Diaries of a serial nap fighter (days 2 & 3)

As you may of read, my boss and I have implemented a schedule to get the little nap fighter, Juliette, to start sleeping in her crib. Day one went as predicted… which was hard! She fought and won all three rounds. Days two and three went slightly better. 

Day two involved slightly less crying than before. She started to fall asleep within the initial twenty minute set time. Round one of day two, she slept forty five minutes in her crib. Round two and three she slept twenty five to thirty minutes in her crib, woke up extremely pissed off and took the rest of her nap in her rockaroo. Something her mom (and I agree) is necessary until we can get her used to falling asleep in the crib. One problem at a time for now.

Day three was similar to day two. The first nap she slept forty five minutes in her crib after going to sleep within twenty minutes. She woke up really happy. Nap two she slept forty minutes. Woke up exhausted and was basically a zombie baby for a little bit until she got a second wind (which coincidentally was when I was going to try her for a short cat nap) and decided she wanted to party. Nap three was a rough one. She slept about twenty five minutes in her crib. She woke up screaming her head off so I moved her to the rockaroo. She wasn’t happy there even though she was exhausted. Since she had a very small bottle before her nap, I gave her another two ounces and she went back down. In the rockaroo. 

So far it hasn’t been easy. It feels like we are making progress though. I just hope we aren’t going to add yet another sleep method to the graveyard of methods we already have. 

Little girls can wear camouflage too!

My husband is a camouflage advocate. If you ask him, his favorite color is camo and that is the only color that matters. Our dog’s name is Camo. He wanted to do our daughter’s room in camo. Pink camo was his version of a compromise. When we found out that we were having a little girl, he rushed us to Academy to buy some pink camo and regular camo with pink accent outfits. He also wanted to buy her a pink camo bow set. Something she wouldn’t be able to even touch for a very long time so I had to veto that purchase.

With all that being said, my little girl wears camo a lot. I even purchased a backpack to use as a diaper bag that is camouflage and has some pink on it. The other day, I dressed Dakota in camouflage as usual. I hadn’t been planning to go anywhere that she would need to look like the little diva I usually tote around. I didn’t even have a bow on my person for her. We ended up having to rush to the doctor. She had fallen on her face from sitting and I overreacted (go figure). We didn’t see our usual nurse or doctor so the nurse assumed (due to the camouflage) that my pretty little girl was a boy. My feelings were hurt lol. My little doll is gorgeous, how could she be mistaken for a boy? Not to mention, there WAS pink on that outfit AND the backpack. 

Two weeks later, I am still slightly irritated. Little girls can wear camouflage too without the assistance of pink or a bow. I probably shouldn’t be so sensitive. That is what my husband tells me anyway. But hey, I am a mother and I am supposed to think my daughter is the most amazing and beautiful baby on the planet so anyone who doesn’t see her that way (camo or not) is on my list. 

Pan Fried Chicken and Gravy

Pan fried chicken and gravy is another of our favorites. This recipe is very simple and is also makes for a quick meal. 

Pan fried chicken

2 cups flour

2 tablespoons season all

2 tablespoons of garlic salt

1 tablespoon of pepper

4 boneless chicken breasts

Vegetable oil

Prepare seasoning by pouring flour, season all, garlic salt and pepper into any dish that has a lid. I use my tupperware. Take each chicken breast and cut it into four pieces. Then split the slices down the middle so they are thin. The thinness helps you to have a faster cook time. Use enough vegetable oil to cover the bottom of the pan and turn the burner to a medium heat. Toss a few pieces of chicken in the seasoning, cover, shake until the chicken is completely covered in the flour mix then using a pair of tongs, add the chicken into the hot grease. Cook the chicken for six minutes on each side or until golden brown.

Gravy

4 tablespoons of grease from frying chicken

teaspoon of salt and pepper

2 cups of milk

2 tablespoons of flour

Now that your chicken is cooked, you can use the same pan to make your gravy. Remove excess grease from your pan while keeping some of the breaded bits from the chicken in the pan. This allows your gravy to have a great flavor! Leave four tablespoons of the grease in your pan, on medium heat, add in two tablespoons of flour and blend until smooth. I like to blend it with a fork to keep the flour from clumping. Once that is blended, add in the two cups of milk and lightly sprinkle some salt and pepper. While stirring continuously, bring gravy to a boil for one minute. Reduce heat and stir for two more minutes. Remove the pan from heat. The gravy will thicken as it cools. You can always add additional milk if you want your gravy thinner or more flour if you want it thicker.

