tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-57867634296636508122024-02-02T07:51:14.507-08:00The Pomegranate TwigA blog about the life as a mom, written by four moms. The realities, struggles, love, and the many adventures.The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.comBlogger15125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-43247333078325788092013-12-31T01:37:00.001-08:002013-12-31T01:37:07.266-08:00Somewhere along the ride we lost our wayMy family and I used to live in CO. we moved back to WA a little over a year ago. Washington state was where my husband and I grew up. We missed our little town with our family so after nearly two years on our adventure to Colorado we decided it was time to come home again.<div>Things this year turned out pretty well. We FINALLY bought a home of our own! It's small and a fixer upper which is exactly what we wanted. We get to create out own home from this odd and broken one. </div><div>Except there is just something not right. </div><div>I get the sense of it every now and again. Where is that home is where the heart is? That perfect blissful feeling?</div><div>To be honest I have no clue. </div><div>Our awful little apartment in Colorado was that bliss. We felt perfect. We felt whole. We felt at home. Why now that we have that home to call our own and back in the place we grew up as home does it feel empty? </div><div>We missed our family dearly that was the biggest motivation to come back. Yet I think that in our far away home we were able to be us, be that little family we needed to be. Here we can't seem to find that contented feeling. </div><div>I think I find the fault in myself more than anything. I was super mom in Colorado, currently I feel like I just skim by. </div><div>This post isn't to feel sorry for me. But I assume that many of us feel like this at some point or another. Even though I'm feeling sub par as a mom with this weird feeling of not fitting in just right, it's all part of life. The ups and downs we all experience. </div><div>All I can try to do is to search through myself and find whatever piece I seemed to drop on that 1200 mile drive. I want so badly to bake away and do my crafts and play hard with my kids. I just want more, I want the peace we all had in Colorado. </div><div>Here's to making the best improvements on myself this coming year so that we can find our little perfection again. </div>The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-11732085901205269612013-08-02T12:10:00.002-07:002013-08-02T12:10:27.216-07:00Loss of innocenceMy step daughter just turned 9. She had been begging for a tablet. Her mom, my husband and I, and grandma went in on one together to get her one. She was ecstatic. She could now enjoy all the Monster High she wanted, play all the dress up/make up apps, and now be able to text her mom or grandma or my husband and I when she wanted. It had never crossed my mind that it would be used for anything like what I discovered last night.<br /><br />At 9 I had boyfriends and kissed boys in the corner of the playground. We snuck holding hands but never once did sex cross my mind. I have heard how kids younger and younger know way too much about sex. We see it all over tv, movies, magazines, ads on the internet but I suppose I never stopped to think that all this sex everywhere would make a 9 year old curious and search for it on YouTube.<br /><br />We had just finished watching the new Footloose and she was wanting to learn some new dance moves. She loves entertaining. So, we got on her tablet and I started typing in Footloose choreography. In the search bar, it drops down to your previous searches and there it was. "sex vidios". My stomach dropped. I just went on with the search for dance videos while my brain began to process what I just saw. I would have assumed parental controls had been put on the tablet prior to giving it to her, but I was wrong. Our boys have a tablet for kids games and learning apps, and the first thing I did was install Kid Mode to keep them from downloading anything and only being able to access their stuff. <br /><br />But now the issue of how to gently handle the situation. Do I talk to her mom and my husband first and let them sort it out, definitely not a confrontation and make her feel bad, even as I type this I am a little shakey still. I would much rather her mother have this conversation. I will, no doubt, be giving the same speech to my sons someday.... I told her to leave her tablet downstairs charging for the night. She asked why and I told her that she needed to go to bed as it was almost 10.<br /><br />While the kids were outside playing I decided to do a little more investigating to see if she had gone looking for anything else. Sure enough there was an app installed called "Adult Sex". I text my husband at work to let him know what I had found. He suggested taking it away but was not much help otherwise. He naturally goes to an extreme...guess that is why we are together. I tend to sit on a situation for a minute and go through several options and choose the least damaging. I opened the app, it said to enter an age, so I clicked on it and I did not have to enter an age. She had accessed it. Just as the app opened and sex sounds start coming from the tablet my 3 year old walks in the room. EXIT! EXIT! Damn this app is slow! EXIT!!!! I felt like I was in that scene from Because I Said So where she had clicked on the "adult friends" ad. <br /><br />While my nerves are still a little rattled I am going to talk to her mom. Surely we can both be uncomfortable and come to a solution, other than the obvious of putting the parental controls on the tablet ASAP and talking to A about what it is she is trying to find.<br /><br />Signing off,<br />Completely Rattled L.<br />The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-88481867137592069992013-05-08T22:45:00.001-07:002013-05-08T23:09:52.842-07:00Homemade Sidewalk Chalk<br />
We decided to try a hand at homemade chalk, first of all I'm cheap..... No.... I mean seriously CHEAP! and secondly I like the satisfaction of making something myself. So I set out to make chalk for much less than you can buy from the store. <br />
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My daughter had a blast helping to make it and of course to use the chalk when it was done!<br />
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Homemade chalk recipe<br />
<br />
What you will need:<br />
Plaster of paris<br />
Water<br />
Non-toxic tempura paint<br />
Mixing bowls<br />
Cardboard tube<br />
Plastic wrap or aluminum foil<br />
<br />
Directions:<br />
Mix 1/2 cup plaster of paris with water.... slowly! Keep it on the thick side. Let sit for a couple minutes. Add in tempura paint (he paint creates a chemical reaction that somehow thickens the mixture pretty quick) add a little water if its too dry. <br />
The best consistency we found looked like Greek yogurt but only a tad thicker.<br />
Spoon the mixture into a paper towel roll, toilet paper roll, Christmas wrap roll, or aluminum foil roll (this is what I used its perfect for little toddler hands. I cut the roll into about 4 inch sections). Cover the bottom end of the roll with plastic wrap or aluminum foil. After each spoonful tap the tube down to push out any bubbles. Fill to top and set it upright. (We did our chalk mixtures in small separate batches for each color my daughter chose.)<br />
Let dry for 24 hours. Unwrap the cardboard from the chalk, let dry for another 24 hours.<br />
Voila! Homemade chalk for super cheap with endless options!<br />
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It's a bit of a long process. You can get impatient and use it before it dries all the way but it will just crumble and not write very well but I have a 4lb box of plaster that I can make tons of chalk with. <br />
-it's important to keep the mixture on the thicker side and let it set and to get rid of bubbles. We had a few that I rushed and they didn't turn out as well. <br />
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The plaster of paris can be found at a home improvement or craft store. My local craft store sold a 4.4 lb bag for 6.99 and the home improvement store sold a 4lb bag for $6.48 I also get a 5% discount there so I went with home improvement store. The tempura paints I already had on hand and we even given to us so no money into that! The cardboard was just a tube that would have been thrown away. Over all my total cost for 6 different colored chalks cost me $6.67 for the plaster of paris after taxes and the discount. I only used about 2 cups of plaster of paris out of the 4 lbs, so we can make chalk for years! Or use it for another craft!<br />
I would say this craft was definitely a success, we made a mess, we had fun, we colored which made another mess, and I kept it cheap!<br />
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-Courtney<br />
