New blog!

So I've started up a new blog, called Juice For A Change. Because, well, my juicing lifestyle has started. 

This new blog is going to be about a new, healthy, lifestyle. As well as my life with little Miss Olive, because I don't know any more that doesn't talk about their children! It's just part of the job, haha. 

But anywho, I hope to see my followers (even if there is only 4 of you!) over on that blog, since I'd love to try and get that one up and running successfully! Since this one hasn't had the greatest time with keeping up with things. 

So, thank you for following me. But I can promise you, this new blog will have great things! Lots of recipes (some healthy, definitely some not so healthy :-x), exercises, goals, pictures, crafts, and a whole bunch more. 

See you over there! 

- JM

Still alive!

Just in case anyone was wondering, I am still alive and kicking. Just have had a hard time keeping up with O while trying to add more items to my soon-to-be etsy shop. Crocheting with a 5 month old is tough! Especially since she is crawling now. For the most part she only crawls to her toys, but man is she fast! The hardest part is keeping her on her blanket, since the house we're in is far from baby proof. We live with 5 friends right now, to save on money, so it's rather difficult to try and baby proof anything. But we make it work the best way we can, because we have to. I'd much rather save money, especially since I'm a SAHM right now. 

Anywho, that's what I've been up to lately. Lots and lots of attempting to crochet, along with lots and lots of attempting to keep a baby on a blanket. Makes for an exhausting day with lots and lots of coffee consumed. I'd like to think that it helps, haha. 

I'll try and post more about my shop soon! 

xo, Jess

Olive, 3 months.

Three months old... Why do those three little words create so many emotions in me?

Another month of,
Growing.. becoming less infant-like.
Smiling, giggling and chatting up a storm.
Snuggling.
Yelling, just because she now knows she can.
Dirty diapers, spit up and drool.
Teething. Yes, teething. Crazy, right?
Blowing raspberries every 5 seconds ever since I taught her how.
Pictures. Lots and lots of pictures.
Sucking on her fist, fingers, and anything else she can get her tiny hands on.
Walking! With our help, of course, but still.. Walking!
Tears... from me. Knowing that time won't stop for anything, not even my big, sappy tears. 
Love. Heart filling, undying and unconditional love. 

To my little Stinker, 

Yes, I call you stinker. Well, mainly just "stink". Which I know you'll hate when you're older, but that's okay. It's what parents do best, right? 
Anyway, I can't get over how incredible you are. Truly. You amaze me in so many ways. I mean, come on, you're already walking?! Where is my little baby going, because she's vanishing right before my eyes. Also, your little bottom teeth are starting to come in now. I love that you're progressing so quickly, but at the same time, I'm pretty upset. Not because I don't want you to flourish, but because you're growing at such a fast pace. Even your own pediatrician was surprised at how fast you've been progressing, which must be saying something! But please, if you can, slow it down just a tiny bit? I want to cherish every moment I have with you at this itty bitty baby stage, even though they are quite fleeting. 
You give me 10 hours of sleep, minimum, a night. If that's not crazy, I don't know what is. Since day 1 you've been the best sleeper, which I am extremely, extremely, thankful for. Especially since after those 10 hours of sleep, you wake up for about an hour, two tops, and go right back down for another long nap. It's great, really. I am truly blessed that you're such an easy baby. 
You're still exclusively breast fed, and you latch on like a champ. I'm glad we got the whole breast feeding thing down pat the day you were born, because that was one less thing I had to worry about. (I hope whenever we give you a sibling, or two, that they're as easy as you are! Seriously, you're the best.) 
You've starting chatting, a lot... Okay, pretty much constantly. But I love it, and so does your dad. He gets the biggest kick out of your yells, especially the faces you make. Oh, another thing he gets a kick out of? Your toots! (See why I call you "stink", now?) You have the loudest toots for such a tiny little girl. Every time you do it, your dad cracks up laughing. Most likely because he knows that you take after him in that department, which I'm sure you'll come to find out once you get a bit older. 

You are always so full of smiles and giggles, especially when I blow raspberries on your neck (rolls). Yes, you have rolls. But they're cute, I promise you. You also love to blow raspberries now too. You and I always go back and forth with that, and you love it. 
You're very much a mama's girl, which I love, of course. Not a second goes by in a day where your eyes aren't locked onto me, wherever I am. And if I'm not in your view... well, let's just say that you get a little crabby. Okay, not just a little. You pretty much have a full blown conniption fit. But it's okay, I take it as a compliment. 
You and I have a very, very special bond. At times, I feel like we even have conversations, without saying a word. You make me smile and laugh about a 1,000 times a day. And even now as I write this, you bring a tear to my eye. All because I love you so much, and I can't picture my life without you. You're my everything; the very beat in my heart. You gave my life meaning the second I held you in my arms.
You're my daughter, yes, but you're also my best friend. And it will be that way, forever. 

