1. Let me just start by saying I’m in love with my new headshots! Bludoor Studios in Southlake, TX really came through with some amazing and fun images for me to choose from. This photoshoot was a blast from beginning to end. I wound up not even doing anything (professionally) to my hair. I just ran a curling iron through it and, in true TX fashion, sprayed it with about half a can of hairspray. If you look closely in some of the pictures you can see some of my premature gray hairs, but I’m going to lie to myself and call them “highlights.” I did, however, treat myself to a wonderful makeup application by a M.A.C. makeup artist. She was the best one I’ve ever had work on me, hands down. He name is Nia and she’s the counter manager out of the Firewheel Dillards (for local gals who might be interested).

While I need the pictures for professional reasons, I’m not going to deny that, on a personal level, it was a ton of fun to dress up and feel pretty. Not pretty for a mom or pretty even though I’m carrying a diaper bag and there’s a spot of spit up on my shirt. Just good ol’ fashioned, children have nothing to do with it, pretty. I think all moms should treat themselves to something that makes them feel so good.

If you’re in the DFW area and looking for a photographer to take some fun shots of yourself, your family or your children, definitely give Rejana and Mike at Bludoor Studios a call. You will not regret it (seriously, look at this scrumptious baby picture). Plus, if you mention “Baby Rabies” you get $50 off your session rate!

2. I’d like to formally introduce you to my newest blog baby- PartyLikeAKid.com! Around the beginning of the year I started doing some searching around for birthday party inspiration for Kendall’s 2nd birthday and was frustrated that there didn’t seem to be one blog/website that focused solely on kid’s parties and featured more than just inspiration boards. I wanted to see what other people had done for their kid’s parties, and I wanted to get inspiration for my own DIY and creative details. I could find this information on tons of blogs, of course, like personal ones and general party blogs, but it was frustrating having to hunt all around for ideas. I just wanted to go to ONE place and find all the inspiration I could ever want without having to sift through other stuff. So… I decided I’d make it myself.

I’ve been working with a designer Judith Shakes Designs for a couple months now and we just got the design finalized this week. The content is very minimal at this point and there’s a lot I have to add and tweak, but the bones are there, and I’m looking forward to watching it grow. I’ve already got some awesome partnerships and giveaways in the works (including one I’ll tell you about tomorrow), and my inbox is filling up with amazing reader submissions. This blog relies HEAVILY on people sharing and showing off their creativity and great party ideas, so please head over and send your idea if you have anything to show off! PLK also features baby shower ideas.

You can also find PLK on Twitter and on Facebook.

(And for those blown away by the beautiful design of PLK and looking for a web designer, Judith Shakes Designs just announced an awesome new special – “Now through July 18th, enter your favorite Elvis song in the promo code section of your quote request and get either $50 off a Blogger Quickie Supreme package or WP Starter Package or $100 off a Wordpress Advanced or Expert Package. Share this on Twitter, Facebook or wherever else you share the things you do, and get another $25 off.”)

3. Just got back from my 16 week appointment. That baby sounded great. I got to hear his/her heartbeat for the first time and it was going strong at 143. The “big” ultrasound is set for Monday, July 26th!

We took off on Saturday, April 24th, flying Southwest because our bags flew free and because we just LOVE traveling all day in those gosh darn peppy airplanes, listening to a rendition of “Walk the Line” all about peanuts over the intercom as we land. It took us 8 hours to get from Dallas to San Francisco, by way of San Diego. (Seriously, next time we’re paying the extra $50 for luggage and shaving 5 hours off the trip.)

When we finally landed at SFO and got our rental car around 3, we were starving. Up to that point, we only had peanuts pretzels and lemon drops to nom on. (The lemon drops were a life saver/puke preventative for me since my “morning sickness” decided to kick in THAT morning. Joy.) Earlier in the day, while we waited to board in Dallas, I used my trusty Iphone (aka- the device that saved my marriage while on vacation) to make early reservations at Boudin Bakery at Fisherman’s Wharf, per a reader’s suggestion (thanks!). We got there around 4:30, and we could smell the sourdough as we drove up. The setting was spectacular, the food was fantastic (Scott had a crab sandwich and I had, get this, OMGSOYUM Macaroni and Cheese with fresh crab), and the view was great! As we sat down and looked out the window overlooking the bay we both said at the same time, “Look! Alcatraz!”