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-------- Note that the orange and the pink chalks were not dry all the way----------- <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiekFqsSg5lXhF4MbF0jXtGzfyysdIAO5KGghKFj-6J8Nj8-zU6YApyhaWV_uPz9QsFl3RnSXDSntzbcPaExbPp2WXC1iWdjKR1nxw6fAU5x7Fjwp8jZb9FaSOUt6kczq5EEhmbr7Du_ys/s640/blogger-image-102418709.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiekFqsSg5lXhF4MbF0jXtGzfyysdIAO5KGghKFj-6J8Nj8-zU6YApyhaWV_uPz9QsFl3RnSXDSntzbcPaExbPp2WXC1iWdjKR1nxw6fAU5x7Fjwp8jZb9FaSOUt6kczq5EEhmbr7Du_ys/s640/blogger-image-102418709.jpg" /></a></div> <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelBRXt2nHQCUTmQQc6Z1taHCA2g7IIS18hC0szW2gC_VyDTTyymIVmdBSAYI96BCymdhj2mEXLbkrgNawD1cYsUvRbkSwSNw0kvOrT8Ijo8waXjycU8ZV3aamQ-BakW1vbVztVkHiL40/s640/blogger-image--616119283.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhelBRXt2nHQCUTmQQc6Z1taHCA2g7IIS18hC0szW2gC_VyDTTyymIVmdBSAYI96BCymdhj2mEXLbkrgNawD1cYsUvRbkSwSNw0kvOrT8Ijo8waXjycU8ZV3aamQ-BakW1vbVztVkHiL40/s640/blogger-image--616119283.jpg" /></a></div>The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-84452168724736218282013-05-06T09:54:00.000-07:002013-05-06T09:54:02.634-07:00That awkward moment as a single mom…<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">…when you see a hot guy at the grocery store and your boob
starts to leak.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I've encountered a lot of awkward moments since being a “dating
mom” and they all seem to happen at really inopportune times. For example, today…<br />
I’m at the gas station, pumping some good ol' 87 into my run-down Escape and a
truck full of very attractive men pull up, smiling and doing the usual head nod. When I finish pumping and pull out of the gas
station, I get a nice little smile and wave from a cutie with the truck… then
it happens- he spots the two car-seats in the back occupied by screaming
children. <br />
Well, there goes that one.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I never noticed how many attractive men there were in the
world when I was a “non-single” mama. <br />
Favorite place to go?? The grocery store, HANDS DOWN!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">The grocery store holds all of my favorite things in
life. I like to call it my One Stop
Shop. <br />
Food? CHECK! Booze? CHECK! Weird people?
CHECK! Single men? DOUBLE CHECK! <br />
The booze aisle to me is like the clearance rack at Neiman Marcus for an upper
middle class house wife; I walk up and down the aisle checking out all the
drinking opportunities and the nice pecks on the man standing by the Guinness. At least he has good taste, right? <br />
And here we go again… my right boob decides NOW is the perfect time to let
down and I look like an idiot staring at the delicious man with boob juice all
over my mom shirt. As long as he hasn't spotted
me yet, I get the perfect opportunity to day dream about our flawless life
together… </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">~He lets me sleep in till 8am in the mornings while taking care of my children, tells me I'm hot in my yoga pants, and loves the way I wear that sports bra~<br />Oh crap, I’m drooling and he’s staring at my dripping shirt.</span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"> </span><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Awesome.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">I’m not asking for much in a man, just the basics.<br />
-Shared love of food and booze.
Obviously.<br />
-Same crude sense of humor.<br />
-Slight nerd card. <br />
-Undying love for the San Diego Chargers. WOOP WOOP!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">So until I find that dude… or any sexy piece of man for that
matter, I’ll be roaming the grocery store aisles with boob juice on my shirt,
drooling at all the cuties that walk by.<br />
Sounds attractive, doesn't it?</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0a3GWWtjBJjPYkBx2yF26jbrl7askfb6CJV0JfMumwb-g1bW1m1suKyCI7Q3sNDURX3lrX5uvE7rzx6uTP6vM9tIdBMI8GvK_ZpinosA3aRmFJEBgW8sFC9o9GzTUh8Th-jIEqpFs_ig/s1600/awkward+breastfeeding.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0a3GWWtjBJjPYkBx2yF26jbrl7askfb6CJV0JfMumwb-g1bW1m1suKyCI7Q3sNDURX3lrX5uvE7rzx6uTP6vM9tIdBMI8GvK_ZpinosA3aRmFJEBgW8sFC9o9GzTUh8Th-jIEqpFs_ig/s1600/awkward+breastfeeding.png" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br /><br />Tarah<br />Single mama of two pooping machines</span><o:p></o:p></div>
The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-32677688100100929172013-05-03T15:31:00.001-07:002013-05-04T01:56:45.641-07:00Kicking the HabitGasp! Have I done the unthinkable??? Have I nursed my baby until she was 2.... No...... 3.... No..... 3.5!!<br />
(Ok now I'm just splitting hairs, 3.5.... Really? Or--- I could be hardcore and pull the month card. Yes I still nurse my 42 month old.....) oh please let's be real about this I know I don't have time to figure out the math on that. Yes my child walks, she talks, she has all her teeth.... she even wipes her own bum!<br />
<br />
But.......<br />
I have decided to wean my 3.5 year old. I had originally hoped to let her self wean.... but I think she would have been that 19 year old still snuggling for "mommy milk"!!! ; )<br />
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For me it just became obvious that it was time to ease it off and let her become an official big girl!<br />
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I had struggled through my pregnancy to let her continue to nurse, as breasts become extremely sensitive during pregnancy. I powered through wanting her to nurse until at least age 2. <br />
The first trimester was finally over and things became much easier. ........Then I started producing more milk and let me tell you my daughter loved that! She went from 30 second nursing sessions to 5-10 minutes sessions! <br />
<br />
Pregnancy was pretty great while nursing I didn't pack on a ton of extra weight. I only gained 20lbs and I have my daughter to thank for that! Don't worry my son was born a happy and healthy 7 lbs. 1oz. <br />
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Then came the tandem nursing, this was a whole new learning experience. <br />
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I noticed my son seemed to be suffering from what they call fore milk/hind milk imbalance. I had to balance this by block feeding. This was a struggle for a few months but once my milk regulated and we adjusted to a tandem schedule all was great. My daughter helped me when I was "full" I hardly ever pulled out the pump. <br />
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April marked the month she turned 3.5. Although she was days away from officially being 3.5 I felt we were close enough and I found the perfect opportunity to attempt the weaning process. <br />
<br />
She and I were sitting and I was enjoying. (tolerating) this morning nursing session. (Lately I had not been enjoying them they made me irritated because she was rough with me no matter how many times I asked her to be nice she wouldn't listen.)<br />
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I had a light bulb moment---- I thought ok this one is good, this is a good memory I want it to be captioned in my brain like this.----<br />
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I looked down at her and I asked her if she was ready to be a big girl. She nodded sweetly up and down. I then said would it be ok if only baby had mommy milk from now on? She again nodded sweetly. I said ok so this will be your last mommy milk.... Is that ok?.…..........<br />
She looked up at me broke away and said no more mommy milk for me? Just baby?....<br />
I said yes you are such a big girl now I think you are ready to be done with mommy milk ok?<br />
She looked a bit disappointed but she agreed. <br />
That evening before bed she asked for mommy milk and I had to remind her of our talk from earlier. She didn't take it well.<br />
..... Melt down ensued......<br />
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I am sure it was easy for her to say ok she agreed with me as she was drinking mommy milk at the time but once reality hit and she was dealing with not having it, it didn't go over so well.<br />
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To comfort her I asked her to come snuggle with me and I told her I would still spend special time with her. We rocked and cuddled for awhile, then she was ready for bed. I think she was afraid that just that little moment of time she was guaranteed with me everyday would be lost on baby as well. <br />
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She has watched me nurse her brother staring at me with this sad longing face. which about broke my heart, I wanted to offer her some but I knew that if I did we would just go through this all over again. <br />
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I make certain that she gets special cuddle time with me where she snuggles up close to my chest and we just hug. <br />
