The Curse of Supermom

In a past post I wrote about how much I love Pinterest. Now, that hasn't changed one bit...but I'm beginning to realize that having it in my life is both a blessing and a curse.

Clearly, there are many reasons why it is awesome. 

1. You get tons of recipes without having to shell out the money for a recipe book (that will sit unused in the cupboard...not that I'm speaking from experience or anything). 
2. You are able to stumble across many amazing blogs that you never would have found before while searching the internet trying to earn 3 measly Swagbucks. Which to be honest, I will probably forget about and never redeem. 
3. CRAFTS! PROJECTS! and TIPS! Oh my! Really, besides all the food pins that make you feel like you could be a 5 star chef, there are all these pins that inspire you to be creative/crafty/clean...um..y. Cleany. Even though the best you've ever drawn is a stick figure on Hangman, suddenly you feel the need to have a board full of artwork that you are determined to replicate. Oh, that old sled that has been sitting in the garage? HANG IT FROM THE CEILING AND HANG POTS & PANS ON IT. <---not joking. I am thinking of doing that. Check it out here. 

I could probably think of a couple more reasons why Pinterest is great, but I'm beginning to ramble. So I'll move on to why Pinterest can be such a pain in the rear end.

1. There are so many awesome things, that you end up spending more time pinning than actually doing. "Pin now, read later." Sound familiar? Also, while going through my recipe board I realized that I pinned a whole heck of a lot of things to make with pumpkin while I was pregnant.  Pumpkin anything sounded DELICIOUS while I was pregnant. Now? Not so much. Then there is the conundrum of, do I delete pumpkin-related pins? Do I keep them? Real world issues here, people! And, lesson learned, not everything should be made in a crock-pot. 
2. You find a pin that sounds pretty neat, click on it, and then spend the next 20 minutes reading how to paint your own knock off tumblers only to realize that you just wasted 20 minutes of your day learning how to paint knock off tumblers that you didn't even want the original of in the first place. 
3. Which brings me to the whole crux of this post: Pinterest makes me feel inadequate. Please indulge me while I soapbox. 

I realized that I view all these amazing things that people are doing and while wishing that I could do all of them too, I start to doubt myself because this is the vision in my head of what I am supposed to be as a SAHM:

Supermom. 

The image of homemaker perfection, although I have no idea if Superwoman was ever a homemaker...it's my vision, OK?  

But I feel more like... 

My apologies to the internet stranger whose picture this is. But you showed up as a result of a "disheveled woman" search. You also didn't score me any Swagbucks while doing that search. How dare you.

Usually I feel as though my house is a disaster. I can never meal plan properly. I am constantly stressed about our budget and can never be quite frugal enough. I'm behind on putting away laundry/diapers. Shall I continue?

Don't worry, I know Pinterest isn't really to blame. When I've sat down and had my (18th) cup of coffee and showered and changed so that I don't look like a homeless lady who accidently wandered into a house, I remember that I am not perfect. I am definitely not Superwoman (but wouldn't that be cool?). When I read those awesome blogs and see other women are painting masterpieces, shingling their roof with one hand tied behind their back, having a made-from-scratch organic dinner from their own garden on the table every night, all the while her 36 kids are clean, well-mannered, and mastered a Romance language while in-utero; it is definitely easy to doubt your own ability and to view yourself as a failure. That is my problem. Here I am, having a Stepford Wives freakout while not realizing that I am doing just fine. I am not failing, and that is something that I might need to remind myself of more often. Or hourly daily. Otherwise, I'm going to make myself cray cray and miss out on the really important things going on in my life. 

Yeah, there are currently muddy dog foot prints in my kitchen. I'm waaaay behind on laundry due to a broken laundry machine. And my kid likes to try to play in the toilet. But that's my family and my life, and I kind of love it. Like, a lot.

And I know things won't magically change overnight, and it will take time to not stress about not getting things done. It is definitely a work in progress. 

SEW WHAT, I'm still a rockstar!

Courtesy of my wonderful husband and mother, I received my very own sewing machine for my 28th birthday. As a youngster, my mother sewed EVERYTHING. Our clothes, Halloween costumes, Barbie clothes...you name it. She is very good at sewing, as was my grandmother. I, however, am pretty sure I received a very dismal grade on my sewing project in Home Ec. during middle school. I decided sewing was not for me.

Then I got addicted to cloth diapering.

And I wanted to SEW ALL THE THINGS!

