Domestic Diva

I would like to start by saying the reason I didn’t post this yesterday was because we were getting our home insulated.  My amazing hubby is super sore today from crouching in the attic running the blow-in insulation hose (my fantastic daddy fed the insulation into the hopper, too - so, thanks!).  So, I guess our home is a little more energy-efficient, after all!  Woo hoo.  I am so excited for progress on our fixer-upper!

Oh, the fluff!

That said – here are my top 5 domestic mommy traits:

#1 – I breastfeed my baby.  Exclusively.  (I use a cover, but I do breastfeed in public and in mixed company, faux pas or not.  Would you rather a couple minutes of awkward or a screaming baby?  Honestly.)  Anyway, from the beginning I was determined beyond determination that Natalie would be breastfed.  I may have cracked, bled, and been miserable for a while… but I was not giving in!  Also, my baby lost more than the acceptable amount of weight at the hospital, and they told me to supplement.  I am SO thankful for my one lactation nurse that said we just needed a little more time for my milk to come in more.  She had me pump after every feeding (not much came out but she encouraged me that the baby could get more than the pump ever could), and she had me feed my baby supplementary bottles (still my milk, though).  Had I supplemented, my milk supply would’ve been even less and my baby that much less motivated to eat.  I thank God for that nurse!!

#2 – I use cloth diapers.  I think it may be an understatement when I say that I had very, very little support when I first told everyone that I would use cloth diapers with Natalie.  Little did they know that I had already used them at home on our foster son (we couldn’t use them all the time because his daycare wasn’t cloth-diaper-friendly).  I knew what I was getting myself into, and I really didn’t appreciate the looks of astonishment, nor the comments about how long that would last or how ridiculous I was being since the disposables are so much easier.  I found myself starting to explain how much cheaper they were, and I’ve even found myself telling people before they have a chance to comment that “whatever it takes for me to stay home with my baby.”  And it usually gets left alone then.  But, to be honest… it wasn’t just about money (although, considering that our bills-like water from using the washer-didn’t increase at all and we haven’t had to buy a single package of diapers since we started using cloth, we’ve already saved money even though I bought the more expensive cloth diapers).  The main thing was that I wanted to use them.  I have the one-size kind with Velcro closure.  They work just like disposables and will fit her until she’s potty trained.  I really love the concept of less diaper rash, and they told our grandmothers how good drying diapers in the sun was for our babies.  Why did they stop telling us?  Oh, and the sun’s ability to remove stains… BIG bonus!!  I now use that trick on her clothes.

Natalie's cloth dipes...
and our lovely view from the backyard, lol

 #3 – I’m a fan of home remedies.  Okay, this may sound weird but here it is.  Back story - disposable diapers did in fact break out my baby’s bottom.  And I’m talking BAD.  The minute we switched to cloth, it was almost instantly better!  Then, we thought we’d use ‘sposies for a trip we took to visit friends because we fell victim to the claim that they were more convenient… and our poor baby’s tush cracked open and bled – it was BAD!  We switched her back to the cloth, and instead of using a diaper cream (which would potentially ruin her diapers, anyway) I tried a trick that the nurses told me would work on me when I was hurt from breastfeeding – I put breastmilk on her bottom, and within one diaper change it was gone.  I later told my mother-in-law that I got the breastmilk home remedy idea from my grandmother, but considering that my grandmother only breastfed for 3 weeks with any one of her four girls… I don’t think that’s where it came from.  I think it was my awesome grandmotherly lactation nurse.  Thank you again, ma'am!!

#4 – Another reason I’m old fashioned is just my values.  Things have changed so much for me as an individual, especially since we've formed our family.  Growing up, I always had plans to have a career.   Going to school, becoming something great, enjoying whatever successes God would bless me with… those were my plans, my goals, my aspirations.  Things were hard for us when I was in college, what with my brain problems and all.  You know, a tumor or a blood malformation don’t seem all that bad until you put the word "brain" in front of it.  Brain tumor.  Brain Malformation.  See?  Because then, it’s like – the problem is where?  Well, that’s not really true, I don’t guess -- those things are bad no matter how you look at it.  But anyway, things were hard then.  But they were nothing compared to infertility.  Not being able to give my husband a child… well, it’s just a pain that somebody who’s never experienced infertility could truly understand.  My attempt to make it understandable is linked if you click here.  So anyway, the year before we got pregnant with Natalie, my husband and I were very fortunate to have fairly high-paying jobs as a teacher power couple (tee hee-I think I just used an oxymoron there).  But when God blessed us with the right infertility doctor, good timing, and luck to conceive our precious angel – well… my plans, goals, and aspirations changed.  Owning a home and a minivan replaced other goals and desires, and my resume now reads wife and mother.  And to be completely honest, I’m loving every minute of it.  I keep getting the looks and questions about when I’m going back to work or if I’ll ever be an Ag Teacher again.  I keep telling them that maybe someday.  But honestly, I think I would be content to stay home and raise babies.  If that’s God’s calling on my life, who am I to argue?  Plus, as long as there’s a 4-h club to be found, there’ll always be a place where I can help with contests, team training, and keep my love of agriculture awareness close to my heart.  Those are the things I loved most about teaching Ag, anyway.