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I have to say I love taking this special effort for her. It's so hard to find a good balance between my kids and I know my youngest gets more attention just because of his age he needs more "watching". <br />
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I would have to say it wasn't as difficult as I had imagined and she has wowed me with her efforts to be a "BIG girl"! <br />
<br />
-We are so proud she has been clean and sober for 2 weeks now!-<br />
<br />
Courtney <br/><br/><div class="separator"style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYfa82kc1ytIi6t5DdCHAaeIoUste8wWT6z9hRo-KyJH4IS4kS6MCt5hBi-XeL7dyhjFua5Ciuc2UjQGzRZ99Go8ZeRmW5tepkrdxSdq8aVdSyTuZ88vWyK-x5QPyaeht8fgAXB0W-lo/s640/blogger-image--490838111.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhkYfa82kc1ytIi6t5DdCHAaeIoUste8wWT6z9hRo-KyJH4IS4kS6MCt5hBi-XeL7dyhjFua5Ciuc2UjQGzRZ99Go8ZeRmW5tepkrdxSdq8aVdSyTuZ88vWyK-x5QPyaeht8fgAXB0W-lo/s640/blogger-image--490838111.jpg" /></a></div>The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-3192094683204394582013-04-30T22:33:00.004-07:002013-04-30T22:39:20.914-07:00Should I give it up on the first date?<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">The day started out perfect.
We locked eyes in the kitchen over coffee and tea and there was a
spark. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We took our time getting ready, no point in rushing a day
like this. We enjoyed each other’s
company while I picked out a cute outfit and talked about the adventures we
would go on.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">First was a small strawberry farm to pick our own
strawberries. We walked up and down the
fields with the sweet smell in the air, both excited to take a bite of the
vibrant berries. To my surprise, a
beautiful picnic had been planned under a large oak tree. Sandwiches, drinks, and a hunger for more.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With the car smelling like berries and excitement, we set
off on an adventure. Unsure where to go,
we headed for the coast. <br />
I opened the door and couldn't control my thrill when the saltiness of the air
inhabited me. I love the
beach, and what better way to experience it than to ride a surrey on the
boardwalk? We laughed till tears formed
at the funny looks from passersby and ran out of breath only 15 minutes into
our ride.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">With our extreme exhaustion an hour later, we decided to
replace those burned calories with chocolate milkshakes and whip cream. 82 million calories have never tasted so
good.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Walking barefoot in the water and sand, with our treats in
hand, we talked about the joys of life and laughed about our adventurous
day. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">On the way home, we listened and laughed while singing along
to early 90’s music.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We stood in the kitchen drinking some homemade sangria and
making manicotti… together.<br />
The day ended with walks through the neighborhood and checking out the
beautiful homes.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">It was the perfect end to the perfect day. I have never been on such an amazing date and
enjoyed myself so much. I laughed till I
cried; I smiled the whole day through… I was happy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"></span><br />
<div style="line-height: 115%;">
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">
<span style="line-height: 115%;">The key to the perfect date is to date a
woman. A dear friend and I decided to
spend the day with our children and forget about men completely. We set out with five children between the two
of us and enjoyed every aspect of the day.
</span><br /><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;">Thank you April, I </span><span style="line-height: 18px;">thoroughly enjoyed your company and you looked HOT!</span><span style="line-height: 115%;"> </span><br /><span style="line-height: 115%;">
Don’t get too excited gentlemen; I’m not turning lesbian just yet… </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 115%;"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Tarah</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="line-height: 18px;">Single mama of two pooping machines</span></span>The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-25541264776542321222013-04-20T22:07:00.000-07:002013-04-20T22:07:11.018-07:00Date night? What do we do?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOsLoMjjTUrlZs6kYJHnB5iV1DFQNvO-HowQ7EFrtaOv7rzx64Hcy1mKqDw5jeMb5p0ThXLisdabqAwriGmMm450KiXguyHW-4WUwgD7wn3Mzv3ploIJJDov1IItaeFdHu_kfLKh4M60Y/s1600/husband-wife-date-night-cartoon.gif" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjOsLoMjjTUrlZs6kYJHnB5iV1DFQNvO-HowQ7EFrtaOv7rzx64Hcy1mKqDw5jeMb5p0ThXLisdabqAwriGmMm450KiXguyHW-4WUwgD7wn3Mzv3ploIJJDov1IItaeFdHu_kfLKh4M60Y/s320/husband-wife-date-night-cartoon.gif" width="244" /></a>The other night, hubby and I got a date night. It is a rare rare event in our home. So rare, if it was a steak, it would probably still be saying "moo".<br />
<br />
We live an hour away from both of our parents, we do not know very many people I would consider close enough to watch my kids (one doesn't like mommy to go upstairs for 30 seconds to grab laundry) and with my husbands work schedule, we really only get to go on a date every couple of months. My best friend and her husband came up to stay for a two days and go to an event together and volunteered to watch the kids so we could go out.<br />
<br />
Date nights before our little treasures used to be going 45 minutes up into the mountains for dinner at a riverside lodge, camping for the night or weekend, breakfast at a diner, I used to go to parties, I was a "woo hoo!"girl, shopping for sexy lingerie, I had Wii bowling parties, UFC fight nights, never once did I worry about getting home quickly or worrying what was happening back at the house . We would just jump in his truck and go. So what is date night like now?<br />
<br />
We hurried out the door while the kids were both taking a short nap, we went to a restaurant, we talked about the news from Boston, we talked about the world that will be left for our little men, I ordered one adult beverage and 3 drinks in felt tipsy (Yay for not being a drinker.), we ate and watched the people around us (Some young guys from the local community college baseball team were in front of us , an elderly couple clearly still in love, a family with children around the ages of 6, 4, 5-7 months, and one on the way, a father and son who were talking about school and sports, and a teenage couple who appeared to be on a first date or very new to dating each other.) Now that I think about it, we were surrounded by so many different stages in life. Young love, young adulthood, the child raising years, life with kids on the verge of leaving the nest, and life after the kids leave. Then we left. BUT, we didn't go home.<br />
<br />
But where do you go and what do you do after dinner? We did what many home owners do on the weekends, we went to the home improvement store. Why? Because I could slowly go through every aisle I wanted and not worry about when the inevitable melt down was coming, or magic fingers adding things to the cart, or a child running wild through the store. My husband usually goes to stores alone, so he didn't get the enjoyment I was having. I picked out our garden, we talked about paint colors for our room, I planned my dream kitchen, I sat on toilets and we did a reenactment of the scene from "Couples Retreat" with the kid peeing in the showroom toilets at the store, we laughed, and then we went home...all before 8 pm. What has become of us?<br />
<br />
We are parents to small humans who we love. As much as I want a break and to go out with my husband and have him to myself, I miss the kids when I am gone and look forward to that hug when I walk in the door. Date night has definitely changed from 4 years ago, but I value them more now than I did before. They are more precious when they do happen and being able to eat my dinner next to my husband, holding hands, and not sharing is almost like Christmas.<br />
<br />
Lynea<br />
<br />
<br />The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-83962583586151612302013-04-20T06:22:00.000-07:002013-04-20T06:22:24.857-07:00Full-time teacher, Full-time mommy, Full-time guilt<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"><br /></span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12.0pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span></div>
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<span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-fareast-font-family: "Times New Roman";"></span><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Guilt. That word. It has so many meanings and
connotations. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Guilt. I am a teacher who works full-time and
also coaches basketball in the winter, which brings my work to over full-time.
