby who wants to be entertained, by you, until nap time) and so you’ll never know what kind of parent you’ll be until you’re there. 


It’s easy to think things will be one way and only that way: you have a “good baby” or a “difficult baby.” But if I’ve learned anything, things can change day-to-day. Some days, it’s so easy. And other days, I want to tear my (greasy, unwashed) hair out. Some days, Forrest is an angel; some days, I swear, he’s trying to make me miserable. 

But then I get to kiss Forrest’s chubby little cheeks, read a book to him, and put him in his cute little shark pajamas, and I realize I get to experience the greatest journey of all mankind. Being a mom isn’t easy, but it’s also pretty great. 

I Promise Not to Wish It Away Anymore

I told myself I would take tons of great pictures of Forrest. As soon as he is sitting up, I thought, I'll be able to take him outside for photo shoots all the time. Well, the sitting up came later than I expected. The first three months of his life passed both agonizingly slowly and insanely fast. I blinked and suddenly he can ride in the seat of the shopping cart and he can hold and feed himself teething biscuits. 

He went from being a barely sentient lump to having likes and dislikes, favorite toys and songs and sounds. This is exactly the stage I hoped for when he was first born. 

And yet (of course there's a "and yet" here), I find myself wishing I hadn't spent those first few months wishing, wishing, wishing for the time to go faster, for him to grow up. I still find myself having those wishes: I wish he could sit up; I wish he could talk and tell me what's wrong; I wish his stomach could hold more milk at once; I wish he napped better; I wish he slept through the night. 

I wanted him to grow up... and he did. And (here's another), I wish I hadn't rushed it. 

As difficult as they were, I miss the days I spent on the couch with him, holding him as he slept, feeding him bottle after bottle, two hours on the dot without fail. I miss his sleepy faces and accidental smiles. I miss being able to swaddle him and lie with him in bed. I wish I'd taken advantage of that--to watch movies, to read, to whatever--instead of wishing he would get bigger, faster. 

On Saturday, I struggled to get a 9 month size onesie over his head. He ate pumpkin, banana, and oatmeal for breakfast. We played and read a book and sang a song. We went to Eugene and he rode in a shopping cart. I took his picture and I thought, I can't believe he's so big. 

Suddenly, I realized that time was drifting past me, whether I felt like it or not: time had gone by and I'd wished it. I don't have any professional photos of Forrest as a baby--only ones taken on my iPhone and a few vague attempts of my own. I dragged Danny outside to take pictures I'd been imagining in my head for months. 

"He's only little for so long," I said, very early in Forrest's life. While I believed it, I also, in the back of my mind, couldn't wait for him to just get bigger

I look at him now and all I can think is, just a few more days of this. A few more days before you crawl, before you stand up, before you walk over to me, before you talk. I can't wait to experience every day with Forrest; I can't wait to hear everything he has to say. But I also want just a few more nights cuddling, a few more long naps on the couch, a few more days where he refuses to hold his own bottle as he eats. 

Just a few more days with my squishy baby before he becomes a rambunctious little boy. 

10 Spring Decor Ideas (You Can Use Right Now)

I have never, in my life, been involved in spring cleaning. Pretty much year round, I struggle to keep up with cleaning: the idea of doing a yearly clean out is ultimately appealing to me, but logistically impossible, especially now. Especially with Forrest. Most days, I can sweep my kitchen floors, wipe down my counters and sink, and start to dust before Forrest needs me (to play with him, to feel him, to hold him, or to just pay attention to him). 

That being said, I'm making a dedicated effort to clean my house more regularly, to get rid of clutter (I proudly threw away a bunch of knick knacks I just don't need the other day), and to work on projects I've been meaning to do for ages. Example: about 2 months before Forrest was born, my mom gave me a mirror with a frame and hooks for coats for my entryway. It leaned against a wall until last weekend. That's a solid 8 months, guys! 

