When I decided to start writing my blog, I wanted to be authentic and real. I wanted other women and mommas to feel like they can have solace in the fact that someone is willing to write about the raw, sometimes ugly stuff and not just post “the perfect pictures, posts, and words” to align with the facade that is social media. Well, here’s another dose of reality and bitching a little bit because life is HARD, and in 2020 was the hardest, and I know that it is for all of us – no matter what we all post on social media.

I’m not posting this for pity, but more for a true look into what life is like for someone like me: a full-time working mom, a lineman’s wife, who also just so happened to have knee surgery and struggles daily with keeping the dog entertained, my wild toddler alive and in one piece, the fridge full, bills paid on time, the house clean, and what is “time for me” anyway?!

For those who didn’t already know, Mitch had been out of town for work since November 30th, and quite literally had not had a single day off until he came home Christmas Eve morning after working a 19 hour shift to finish the job. ::Insert husband appreciation quote here, because this super hero of a man had literally been working for 24 straight 10-12 hour days and I can’t even IMAGINE how exhausting that was::. I can’t express how hard it has been being a “single-but-not-single mommy” this past December – so massive kudos to the legit single moms because I don’t know how you do it. All I know is that balancing working full time, mixing in post-op physical therapy for my knee, trying to keep the house in some sort of order, taking care of the dog, all the things for Cole, keep in contact with Mitch, and everything else that comes with just being an adult – and doing so around the holidays while missing your other half has been enough stress to drive me to literal insanity. Oh, and let’s not forget the pandemic. 😂

Seriously, I just feel like I want to climb the tallest mountain and scream at the top of my lungs some days. Wishing for things to “just be easy” for a little bit. I’m sure that many of you feel this way, at least on occasion.

We truly had a great Christmas, and it was much needed. Cole had zero interest in opening gifts, but has loved many of the toys that Santa brought him. It’s funny, though, sometimes he has no interest in his toys at all and would rather just run around the house screaming, getting into everything, and being a crazy boy. In the days since Christmas, we’ve had a pretty weird few days which included an ER visit to glue Cole’s forehead back together after an incident on Sunday with a bike at Dick’s Sporting Goods 😣, and also a call to the fire company when our carbon monoxide detector went off (thanks to me for warming up the car and leaving the garage door open for too long – whoops!). It’s been an eventful Christmas vacation, and we are trying to make the best of every day we have at home as a family. Sunday is here and Mitch’s break is over – and we have to go back to living our slightly distanced life. ::cue the emotional breakdown that will occur over the next few days as I readjust – again::

One thing I am hoping to do in the New Year is to try harder to focus only on the good. 2020 has been mentally exhausting. We’ve all been through SO many changes in all aspects of life, and it has made all of us so uncomfortable. It’s been a scary year. For some, it’s been traumatic and sad. I am so beyond thankful to have escaped 2020 mostly unscathed, and just pray that 2021 brings back normalcy, health, happiness, and prosperity. Happy New Year to all of you, and thank you for continuing on this blogging journey with me. ☺️

I think I can speak for everyone when I say that 2020 has been a very challenging year. We all have been put through the ringer in one way or another due to COVID-19, and it has been mentally and physically exhausting. Between the stresses of working through all of this, Cole’s daycare closing off and on and having to telework, dealing with mask-wearing and constant worrying, having a knee surgery in the midst of it, multiple family members with health issues, and a billion other everyday challenges – I find myself off and on getting sick of it. Longing for “easy” days and weeks. Longing for the “good old days” when I could walk into a store without a mask and hold the door for someone and actually SMILE at them, go to our favorite local bar for wings and a beer on a weekend with my friends, and visit my family members without questioning whether or not it’s safe. I’m just sick of it, and over it; as we all are.

But if I’ve learned anything in 2020, it’s this: mindset is EVERYTHING. I still have plenty of days where I struggle to see the good, but it’s always there – even in the tiniest of amounts. So today, let us all try to find the blessings in disguise. Family, friendship, health, love, prosperity, and safety – those are a few things I am thankful for today. God bless. ❤️

In my mind money, food, and sleep all fall into the same category: you may not think about how important it is until you don’t have any. And one thing that I was lacking for the first full 12 months of Cole’s life was sleep. And that, my friends, was one of the most challenging parts about learning how to be a mom.