I also recently became single (J’s dad and I are getting divorced). All these
things put together mean one thing: Guilt. I ask myself, "Am I a
horrible mom because I work?" This question, I don't have the answer to
and probably never will. But the question remains and is always in the back of
my mind. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Guilt. I come from a family of very
strong-willed, independent working women. They told me from the moment I got
pregnant and knew that I would be working, “it’s quality time with your kids,
not quantity.” I wanted so badly to believe this. J was born in March of 2010
and in 7 weeks time I would be leaving him to get back to work (I only worked
for 3 weeks though because summer vacation started). However, extreme guilt
took over when I returned. I knew it would only be for 3 weeks and then I had
the entire summer with J, but it was very hard especially because I was nursing
(another blog will be written about how I breastfed him for an entire year
without formula while working). We, however, all survived and have a nice routine that has worked for us the last 3
years. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Guilt. I am a working mom because I need to be-
financially and emotionally. I WOULD NOT be a good mom if I stayed home. <b>That
is personal for me only.</b> I know so many great mommies who stay home and are
<b>fabulous</b>! They can do it all and<span style="font-size: small;"> still be <b>amazing</b>.</span> I am just not one of them. I am very much an independent person and
need “adult” time which I get at work with my colleagues. My job as a teacher
also keeps a roof over our heads, food on the table and money for J and I to
have our weekend walks to Starbucks. :) </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">When I get vacation time like summers, Christmas
break and spring break, I don't take them for granted. This is the
"quality" I alluded to back in paragraph 2. J and I spend days
catching up on things I don’t get to do with him because I am at work. We take
vacations and day trips to see friends and family. </span><span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif";"></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">So after 3 years, do I still believe that “it’s
quality time, not quantity?” Yes. I do everything I can to make the quality
time with J educational, fun and memorable. In these moments the guilt goes
away. The feelings of regret go away.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: black; font-family: "Arial","sans-serif";">Written by Chantell</span></span></div>
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The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-47673606944820464822013-04-19T08:17:00.000-07:002013-04-19T08:17:00.305-07:00Spotting the "Perfect" Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3dDsFWPatHzn4T8u1T1NwGA-6Y64KpxFRqvWh2a1DdRqE8iKQl6VqM9TvpR2zxN2Pj0lV3kcScWk1lDiw3UDYhla0nWOnk4lm4P21Y6j-t-_k_wfZYWx_YapaW-tP_HjwOwonMfYHHZs/s1600/good+parenting.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3dDsFWPatHzn4T8u1T1NwGA-6Y64KpxFRqvWh2a1DdRqE8iKQl6VqM9TvpR2zxN2Pj0lV3kcScWk1lDiw3UDYhla0nWOnk4lm4P21Y6j-t-_k_wfZYWx_YapaW-tP_HjwOwonMfYHHZs/s400/good+parenting.jpg" width="266" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">We've all seen them, we've all despised them… we're probably
all friends with one of them.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Have you ever come across the perfect mother? Face it, we all think we’re exceptionally
awesome at being a kick-ass mom but there are some who take it to extremes.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
First, let me say this- I’m not great. I
“try” to be a great mom but there’s only so much you can do when you’re tapping
an IV of coffee into your arm each morning like morphine. <br />
“Good morning sweetie, if you’d like to live to see tomorrow, you won’t bother
mama till she’s on her second pot of coffee.
You know the drill baby girl.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">There are some moms who are able to bounce out of bed in the
morning to make fantastic healthy meals with whole wheat bananas, a fresh slice
of homemade orange juice, and a tall glass of toast. They get their planners out and make sure
they haven’t double booked play dates while calling other mom friends to
discuss matching outfits. These moms are
loaded with supplies and emergency items, all while dressed to impress. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Not that you didn't already know, but I am NOT that
mom. This morning my daughter had a
balanced meal of Cap’n Crunch while wearing the same floating skirt she has
worn for the past two days. Who would've thought it would be so difficult to get a 4 year old out of a zebra print tutu..?<br />
I would love to take my children on play-dates with other moms, but I have yet
to come across a mom who thinks it would be fun to start a baby fight
club. First rule of baby fight club; we
don’t talk about baby fight club.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
As much as I would like to claim to be a health nut in front of other moms, the
fact still rings in my ear that I have a hidden stash of stale mini
marshmallows in the center console of my car.