I've been pinning home decor ideas like a mad woman recently. I've decided to start from the front of my house and move back and up (and, yes, obviously, I need to get the faucet that flooded my entryway fixed first, oops). I'm so excited to get my house looking like a put-together house, not just a place to hold a bunch of stuff! Here are some of the things I've been pinning lately. Hopefully they inspire you to get a little work done this spring! (Oh and you can always check out what I'm pinning for home decor by following my board here.) 

1. Get Rid of Bathroom Clutter.

My bathrooms are a weak point: to me, they need to be utilitarian because they get so much use. That being said, I also always wish my bathroom would look like a spa. But with a tiny amount of storage and a baby and a husband who isn't great at being clutter free, it's a challenge. I like all these ideas for organizing your bathroom--and bonus, most of the supplies you can find at the dollar store. 

2. Create Great Canisters for Bathrooms, Kitchens, or Kids Rooms!

I have a million coffee containers and formula tubs I've been saving for months. I don't know why I save them, but I always feel guilty throwing something so useful away. Now, there are tons of tutorials for painting containers and turning them into gorgeous storage containers for around your house. 

3. Use Letters and Thrift Store Frames 

Spelling words or names, or including your initials, in home design is a simple way to add a breath of fresh air this spring! Target sells letters in both large and small sizes--as well as a variety of punctuation. I painted Danny & I's initials teal and put them in the entryway... right above that 8-month-old mirror! I also like to go to thrift stores, buy the coolest frames I can find, and spray paint them to match existing decor. 

4. Get Your Pantry Under Control

About three days before Forrest was born, my mom went to Costco for Danny and I; as a result, Danny and his brother, Nate, put away all the groceries and since then... I cannot find a damn thing in my pantry. It's been 6 months! I need to take care of it! I'm loving this pantry and how it looks. 

5. Create a Terrarium

I've always loved succulents and I've recently become mildly obsessed with cacti. Terrariums are a perfect, no-stress way to include a little greenery in your home. 

6. Make that Entryway Less Embarrassing

Obviously, this is a personal one for me. I love these ideas for improving, organizing, and decorating entryways. Just because it's a place of transition doesn't mean it doesn't deserve a little TLC. 

7. Remind Yourself: Keep It Clean 

I am of the opinion that if you focus on cleaning a little bit every day, you can avoid doing big, massive cleans every week (or, uh, every 2 weeks...). This is a do as I say, not as I do kind of belief, of course. However, I love these tips for how to just keep your house clean. If you can follow through, it makes life so much more fun! 

8. Have a Guest Room? Make It Awesome. 

I love these guest room ideas! Some of them are easier than others. If you have a guest room (ours is Forrest's room... not that he uses it), it can be fun to make these just a little more beautiful, fun, and cozy for your guests. I especially love the framed wifi password! 

9. Clean Your Home Office

Personally, I have a stack of folders, files, and papers on my desk that's been growing/accumulating since September (yep, when Forrest was born)! Someday, I'll get it all filed and organized... and when that happens, I'll use some of these tips to get my office area cleaned up and looking better! 

10. Want a Picture Collage? Use These Tips 

Getting prints of Forrest, and creating a wall collage, has been on my to do list for ages. I love these tips for organizing, great looking collages. 

Share your spring decor tips and ideas with me on Twitter here!

Does Everyone Think I'm Lazy? (& Other Questions I Ask Myself)

A year ago, I could have read a variety of opinions on pregnancy and dismissed them as a) just jerks or b) valid, if somewhat stupid. But it took reading a variety of comments on a maternity leave blog post to make me realize that some people really do believe that pregnant women are lazy liars who lie and act like special snowflakes. 

The world definitely feels divided into two camps: those who worship pregnancy and act like it's the be-all-end-all of a woman's life; and those who think that pregnancy is the least important thing the world and that pregnant women are just lazy, excuse-makers. 

News flash: neither one of these opinions are very good. 