How does cloth diapering make a person want to sew? Well, it started out with wipes. When Roman was first in cloth diapers, we were using disposable wipes since we already had them. For some reason, the thought of using cloth wipes grossed me out. I have no idea why. The concept is the same as a cloth diaper. Poop and pee on a diaper is still poop and pee on a wipe. So I decided to order some on Etsy. Seriously...some people need a punch in the face to bring them back to reality for how much they are selling their wipes. Unless it wipes my baby's rear for me while I'm kicking back, sipping my coffee -- I'm not giving you $938 (slight exaggeration) for two wipes. GET OVER YOURSELF.

Anyways, so I bought some wipes. They were cute and worked extremely well. I also don't feel bad when I have to use 175 wipes during one diaper change. Going green for the win!

I realized I could sew my own wipes. I borrowed a sewing machine from a friend and asked my mom for help. 

9 months pregnant and SEWING WIPES. SO EXCITED!

They did not turn out very good. Whatever tutorial I had pinned on Pinterest (CURSE YOU BAD PIN!) did not mention that flannel frayed. I had no idea. 

Newb. 

Then I learned and made better wipes. Another wipes post will come another day. For right now, this whole post was building up to....this:

I MADE MY OWN WET BAG! 

I am so proud of myself. I have no idea if it will hold up in the wash, but the fact that I made this is awesome. I feel accomplished. Booyah! 

Also, can you tell I'm obsessed with damask? LOVE IT. 

It's not a marathon, it's a sprint.

Or at least it seems that way, right?! That is a picture of my baby. "Walking" with his little wheelie-walker-thing (I have no idea what it is really called) -- he just turned 8 months on the 26th. Next thing you know, I'll be taking him to his first day of school. Snapping photos of him and his date before prom. Giving him away at his wedding.....ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

STOP GROWING UP SO FAST!

Breathe...just breathe. It's true though. If you would have told me while I was pregnant, when I felt like time was moving along at a snail's pace,  that my little baby would be changing, learning, and experiencing all these new and amazing things so quickly...I would not have been able to understand. I totally get it now...once you pop that kid out, life moves at warp-speed.  

Even in the last week, so much has changed. He amazes me more and more each day. His personality is coming out more and more. His desire to experience the world around him, is just as exciting to me as it is for him...although I don't think he is having quite the heart attack I am when he does something that causes him to stumble or fall onto his rear. 

And boy, can he be such a stinker! He'll start crawling towards something that he probably shouldn't be getting into and as I'm calling to him to stop, I swear he turns to me...and SMILES. Then he continues, locked on target until I pick him up. 

I could get super corny at this point, extremely sentimental and cliche. But you have to admit that it is true what is said: being a parent is one of the most amazing things that I will ever be able to experience. And as fast as life is moving, I am truly happy to be along for the ride.


Also, in case you weren't aware:

FAIL

I love making meals in my crockpot. LOVE IT. I love cooking with it...can you even consider it cooking? I don't know, but it gets the job done. Although sometimes mine does get a little hot, like I usually only cook things on the LOW setting when it says to cook it on HIGH. Maybe that is a sign I need a new one.......hmmmm....ONLINE SHOPPING!

Moving on -- I get a lot of my recipes from Pinterest (how I love thee). I found a website of a whole slew of recipes that tries to cut out all processed foods, but I'm not really sure how accurate it is. Since I am not a food expert, I am not going to link the blog on here. Only because I don't want to incorrectly label some of the recipes on there as actually containing processed foods, but maybe...just maybe I am a terrible cook and it is my fault why it didn't turn out. I also forgot to take pictures while cooking both times. I need to remember that for next time.

I am 0/2 for recipes on this website. Not very good odds. The first time I made crockpot chicken fajitas. I followed the recipe, added ingredients, and slow cooker magic was made. Except I felt that they were tasteless. Chicken was moist, shredded beautifully, etc...but it lacked the deliciousness that I had expected from smelling it cook all day. My husband thought it was good, but this man also microwaves his pop tarts. Weirdo. 

Recipe #2 - Crock Pot Meatloaf with carrots and potatoes. Now, I LOVE meatloaf. I don't know why, since it is a loaf of meat. When you think about it, that's just unpleasant. A loaf of meat. Usually I make cheeseburger meatloaf in the oven, and it is a delight! I wanted to try something new this time, besides MEATLOAF + CROCK POT = NOTHING CAN GO WRONG. Right?