I shove handfuls in my mouth when the kids are asleep in the
backseat. I've only been caught once…
she didn't like that I wouldn't share.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><br />
When I leave the house, I only grab what I see when walking out the door…<br />
My keys- CHECK<br />
My wallet- CHECK<br />
Chapstick, of course- CHECK<br />
iPhone, DUH- CHECK<br />
Oh yeah, the kids.. oops.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I’m not the ideal mom to go out with. Chances are, I have forgotten all the
important items like, extra diapers, snacks, water… common sense.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But fortunately, there’s light at the end of this evil
tunnel. I may not have an extra baggie
of cheerios to snack on, but it’s a great form of entertainment to watch that perfect mom’s children scream at her while she tries & fails to discipline
in public.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I guess when it comes down to it, I may not be completely
prepared or know what I’m doing half the time, but my parents trained me well
in matters of the evil eye and I do believe that’s the key to great parenting.</span><o:p></o:p></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Tarah</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Single mama of two pooping machines</span></div>
The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-23872800688852813172013-04-17T23:41:00.002-07:002013-04-18T01:04:48.503-07:00C's Birth Story<div>
At 10:30 pm on 2/22 I started having regular contractions that lasted 90 seconds and were 4 minutes apart. I didn’t feel they were strong enough to call the midwives, but Tyler insisted at 11:30 pm. In the next few minutes they arrived. They decided to watch the contractions, timing them, and decided to hang out for at least two hours to see if they got stronger. Two hours later my labor had not seemed to progress.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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Julie asked if I wanted to be checked. I hadn’t planned on being checked, but in that moment I felt defeated and curious. At 1:20 am on 2/23, I was 7cm, +1<a href="http://pregnancy.about.com/od/laborbasics/g/station.htm" target="_blank"> station</a>, cervix posterior. I was shocked that I was 7cm – I had not expected that!</div>
<div>
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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At 6:00 am, there were no changes. Since I hadn’t progressed and my contractions had stopped I told them to go home and get some rest. Julie suggested I try <span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://www.spinningbabies.com/techniques/the-inversion" target="_blank">inversions</a></span> after resting. She felt that his head was so low that it was impeding my <a href="http://women.webmd.com/picture-of-the-cervix" target="_blank">cervix</a> from moving forward and dilating any further. I knew since I was 7cm it would not be long before our son would join our world. All I wanted was sleep! When I woke up I would try the inversion.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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I tried the<span style="color: black;"> inversion</span> at 12:00 pm. Oh boy did that hurt! Having the baby come back out of my pelvis in the wrong direction is probably the strangest sensation I have ever experienced. I <a href="http://www.ehow.com/how_2365038_do-cervix-self-exam-.html" target="_blank">checked myself</a> at 2:00 pm and my cervix had finally moved forward! At 2:00 am on 2/24 I had my third bloody show as of date. Contractions were steady and uncomfortable yet faint, not seeming to put me into transitional labor.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
I woke up on 2/24 around 10 am when Tyler left for work (a little late so I could sleep in while he helped J with her morning routine). When I got up I walked to the kitchen and a small gush of wet came out of me. I thought in a sleepy and confused way “Oh that might be my water breaking”. I calmly go to the bathroom and check my underwear it was slightly pink but very watery. I call Julie to let her know what happened and that I’m not having contractions. I was to have an appointment with <span style="color: #666666;"><a href="http://www.mosaicmidwifery.com/" target="_blank">Julie</a></span> and <a href="http://wombtogrow.net/about/" target="_blank" title="Angela Seeling, Womb to Grow"><span style="color: #064c89;">Angela</span></a> at 3:00. They said on their lunch break they would stop by and see how I was doing.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
I went about my morning. I sat on the couch to wait for Tyler’s parents and watch cartoons with J. A few minutes later I had a contraction. Now, this contraction was much stronger than any I had been experiencing up to date, which made me stop because it hurt quite a bit. I called Tyler and said, “I think it’s time, but don’t come home yet – I will call you when I know for sure.” I had another contraction. This one brought me to tears, not because of the pain, but because in that moment I realized that this was happening right now – my son was coming today. I felt I would do most of my laboring alone like when I had J and for some reason that made me scared and tearful. I called Tyler again and informed him while sobbing, “This is real, I need you here!” Tyler’s parents came over to help with J until Tyler was able to get home. Tyler arrived and I decided that I wanted to be in our room so I could have more privacy and Tyler could start filling the tub.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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I was on my <a href="http://www.spinningbabies.com/techniques/activities-for-fetal-positioning/birth-balls" target="_blank">birthing ball</a>, using the bed for balance and trying to relax through each contraction, when my midwives arrived. Julie watched me throughout the contraction. When it was over she stated that I was actually in labor – that I was completely focused on the contraction this time. I continued to sit on my ball doing wide, rolling hip circles. I decided the tub seemed like a good idea at this point, and as soon as I got in it eased the contraction pain and I relaxed. I tried different positions to see what I liked. I sat on my knees while having them spread out, I leaned forward, backward, but mostly I was <a href="http://www.african-midwives.com/2011/squatting/" target="_blank">squatting</a>. I relaxed as much as possible and let the contractions do their job. In between contractions I kept conversations going with my midwives and Tyler. I wanted control and knowledge over my birth so I had my hand down to feel where his head was. I felt his head was about half a finger inside of me and the bag was still intact with a little bit of squish (that’s an official term). I kept my midwives informed on what I felt.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/courtney-tyler-jaelynn.jpeg"><img alt="" class=" wp-image-741 alignleft" height="178" src="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/courtney-tyler-jaelynn-e1351560354250.jpeg?w=240&h=178" title="Courtney Tyler Jaelynn" width="240" /></a><br />
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<br />
J wanted to see us so Tyler’s mom brought her in. She asked if I was ok and let us know that I was having “baby brother”. She was excited and doing very well with the situation. She left to lay down for her nap as I continued to labor in the tub.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
At each contraction I felt his head move down a bit but as soon as the contraction was over his head slid right back to where it was before. I did notice though that the bag around his head was bulging much more than before, it took a little push on it to feel his head when I had felt his head right away before. So I decided to get out of the tub (around 2:30p) because I felt I wasn’t progressing. I decided to pace the room and see if it helped me to get things moving but that was causing even more pressure in my back. I decided to do wide hip circles on the ball again. This time, each circle I did gave me a really hard contraction. After awhile I was ready for the tub again. It felt like HEAVEN!</div>
<div>
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
Julie asked me if I wanted my water broken. She said she would rather not break it, but if I wanted to I could actually do it myself. All I had to do is push on the bag with my finger during a contraction and it should pop and break. I was not ready for that step yet. I continued to labor and started to feel rather discouraged so I decided that with the next contraction I would push on my bag. I was nervous and knew that he would arrive very soon after it broke.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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I felt cautiously as my contraction tightened around my belly. Internally, I felt the bag get taut and bulge even more. I put a tiny bit of pressure on it and slowly added more until… POP! It actually surprised me and made me jump a bit. “Wow, that was so amazing!”, was all I could think. Then my contractions became very intense. These were so close together I just focused in on my body. I don’t recall how many of those contractions happened before I was pushing.</div>
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<a href="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/four-cm.jpeg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" class=" wp-image-742 " height="201" src="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/four-cm-e1351560485491.jpeg?w=234&h=201" title="four fingers" width="234" /></a></div>
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Angela holds up four fingers to let Julie know how much of the head she feels.</div>
</div>
Once the pushing started my yelling did as well. I groaned/yelled through each push. At one point I yelled I’m not opening! I felt his head bulging right there but I felt as if I was not opening to let him out. Angela asked if she could feel me and see where his head was. She held up 4 fingers to Julie letting her know that I was open. My midwife, who thought we had time when I said I’m not opening, started to rush and grab the things we needed for delivery. I gave another nice good yell, and a strong push, and out came his head! Sweet relief… Almost!<br />
With J once her head came her whole body slid out and I had expected that to happen this time. I had to give another strong push to get his body out. Tyler was behind me as I was squatting and leaning on the edge of the tub. Tyler and Angela were there to catch him. I was so relieved that he was out! I turned around and lifted my right leg over the cord so I could face them and see my baby.<br />