I read a lot of articles about women in business. Like, a lot. Last week, I read an interview with a woman (who'd been the CEO of a major company) who admitted to believing women who were pregnant or mothers were lazier than other employees.

No dancing around it--that's what she believed. She routinely scheduled last minute meetings at 4:30pm and wondered why female employees with children always said they couldn't make them (were they lazy? Definitely, she believed). She hated that they left at 5pm on the dot. She hated that they didn't go to after work drinks or make the attempt to socialize. She resented them. In an interview once, she didn't stand up for a female interviewee as her male coworker berated the interviewee for having children. She turned down a collaboration with Time magazine because her contact with them had "too many photos" of her kids in her cubicle so she assumed the contact at Time would be flaky. Yeah, she assumed a high-powered exec at Time freaking magazine would be flaky because she had too many pictures of her kids. We won't even get into how she treated pregnant employees: while it is illegal to fire pregnant women, she made it clear she wished she could have. 

This all changed when, surprise, she herself had a child later in life. She realized that mothers couldn't make 4:30pm meetings because they had to pick up their kids from daycare; she realized that was the same reason they were "lazy" and never stayed past 5pm or met up with coworkers for drinkers. She also realized that while they left at 5pm on the dot, they also showed up at 7:30 or 8:00 (about two or three hours before she showed up for the day) and had been working consistently while she enjoyed a workout and coffee. She realized she'd held a lot of really stupid opinions about women and mothers. 

This isn't a topic I really thought about before I got pregnant. I genuinely didn't pay attention to what happened to women with children. I casually avoided those articles about "leaning in" and "having it all." It just wasn't an interest of mine. 

But in the last month, I've found myself thinking more and more about it. I can't brush off negative opinions about pregnant women or mothers anymore because I realize more and more this is how people may begin to see me.  

While reading another article on maternity leave, there were comments that talked about how some people find pregnancy "creepy" or "gross" (ok, fair enough, it's kind of weird). There were also comments that talked about the selfishness and laziness of pregnant women. While I hoped these comments would be singular, I was surprised to see tons of people replying in agreement: that, yes, pregnant women and mothers are obviously lazy and think they are special. 

I always wonder if people like that are projecting. Are they themselves bad at their jobs? Do they wish they could be lazy? Do they want to be the center of attention? Who knows. All I know is: they got on the internet and decided to say pregnant women are lazy and tons of people agreed

This made me ask: do people totally think I'm being lazy?

There seems to be the common thought that women who are pregnant (or mothers) just need to "buck up and get to work" and not complain. The fact is, that probably won't be able to happen. Every pregnancy is different, but depending on the individual they might not be physically able to "buck u[ and get to work." If someone is throwing up until 11am everyday, they won't be able to go to work until then. If someone is so tired they fall asleep at 6pm everyday, they probably aren't going to be able to work past 4 or 5pm. Despite what many people think, growing a human being is pretty tiring. 

That doesn't mean pregnant women should get whatever they want. That certainly isn't the case. I still drag myself to work--even when I feel pukey or tired or whatever--and try my hardest to get my work done. However, there are days when I say screw it and take a few hours break or work from home or whatever. That's just the way it is. C'est la vie. Does that make me lazy? Maybe. Could I totally work through it? Probably. But would I be miserable? Yeah.

Maybe that all makes me lazy--and maybe people will judge me for it--but at the end of the day, I think we can all agree: anyone who judges women on their pregnancy or their position as a mother is probably a huge jerk. 

It's Better If We Don't Talk About All the Stuff I Have to Give Up

I promise, seriously, that not every post I write will be about being pregnant. Except this one will be. And maybe a few more. Ok, to be honest, I hate when people get pregnant and it becomes their entire life. I've been a major mommy blog hater for a long time--especially if that blogger started as a non-mommy blogger--and I probably will always be. There is something gross about pimping your kids out for content on the internet. 