You are my heart, little one. I love you. 

xo, Jess.

October 10th, 2010.

*I started writing this post yesterday, but was unable to finish it due to a needy little Olive. But this post was meant to be for yesterday's Pregnancy And Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

I'm going to set aside my usual goofy, sarcastic self for a minute and actually write a serious post, for once.

This post is about my miscarriage, exactly one year and five days ago. 

I wasn't going to share this, or make it known that it happened at all, but I have to. Because it's a part of my past, and most importantly, a part of me. Also, today is the day to remember these little souls that found their way to Heaven sooner than expected. 

I was only 6 weeks along or so when it happened. I know that that's "barely pregnant" in some people's eyes, but not to me. To me, that itty bitty baby already had a soul, a life, and a place in my heart.

The moment I found out a million thoughts rushed through my head. "I wonder if it'd be a girl or a boy?!", "What would we name him/her?" "What theme would the baby shower be?" "I wonder when his/her birthday will be!"

I went a little thought crazy, I know, but I couldn't help it. You just can't stop thoughts like that the second you see those two pink lines. You start planning everything... planning their life. Because in your mind, that little bean has 9 short months then it'll be in your arms and all will be right in the world in that moment. 

But, and sadly there is a but.. that didn't happen. I lost that little bean on October 10th, 2010, at around 7pm. 

I didn't know what was happening at first. I just had heavy cramping that didn't seem to be easing up. I figured it was what everyone called "implantation bleeding". Now I know, implantation bleeding happens within the first 2 weeks, so I was a little naive. But, can you blame me? I didn't think that a baby could be taken from you so quickly. 

Once the intense pain came, I knew something was wrong. Then the bleeding and the realization of what was really happening. Then came the tears, lots and lots of tears.

I'll never forget that day, ever. It was one of the hardest days, emotionally and physically. It was nothing close to labor, but that pain is something I never hope to have to feel again. That day I lost a little piece of my heart, to God. 

I got pregnant with O one month later. So with great loss, comes great gain. She's my little blessing, and I'm overjoyed with the fact that she is now in my life. I'll never forget my other little baby, but O has made the loss easier to bear. Because I know that O has a little brother or sister, and that one day, we'll get to meet. And then my heart will be whole again. 


RIP little one, I love you.




xo, Jess.

Day 8, The Future. 31 Days of Being A New Mom

I sometimes (Okay, often) (..Okay, really, really often) think about the future. 

What will O be like? Will she still be a sweet, little girl? I sure hope so. I'd like to think that I wouldn't bring up a little menace, but that seems to happen sometimes, even with the best of parenting. I've seen it, first hand. And that's what scares me to death.

Will she still like me? ..Better question, will I still be her favorite? 

Will she still find time for me? 

And then I think, will she take all of my advice? Or will she be like me, and insist on learning everything on her own. 

Will she be like me? Not that that's a bad thing, at all. I was actually a very good kid, from what I've been told. 
Or will she be like her father? 

Will she be bullied in school? And if so, how in the heck am I going to deal with that? I can't exactly go rampaging through the school, find the child's parents and yell at them... I say this, because my mom did that very thing when I was bullied.. It made things 100x worse, in case anyone was wondering.

Is she going to be one of those teenagers that sneaks out at night? And hides things from me? God, I hope not. I'm not sure I'd be able to handle that. 

Or will she be the kind of teenager that is more into schoolwork, and puts socializing on the back burner. 

Is she going to be a picky eater and want only chicken nuggets every day of her life? Or will she actually be a well-rounded eater and enjoy the vegetables. (Doubt it..but hey, I can dream, right?)

I think of all of these things, and more, on a daily basis. Because I am absolutely scared to death of the future. I'm excited to see how she's going to grow up, don't get me wrong. But there's a good and bad side to everything in life.. especially children growing up.

You can't force them into being the person you want or expect them to be. It doesn't work like that. I was the victim of one of those very situations, where my dad wanted me to be something I would never, ever be. He had such high expectations of me. Which wasn't a bad thing, but he took it to a whole other level. He made me want to rebel, and I normally wouldn't have had those feelings if it hadn't have been for him. 

Being a mom, a parent in general, is a really difficult thing. You have to try and mold your child into a respectable adult without the molding... How is that even possible? You have to try and guide them in the right way; give them a little push in the right direction. But what if they don't take it? 

Gosh, I'm getting ahead of myself here. I think a case of word vomit has ensued, and I apologize. But see? My worries of the future, right there, in black and white. I need to learn to just let things happen, "go with the flow", as they say. Everything will happen just how it's supposed to. All I'm meant to do is go along for the ride and to always be easily accessible emotionally and physically. That's it, really. And I need to remember this, forever. 

Olive, please.. stay little for just a little longer. Because I'm not sure I'd be able to handle you getting bigger right now. 

xo, Jess.