Moving on...

#5 – I can cook.  I can sew.  I can make a pretty good hairbow.  I have goals like reinventing the ordinary and making it extraordinary -- while I don’t recycle plastic, I don’t usually throw containers away – I mix them up and repurpose them into something useful.  I guess I’m not a “recycler” – I’m an “up-cycler”!  I am on this mothers’ panel that does surveys.  My title on the board is “domestic diva”.  That makes me laugh.  I mean, I never thought I would be the wife and mother that stays home all day, cleans, does laundry, and has dinner on the table for her working husband every night.  That wasn’t me.  But now, there’s nothing that makes me happier!  Our fixer-upper is getting fixed up, and our bills are completely manageable, even with only one income.  I don’t have too many complaints.  Above all, I love being Natalie’s Mommy!!

Spirit bow I made for my baby sister

Outfit my mom and I sewed for Natalie...
with matching bow, of course!

My baby sister had completely ragged out her old skecher flip-flops.
So, now they're reincarnated as spirit "fluffy flops"!
Can you tell their school colors are orange and black?

The fact is – a lot of not-so-great stuff has happened in my last couple of posts (the fires, death, first shots, etc).  I’ve been able to use my blog as an outlet for those emotions and fears.  That way, when I'm spending time with my family, I can keep my sunny disposition (that may be stretching it just a little, ha!).  Seriously, though.  I want my daughter to see that obstacles may come your way, but you just get past them one step at a time.  It is my hope that I can teach her to have a high moral standard, good Christian values, and that life isn’t always easy.  But it’s worth living.

The fires...

My dad always told me as a child to stop being so "attitudinal."  When I got older and stressed over jobs or decisions, my dad told me to "quit being so pessimistic" and "lose the sarcasm."  Who knows how many times he told me to “Look on the bright side!"  Those statements (and many others) have always gotten on my nerves.  How dare someone tell me how to feel or how to act?  Who does he think he is?  My father??  … Oh, yeah.  Oops.

Well anyway, every now and then, my "sarcasmicatude" comes out, gets the better of me, and there’s no stopping it.  And the sad thing is that since becoming pregnant and having a beautiful baby girl, it seems that the pessimistic smarty pants crazy-bot in me has only gotten worse.  So, please keep in mind that I mean no harm when I shout, cry incessantly, or throw an all-out baby temper tantrum over things, especially when I'm supposed to "look on the bright side"… like with what I’m about to write.

Our home has been ransacked.  Has it been burglarized?  NO.  We did it ourselves.  We destroyed it and flipped it practically upside-down when we were digging for our most “prized, precious, priceless” possessions and memories last night.   And why did we do this?  The fires.  Fires that flared up and got a little too close to our home for comfort.

If it had just been our house, empty, I would’ve said “let the shack burn!”  Don’t get me wrong – I am thankful that we own a home.  However, it’s a fixer-upper, which we have been very slow-go to actually fix up.  So, if it burned -- well, let’s just say that losing the stress of the remodel wouldn’t break my heart.  But, it wasn’t just a shell of a house.  It’s our home, with a lifetime and a half worth of possessions (and really, I don’t need the lecture about how it’s just stuff and can be replaced.  Don’t lie -- if you lost your wallet, you’d be upset… and we’re talking about possibly losing and replacing EVERYTHING - just the thought makes me cringe).

We knew the fires were on both sides of us, and the one moving toward us was “moving fast”.  But we had no idea what that meant – did we have minutes, hours?