That being said, being pregnant is very all-consuming. Being pregnant dictates things you can and cannot do. For example, I can't get dental work until my 2nd trimester (sorry fillings I've put off for a year!), nor can I even get dental x-rays or a cleaning. I can't drink. I can't eat pepperoni or hot dogs or anything with nitrates. I can't drink caffeine. (If you know me, you know giving up Diet Pepsi/Diet Coke is serious.) I have to take prenatal vitamins and occasionally milk of magnesia, dear god. Sometimes, I gag when I clear my throat. 

I have found though that life is better if we don't talk about all the stuff I have to give up, like another trip to Disneyland (sniffle), tuna fish sandwiches, and feeling non-queasy at any given point throughout the day. This is difficult because the question I most often get asked is: "Do you miss ______ yet?" With that blank containing one of the following: coffee; caffeine; fish; sushi; everything; or not being pregnant. 

It's hard to be pregnant in a world where so often being pregnant is focused on the things that happen to me and that I can't have. Pregnancy is so often depicted as a time of vomiting, caffeine deprivation,  and general bitchiness. Which, yeah, I mean, that's not wrong

But there is more to being pregnant than feeling sick, mean, and tired. There is a lot more to pregnancy than giving up caffeine and effective painkillers for 9 months. 

Danny and I have decided that every time I get upset about something I can't have, we will turn the conversation to talk about what we will have. That is a baby. I will have a baby. Isn't that way better than a cup of coffee or a Diet Pepsi? As much as I totally would love a hot dog, I'm way more excited about a baby (my baby!) than a hot dog. 

My mom has been pretty shocked by my lack-of-sickness. True: I feel like reheated crap most days, nauseous from morning until evening. However, I haven't thrown up nearly as much as I expected to, given my mom's and my sister's history with morning sickness. My mom always tells me though, "The end result is the same. You get a baby."

There are a lot of things in pregnancy that exist on a person-by-person basis. Some women get implantation bleeding and put a lot of stock in it... but a vast majority of women just don't get it. (Personally, it felt like I'd done a killer ab work out on the day where I think the embryo implanted properly.) It's the same with spotting, with morning sickness, with fatigue. 

To often, people want to simplify pregnancy into a list, a set of symptoms, a state of mind. But it's way more than that. Yeah, I really miss all the stuff I don't get to eat and drink and enjoy right now. I really, genuinely do miss my morning coffee. I also really miss being able to stay up past, like, 7pm. 

But instead of focusing on what pregnancy "should" be like, I think it's more important to focus on how life-changing the next few months will be. In the next few months, I can make memories that last forever, that I can tell my baby about. I'd rather focus on that--not on what I can't do or have right now. 

Remus, the Dog Who Thinks Trash is Food

Well-behaved dogs rarely make history. 

Or at least, I think that's the quote. Either way, it applies to Remus, my 2-year-old Chocolate Lab who is half-terror and half-hilarious. 

When we brought Remus home two years ago, the weekend after Thanksgiving, he immediately helped himself to a razor in the bathroom. I found him on his little bed, with bleeding gums and a guilty face. He hadn't swallowed a blade, but he got time in the kennel anyway. 

Since then, this everything Remus has eaten, to my knowledge: 

  • So much toilet paper
  • Cotton balls, all of them, even the ones soaked in acetone 
  • Paper
  • Coffee grounds
  • An entire banana peel, except for the stem
  • Styrofoam
  • The metal piece off a manilla envelope
  • Several toys, including one of hard plastic
  • A tampon
  • A panty liner wrapper
  • At least five dryer sheets
  • All of the lint that I remove from our dryer

Garbage cans are irresistible to Remus in the way a big plate of donuts are irresistible to most humans. They are his appetizer, his snack cupboard, his everything. Even when I am right there, he will stick his head into the trash can and sniff around. 

Things came to a head over the weekend. On Saturday morning, I noticed a disturbance in the master bathroom. Mainly, the trashcan was considerably... emptier since the night before. As I was doing laundry a few minutes later, I noticed that the trashcan in the laundry room was also... really empty. Hadn't I emptied the lint container at least twice in the last week? 