                                                  Now you can serve and enjoy!

Abuse of a hero

There are some men in the world who really have a heart of gold. The kind that will stand by you no matter what happens, no matter what you say or do. My step dad is one of those men. Except he isn’t my step dad. He is my dad. He may not be my biological father but in our case, water is much thicker than blood. He raised me as his own and there were times that I know I had to of made it difficult for him. I don’t think he ever questioned his choice to step in though. I really don’t know what has this on my mind but I remember the time I told him he wasn’t my dad. I don’t remember why. I remember I was a teenager, and teenagers have a way of saying hurtful things without completely acknowledging the consequences. I don’t know how I could of been so malicious towards someone who was doing the absolute best he could with a child that according to blood, wasn’t his. To this day, I still regret my words. I wish I could go back and unsay them. That somehow I could take away the hurt I caused him. 

The thing is, he was my dad. He always has been and always will be. He has always been there to pick up the pieces. I remember one time in particular, I had a really rough day. The girls at school were being especially hateful, saying things that weren’t true and throwing as many dirty looks my way as they possibly could. I felt like I honestly could not do it anymore. I didn’t understand how people who really didn’t know me could hate me the way they did. I got home and didn’t even make it inside. I threw my books down and just sat crying in our driveway. My dad came out since I hadn’t gone inside, he sat next to me and I told him how I felt about everything. He said to me, “Dani, you have been my daughter since the moment I saw you. No matter what happens in your life, you will never be alone because you will always have me.” 

That man deserves an award for being who he is. An outstanding person, an amazing dad and an all around great man who I would not have been the same without. I am thankful for him. I am proud to say he is my dad. The best dad a girl could ever ask for. 

Dada

My husband and I have gone back and forth over who would be named first by our daughter. Mama or Dada? Both representing sides (him and myself) were pushing her to say the magic little words. Although, I honestly think he tried harder to get her to say “dada” than I did for “mama.” The day finally arrived that she decided to speak her first coherent form of communication. And go figure, she says, “dada.” Am I jealous? Slightly. Is he rubbing it in? Yes! He is rubbing it in like a dry skinned person rubs in lotion. It is ridiculous. It makes me more jealous.

We argue (playfully!) back and forth. I say, it is scientifically proven that babies go from “baba” (which she skipped) to “dada” to “mama.” He says, “That’s ok, she still said dada first so she loves me more.” I say, “She doesn’t even understand that “dada” means you yet. She is using the sounds as a platform to learn more.” He says, “Oh she knows who dada is.” 

After that comment on my part, every time she says dada now, he says, “I’m here” and looks at me smugly. He of course has the right to be thrilled. He won the race that we have been running for months now. He is so happy she is talking about him. He really can’t contain it. He is on cloud nine and there is no bringing him down or getting him to ease up on teasing me. I can’t wait to hear her say mama now! 

So this morning, her and I were going back and forth with our “dada” communications and I decided I would try to get her to say “mama.” It really went well! I said, “mama.” She said, “dada.” So I said a little more enthusiastically, “No, mama!!” and she said, “DADA!!” I think we are making progress.

Am I training to be a hunting partner or a slave?

Since the inception of our new endeavor as a couple, my husband thinks he needs to tell me what to do. All the time. He is taking advantage of every opportunity as I am sure most husbands would. Who doesn’t love having their spouse follow instructions when they are told to do so? He said I need to get used to following his instructions. So that once we start our hunting training that I will be ready to receive his knowledge. That I need to practice until then since I am stubborn. He must be right because every time he asks me to do any of the things he comes up with, I chose not to do them.