We spent most of the meal discussing how we might attempt to escape Alcatraz and remarking that it just didn’t look *that* far away. Then we headed downstairs to the little Boudin Bakery market and picked up a couple loaves of bread to take with us. Scott also got a cup of Peet’s Coffee and we walked down to Pier 39, which was very touristy, but we were tourists and we loved it. We especially loved turning the corner and suddenly realizing what “that smell” was when we saw all the fat and happy sea lions lounging on floating docks.

We walked past all the street performers back to our car and headed toward the Golden Gate Bridge by way of the SCARIEST effing road we have ever, ever driven on. It felt like we were on a roller coaster, no lie. When we peaked at the top of the hill I saw people crossing at the bottom and had a mini anxiety attack (and I wasn’t even the one driving!).  San Francisco was a beautiful city, but I’m pretty sure I’d never make it there simply because of the steep peaks of the streets. We stopped for a photo opp. on the other side of the bridge…

(did I mention it was pretty freaking cold?) and then we were off to Sonoma! The drive was absolutely beautiful. It was so surreal to approach wine country, seeing all these vineyards and wineries dot the sides of the road. We also saw a lot of happy cows and grazing sheep. I was a little taken aback by how… organic and … uh… agricultural it was. It wasn’t nearly as commercial and developed as I was expecting, which was awesome.

We checked in at our rental, which we found on VRBO.com (thanks to another reader suggestion!). The apartment was so perfect for what we needed. Though it was part of a house the owners live in, it felt completely private. We had our own private driveway and entrance. The balcony was only partly private on one side, but that was never an issue. It was only 4 miles from Sonoma Plaza, where we spent a lot of time, and it had a full kitchen. Here is a link to the listing. The price was great ($130 to $110 a night) for what we got. Although we were exhausted (even though it was only 8:30 PST) we just had to go check out Sonoma Plaza when we got in. We drove down and took a quick walk around, then headed back to the apartment to crash.

Sunday started with brunch at The Girl & The Fig, a place on nearly every “must see, must eat” list about Sonoma I’d come across. Mmmm… it was so yummy. I had stuffed French toast and Scott had a simple but delicious omelet. Then we stopped in at the Sonoma Cheese Factory on the plaza. It was cheese heaven!! Rows and rows of cheese and salami, shelves of stuffed olives and crostini. We got a nice sharp cheddar, some salami and some lemon stuffed olives (yes, stuffed with lemons!), then headed out to some wineries.

The original plan was to check out V. Sattui first, but we couldn’t even turn into the parking lot, it was that packed, so we headed to some other place across the road. It was pretty unimpressive. I mean, it was really nice, very fancy, but uh… I didn’t go on vacation to be ignored by a snooty guy behind the counter. I didn’t go there to beg someone to set us up with a tasting. We left, and I’m glad we did because while I was a little afraid that was going to be the vibe everywhere we went, I was quickly proven otherwise. We had a great experience at St. Supery (I recognized them from following me on Twitter, and decided to stop in), where we shared our first tasting and purchased a bottle of chardonnay.  Then we finished the afternoon at Robert Mondavi where we took a really interesting 2 hour behind the scenes tour that ended with another tasting. I think this was one of the best parts of the trip. Our tour guide, Channing, was so charming and fun to listen to.

Monday we spent a lot of time in the car, on winding roads. It wasn’t a great combo for me, but the sights we saw made up for it. We drove out to Bodega Bay, just in time to grab some amazing clam chowder from Spud Point Crab Company. It felt like a very authentic experience, and the chowder was what dreams are made of.

We continued up the coast line for a little bit on our way to Healdsburg. It was one of the most beautiful parts of the country I have ever seen. We stopped to take pictures and collect a little driftwood.

We continued the drive, the small roads winding through redwoods, me threatening to puke. It was all very romantic.

Healdsburg was lovely, and we stopped in at the Kendall Jackson tasting room, in honor of our first born. That’s where we met the lovely man who bestowed his wisdom all about the “magic years” on us. Dinner Monday night was takeout pizza from a surprisingly delicious place called Gramma’s Pizza. We enjoyed it from the comfort of our own living room while watching The Blind Side.

By the time Tuesday rolled around, to be honest, we were done. We ate some more food, did some more window shopping, drove to Napa and had lunch, finally, at V. Sattui, but never really “did” anything. I wasn’t feeling too great, and, shockingly, we were sort of over wine. By the time our dinner reservations at Cafe La Haye rolled around, we were already stuffed from snacking out of boredom all day and had to bring most of it home with us, I’m sure a huge insult to the chef.