Pre-Cole, I was a woman who needed a good 6.5-8 hours to function. I remember setting three alarms for work: 6:45, 6:55, and 7:00. I’d snooze the first two, and roll myself out of bed at 7. Hop in the shower, rush around, and be out the door at 7:35 – the VERY last minute I could leave so I could still get to my desk by 7:55-58. Little did I know how drastically that lifestyle was going to change, seriously, huge LOL.

I know that most, if not all, of new moms go a stretch of time with very little sleep – interrupted every few hours because newborns are hungry often and need to eat frequently. But little did I know that this pattern would continue for the first 9-11 months of Cole’s life. I read articles, books, experimented with bed times, experimented with room temperature, tried to sleep train twice, changed outfits, used multiple binkies, and probably hundreds of other things just to try to crack the code to Cole sleeping through the night. I OBSESSED over it. I asked friends, family, and maybe even a random stranger or two while in line for more coffee at work…..

It was brutal. Especially being a full time working mom. Dragging my exhausted self out of bed and in to work after getting 4-6 hours of interrupted sleep was awful. But I will say that once I stopped obsessing over sleep and just told myself, “it’s just how he is, you’re not a bad mom – he’s just not figuring it out yet – and that’s ok”, life got a whole lot better despite the sleep challenges.

When Cole hit that magical 1 year mark, things started to slowly change. His stretches of sleep got longer, and he started to learn to put himself back to sleep on his own. I am so blissfully happy and excited to say that he’s slept through the night for almost a month straight as of now, and mommy feels like a new woman! I’m writing this blog this morning, and Cole is still sleeping after putting himself back to sleep around 6:30. I’m sitting here thinking back to those rough nights, and truly don’t know how I survived – but I did. You just push through thanks to lots of support from your husband, friends, and family, lots of coffee, sometimes a few hundred muffled curse words, and knowing (well, more like praying with all your might) that the phase will pass.

So, it has been A WHILE since I’ve written, which bothers me. Today I wanted to share a short “catch up blog”, and get back into the more pointed posts soon! Id like to admit that the past few months have been tough and I felt like I was in a massive rut. COVID day #274859372 has me tired. Annoyed. Down. Glum. And all the synonyms you can think of for the expression “over it”. Sometimes it feels like life has come to a standstill due to COVID, but it hasn’t. Especially not for us.

In the Chirdon household, things have never been livelier. In the past few months, we’ve celebrated Cole’s first birthday. We’ve progressed from walking with help to RUNNING around like a wild man. Since mastering walking, he’s started expanding his vocabulary and is now regularly saying words (yes, this, that, mama, dada, book) and understanding what he’s communicating – such as demanding his favorite fruit, “ba-na” (bananas), for breakfast. Cole has also started to absolutely love his “ga”, Ellie, and often gives her hugs, well, all the time. His personality is so sweet, and so funny and spunky. I can say at this point it appears that we may have a class clown, so sorry in advance to all of our CH teacher friends.

In addition to all of that, I had to undergo my third knee surgery last week. I’ve got some unfortunate issues caused by an injury followed by decades of wear and tear – issues that usually people don’t have until they’re well into their later years of life. And I’ll spare you the medical diagnosis and prognosis, but I will say that it’s been challenging and scary. I’ve come to have a lot of mom guilt, like most moms, and I feel it. Hard. That I can’t chase him. I can’t carry him around right now. I can’t play. It’s a lot more challenging and scary when you’ve got a wild and crazy toddler on the loose, while you’re trying to heal and not push yourself to do too much too soon.

I’m going to try to get back into posting more regular blogs, because I really do LOVE writing and keeping a little virtual diary of all of the things that happen over the course of this fun time in our lives – and I love sharing it with my family and friends! So hang on tight – because now that Cole is running around, throwing tantrums, and repeating things that he hears – things are bound to get interesting…

So, we’ve been doing this whole “husband works out of town, wife works full time and takes care of baby, dog, and house” thing for about a month now, and boy have I learned a lot in these short few weeks. There are many days where I feel like I’m an all star mom, kicking ass and taking names. And there are also days where the weight of it all can feel very heavy and at times impossible. Those days, thankfully, are less frequent – but they truly test my mental strength. This morning was one of the latter.

Cole has perpetually been a so-so sleeper, like – I KNOW it could be worse, but it could definitely be better – type of sleeper. He went down at his usual bedtime of 8:30, woke up at 1:00 to nurse, went right back to sleep, then woke up again around 4:45. But, alas, he did not have an easy time falling back asleep as per his usual. Instead, he cried. He fought me and pushed me away. I tried laying down with him, tried letting him cry in the crib a while, tried feeding him, standing and walking, shushing and butt patting. I pulled out every trick I could think of, and ultimately, 45 minutes of rocking later he went back to sleep. By then, it was time for me to start my day anyway, so I stayed up. I finished prepping his breakfast, lunch, and bottles for daycare. Take a quick rinse off shower, skip the hair washing because I knew I didn’t have time for that this morning (dry shampoo, you’re a life saver). Get myself dressed and almost ready – and he’s up already.