WRONG

I will never be making meatloaf in a crock pot again. Why? The carrots and potatoes were perfectly done. So I will say that. The meatloaf was...well, it had the consistency of moist pet food. Not that I have recently eaten pet food to make a comparison, but you know those Fancy Feast commercials where the spoiled rotten and sparkling white cat gets served food resembling pâté on a crystal dish? Yep. That's what I thought I was eating. Except there were no crystal dishes to be seen.

 Only disappointment. *Sad face*

So, from now on I will only be making meatloaf in the oven. I also do not think I will be making another recipe from that site. Maybe one more -- I'll give them a "three strikes and I delete you from my Pinterest" chance. 

Pinned there, done that.

I, like so many others, have an addiction to Pinterest. When a friend of mine first introduced me to this magical site, I was a non-believer. To me, it was stupid and I could easily just bookmark something I liked...why would I want to pin it? I just didn't understand.

Now.I.Know.

Currently: I have 12 boards with 395 pins. Correction...396 pins. I just pinned the above picture. 

My biggest board is for recipes, because let's face it, I'm a fat kid at heart. I love to cook and Pinterest is a superb way to find new recipes that I never would have found before. Heck...I even cooked with lentils tonight. LENTILS. 

So with 396 things pinned, I really haven't done that many of them (except for recipes). That is going to change. I am going to try to actually do the things that I pin, instead of just pinning them and letting them collect dust. Then I will do my best to document on here. I'm hoping that not only will this help me to be more creative, but it will also occupy my time while I stay at home with Roman. 

Let us begin:

I hate cleaning my shower. Well, cleaning in general isn't really a party, but cleaning the shower is my least favorite. To me, it should be self-cleaning. It cleans you, so why can't it clean itself? 

According to wikipedia, soap scum is "an informal term for the white solid that results from the addition of soap to hard water." 

Learn something new every day, right? So through a friend...I forgot, you can also follow what your friends pin...I found a pin that talked about an amazing way to remove soap scum from the glass doors of your shower. And it was super simple.

I purchased a large squirt bottle from Wal-Mart for 97 cents. You also need vinegar and the blue Dawn dish soap. Why it has to be blue, I don't know. Maybe I'll learn that in another pin sometime. What you want to do, is take 1 part vinegar (I used 1 cup) and stick it in the microwave for two minutes. 

One.

Two.

Add that into the squirt bottle. Next, you also need one part blue Dawn. Add that into the squirt bottle and shake it up. Done. You have your homemade miracle shower cleaner. And from what I read, once it has been heated up you don't have to heat it every time you use it. 1 cup of each was plenty and left me with a good amount after I was done spraying.

All you need next is a scummy shower...luckily I just had to walk into my bathroom to find one.

BEFORE - Hello soap scum.

Just spray your shower door down and let it sit. I left it for two hours. If your bathroom has a window, I recommend opening it so the vinegar smell has an avenue for escape. It did get a little stinky.

AFTER - two hours later, Hello Burt's Bees.
Amazing, right?

Cleaning the shower might be fun after all now. Well...maybe.

May I introduce...

Time has flown by since I last posted, which was January 23rd. That day was my husband's 25th birthday, and three days before I went into labor. It seems like forever ago and, looking at my last belly picture, I can't believe I was pregnant. But I was, and now I have the most gorgeous and precious little boy.

Here is Roman's birth story:
I had not had anything that I could call contractions before they started around 11:30 pm on the 24th. I had been so paranoid that when the time came, that I would have no idea what a contraction felt like, but when these started I knew they were the real deal. I began timing them for an hour, like our hospital handout said. I stayed in bed and Facebooked with my mom to let her know what was going on, but I didn't tell my husband quiet yet. I didn't want to give a false alarm in case the contractions went away. An hour went by and the contractions got closer together. I wasn't supposed to call L&D until they were ten minutes apart and I'd been having them for an hour. After about 45 minutes of contractions I went downstairs and said to my husband, "Now don't freak out, but I've been having contractions and will be calling L&D soon!" He got so excited...and maybe a little panicky. We went back to our bedroom and waited until the hour had passed.

Waiting for the hour to pass, courtesy of my MIL.
I look AWFUL.