We left early Wednesday morning to beat traffic getting into San Francisco and sat down for some coffee and croissants at Tartine. I was surprised at the hipster vibe the place gave off. I felt like we were somewhere in Brooklyn, and of course, we stuck out like the tourists that we were. Everyone was really nice, though, and French. All these pretty French speaking girls who could correctly pronounce “pain au jambon.”

We arrived at the airport 3 freaking hours early for our flight, I drained my Iphone battery blogging, then we took off for our grand expedition accross the southwest region of the country on our Southwest plane, flying to San Diego, El Paso and San Antonio before finally landing in Dallas that night.

Our tummies were still full, our camera loaded with great pictures, our suitcase stuffed with pieces of broken driftwood and loaves of sourdough bread, our hearts were happy and we were ready to become parents of a 2 year old. It was… just… perfect. Thank you all so much for all the fantastic recommendations! I consulted my blog comments constantly while we were there. (And can I just say, my Iphone was a huge time/sanity/relationship saver the whole time.)

For those wondering, yes, I was 6 weeks pregnant at the time. Yes, I did share a few tastings and indulge in a couple 1/2 glasses of wine while there. In total, nothing close the the ridiculous amounts of alcohol I consumed the weekend before I found out I was pregnant with Kendall, and he’s just fine… unless you consider excessive nose picking a side effect of drinking while barely pregnant.

On our way home from the airport I sat in the back with Kendall, you know, since *he* missed me so much. Not at all because I missed him terribly and wanted to just nom on his chubby cheeks. No. Just a few minutes into the drive I started to ask him all about how he goes “potty like a big boy now,” of course in that sing songy voice that means you’re talking to a toddler about using the toilet.

He looked at me like I was speaking French. After a couple moments of silence my mom chimed in, “Yeah, tell mommy how you went poop in the toilet!” The look he shot her from the back seat screamed, “What. The. Hell. Nana? You’re not supposed to tell *her* about that. That’s *our* secret.” I gave up hope for any repeat performances.

It is ridiculous how thrilled I am to tell you all that since we got home that kid has sat on the toilet (the big/real one, the small one is apparently very uncomfortable and causes him to think he’s “stuck,” which is honestly a possibility) at least 3 times, and has successfully produced something to flush and say “bye bye” to twice. Like, I’m so excited that this post took precedence over the vacation re-cap post because nothing happened on our vacation nearly as productive and noteworthy as my kid getting over his fear of the toilet and POOPING IN IT.

Kendall is 2 days shy of turning 2 and he finally went number 2 in the toilet. SCORE!

2. I wouldn’t be blogging while still technically on vacation except my husband made us show up 3 hours early to the airport and, frankly, we’ve run out of things to talk about.

So… It was fantastic! And while I did miss Kendall a wee bit, I never once felt guilty for leaving him. Perhaps it’s because I knew he wouldn’t have enjoyed the trip anyway.

One of the best parts of the trip was listening to and learning from some of the guys behind the scenes of the wineries. A guy at the Kendall Jackson tasting counter was telling us all about how he retired from big IT and moved to Sonoma with his wife after his kids left for college. They live in a small house not far from the coast, where they pick up fresh crab on the weekends.

We stood there, listening to his story, envious and plotting our retirement plans to do the same thing, remarking that we could never afford the same lifestyle with kids. “You have a kid? How old?” he asked.

Upon learning that we have a two year old son, his eyes lit up. “These are your magic years,” he said. “And here we thought retirement to Sonoma would be pretty magical,” I replied. “No, this has nothing on those magical years you spend building your family, the time with your young children. Enjoy it.” And we stood there quietly for a moment. It was sort of a Freaky Friday vibe where I think we each thought briefly what it would be like to be on the other side of the counter, living each other’s life.

Now I’m headed home, leaving behind this motherland I never knew I was separated from. I guess we have lots of “magic” to live through before ever being properly reunited. And by magic I mean diapers and potty training, tantrums and timeouts, play dates and first dates, teenage angst and fights for freedom.

I suppose one day I’ll look back on these years and think of them as magical just like I might think of child birth as beautiful and amazing. I’ll forget all the bodily fluids and screaming.