Remus...

We think he ate about 15 cottonballs, multiple q-tips, and several pieces of floss, as well as a fair amount of lint. I was mainly concerned about the floss -- I mean, it can't be good for the digestive tract, right? The lint is also concerning, as it is heavy and fibrous and decided not a food item. 

I fed him a cup of brown rice and a cup of canned pumpkin after consulting the internet. Nothing in his behavior suggested he didn't feel good -- in fact, I think he felt quite pleased with himself. Mom and Dad were paying lots of attention to him and he didn't even get in trouble, really! How could I punish him? I hadn't seen him do it, but I knew he'd done it. 

The thing about Remus is: right now, he's my baby. Since I can't have a real human baby yet, I have a big, brown, monster of a dog instead. And he is a monster. As sweet and cute and lovable as he is, he is also an absolute monster sometimes. He is unruly, rarely listens to me, and can be downright snotty when you don't pay attention to him. He hogs the bed (yes, all 85lbs of him sleeps on our bed, it's like sharing the bed with an annoying 11-year-old) and his breath really stinks.

He has his moments, of course: he sits to be fed and he stopped jumping on me so much (he still does, however, when he's exciting or thinks he'll get a treat), he doesn't have accidents anymore and he's also stopped throwing up to get my attention. No matter what though, he's my baby and I worry about him almost constantly. 

A few weeks ago, Danny and I came home to the carbon monoxide alarm going off. Our system is one that talks (it's so annoying) and when we got home from work, we heard the beep but not the voice. I thought a battery was dying. We walked inside and Remus didn't make a sound. When I could finally hear the automated voice, I realized it was saying carbon monoxide. I immediately started crying and raced upstairs. Remus is never quiet when we get home and it was so strange for him to be. I was sure he was dead of carbon monoxide poisoning! But no, there he was, sitting in his kennel, being quiet like a good boy for once in his life

I worry about leaving him all day. I worry about the food we feed him and the treats he gets (I recently switched from his favorite chewies to a smaller, more expensive brand because the originals were made in South America). I worry about his paws and his claws and his anxiety over having his paws touched. I worry about what would happen if he ran away. I worry about his back and his hips. I worry about the bald patches on his weird elbows and on his chest. I worry that he's dehydrated, too hot, too cold. I worry about the texture of his paws. I worry about everything

Which is why it is so, so annoying when he eats the trash. 

"Remus," I say, "Can't you tell that you shouldn't eat the trash? Doesn't it smell poisonous to you? Don't you know how hard I work to keep you safe?" I hold his big head in my hands while he lie on the couch. He wags his tail and tried to lick my hand awkwardly. His big, golden eyes are full of love and admiration. (Not to brag, but I am his favorite in the house. Sorry, Danny.) I imagine his reply: But it tastes so good, mom! He does not understand my hysterical worrying. He also does not understand anything I say to him. He probably knows that his name is Remus (or at least sounds like something with an S on the end), but he doesn't know who I am. That's the problem with dogs. They are naked and clueless 100% of the time, but to us, they're family members. 

My dog is an ill-behaved mess and he loves to eat trash. So I spent a weekend watching him to his business in the backyard and, like the dutiful parent that I am, sorting through it. (Just kidding: it was Danny who did the actual sorting.) We identified clumps of tissue, floss, whole q-tips and cottonballs. All the culprits of my worry. Nothing lodged. 

As a punishment to Remus and potentially myself, I bought all new trashcans -- $50 worth of trashcans, to be precise. Remus has sulked around the house ever since, ruefully chewing on blankets and pillows and bits of wood from the fireplace. 

But at least he can't eat the trash now. 