<br />
</div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<a href="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/courtney-tyler-in-tub-with-canon.jpeg"><img alt="" class="alignright size-medium wp-image-746" height="146" src="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/courtney-tyler-in-tub-with-canon-e1351561184422.jpeg?w=300&h=146" title="Courtney Tyler in tub with Canon" width="300" /></a></div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
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Tyler handed him to me while he was quietly sobbing from joy. I laid him on my chest, relaxed against the tub, and took in those first few moments with my new baby. Everyone asked, “So is it a boy?” I felt under his bottom and confirmed he was indeed a boy.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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I was asked to stand up and get out of the tub to deliver the placenta. I didn’t have to do much – I just stood there, as gravity did the work, and gave a small push to get the last part of it out.</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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Then I made my way to our bed. And that’s where I finally had the chance to really look into the beautiful face Tyler and I had created. We laid him on my belly so he could find the breast on his own, as he squeaked and talked to us. He stretched and crawled all the way up to my breast rooted around, found my nipple and started to suckle all on his own! He latched perfectly the very first time. It was one of the most precious moments I have ever witnessed.</div>
<div>
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
While I was in a little love trance, my midwives were watching my bleeding. Due to some lemon-sized clots and a continuous flow of blood (even after massaging my uterus), I took some medication which slowed the bleeding – but not enough. Next, they suggested putting a small piece of the placenta in my mouth stating that the hormones in it would work to stop the bleeding. After cringing I figured, “Why not? It’s better than going to the hospital.” The bleeding stopped almost right after I put it in my mouth. To help me build up the blood I lost, my midwife asked me to drink 32 oz of water with the last of the chlorophyll from the bottle I had been taking during pregnancy. My mouth and teeth turned green from the chlorophyll. I was a sight for sure! Pale as snow and a green mouth.</div>
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</div>
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<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
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<a href="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/cord-burning.jpg"><img alt="" class="alignleft size-medium wp-image-749" height="225" src="http://mywombtogrow.files.wordpress.com/2012/10/cord-burning.jpg?w=300&h=225" title="Cord Burning" width="300" /></a></div>
<div>
We left the <a href="http://cord-clamping.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0b5394;">cord intact</span> </a>so that baby could get all the last nourishments from it. After about an hour when it had emptied and naturally clamped off itself we <a href="http://www.cordburning.com/" target="_blank"><span style="color: #0b5394;">burned his cord</span></a> instead if cutting it. It took over 20 minutes for it to burn all the way through.</div>
<div>
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
C was born at 3:33 pm on 2/24/2012 – weighing 7 pounds 1 ounce, 20 inches tall, and a 14 inch head circumference!</div>
<div>
<span style="color: white;">.</span></div>
<div>
I am so glad he is in our lives. It feels as if he has always been here and we are even more complete than I ever thought possible! I love watching him and my daughter interact – no one can make him laugh quite like she can. They have an incredible bond and I can not wait to see how it continues to grow stronger – which only makes me more excited to have more babies when the time comes!<br />
<br />
-Courtney</div>
The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-74641178846921248432013-04-17T14:15:00.000-07:002013-05-07T08:33:37.176-07:00How to NOT Date a Single Mom<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1kOOmhN6Zysaezt1R2CjcPGNPJfFqnTuJzd6woweh2VEIcOiFgOu0yqCRfRbMZcgzVOebKl0mPxp1OfEjfkSx8b-78AuWq7HFFSAd6BI-eZPWxCfGeju0ZjDPWmtkxvt-sx_OdxqPH4/s1600/Keep+Calm.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgz1kOOmhN6Zysaezt1R2CjcPGNPJfFqnTuJzd6woweh2VEIcOiFgOu0yqCRfRbMZcgzVOebKl0mPxp1OfEjfkSx8b-78AuWq7HFFSAd6BI-eZPWxCfGeju0ZjDPWmtkxvt-sx_OdxqPH4/s320/Keep+Calm.png" width="240" /></a></div>
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Since becoming single, I have encountered a strange species;
The Desperate Male.<o:p></o:p></div>
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They lurk around grocery store aisles with value packs of
Ramen noodles and Rogaine, waiting for the perfect time to pounce. Usually with some weird comment about how
they’ve never seen someone so beautiful buying whole wheat bread. Umm... thanks?<br />
<br />
I have found myself in some exciting situations that I wouldn't normally give
much thought, if I wasn't a mother. The
following are phrases you should probably avoid if you’re looking to get with a
hot mama.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 1.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“I’m just looking to settle down and find a
woman to take care of me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->You’re a grown ass man! I have to feed, change, and manage to not
kill two children each day, get your ass up and make your own damn sandwich!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 2.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“I know we've just met, but I can’t wait to meet
your kids.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->HA! No! I
haven’t even decided if you’re worthy of a second date, and by the looks of
your psycho stache and that van you drove, I don’t even think we’ll get through
this appetizer.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 3.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“My dog is my baby, I lovey wovey him so muchy
wuchy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Baby talk?
Please tell me Ashton Kutcher is about to jump out from around the
corner and tell me I've been Punked. I
don’t even talk to my 1 year old like that…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 4.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“What hobbies do you have besides your
children?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->This one cracks me up, and let me tell you why... My children are NOT by any means a “hobby”
of mine. As a parent (or at least a
mother), we agree to put aside all hobbies and enjoyment till our children are
old enough to enjoy these things with us.
Depending on the activity, it may be quite some time before we’re
allowed to have fun again. Hi, I’m a mom
and I have no life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 5.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“What do you mean you can’t go out again
tonight? I've never been turned down… Don’t expect me to ask you out again!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Cool your jets turbo! Sorry I hurt your ego dude but I love my kids
and I like spending time with them. I’m
not interested in ditching them each night to have a mediocre time with you and
your sideburns. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 6.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“Are you paying for this or should I?”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Is this your way of “wooing” me? NEXT PLEASE!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--> 7.<span style="font-size: 7pt;">
</span><!--[endif]-->“Your body looks amazing after two kids; I bet
your stomach is messed up though.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;">·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->Why yes it is, thanks for ruining this date by
making me self-conscious about it. Now
would you like to hear an awesome story about how the skin on my stomach hangs,
my children ruined my belly button, and how I have to tie up my breasts so I
don’t trip over them? No? Maybe that my daughter was born with forceps
and I tore in the process..? Don’t want
to hear about that either? Didn't think
so...<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin-left: 1.0in; mso-add-space: auto; mso-list: l0 level2 lfo1; text-indent: -.25in;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I have come to the conclusion that all men are pigs, but
some have better game than others. And
by “game”, I definitely don’t mean Black Ops.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If you’re a guy who comes across a hot mama and is thinking
about going on a date, let me tell you this.
You need to seriously consider what might happen if the two of you hit
it off. I know guys don’t like to think
far in advance, but if you hit it off with this hot mama, you need to think
about the fact that you could play a serious role in her baby’s life. Does that freak you out? Then turn the other way! <br />
There is no point in wasting her time just because you want to cross something
off your bucket-list.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If the kid thing doesn't freak you out, by all means,
approach the MILF!</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Reasons to DATE a hot single mama-<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"> ·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->She makes breakfast, lunch, and dinner every
day! The kids have to eat at some point,
right?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"> ·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->She keeps the house clean… she’s a mom, it’s her
job!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"> ·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->She’s obviously not a virgin…<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="mso-list: l1 level1 lfo2; text-indent: -.25in;">
<!--[if !supportLists]--><span style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"> ·<span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'; font-size: 7pt;">
</span></span><!--[endif]-->She knows how to PREVENT children at this point
so you don’t have to worry about accident babies.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The list goes on of course.