So, the usual morning balancing act begins. Try to finish getting myself ready, take care of our attention-deprived angel of a dog, Ellie, get Cole changed and ready for daycare – and so on. Even though I was tired (is there any other state of mind anymore, though?) I was going through the usual motions. So finally, I’m almost done and ready to roll when I realize I should try to do something with my hair. I put Cole in the pack ‘n play and start figuring out some sort of a pony tail that turned into a frustrated messy bun. And that’s all it took, I broke down and started crying.

In that moment, I just wanted my husband. I wanted him to be there to support me as he’s done countless times, and to just have someone to entertain Cole long enough that I could have washed and actually done my hair. Sometimes I find myself trying to be so strong and trying to get everything done with Cole, cooking, cleaning, Ellie, the house, etc. that I forget to just breathe and allow myself to be a normal stressed out and imperfect working mom. I think the benefit of this morning’s breakdown was that I finally realized it’s ok to just embrace that messy bun – these tough times won’t last forever.

If one thing is for certain, I have definitely come to realize that there is very little time in the day and I now need to make the most of every second and carefully plan at least some of every evening. By the time I get off work, pick Cole up from daycare, and get home – it’s already 5:15 or so. Typically I nurse Cole, feed Ellie, make some sort of dinner, eat dinner while feeding Cole, clean up, try to get Ellie some exercise (usually letting her run around while Cole and I water the flowers and pick veggies from the garden), come inside and try to let Cole play or get a bath, and by then it’s his bed time. After he’s down, I usually try to haul ass around the house to get everything ready for the next day: daycare food and clothes, my work clothes, lunch, etc. If I have time or energy (rarely), I try to do one small cleaning task or a load of laundry before I have to shower and go to bed. It’s truly a grind and I’ve found that if I don’t ask for help, I really start to fall behind (cue my absolutely amazing mother and MIL). I try so hard to not worry about the things that aren’t getting done and instead realize that the few hours I have with Cole each night are worth letting the dishes in the sink or the laundry get behind.

One thing that I have learned through this life change is how much Mitch and I rely on one another for things, and how much we truly were (and still are) a team. I am so thankful for that. Mitch is doing a great job balancing working 48 hour weeks, studying after work, and staying involved with Cole by doing FaceTime with us every night. I’m keeping my child alive, the dog alive, myself *half* sane, and the house standing – and right now, I suppose that’s enough.

Recently, Cole turned 10 months old.

Ten. 1-0. Double digits.

I don’t know what it is about counting down the first 12 months of a baby’s life that makes each month seem so special – but it REALLY is. And one thing I noticed when he hit that 10th month and I snapped his monthly picture was how much he changed in those short 4 weeks!

In just four short weeks, Cole went from having no teeth to having two teeny bottom chompers. He went from only scooting around on his butt to full on crawling with his leg out to the side – and he gets quicker by the day! He’s standing at his walking toys and able to take a few steps with us steadying him. Cole’s babbling of different consonants and vowels has increased, despite “dada” still being his favorite to say, which of course Mitch thoroughly enjoys harassing me about. We’ve started to teach him some basic baby sign language, but that effort hasn’t come to fruition yet. He’s definitely turned into a little wild man in a short few weeks, and more and more of his feisty personality is coming out each day.

Needless to say, we’ve got our hands full already and they’re only going to get fuller as this little bundle of energy continues to grow and learn!

One of the benefits of Cole’s increased movement is that he wears himself out by the end of the day and has actually slept through the night a handful of times – which this momma needed so desperately! 😂 I’m hoping this is a turning point for our night time woes, it’s amazing what a decent night of sleep can do for a tired mommy.

On a more serious and more emotional note, this week has some very big changes in store for our little family. Cole is starting at a new daycare Tuesday, which I am very nervous about as he’s become quite attached to his momma bear through the past few months of quarantine. On top of that, Mitch starts his new job tomorrow.

As many of you already know, or have read in my earlier blog, Mitch was laid off from Norfolk Southern in September after working there 9 years when Cole was just 3 weeks old. He had considered a few different new career options and had applied to be a Local 126 lineman. After months of waiting, testing, training, and COVID delays – he begins his 3.5 year apprenticeship journey tomorrow, which also involves working out of town all week.