I can’t help myself. I can’t really correlate his knowledge for hunting with him telling me to get him a beer. The spheres just don’t meet up for me. There is no shared space between them. At least I hope that is the reason. Like I said, I really do not like being told what to do. Each time he presents a new task, I immediately freeze up. Recoil. Fold into myself and a stubbornness that I forgot I had comes out. I am interested to see what kind of reaction I have when it comes down to the hunts. Hopefully an accommodating one. 

Arguably, I did not decide to take on this task to become his slave. If you were to ask his opinion though, he would say that I agreed to the terms and conditions of becoming his slave when I said the words, ‘I do.’ I am only slightly amused ;) 

Photo courtesy of American Honey Photography

https://www.facebook.com/americanhoneyphotographyATX?ref=hl

Diaries of a serial nap fighter

Day 1

Technically, this really isn’t day one. It has been an outright battle of wills since I started my job. Caring for this little one who is a month younger than my daughter, who is ridiculously smart and who could go to baby jail for the crime of being serial nap fighter. Every single time her mother and I figure out a way to get her down, she figures out a way to get out of it. We have tried just about everything we can think of: swaddling, bottle right before nap, white noise, lights completely out, night light on, pajamas, open door, rocking, luvies, pacifiers, a mobile, skipping a nap to catch the next one and every single one of those things has worked, and then has failed within days. The only constant, reliable source of sleep has been her rockaroo. Since she is outgrowing her rockaroo, we are running out of time to figure out any sort of way to get her to sleep. 

Today was D-day. The day we-again- resort to the cry it out method. One that neither of us cares for. One that is guaranteed to make you have a terrible feeling in your chest. Our guideline was simple. However it fell, be there a bottle or play between, we would start with twenty minutes in the crib without entering unless there was the sound of great distress. After twenty minutes if she was still upset/awake, we replace pacifier, pat and exit without talking. Then she is on the clock again for twenty five minutes. After twenty five minutes, we get her up, change her diaper, read a book and try another ounce or two of the bottle. A reset so to speak. Try her in the crib for an additional fifteen minutes and if she is STILL awake, we use the rockaroo as a last resort. 

Nap one we went through all of the steps, she was playing in her crib after everything had been done so I got her up and moved her out to play thinking she would play a while then go down easier for nap two. Didn’t happen. Nap two followed suit with nap one, same guideline but end result was the rockaroo. Nap three… well nap three was rough. There was a lot of unhappiness going on in her room so after attempting and failing to follow our guideline, I had to move her to her rockaroo. I am not happy about it. I caved. It is not easy to listen to a cry like that. The thing is, I KNEW she was fine. I peaked a few times. But she was so upset and I didn’t want her to be that unhappy. I knew going into today that it was going to be hard, I know we have a journey ahead of us so all I can do is reset myself and try again tomorrow. 

Simple solution to baby frustration

There are a lot of skills you need to have in order to be a good parent. The one that you will probably hear the most is how important patience is. Patience. Patience. Patience. Well I have that. I have a lot of that actually. Or I thought I did. I was always so great with other children, from family to children I took care of. Frustration was never part of my vocabulary. Parenting on the other hand is very different. Maybe it is because all of those other children I could give back. Maybe even though I would spend eight to ten hours a day with those children, at the end of the day I was able to walk away, to get a break. Maybe it is because I got a lot more sleep back then than I am getting now. I get frustrated with my child. The fact that I get frustrated with her frustrates me. I love her so much, so I couldn’t understand why I would end up with no patience. I started to evaluate myself and realized, it really wasn’t my fault anymore than it was hers. I wasn’t getting a break from her. At all. I had her from birth to five months without a single break. Showers were rushed and dinner left uneaten. I finally realized I was in desperate need of me time. There is nothing wrong with devoting your life to your child but when you start to forget who you are because of that devotion, it is time to take a step back and get a break. 

I realized that while patience is extremely important, knowing your limitations is also important. You have to be able to step away. Being a mom is not a full time job. It is the equivalent of three full time jobs plus overtime because you are on 24/7. You can’t call in sick or take the weekend off. Realizing that you need a break is important. I finally told my husband that every Saturday, I had to get out of the house for an hour. I have to be able to step away and just be me for a little bit. That one hour a week has made such a huge impact on me. My frustration level is down. My stress level is down. I have even starting producing more milk than I was. I was so worn out that my milk supply had started to deplete to where my daughter was barely getting enough to eat. 