It’s odd to me that I’m so fascinated by a show centered around religion and polygamy, but I just can’t get enough of the drama. That’s one sure fire way to have plenty of drama to write about – throw 3 women together in just about any situation, let alone one where they are sleeping with the same man. But, despite the drama, I’m always drawn in by the relationship the three wives have, the ease in which they take care of each other’s kids, split up the errands, juggle tasks between the three of them. Hell, half the time I forget about the whole “sleeping with the same guy” thing and just think, “DAMN, it must be good to have a sister wife.”

So last week Bonnie, one of my very best friends (since we were 12 – first one to befriend me when I moved to Texas in Jr. High), came to stay and brought her 2 year old son. He’s just 6 weeks older than Kendall.  It was sort of close to magical. The boys played and played and played, from the time they got up until they crashed. It was glorious! No squatty little man following me around the house, “momma, momma, momma, momma, snack, mommmmmmmmmmma.” No pressure to entertain the child as he stares at me and pushes my coffee cup aside.

They actually *played*, you know, TOGETHER… without adults orchestrating the whole thing. For a brief moment, very brief, I was a teensy bit envious of those of you with twins… until I saw the destruction they left behind. That’s because, all of the sudden, as if a veil had been lifted, Kendall realized how amazingly awesome ALL his toys are, ALL those toys he NEVER plays with. They took on a whole new level of cool when his friend showed up. Suddenly he was all, “Hey, look at this cool boat! And this, look at this box of blocks! And, whoa, I didn’t know I have a train set! Let me get it ALL OUT RIGHT NOW AND TAKE INVENTORY OF MY COOL TOYS.” This happened at least 3 times a day.

But the mess was fine. It was worth it for the peace we got out of it. We were able to sit back, talk, relax, drink coffee, all from the comfort of the playroom or the backyard. And when it came time to meals or bathtime, we naturally divided up duties. She gave the boys baths each night while I cooked dinner. We took turns preparing snacks and went grocery shopping together. We were like one step away from  french braiding each other’s hair and throwing on prairie dresses and I LOVED IT.

Damn, it was good to have a sister wife.

I mean, I guess she wasn’t actually my “sister wife.” For one, my husband wasn’t even home, and if he was, it’s not like that relationship would have been consummated, but I can sort of understand being okay with another woman sleeping with your husband as long as she’s making half the meals and putting out half the fires. Honestly, it’s not like I’m really up for “it” half the time anyway. Sharing EVERYTHING 50/50 probably has a lot of perks. Unfortunately, my husband can barely afford to support one wife, so a sister wife just isn’t in the cards for us ; )

As much as I miss the extra company and help, I think Kendall misses his new friend Ty, and Ty’s cool mom even more. Ty’s cool mom has lollipops, or “pop-pops.” She gave them to the boys when we needed a few minutes of peace. I am the boring mom who just never thinks to buy lollipops (not that this is me taking some sort of stand against sugar because I’m all for sugar on a stick with magical “quit your whining” powers). It’s been one week since Ty and Bonnie left, and Kendall is still trying to guilt me by telling me, “Pop-pop! Momma, pop-pop!” I say, “No, Kendall. I’m sorry. We don’t have any lollipops.” His response? I kid you not, “TY momma pop-pop.”

Kendall is nearly 2 going on 12, apparently.

On these occasions, I usually chime something back like, “What? Me? Oh, honey. It’s all smoke and mirrors.” Truly, it is. I’ve actually always been pretty good at faking it, glossing things over, tidying up at the last minute, disguising and distracting. All skills that I’ve found to be massively helpful since becoming a mom, and even just since becoming a home-owner.

Truth be told, my house is never as clean as it is the mornings I host play group. So, the charade should be up now for all the play-groupie friends reading this. That level of sterile, the environment free of animal hair is not normal. My secret is out.

I’m a big believer in the power of a good spot clean. Why take the time to scour the whole thing when only a part of it looks dirty? Don’t get me wrong, the germs that live on the clean looking parts meet their match about once every week or two, but the rest of it gets special attention more often only if it actually *looks* dirty.