I know this new chapter in our journey will be a difficult one for all three of us, and my heart is very heavy today. It’s very easy to focus on the negatives but there are many positives too. I’m so lucky to have a husband who is so dedicated to providing for our family, and I know that we will become closer and stronger as a family despite being miles apart. I know it will be challenging being a “single parent” for most of the week, especially because Mitch has always been a hands on daddy who has done so much for Cole and I. But I am lucky to have family and friends who are close by and who will support us.

As we all know – tough times don’t last, tough people do. We got this. ❤️

Like many – or all – of you, I’m starting to get a little bit crazy. It’s been over 3 months since life as we knew it was flipped upside down. I’ve been teleworking a lot, taking off work some days because Cole’s daycare is still closed, and Mitch is back to work full time. Parts of the country are starting to reopen, and parts of our state, and we are soon to follow.

I’m torn on how to feel. On one hand, I am SO ready for life to return to normal. Our area thankfully has not been hit hard by this virus, and the confirmed cases fell well below the projected numbers. I’m thinking of returning to our typical Friday nights, grabbing a few beers and dinner at the sportsman’s club with our friends. The weather has been great this week, and I’m anxiously wanting to put social distancing behind us. On the other hand, I’m still scared. I’m scared for my grandfather with COPD. I’m scared for my 9 month old son who had RSV only a few months ago. I’m scared for my family and friends who work in direct patient care. I wish this were easy, but it’s not. I want to think that soon life as we knew it will return, I can stop social distancing, and see our friends and family again without being overly cautious.

But, can I? Can we really ever return to normal? What I hate the most about these mask-wearing, hand-sanitizing, standing 6 feet apart times is that the physical distance creates a mental distance. I’ve lost track of how many times in a grocery store I’ve said, “thank you” or “excuse me” or made some sort of friendly comment to another shopper – through my mask – to only be totally shunned. Have people lost their manners along with their social freedom? Have we lost sight of what normalcy is already?

It’s a weird and scary time. Graduations, weddings, and large-scale events have been postponed or canceled entirely. The one that has hit me the hardest so far is the Ashville Memorial Day Parade. Every single year on Memorial Day, we started our day driving down to my Pap Malloy’s house on Main Street in Ashville, sit on the front porch together, and watched the parade with all of my aunts, uncles, and cousins. Those from the area know exactly what I’m talking about. After my Pap passed away and my brother bought and remodeled his house, the tradition continued – except for this year. There was no parade. No walk up to the VFW to hear the keynote speaker. No McConnell Band playing the Star Spangled Banner. No Ashville Fire Company trucks, one of which is usually driven by my brother. No local baseball teams marching and throwing candy. No procession to the cemetery to visit my grandparents grave while the VFW conducted a ceremony to honor the most recently deceased military member of the year. If one thing is for sure, Ashville does it right. And I truly missed that this year.

But not only did I miss that, I missed that with my son. I wanted so badly to see the wonderment on Cole’s 9 month old face when all of this happened before his eyes for the very first time. It nearly brings tears to my eyes to think that he didn’t get to experience that this year – and I just pray that 2021 brings us different opportunities to continue with that sacred and most loved tradition that we share with my Malloy family.

Its been quite a few weeks since I’ve last written, and honestly, its because I’ve been at a loss for words. I know we have all seen and heard so much about COVID-19 that it’s basically coming out of our pores, but I would be remiss if I did not write about this pandemic. If you would have told me on January 1st that by April 1st I would fear going grocery shopping, carry hand sanitizer in the same way I’d carry a weapon, and be trapped inside my house for months – I’d have called you absolutely insane. Our lives as we knew them have been firmly tossed upside down. For some, this is a sprinkle on an otherwise sunny day. For others, this is as terrifying and life changing as a hurricane. What is for certain for all of us, however, is that the duration of this pandemic is almost completely unknown. And the unknown is frightening.

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If I’m being completely honest, my reaction to this would be totally different if it weren’t for Cole. I’m very fortunate to have the type of job that can allow me to telework during this scary time, and minimize the possibility that I contract COVID at the hospital and spread it to my vulnerable baby. Mitch is now laid off, so Cole will get to spend some extra time with his dada and has been primarily watched by his grandma and sometimes Mimi. I won’t lie, getting to see my little man so much has been wonderful. I think we will really struggle when the time comes to go back to work, and back to daycare.