That one little break has made the world of difference. I feel less frustrated with my husband throughout the week as well. He has noticed the difference and he understands the importance of that break, so much so, that if I say during the week I need to step out for a quick break, he immediately takes over. It is ok to be frustrated with your child. They do a lot of things that are frustrating and are difficult to handle when you are at the top of your stress limit. It is ok to take a break. It doesn’t make you a bad mom if you need one, it actually makes you a better mom. I challenge every mom out there who feels like they are at the end of their rope to take just one hour a week. Go get your nails done, go shopping, go read a book. Whatever it is that will make you feel like you again, do it. I promise, it will help so much! 

Attitude Makeover in the Works

The new me that is in the works is already being challenged and I haven’t even put my camo on. The problem I am facing is a very embedded need to challenge anything that I am told to do. For some reason, I have never been able to accept the words when someone says, “You need to do this….” Now asking me or suggestions, sure no problem but telling me what to do? Forget it! I’m a rebel.

My husband is one of those very smart people who knows a whole lot about a whole lot. Since he loves hunting so much and has done it for a long time, he knows exactly how to do things. Which means he expects me to do things exactly how he tells me to do them. He is excited about me joining him on the hunts, teaching me to do all sorts of hunting related things but he has already warned me that I have to listen to him. I have to do “exactly what he says.” The thing is, with him being so smart, he KNOWS that he knows what he is talking about, which makes him almost self righteous in his tone and that causes my natural reaction to revolt. And God love him, the man has no patience. 

It looks like I am taking on much more than I initially thought. I thought trading in my beautifully manicured nails for blood stained hands (from skinning my kills) would be the hard part. I hadn’t realized I would be tackling a complete attitude makeover. Lord help us both to be patient!

Jonathan dove hunting in South Texas back before I learned how to cook... He looked a lot hungrier back then!! LOL!!                       

                     

Veggie Blend Casserole

A lot of my recipes start out as completely different recipes that I plain forget to buy everything for. So they end up a little tweaked based on what I have on hand. For me, the grocery store is not only fifteen minutes away but a trip would also involve loading up my little one which as you moms know… is a process! This recipe is no different, I found it online, forgot half of the stuff at the store so this is what I came up with. This veggie blend dish is as easy as it is tasty! 

You will need the following:

1 zucchini 

1 Yellow Squash

1 medium size tomato 

1 medium size potato 

Garlic salt

Pepper

Shredded cheese

Oil for the dish

Foil 

9x9 pan (I used a glass one)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Thinly slice all veggies. A mandolin slicer really comes in handy. Spray your dish down with the oil. Now layer the veggies in an upright position. I may be OCD so I kept it in a pattern (squash, zucchini, potato and randomly inserted tomato) Lightly sprinkle pepper and garlic salt, cover with foil and place in oven for thirty five minutes. 

                                                                                                When the time is up, sprinkle the cheese for your desired cheesiness, recover and bake an additional fifteen minutes. Once time is up you can uncover, let it cool and enjoy!

The Origins of my Anxiety

I was planning to post a funny blog today about my husband and I, but I feel the need to post about my anxiety instead. This is a very personal post and I know it is a long one. I apologize in advance for the length since you may feel as if you are reading a book! For some reason this is weighing on my heart so I feel someone out there needs to read this. 

I didn’t always have anxiety. It was something that seemed to develop over time. Is it genetic? Or was it a product of a really abusive relationship? It seemed to develop during that time so I think that has a lot to do with it. I started off like any other normal child. Then as a teen, I was diagnosed with depression. I don’t know if it really was depression or teen hormones. I started taking an anti-depressant around the age of sixteen. While most normal teens were fussing over their hair, their car and the boys at school, I was content to stay in my room and read a book or go for a walk alone. I admit that I did sometimes feel like the world would be a better place without me. The anti-depression drugs made things worse for me. I went from occasionally thinking the world would be a better place without me to constantly thinking that and contemplating suicide. I am not sure what kept me from going through with it. I suppose I never got close to it, just toyed with the idea. I never once picked up a gun or sliced my wrists or anything else so crazy. I realized that I was getting worse instead of better so I quit the medicine cold turkey and was much better off for it. 