Merry Christmas

It's weird what a few days at Disneyland does to you. Mainly, it hurts your feet. But, you also start to forget that the real world exists -- that, outside this place of confusing, twisting pathways and adorably decorated, perfectly rustic or New Orleans or whatever shops, there is a world that keeps going, keeps working, keeps doing whatever it does. For about three days, I legitimately forgot it was Christmas week. Yeah, there are Christmas decorations inside the park -- but it's a big like getting caught inside of a snow globe. The Christmas decorations are there, but that doesn't mean it feels like Christmas. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is: Merry Christmas, even though it doesn't feel like Christmas. There are no presents, no tree, no nothing where I'm sitting right now -- but I'm in the Happiest Place on Earth, so I don't have a lot of room to complain. 


5 Things I'm Thankful For & Not Just on Thanksgiving

My husband finds it difficult to make what I consider normal faces in photos and I'm learning to accept this fact.

My husband finds it difficult to make what I consider normal faces in photos and I'm learning to accept this fact.

I'm not a preachy person. I genuinely believe that most people know they've got it good (if they do have it good) and that occasional complaining does not mean someone doesn't appreciate what they have. 

That being said, I think everyone could do with being just a teensy bit more thankful -- and not just on Thanksgiving. Every year, people trot out their I'm so thankful! feelings and then blissfully forget about them on Black Friday, that sacred holiday marked mostly by stampedes and hysterical fights of televisions. We should be thankful all the time, not just on Thanksgiving. 

And because I'm a massive hypocrite, here are 5 things I'm thankful for all the time (not just today). 

1. My Husband.

I'm having kind of a rough patch right now. I have a lot of unexplained stress (ok, some of it is explained) and other issues. My husband and I had planned to travel for Thanksgiving, but as the day approached, I just couldn't do it. With everything else, the thought of driving 8 hours and spending a hectic (but fun!) three days with his family made me want to curl into the fetal position and cry. If Thanksgiving had fallen last week, I would have been there in a minute. But this week? I just couldn't. My husband was sad, but he also understood. He made me promise him that I would spend the next few days relaxing, taking care of myself, and spending time with him and Remus. It was a promise that was way too easy to make. 

2. Remus.

Here's why I love Remus: when he puts his ears back in his "I'm Happy!" face, he looks like Dobby; a fly was annoying me while I was writing on my NaNoWriMo novel so he caught it and ate it; he accidentally gut-punched me so hard in the stomach Wednesday morning and then immediately punished himself by going to the patio door and sitting outside for 10 minutes, clearly contemplating what he was doing with his life. (That last bit might be a conjecture on my part.) Danny and I often make fun of Remus for his smelly farts, his general goofiness, and his lack of awareness -- but he's my furbaby, always and forever, and his face will never fail to make me happy. 

3. My Mom & Dad

On Monday, I had a truly terrible day. I spent two hours with my mom, talking and letting her make me feel better. The next day, I stopped by again (who said living near your parents wasn't a good thing?) and my dad loaded my car with firewood. My parents are the best parents in the world and yes, I will fight you on that one. 

4. My House.

This is kind of a duh one, but sometimes, I just really need to appreciate that I own a house. I live in a house that is warm and extremely airtight, has a wood stove, has a pretty baller kitchen, and has enough space to hold all my slightly pack-rat worldly possessions. I also have a garage, and an extra freezer full of beef, and a backyard, and a front yard, and a really great view. I live in Rivendell and you cannot tell me that isn't awesome. 

5. My Body. 

I spend a lot of time ragging on this body of mine. I want to squish it into pants that don't fit, skirts I used to love. I make it run; I make it do 100 lunges; I make it lift weights and go grocery shopping and eat chicken and cauliflower rice. And yet, I never sit and appreciate the things my body does for me: it keeps my brain alive, it stays healthy (even when it malfunctions occasionally), and it keeps moving despite all the stupid crap I put it through. My body is imperfect, but it's mine and it's gotten me this far, so it can't be that bad, right? Now, I'm going to stuff it full of rolls, turkey, and cookies and you cannot stop me.