I had a moment of intense clarity this past Monday. I logged off work at 4:30, fed Cole, and got ready to go grocery shopping. I had to stop at both Aldi’s and Martin’s, so I brought a pair of rubber gloves, a mask, a baggie, and hand sanitizer. I went into the store with only my credit card, keys, and grocery list – masked and gloved.

I anxiously rushed through the stores, suspicious of every person in there. I carefully removed my gloves and mask and before getting into my car and placed them carefully inside out in the plastic baggy to throw away. I over-sanitized my hands, got in the car, then drove home. When I got home I Lysoled my credit card, keys, and most of the groceries. Immediately changed my clothes and washed my hands really good before even getting close to Cole.

My paranoia was at an all time high – all from one grocery trip. Then it hit me. If I’m this anxious and scared over a grocery trip, this situation must be absolutely wreaking havoc on the lives of those on our healthcare front lines. They deserve our support, our respect, and our compliance. As best as we can, we need to stay home and continue to be as safe as possible.

I’ve seen so many posts, quotes, memes, and such about this whole situation. While I’ve appreciated a lot of the funny ones (i.e. Tiger King everything), I read a few more serious posts that give me hope that this life-altering experience will bring about positive change in the end.

I pray that this experience isn’t just a temporary slow down of life, I hope that the hustle and bustle that has become so normal isn’t normal anymore. I hope that Sundays return to being a “day of rest”, where stores and places of business close so everyone can be with their families. I hope that this experience allows families to do more active things together, and spend less time in front of a tv or cell phone. I pray that we all make it out on the other side of this with a new and great appreciation for freedom. Freedom to socialize with friends, get a drink at your favorite bar, watch your favorite sports team, and fearlessly leave your home without planning the best antibacterial route.

Stay safe friends. Wash your hands, stay home and slow down if you are lucky enough to be able to, and hug your family (that you’re allowed to hug) even tighter.

As I was well aware before becoming a mom, sickness happens. I have a lifelong history of ear infections, surgeries, sinus infections, and one particularly awful experience with the flu. What I wasn’t aware of is how awful it is to have a very sick baby – and then compound that by becoming sick myself.

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As I sit here writing this blog, Cole is napping in my arms. The past two weeks have been an exhausting and scary blur, bringing back some vivid memories of the first few weeks after bringing Cole home. Yep, THAT level of exhaustion. I’d almost forgot what it felt like. Cole started getting a runny nose on Valentine’s Day. The next day, we added a dry cough and increasing temperature. Sunday, more congestion. By Monday, the cough got deeper and he had started wheezing. It was scary how fast things were progressing, almost by the hour he was getting a little worse. I had taken him to the Pediatrician that Monday and the PA thought he had Croup cough, so we treated it with a steroid. By Wednesday, he was getting worse, back in the office, and he was diagnosed with RSV. (For those unfamiliar with RSV, adults can get it and barely know it, but the virus is very dangerous and can be life threatening for babies and the elderly.). Nebulizer treatments, continuing the vaporizer, saline, suctioning mucus out of his nose, and just praying that he could continue breathing well enough to keep him from being admitted to the hospital. The Doctor we saw Wednesday told us that Cole was strong and doing better than most babies at this point, and I was so thankful for my big strong boy.

We went back to the Pediatrician and saw the same Doctor that Friday, and he saw some improvement but also confided that he was really worried about Cole earlier in the week – he just didn’t want to worry me. Cue the mom panic! I’m somewhat thankful he allowed me to keep my cool, I was already not getting any sleep for fear he would stop breathing in the middle of the night.

The whole next week we continued breathing treatments, letting him sit in a steamy bathroom, nose suction, etc. Thankfully, he’s on the mend and this pesky cough will likely go away in a few weeks or so.

Somewhere in the middle of this, both Mitch and I also got sick. I used to think being sick before having a child was bad, but holy hell was I not prepared for what it would be like to be sick myself (ear infection and sinus infection) and NOT be able to take care of myself like I normally would. It’s been a struggle to get myself better, I’ll be honest. The symptoms are definitely lingering despite being on an antibiotic. But, momma’s gotta do what a momma’s gotta do. It’s amazing how much you can push through simply because you have no other choice.

I’d been forewarned that these occurrences are the norm for daycare babies, and that Cole’s immune system will greatly benefit in the future. But that doesn’t make going through it any easier, and sure as hell doesn’t make me worry any less!