Then a few months later I met a guy. He actually liked me. So like most teens with their first reciprocated interest, I fell in love. Like an idiot, I didn’t pay attention to the signs. He became possessive very early on. Jealous for no reason. Angry for any activities that did not include him. He strategically manipulated me into turning away from friends and family. Once that happened, he started to get physical. By that point, he had me convinced he was all I had. That nobody else could possibly love me. It is really hard to judge someone if you have never been in their shoes. I would have never thought I would end up in a relationship like that one. I was a pretty girl, smart, I had a lot of interests, a bright future ahead of me with lots of family and friends to back me up. He took those things away from me. I was afraid to get out of it. I was afraid of him. I was afraid of being alone. I became that clingy, dependent, scared girl who was afraid to do anything. I gave up photography, writing, I let my college work slide into the hole so I failed out. I stopped seeing family and friends. When I did see my family, I was short with them. I was reserved. I wasn’t me anymore. 

When I finally was able to get out of the relationship. When I finally convinced myself that it was never going to change. I walked away. I never looked back or thought that I would go back. Much like the anti depressant I was taking, I quit that relationship cold turkey and was better off for it. I didn’t walk away unscathed though. My panic attacks increased. There were a lot of times, and still are times, that I cannot go out in public alone for fear. I can’t pinpoint what exactly I am afraid of, just that I am afraid and I feel fear. This is where I come back to the anxiety that I feel has developed over time. I think being controlled for so long, three years to be exact, I have developed a need for control. I now have a need to control what goes on in my life. My schedule. I need time to plan things out, doing anything at the last minute is really hard for me unless it is my idea. I need time to adjust to schedule changes or I have a mini panic attack. It irritates me so I can only imagine how hard it must be for my husband who likes to do things at the last minute. God love him, he tries to work with me. 

I am slowly dealing with my anxiety and trying to get better at coping with it. I used to take anti anxiety medicine. I have not taken it in over a year. For the most part, I can manage my anxiety sans medicine as long as I can be in charge of my own schedule. My boss has been very encouraging, she is teaching me the concept of “small world.” Small world basically means that you can only control so much. Anxiety says, “You are going to get fired. Then what if you can’t get another job? Then you can’t pay your bills. Then you can’t afford the things you need for your family and so on.” Small world says, “You haven’t even gotten fired. Worry about it IF it happens and deal with it as it comes!” Every situation can be managed. If you are suffering from anxiety, practice a breathing technique to help you control the chest tightening. Distract yourself, read a book when you feel anxious or do the best you can to think of something else. You may not be able to get rid of it completely, but you CAN manage it. 

This is me, welcome to my blog!

I am a 26 year old married mother of one. My world revolves around my daughter. I do everything possible to give her the best, happiest life that I can possibly give her. I have a full time job, a paying hobby (photography), a big family and I run our household which means I do most of the cleaning, cooking, finance management and baby duties. Like most women in my position, I struggle to find time to get everything done in the limited hours of the day. I also struggle with anxiety. My anxiety makes it difficult for me to handle unexpected situations without some sort of break down. Luckily, full blown panic attacks have been very limited in the past year, however I still get the shortness of breath, tightness in my chest and racing mind a few times a week. I don’t want my anxiety to control my life. I was able to get off the anti-anxiety medicine over a year ago and I am proud to say that for the most part I haven’t missed it. 

I am married to a very handsome, hardworking and kind, outdoorsy type. He loves to hunt and has been asking me for years to join him. I have gotten away with not going for this long but I think it may be time to join him. For those of you who know me, at minimum this will be a humorous endeavor, at large…quite possibly a huge mistake. While I am not a fashionista and I do love to be outside, I believe I smell too good, talk too much and in general will drive him crazy if I go hunting with him. I will have to learn to shoot with more accuracy, clean my own kills and get over killing Bambi’s daddy. 

I will be writing at length about all of these things as well as anything else life has in the works for my little family. I hope you will join me to share in my struggles, my success and all the humorous moments I will face in my transition from being prim and proper, to being an avid hunter that my husband can be proud of.