My husband and I have worked out a bit of a system over the last two years, dividing jobs. He loads the dishes since he can’t stand the way I don’t pre-rinse them enough (hey, only trying to save the environment), and I unload them because I can’t stand the way he has no regard for the order of things around here. I pretty much do all the laundry, including the diapers. He cleans the cat box, and the toilets. I vacuum (because I still love my Dyson so much I could lick it) and he mops. That last part is what I love the most. He mops this worst-idea-ever-thank-you-stupid-bachelor-with-no-pets-or-kids-who-lived-here-before-us WHITE TILE KITCHEN FLOOR that shows everything. I despise this floor almost as much as Ann Coulter.

However, from time to time, like when he’s traveling and it’s my week to host play group, the tile floor desperately needs attention. So what do I do? Well, I sure as hell don’t lug that nasty ass mop out of the garage and start a sink of mop water. Instead, I take a cue from my old pal Pippy. You remember her, right? Pippy Longstocking? Who among us DIDN’T want to skate around on a floor of suds?

I slip on my super cool, hot pink MOP SHOES!

Not very much unlike these (on sale at LillianVernon.com for only $4.98)

I grab my spray bottle full of water, vinegar and a dash of Dr. Bronner’s castile soap, spray, spray spray, then slide, slide, slide, doing side lunges back and forth across the floor. It’s quite the workout. When I come across a particularly stubborn spot, I do a little twist. I guess if I really wanted to let lose, I could try out all sorts of dance moves, though the running man might end in disaster.

It takes all of about 5 minutes, and Viola! The white tile floor is sparkling…sorta… if you don’t look too close… especially at the baseboards. But, hey, it’s enough to feel like the kitchen is presentable, and I don’t get nearly as frustrated at the first person or animal who drops a ball of hair/cup of milk/pool of drool on it, knowing such minimal effort went into it all.

So that’s one of my little tricks in my bag of smoke and mirrors. What about you? Come on, ‘fess up. What do you do to “fake it”?

Kendall is less than 2 weeks away from turning 2. Holy. Moly.

Flash forward to my life today, and I’m lucky if I can get cards out for major holidays like Mother’s Day on time, and the recipient is lucky if they can read my handwriting. Honestly, half the time I don’t even bother and just hope they will be pleased with a phone call or an e-card. I don’t have the time to peruse the aisles of Hallmark these days looking for *the* perfect card. My brain doesn’t have the room it once did to mentally file all the important dates in the lives of those near and dear to me, and then to mentally file the 1 week reminder I need to mail the card on time. And even if I do remember to pick up a card, half the time it doesn’t get sent because it either gets lost, destroyed or I discover I not only don’t have a matching theme stamp, but I don’t have stamps at all. Not to mention, cards can be expensive! I guess I never batted an eye at dropping $3-5 on a card before having to budget to be a SAHM. Now I feel like all I can afford to look at are those boring .99 cards. Sigh.

But, I know those are all excuses, and I always feel terrible for dropping the ball on sending little thoughtful pieces of paper to my friends and family. I’m really trying to work on it, I swear. I’ve tried plugging dates into my phone’s calendar, along with reminders, but even still, that doesn’t take away the hassle of actually purchasing the card.

Enter Tiny Prints new Greeting Card launch. Okay, let me just say that this post is not at all sponsored by Tiny Prints. I just HAD to tell you guys about this because, to me, it’s freaking awesome. And if any of you are anything like me these days, I have a feeling you’ll think it’s pretty freaking awesome, too.

We’ve used Tiny Prints a few times in the past, and I’m always super pleased with their quality and customer service. In fact, I just ordered Kendall’s 2nd birthday invites from them and couldn’t be happier. Their website is easy to navigate and I find that it’s really simple to personalize their designs. Their new greeting card program allows you to customize any of the designs for all sorts of occasions with pictures and text. You can even have them address the envelope (free of charge) to the recipient and from you and send it straight to the birthday girl’s house (you will be charged .44 for a stamp). Or you can have them send it directly to you and you can pass it on yourself. They have a calendar that you can enter special dates into, and it will also send you a couple reminders leading up to it. Say you have a lot of free time one weekend (okay, just fantasize), you could make up a bunch of cards and then schedule them for when you want them to be sent. They allow you to make changes to them up until they go out.