Cole is officially SIX months old today…. first of all, umm what?! I have a six month old son?! I’m truly not sure where that time has gone, but it sure has gone fast and it sure has been a beautiful adventure. I’d like to focus my blog this week on one important personal milestone: 6 months of exclusive breastfeeding/pumping. So, before you begin, just know this one is long.

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Before having Cole, I figured I’d try breastfeeding because that’s what they say is best, and I wanted to try to do what’s best for my little man. However, I went into it with an open mind knowing that sometimes it just DOESN’T work, and knowing formula was always available made me feel better about giving it a try.

My breastfeeding journey started how most start, shortly afterward Cole entered the world. They recommended trying to get him to latch right away as they do in most complication-free natural births. Fortunately, Cole did not have issues latching fairly well or nursing (clearly, he’s a biiig boy). However, this journey was full of many bumps and curves, and I was so very close to jumping ship many, many times.

I’ll spare you all the graphic details about how painful those early weeks are when a particularly sensitive body part is now being sucked on for 20-30 minutes at a time every 1.5-2 hours, but just know that the resulting pain was at times toe-curling and produced many, many tears and cries. I felt like as soon as he was done nursing, I had less than an hour until he was due to eat again – and it felt like a never ending cycle of pain. It was physically and emotionally exhausting, and you truly feel like a cow. To add insult to injury, within the first few weeks Cole and I both ended up with thrush. And shortly after that, I experienced a very painful and frustrating milk bleb (Google it, not fun or pretty). So those first weeks were not easy, and there were HUNDREDS of times that I wanted to quit. DOZENS of times that I’d be nursing him in the middle of the night, crying in pain, and Mitch would wake up, walk in, and try to support me.

I can honestly say without his support, I may have given up. I HATED breastfeeding at first, and I think that’s ok. Giving up would have been easier, no doubt. It also would have made life a lot easier when I wanted to leave the house, because planning a trip to the store or anywhere was very difficult around nursing (especially because I’m a private person, and not the type to whip out my boobs in public – lots of nursing happened in my car and in dressing rooms). But a particularly wonderful delivery nurse I was blessed to have, Kelly, told me to give it 6 weeks. She told me that after 6 weeks, it would get easier. And truly, it took a little bit longer than that for me due to the thrush and bleb. But, I’m so glad I stuck it out and pressed on.

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A few little tips that helped me make it through:

1. Lanolin, lanolin, and more lanolin

2. Air, air, and more air (I used these cool little plastic shells that let the nips air out in between feedings

3. Cold and warm compresses before and after feedings

4. A good boppy pillow, a close-by remote, a full water bottle, and a comfortable recliner – because for the first few months I felt like I lived on there

5. Truly, give it time. After 5-6 weeks, assess how it’s going and decide whether to continue or not.

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The benefits of breastfeeding far outweighed the negatives – despite there being so many of them in those early days. For me, it allowed me to lose the baby weight plus some pretty quickly. It allowed me to eventually build a strong bond with Cole, and feel a strong sense of importance as his mommy. For Cole, thanks to my antibodies, he has made it through half of flu season with only the occasional runny nose or minor cold (fingers crossed). And he’s growing and gaining weight like a champ!

I’m hoping to continue nursing and pumping at work to get Cole through flu season, but if my body has other ideas (or if Cole gets teeth sooner) then I will give myself a pat on the back for a job well done and hang up the ladies. With that, I leave you with a little comedic relief. Below are some of the random late night thoughts I decided to jot down..

#MiddleOfTheNightBreastfeedingThoughts

-My nips hurt soooo bad, I hope they won’t fall off or something

-Will I EVERRRRR sleep through the night again?!

-No one else in the entire world is awake right now, no one..

-*As husband snores loudly from the bedroom across the hall* I could shoot him, or smother him with a pillow, bury him in the back yard, etc. I’ve watched enough NCIS, I could probably get away with it, or have a jury full of moms who would totally understand

-*looking up stuff on Amazon* Hmm, do I need this ::insert random baby item I’d never use::? ::adds to Amazon cart::

-Will I EVERRRRR sleep through the night again?!

-That awkward moment when you realize that getting 4 hours of sleep is your new “well rested”

-I almost fell asleep standing up, I had no idea that could happen

-how the hell do people do this with more than one kid?

-………..wait, what day is it?

-One poopy diaper down, a million to go.

-Will I EVERRRRR sleep through the night again?!

-::Ellie walks in and lays by my feet while I’m rocking Cole back to sleep:: “I wonder if I could train her to hold a bottle…” 🤔