What can I say, we’re pretty amazing!<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Buyers beware: Dating a single mom can be hazardous to your
health, but if you play your cards right, it might be worth it in the end. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Tarah<br />
Single mama of two pooping machines</div>
The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-58550059163719665442013-04-15T13:38:00.000-07:002013-04-18T01:07:26.655-07:00Time to Meet the Moms<br />
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<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: large;">Welcome to The Pomegranate Twig. A blog formed by very different mothers who come together for good times, pomegranate flavored drinks, and fun stories.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XvJq4epHMinBXyz053-8UQzvb1ZAfc8eCRDFjoU7SPgoXadYycCz0dJcKW7IJSIYktldxvvKX0x84chnZPh0WfoD-vxKzUk0OHqawITq0B2vqTevgm8Qh79CJUL8BcpY0-3b4ZIU77E/s1600/chantell+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg8XvJq4epHMinBXyz053-8UQzvb1ZAfc8eCRDFjoU7SPgoXadYycCz0dJcKW7IJSIYktldxvvKX0x84chnZPh0WfoD-vxKzUk0OHqawITq0B2vqTevgm8Qh79CJUL8BcpY0-3b4ZIU77E/s320/chantell+blog.jpg" width="201" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Chantell</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">- </span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">Written by Lynea</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Chantell is the strong beautiful mother to 3 year old son J. When she is not chasing around her handsome little man, Chantell brings home the big bucks teaching the youth of today, trying to reverse their thinking that "reality TV is not real life and an edumacation matters. She has recently begun a new journey in her life 40 pounds and a husband lighter, finding joy talking about health and nutrition. One day Chantell wants to be 100% organic, but disliking yard-work, she will not be growing her own food anytime soon.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfl5srk0qtbriSP2AgHWEqnw38Dzm3N2w95PrMYks2wpIlt1zkMQ22MCt_U9YWFri6Zbrnp9yZo5c0z9Ao_0gOvMHi4hRGDdhOuWKN6WnPUEvxQaIhz32Ut0ef_fTMQ2iH5kCuThFxIww/s1600/Courtney+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfl5srk0qtbriSP2AgHWEqnw38Dzm3N2w95PrMYks2wpIlt1zkMQ22MCt_U9YWFri6Zbrnp9yZo5c0z9Ao_0gOvMHi4hRGDdhOuWKN6WnPUEvxQaIhz32Ut0ef_fTMQ2iH5kCuThFxIww/s320/Courtney+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Courtney</span><span style="background-color: transparent; font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">- Written by Chantell</span></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">Introducing Courtney. She is a diligent, hard-working, stay-at-home mom who married her high school sweetheart in October of 2010. She and husband Tyler, met their freshman year of high school and have been inseparable ever since. She is mother to two very loving children: daughter J, is 3 years old and son C, is 1 years old. J is a spunky, cute little 3 year old who likes to dress herself and talk to her mom like a grown up. C is a pretty chill 1 year old who can hang with the "big kids" and not have a single meltdown (I can attest to this personally).</span><br />
<div style="margin-top: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">As well as being mom of the year, Courtney recently started teaching childbirth classes for a local hospital where we live. She has a passion for working with mothers and mothers-to-be and loves to share her wealth of knowledge and insight about breastfeeding, cloth diapering and many other “mommy” topics. Courtney’s dream is to become a midwife. She is working to achieve that goal by taking courses to become a certified doula first. She and her husband recently purchased their first home and are anxiously waiting to move in and make it their own. Introducing Courtney.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8_xv2NuyDGqNCqcNNJx7vZohvlZJ3q9oXAswBzLc5I8Hz5fC6RaoCIKalz2r1rYpYW6ZoFthQGhxqC1LM5LmVHxybk42eG9Rk7HZacGNDuTS7pj8t1t2SeVllx7H4NakDZGQd1CFN9M/s1600/Lynea+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; line-height: normal; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc8_xv2NuyDGqNCqcNNJx7vZohvlZJ3q9oXAswBzLc5I8Hz5fC6RaoCIKalz2r1rYpYW6ZoFthQGhxqC1LM5LmVHxybk42eG9Rk7HZacGNDuTS7pj8t1t2SeVllx7H4NakDZGQd1CFN9M/s320/Lynea+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Lynea</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">- Written by Tarah</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lynea is a hardworking domestic goddess who was kind enough to adopt her husband, Ken, from his mother in 2011. They have been happily married for two years, but happily bickering for the past four. </span><span style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;">She has since become a mother of three outstanding rugrats!</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;"><span style="line-height: 17px;">-A is an 8 year old beautiful little girl from her husband’s previous marriage who loves her role as Big Sister.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 17px;">-Next in line would be L. Charming, flirtatious, and usually naked, he’s of course 3 years old.</span><br /><span style="line-height: 17px;">-Last, not least, and by far the chunkiest, K. K will be 2 years old in November and has the cutest cloth diapered bottom I've ever seen.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Lynea has worked hard for her Associates in Psychology while chasing children and becoming a housewife. Lynea is one of the few hot mamas I know who can chase growing boys all day and still manage to look great while getting dinner on the table for her husband at the end of the day.</span></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqXl7pXQQB6LXuhqeM1xPlZ6stR8qWqwRp3ml6Upr4BQ_6Uc0-ABMXeuapP_e6r_C83lN1NMLqfstFG9rOaA2byHqbWT_STMfbh0eEPjhmxwPUnu2DnT9s8Ztk72H87jJ7cdMISlTfkE/s1600/Tarah+blog.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcqXl7pXQQB6LXuhqeM1xPlZ6stR8qWqwRp3ml6Upr4BQ_6Uc0-ABMXeuapP_e6r_C83lN1NMLqfstFG9rOaA2byHqbWT_STMfbh0eEPjhmxwPUnu2DnT9s8Ztk72H87jJ7cdMISlTfkE/s320/Tarah+blog.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif; font-size: x-large;">Tarah</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, Courier, monospace;">- Written by Courtney</span><br />
<span style="line-height: 17px;"><span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tarah is a bold and beautiful red head with the attitude that fits. She recently found herself single and back in her home state of CA after 5 years and two children.</span></span><br />
<div style="margin-top: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">First is L, a doll faced 4 year old (going on 13) who requires a "floating skirt" as a staple item in her daily wardrobe, and rocks out to Ferg-a-licious. Next is E, a bright eyed 1 year old who has the most incredible knack of bumping into walls and devouring all food in sight.</span></div>
<div style="margin-top: 10px;">
<span style="font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, serif;">Tarah has maintained the ability to work from home to be the sole provider of her two adorable kids.<br />She is incredibly strong, vibrant, and with a slightly twisted sense of humor the best drinking buddy to be had. Should anyone dare to cheat her beware, she will come out ahead and usually for free!</span></div>
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<br />The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-11014309903091831942013-04-13T20:33:00.001-07:002013-04-13T20:33:32.295-07:00One of Those Rare Days...Today was one of those very rare days with kids where it was calm and everything on the "to-do" list got "ta-done"! The kids played (mostly) lovingly together, laundry was completed (diapers were even folded and put away), I watched an entire movie I had been wanting to see, naps were taken, dinner was cooked completely in peace, both children ate their dinner without negotiation of bites left to be eaten, dishes were done by the husband, and the kids were bathed and ready for bed by 8.<br />
<br />
It is really the first day since the birth of K, almost a year and a half ago, where I have seen there is going to be a time where my day is not filled with breaking up toy arguments, cooking dinner with kids pulling at my pants/shirt, seemingly never ending laundry, and re watching a movie 6 times before I have seen the whole thing. It brings both hope and sadness.<br />