The designs are, of course, adorable. And I love that you can customize them with pictures! Depending on the membership plan you sign up for  ($16.99 a year or $5.99 a year), the cards are either $1.99 or $2.99 each. If you opt not to sign up for a membership, they are $3.99 each. Right now they are waiving the membership fee for one year, though, AND you get three free cards! I signed up for the Savvy Sender plan, which is $5.99 a year and $2.99/card. I figure even at that price I’m spending as much or less than I would at Hallmark, and that doesn’t take into account all the time, gas, and headaches saved. Then I jumped right in and designed all three Mother’s Day cards for my mom, stepmom and mother-in-law. I am SO on top of it. ::high fives self::

So, yeah… basically this pretty much rocks my world. I hope I can stick with it this time and quit being such a flake when it comes to paper correspondence and such. I don’t know if I’ll ever be as with it as I used to be, but something’s better than nothing, right? (And moral of the story for those of you yet to have children- aim low so as not to appear to have completely fallen into a black hole after procreating.)

Now, if you’re not like me, and you do still rock at sending paper correspondence, I want to know your secret!

Anyway, hope you all are enjoying the weekend. You’re welcome in advance for the reminder to take care of your Mother’s Day cards ; ) OH! And we leave for Sonoma in 6 days!!

Kendall is 23.5 months old. Did I mention I got his SECOND BIRTHDAY invites? EEK!

**Edited to add full disclosure 4/20: I was just notified by the Tiny Prints Affiliate program that I can get credit for referrals to the Greeting Card program, so I’ve updated links with my affiliate link.

****WARNING: You probably don’t want to read this at work or anywhere you don’t feel comfortable crying or have access to tissues.****

THIS article, this heartbreakingdestroying story of so many parent’s grief and guilt, this tragic tale of loss and forgetfulness, is worth every single minute it will take you to read it from beginning to end. And do not skip from one point to the next. No, all these stories deserve to be heard and all these cautionary tales need to be told.

It is graphic, and it is so sad you will want to close your browser and be done with it all, to stick your fingers in your ears (or cover your eyes) and say “La, la, la…. not to me… never happen to me… puppies and rainbows and kittens!” But DON’T.

It’s coming up on that time of year again. It was in the 80’s here today. It’s so easy to sit here and say, “I would NEVER forget my baby in the car,” but judgement doesn’t make you immune to accidents and temporary lapses in memory.

This piece, “Fatal Distraction,” by Gene Weingarten ran in the Washington Post last March (2009) and was just awarded a Pulitzer Prize. I tell you, it is worth every minute, every word, every gut wrenching scroll down of the mouse.

Kiss your babies extra tonight. That’s where I’m headed.

Kendall is 23 months old and I think I say “It’s not an ‘Uh oh’ if you did it on PURPOSE” about 10 times a day.

It seems I’ve always been in this in-between classification of “mom”. On the one hand, I can come off pretty crunchy. I cloth diaper, have been known to wear my baby, made all his baby food and breastfed for 13 months. On the other hand, I Ferberized, can’t stand co-sleeping (for us, not judging others who can make it work), and lost all desire to practice extended breastfeeding by the time Kendall turned a year old because I just wanted/needed my body back.

And really, when it comes to breastfeeding I always seem to find myself in a weird spot, too. I believe in the good that comes from breastfeeding, and I believe this country short changes women by not supporting them enough (lack of maternity leave, formula samples showing up in your mailbox multiple times a month, a culture that looks upon breastfeeding as “gross” and something to hide). I believe we should be able to freely nurse in public without or with a cover (and I don’t think a woman who *chooses* to wear a cover should have to worry about what sort of political message she’s sending by CHOOSING to cover up for her own comfort) and not be met with the glares of strangers or security guards at Target telling us we have to leave. I wish every mom would really give breastfeeding some serious thought before deciding if it will work for her or not, and that she could have the education, resources and support going into it to help her be successful. That she would know that it is NOT EASY. Not for many, at least… certainly not at first. You are not failing if it’s hard or if it hurts.

And because of how I feel about breastfeeding, I did want to shout “Right on!” when I read parts of Gina’s post yesterday “When It Comes to Breastfeeding, We Can’t Handle The Truth”. She hit on so many of the things I feel strongly about, including this:

Is it easy to make this milk?  No, not always — but neither was bringing that baby into the world and your body did a fine job of that.  Think about that.  Think hard. Your body created an entire human being inside from nothing more than the joining of two single cells.  Your body is a miracle worker. So what leads you to believe that, after creating a whole person with organs and tissue and a beating heart, that your body would call it quits when it came time to feeding this thing?