I called L&D, they told me that I should wait until they were 3-5 minutes apart, and in the meantime try to relax and take a shower. Eventually contractions ranged from 3 minutes apart to 8 minutes apart, and this lasted for awhile. I called L&D again and they said I could come in to get checked if I wanted, but to know that I might get sent home if I hadn't progressed enough. So we were off! Athena and Hades (our dogs) were put in the kennel, and David, my mother-in-law, and I grabbed our bags and got into the car. By the time we got there it was 2:30 am on the 25th. I was admitted into a room and hooked up to monitors. Lucky for me, the pregnant woman in the room next to me was screaming her head off. And swearing. And maybe throwing things, we weren't sure but it sounded like it. Awesome. Exactly what I needed to hear when I was extremely freaked out about this whole labor thing. The nurse said that they wanted me to be monitored for an hour, and then they would detach me and I could walk the halls for another hour if I wanted. Time passed, contractions got stronger, got weaker...but didn't really go away.

The two hours passed. I was checked again but I was stalled at nearly 3cm. Bummer. I was going to get sent home. This was actually a good thing, because my OB wasn't on call yet, so had I gone into labor, and different OB would have delivered. Plus, my friend Sascha (who was in my sorority in college) worked in L&D and she didn't get to work until 6 am. Earlier in the week, she had written Roman an eviction notice, letting him know her work schedule so he could time his arrival for when she was working and could help deliver. L&D was extremely busy that day (12 babies ended up being delivered on the 25th), so we sat around awhile before getting discharged. This worked out to our advantage, because both my OB and Sascha came to work. We sat and talked with them for awhile, my OB asked if I wanted an Ambien to help me sleep at home. I said, "Yes please!" I knew I would have trouble sleeping out of excitement and nervousness. Finally we were discharged. OB gave us instructions on when to call or come in next. Sascha gave me my sleepy-time drugs and discharged us. They both gave not-to-subtle hints on when we *should* come in, so that they both would be working again and ensure that they would be there for delivery.

I don't really remember getting home, because I had to take the Ambien before I left the hospital and it kicked in right away. It was wonderful. Contractions kept up all day, but didn't get worse. I was stuck in beginning labor for ever. Or at least it felt that way. My mom decided to drive up after work, since my contractions weren't stopping and we wanted her there in case the baby came. FINALLY, towards the evening contractions started getting worse. So David and I walked and walked the house until the point where the contractions started to make me cry. Another phone call to L&D and they said we should come in. Yay! So the four of us (both moms and the two of us) drove once again to the hospital. I was hoping that they didn't turn us away this time, because these contractions were really hurting.

It was close to midnight (I think) when we got to L&D, Sascha was there but about to get off work. She was bummed that she might miss the delivery. She joked that I should try to hold off until at least 6 when she had to come back in. We were admitted back into a room, thankfully without a screaming neighbor. I was hooked up to the monitors again and said I would be checked in an hour. David tried to sleep in the uncomfortable chairs, but I couldn't. I kept watching the printout, seeing how strong my contractions were. One very, very long hour passed with awful contractions and I was checked. 5cm! I could stay! Oh thank goodness. I was asked if I wanted an epidural and I said yes. Originally I had planned to go without, but after spending a day with contractions and being in so much pain at only a 5, I decided that an epi was the best choice for me. I will never regret my decision to get one. The doctor came in to do the epi and I was so nervous! It hurt a little going in, but after that it was amazing! I don't think I really slept after that.

Sascha came to work and was very excited that I hadn't given birth yet. It was fantastic to have her as my nurse, she is wonderful and so good at her job. After being checked again, I was at 9cm! Yay! I don't remember what time this was. At some point I heard the *pop* of my bag of waters, it was so weird because I couldn't feel anything because of the epi. OB was called in and we got ready to get down to business. I think I pushed for under an hour. It was totally not what I expected. I even joked that it was nothing like what you would see on a movie. David was wonderful throughout the entire thing, poor guy! He had to witness everything :)

At 9:26 am on January 26th, 2012, my handsome little man was born! The cord was wrapped around his neck, but OB was so good that it took her a second to get it off. Roman was placed immediately on my chest and I started bawling. I don't think I have ever been so happy in my life. He was perfect! I was in awe that this squirming beautiful baby had only moments ago been in my tummy. It really is the most amazing feeling in the world.

Roman Gar

7 lbs 2 oz - 19 in

 I have never been so in love. Even two months later, I still stare at him and wonder how I possibly could have helped to make such an amazing tiny human.

Hi. My name is Jaime, and I'm a terrible blogger.

Not that it took much to figure that one out.

Must. 

Do. 

Better.

I fully intend to update this tomorrow. With a real post. I mean really, I have a freakin' cute baby and it is time to show him off.