<br />
I may one day not feel as if I have been pulled 17 directions at once, hit, cried, snotted on, and dealt with poop (human or dog) the whole day. I may not need to stay up until midnight every night trying to regain my sanity from the days happenings.<br />
<br />
As I sit reflecting on today, I can't help but smile and cry at the same time. My little guys are growing up and I am not needed in the same ways anymore. My little babies are turning into boys. I have said many times how I could not wait for days like today. I know every stage leaves a giant impact on you as a parent, but I never thought one day I would miss the things I sometimes dread from day to day.<br />
<br />
And now to go prepare myself for tomorrow, for we all know today has most certainly opened Pandora's Box for tomorrow...<br />
<br />
LyneaThe Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-13961619588921097662013-04-12T12:41:00.002-07:002013-04-12T12:45:48.873-07:00Why I Hate Being a Mom<br />
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Yes, the title is controversial.</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">We’re all moms here, why can’t we be honest? Sometimes I hate being a mom. Why is that such an awful thing to say? We all think it from time to time and those who deny it are lying!</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">It’s 2:00pm and the children have refused to take a nap. I missed my mandatory conference call because I was arguing with a three year old over whether she “needed” three lunches or not, all while stealing brother’s baby snacks. To answer your question, YES my son was screaming at the top of his lungs. Probably because he was mad at the air for being in his way. The weather wasn't great so we were stuck inside all day and I was seconds away from pulling out the last of my hair. Not going to lie, I wanted to lock myself in the closet and cry. The children can take care of themselves, right?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">In these moments, I have a special chant-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">“I love my kids. I love my life. I love smelling this bad. I love my kids. I love my saggy boobs & rear. I love my life..?” Oh wait, that’s not how it goes…</span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">Reasons I hate being a mom-</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">• Sleep deprivation. It makes me hate myself for being so sleep deprived when I was in college. Why did I stay up so late and party? I should have used that time to bank up all the sleep I would miss as a parent!</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">• Exorcist babies. When they cry so hard that their head is about to start spinning around in circles… I’m not going to lie, it totally freaks me out.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">• Poop. Who really enjoys poop? As a mom we lose all sense of excitement about normal things. What are we excited about now? The things we find in our children’s poop! Not to name names, but two of these other lovely mamas have sent me pictures of the things they have found in baby poop. Yes, we followed it up with half hour conversations. Sad? Yes.</span></span><br />
<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">• Poop on fingers. If you've had a child, this requires no explanation.</span></span></div>
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<span style="color: #333333;"><span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; line-height: 17px;">I’m sure I can continue this list, but you get the gist. Look at that, I’m a poet and didn't even know it!</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">But then something amazing happens…</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">I emerge from the closet with tears running down my face and my three day unwashed hair sticking straight up due to extensive pulling… and I’m welcomed back to reality by my daughter’s hugging arms and the words, “Don’t cry mom, I love your hair like that”. My son stumbles over to me like an 80 year old drunk and tries to lean in for a kiss, also like an 80 year old drunk.</span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Reasons I love being a mom-</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">• My children. If you’re a mom, this requires no explanation.</span><br />
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Tarah</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Single mama of two pooping machines</span></div>
<br />The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5786763429663650812.post-3558169583469452432013-04-11T13:20:00.004-07:002013-04-15T21:43:09.275-07:00Favorite Child<br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANSjJVL8RrS2CgaBqes4mSKv-N5uauhKE7vDhPcYSNTYYfG2kptJPOwIPoJ9l9wrhSyYlZMbAsTIAjrPjJoZ-ExuEloaW2piUSb-UlzOuhskCYxEnD3WgDUHVagePatDDhVta3Pp9OJE/s1600/worlds-okayest-mom.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="311" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhANSjJVL8RrS2CgaBqes4mSKv-N5uauhKE7vDhPcYSNTYYfG2kptJPOwIPoJ9l9wrhSyYlZMbAsTIAjrPjJoZ-ExuEloaW2piUSb-UlzOuhskCYxEnD3WgDUHVagePatDDhVta3Pp9OJE/s320/worlds-okayest-mom.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
I've been staying at a friend's house for the past few days and we have known each other for a long time.<br />
... I think it's been 13ish years?</div>
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Anyway... we have children who are the same age. Her son is 2 months younger than my daughter (almost 4), and her daughter is 2 months younger than my son (almost 1). When we were talking about the trials of having a 3yr old, it slipped... I knew it was coming and so did she, but there was no stopping it.<br />
She did what NO parent is supposed to do. It's unheard of and instantly makes you a terrible parent.<br />
... or does it?</div>
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Lets just get down to business, shall we?<br />
Is the suspense killing you?<br />
She said her daughter (9 months old) is her FAVORITE of the two children! Her hand quickly covered her own mouth in complete shock and gave the "deer caught in headlights" look. Can this be true? Is it possible to have a "favorite" child? At first, I thought there was no way she could mean this... maybe she was tired or was suffering from that mommy syndrome called Lack of Sleep.</div>
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Or maybe she has a point...<br />
When you're a mother of more than one pooping machine, you instantly start having doubts when you get the positive pregnancy test for baby #2.<br />
"How can I love this new baby as much as I love baby #1?"<br />
"Will I treat them both the same?"<br />
"Will everything be fair?"</div>
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The answer is ABSOLUTELY NOT! You will not do everything the way you did the first time around. Why? Because you LEARNED from your starter child. Think of them as "Trial & Error" baby.<br />
We've all seen the awesome Luv's commercials and they're right, we become a pro with baby #2.<br />
And those of you who have a 3yr old KNOW... yeah... you know.<br />
The reason age 2 is "terrible" is because 3 is SO traumatizing, your mind forces you to forget about it completely so you don't go on a baby killing frenzy. It's your body's way of protecting child #2.</div>
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So after giving this some major thought, I understand my dear friend. I also had to watch her son for two days while she was in & out of the hospital with her daughter... and I have to say, he acts like your typical 3 yr old. No wonder she likes the baby more... for now.<br />
But this will change all too quickly, the teen years are coming and probably too fast.</div>
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Take it from a mom who has a "little" girl who's 3 going on 13.</div>
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Tarah<br />
Single mama of two pooping machines.</div>
The Pomegranate Twighttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15130813544345018660noreply@blogger.com0