I was really open about how hard and painful breastfeeding was for me in the beginning. Make no mistake, it was not fun. I cried and I cussed and I threw tubes of lanolin across the room nearly every time Kendall latched for the first 8 weeks. In an attempt to give my nipples and myself a break, I tried to pump. It was utterly (haha) depressing how little milk my enormously engorged boobs were able to produce after 30 minutes of pumping. And when the two back to back mastitis infections that followed seemed to come each time after I pumped, I ditched the damn thing for a while and figured the temporary pain of breastfeeding was better than a constant fight with mastitis.

But here’s the thing I always remind myself – Even though it was NOT easy for me, I had such a tremendous support system surrounding me. My #1 champion was my husband, and my mom was a close second. I recall calling Scott at work one sleep deprived night, screaming at him, bawling my eyes out (I just came down with my 2nd round of mastitis), telling him, “I’m done! I quit!” and eyeing the sample cans of formula that I’d received in the mail. He listened to me cry, to my frustrations, he soothed me and calmed me and validated me. And then he encouraged me. He praised me for all my hard work so far, and he talked me down from a cliff of desperation. I was SO LUCKY to have that support from him.

My inability to pump continued, and after I got a 3rd, yes THIRD, round of mastitis after pumping, and after fighting to the point of frustrated tears to get Kendall to take a bottle, which he absolutely refused, I realized that I would just have to exclusively nurse him from the breast. I would have to be there for every single feeding. There was no way around it. Honestly? I didn’t mind because after 8 weeks that’s when breastfeeding became wonderful for us… for me. That’s when I was SO GLAD I stuck it out. That’s also when I thanked my lucky stars I was able to stay home with him for the next year. I’ve always said that I if  had to go back to work after having Kendall, I’m really, really not so sure breastfeeding would have worked out for us for very long.

And I know it’s not all about luck, because as I’ve already stated, I had to work HARD for it. But, I didn’t go through every challenge a breastfeeding mom has ever faced. My son latched (even if like a wolverine) and he ate and ate and ate, and he gained weight. Boy, did he gain weight! And I never felt like I was failing at feeding him.

So, while part of me was really cheering Gina on for many of the points she was making, another part of me was thinking about my friend Mandy and her blog post “Let’s Just Feed Them, Shall We?”

I read Mandy’s story of how she really struggled with breastfeeding, how she really, really TRIED. And my heart broke for her when I read this:

MONTHS spent riddled with guilt every time i fed her a bottle. every time i saw another mother breastfeeding. i would hide the formula under things in my cart. feel awful when the checker would scan it. tell myself i was costing our family money because of my inability to make milk.

I champion for breastfeeding rights when I can. I’m proud of breastfeeding Kendall for 13 months, and I really feel like so many women in this country aren’t receiving the right amount of information and support when it comes to breastfeeding. But, at the same time, I know there ARE women who can’t make it work no matter how hard they try, for many valid reasons, and I really can’t fault them for choosing their own sanity over a long, hard battle that they still may not end up winning. I also respect that there are women who ARE educated on the benefits of breastfeeding and they still make the choice to formula feed, again, for many valid reasons.

I find it so hard to walk the line sometimes between supporting breastfeeding and possibly making formula feeding moms feel guilty. Catherine at Her Bad Mother wrote a great post called “Shame And The Mom: A Boob Story” in which she said something that resonates with me still:

But we should be careful, should we not, that when we fight the shaming of nursing mothers, we don’t, in the process, shame mothers who don’t nurse? How do we do that? How do we make this, always, about choice, without giving up ground in promoting the nursing choice…

I’ve been trying to answer that question for myself ever since.

I know that a large part of the breastfeeding issue is the lack of education to allow moms to make an informed choice about breastfeeding, but there are moms who are informed and who have tried and choose to not do it… for many valid reasons.

And while I’m frustrated with the companies getting in the way of the breastfeeding mom, the cultural beliefs that stifle the breastfeeding mom, and many other barricades that make it harder than it should be on the breastfeeding mom, I’m certainly not meaning to guilt the formula feeding mom.

Please know, I’m not at all trying to pit these two inspirational bloggers against each other by writing this, because I think they both come at this issue from different sides, with different reasons, and I think they do a DAMN good job at it. I think they make a difference and lend valuable voices to a discussion that is important. I am proud to call them friends and celebrate their points of view and personal experiences, and I hope they both still love and respect me for the fence-sitter I am.

Kendall is 23 months old.