So, we loaded up the most important stuff.  Priceless items such as my mom's box of pictures-that I still haven't had the heart to work all the way through, btw-- and baby books went first (but not without checking first to see that my baby’s precious umbili-stump was still inside… gross, I know; but that’s a whole ‘nother story).  Next, we got all the precious gov’t paperwork that we need when we have to prove who we are… you know, so I’ll be prepared the next time someone accuses me of being Maria San Salvador because it is SO believable that this fair-skinned, blondeish haired, green-eyed American could possibly be from another country.  Maybe I could pass for Connie Souphanousinphone from Laos?? 

Anyway, where was I?  Oh, yes… Then, as I was grabbing scrapbooks out of the basket with our old yearbooks, my husband says to just grab it all - including the yearbooks.  I looked at the hubs and thought, really??  The goal is to forget the freckled-face nerd rebellion that was my unbelievably small high school graduating class of TEN, and you wouldn’t want to just let those things burn?  What’s the matter with you?  Were you really that popular in high school?  And then I laugh.  Because I actually knew him in high school… and well… it makes me laugh.

The digital camera and computer go next – too many pictures of our darling girl are on them (and the fact that they cost hundreds of dollars to replace doesn’t hurt).  But, anyway, they get shoved in a bag and drug out to the car through the smoky air. 

And then we pack a bag with a few shirts and a pair of pants for each of us.  As my brother and mother come to help us, I try to decide what to take for Natalie.  And how do you decide what to take for a baby when you can't take it all??  We were so fortunate to be given so many awesome baby gifts – toys, clothes, crib bedding, curtains, the beautiful crib itself.  It makes me cringe to think of losing them.  As I continued to look around, I saw the changing table/dresser that her daddy painted for her, and the hand stitched wall hanging that was made for her, and then… I start to feel my eyes fill with tears.  And I’m turning round and round in circles, looking at everything and I can’t figure out which heirlooms to save (the play dishes that are some of the only things that I have from my own childhood, the clothes that were handmade for Natalie, the quilt that was handmade for her daddy but is pink because they thought he was going to be a girl).  Instead of choosing, I grab what I can and I quickly grab the clothes that were on top as I tried to hold it together.

But, yes I broke down.  I cried.  Then, I realized that I could smell smoke coming in the window of Natalie’s room.  I freaked out, and then we got in the car. 

I immediately told Taylor that I didn’t want to leave the house.  I wanted to stay.  I wanted to know what was going to happen.  The forestry service had been called in, along with lots of firefighters (lots for this area, anyway).  They were going to get it stopped.  We should stay, stand our ground.  Then, Taylor talked to our neighbors who came to check on us, and they told him that their homestead had burned to the ground.

So, we went to my parents’ house.  We could still see the flames, but we were out of the path of destruction.   Out of the horrific wind’s angry path.  All we could do was message our friends and family as we watched the flames, like angry hands grabbing at the glowing horizon.  It was getting so late that it should have been pitch black outside.  But the glow.  I’ll never forget the glow. 

They were finally able to contain the fire.  And that meant that they saved a lot of homes, including ours.  So, for a brief moment last night I thanked God for saving our home.  But then my "sarcasmicatude" returned when we came home and I realized that the smoke smell was unbearable.  Airing out the house was useless.  Comforting my baby was hopeless.  I couldn’t even give her the blanket she loves to sleep with because of it’s reeky smoke smell.  So, what to do?  What’s left to do?  Lay my head on my smoky pillow and thank God that my pillow is still there to sleep on.  That my baby is still safe in the other room.  That things are okay. 

And I am.  I’m thankful.  But as I woke up this morning, I realized that one small part of me does want to be angry.  Angry that we flipped everything upside down and have to put it back.  I just know that it is the devil seeping in, and I have to fight hard to prevent that.  So, fight the hurt I did - and that led me back to the place where I remembered what’s important.

I think that this was a huge wake-up call from God.  The hubs and I have been praying for a sign that we’re doing the right things with his career and the other big changes happening in our lives.  I don’t think that for us there could be a more significant mirrored sign:   Our lives will potentially be flipped upside down by the changes that are to come.  But rather than be upset that we flipped it upside down, we need to be thankful that everything will still be here to put back into place when things do settle down.  It may feel as though there is a fire bearing down on us with all these changes, but we need to trust God with our path just as we trusted those fighting the fire to save our home.

Or something else witty and thought-provoking instead.  

Happy flippin’ February, Everybody! 

Natalie is 3 months old!!