Day Seven, No Such Thing As "Too Much". 31 Days of Being A New Mom

*I'm a little behind, so please bear with me. This week has been a rather rough one, since O is in the midst of another growth spurt. So my time is rather preoccupied, to say the least. I'm doing my best to catch up whenever I can! 

Some people say that you can love your child "too much." 

Too much? Is there even such a thing? I don't believe it. 

I love my child as much as the next mother, a lot. But under no circumstances would I say I could ever love her too much. 

I love O from the moon and back, from sun up to sun down, from East to West, etc, etc. But it's true. And I don't think that any of that is "too much."

I believe that a person can love a material, a thing, "too much".. but never a child. A child deserves all the love in the entire world, and that still wouldn't be enough. 

When that someone (and that someone shall remain anonymous) told me that, that whole "too much" bologna... I was in awe. What do you say to that? "Yeah, you're right?" ...Now anyone that knows me, knows that I'm honest. Really honest. Sometimes to the point where it gets me into trouble. I can't help it, I'm a horrible liar. 

So what do I do? The only thing I know how to do. Be honest. 

"You're clearly not a mother." That's all I had to say, because it was true. 

If you're not a mother, or a parent, you just.don't.understand. And that's all there is to it. Because once you become a parent, you do love your kid "too much". You can't help it- it comes naturally. 

So when/if someone says that you love your child "too much", be proud of that. Be proud of the fact that people see just how much you love your children, even if they label it as "too much". That means that you're a mom, and a damn good one at that. 

                                      

xo, Jess.

Doing it.

That's it, I've decided. I'm going to start my plan of becoming fit, again. 

This will about the..oh, 4th time now? I thought the last time I did it, that it would be the time it would "stick". Because, I finally had healthy eating and working out down pat. I had no problems, no slip ups, and I was truly happy. Honestly, I was.

But... (there's always a but, isn't there?), it all came back on. The 40-50lbs I had worked so hard to lose was back. And bigger than ever. Not because I became lazy or careless, because I got sick. Really, really sick. It was my Senior year of high school, and I was stuck on bed rest for 3 months. Now, you all know the last 3 months of Senior year. Prom, yearbook pictures, the whole 9. Yeah, I wasn't there for half of that. And it killed me. 

The doctors weren't sure what was wrong with me. Heck, I wasn't sure what was wrong. And still, to this day, neither of us know what exactly what it was that brought me to be put on bed rest. All I know is that it's happened a three or four times now, throughout the span of my life. And each time, it gets a little worse. It's scary.. really, really scary, but it's something I've learned to accept and live with. 

The pain eventually went away, I was able to start walking around more. Start living again, pretty much. But it just wasn't the same. I wasn't the same. I was big. Bigger. Because I had spent the last 2 months (When I was able to eat again), just eating. Everything.. literally. I had no self control, at all. I was miserable. I mean, come on.. If you can't walk or do anything, what else is there to do? So, of course, I ate. Watched the same tv shows every single day, and ate. I still can barely watch tv without wanting to scarf down everything in sight. It's sad, I know. 

And ever since my Senior year of high school, 3 years ago, I have been getting bigger... and bigger. From the weight I was before I got sick, I have gained a total of 95lbs. It honestly makes me break down and cry just typing it out.

I'm unhappy.. depressed, even. I can't help it. I hate my body image. I have zero confidence. And what hurts even more is that I have one, literally one, picture of me with Olive. That makes me cry even more. Because when I look back at these pictures, pictures of her or her and Vaughn, I'm going to regret not having any pictures of her and I. 

I need to do this. And not even just for myself, for Vaughn and Olive. They're the reason that I'm going to do this, because they're the one's that deserve it. Vaughn deserves a happier me. A me that doesn't include being a nag, or not wanting to be intimate because I'm afraid of how he'll see me.

 I cry, a lot, because of how I look. I thought that after I had Olive, the weight would fall off of me. Wrong. It didn't even trickle off of me. It just..stayed. So far I've only lost 20lbs. Now that might seem like a lot to most people, but not to me. Because I gained a total of 50lbs when I was pregnant with O, and I was already 20+ lbs heavier before that. I had let myself go, and I accepted it. 

I want to create a new me, the old me, because I deserve it as well. I want to be happy again. I want to be able to be in pictures, not always behind them. I want to love my body, and feel sexy. Yes, I said it, sexy. Because whether we say it or not, we all want it. 

So, this is the turning point. This is when I change my life for the better. Yeah, I know, it's really close to the holidays. Which is definitely going to be a challenge. But if I can break through that enormous barrier, I can do anything. I'm going to start tracking things on here, so that I have something to hold me accountable. I feel like it'll help, a lot. And so, goodbye overweight, obese, fat Jess. I can honestly say that you are not going to be missed. Not one bit. 

xo, Jess.