6 Months

Dear River,

I cannot believe that you are 6 MONTHS OLD already! Where the heck has the time gone!? In honor of this wonderful milestone, I thought we would take a quick look back over these last 6 months:

Where You Have Been:
Denver, CO
Red Rocks, CO
Las Vegas, NV
Los Angeles, CA

Holidays You Have Celebrated:
New Years

Things You Like To Eat:
Butternut Squash
Winter Squash
Peas (...sort of...)

Your Tricks:
Rolling over...and over...and over
You smile and laugh A LOT
You babble and have plenty of conversations
You can sit up (with a little bit of help)
You love to make a motor boat sound with your mouth
You put EVERYTHING in your mouth

Your Favorite Things:
Mom and Dad (obvs)
Pulling Mom's hair
Roary the Lion
Scout the Dog
Your "Command Center"

How You Have Grown:
 You are such a beautiful soul River; so kind hearted and full of light. It is an absolute pleasure and gift to be your parents.

We love you buddy

Mom and Dad


Why Mommy Guilt is like a Drive By Shooting

My son is just a week shy of 6 months.
 And guess what, The Switch has happened. 
The Switch you ask? 
YES! The glorious switch from simply Milk Supply to Mommy. 

I don't know exactly when it happened, but it was right around the time I helped my baby through his very first ear infection, (which consisted of 4 trips to the pediatrician, two different medications, and a full blown body rash due to an allergic reaction.) Freaking wonderful. However, now on the other side of that damned childhood curse, I find that he lights up even brighter when I walk into a room, he reaches for me when I am close enough, he does that cute open mouthed "I'm going to eat your face off" type of kissing babies do, and pretty much loses his mind whenever we play together. 
It. Is. Awesome. 
I. LOVE. it.
Of course don't mistake me, Robert is still his best friend...by a long shot... it's so obvious... but I am MOMMY, which pretty much makes me a superhero. 
 And yet, I have come to discover that if there is one sure fire nemesis to Mommy Superherodom, it is the dreaded "Mommy Guilt." Our very own Kryptonite.
But I have also discovered something else...
"Mommy Guilt" exists because we, as mothers, hurl it on one another. We do the perpetuating.
Like a drive by shooting, we take to the blog world (Hello!), and social media, and do our own drive by guilting, perhaps, without even realizing it. 
And you know what, we are killing ourselves; and killing one another's confidence in the process.

Let's be real, being a parent is HARD ENOUGH on it's own without feeling the pressure of so many opinions on top of it. And the clincher is that it starts before you are even a PARENT!!

"Why don't you have children yet?"
"Don't you feel like that is a little selfish?"
"When are you planning to get pregnant?"
"Natural or Medicated?"
"Vaccines, no vaccines?"
"Breast milk or formula?"
"Cry it out or coddle?"
"Public, Private, or Home School?"

Honestly, I could keep going.

I can remember vividly the first time I experienced that shameful Mommy Guilting. I was pregnant...newly pregnant...and I was asked what type of birth I wanted to have.

Me: "You know...I think I would really like to try giving birth naturally."
Friend: "...Why?"
Me: "Um.. I don't really have a set reason, it's just a preference."
Friend: "Is...it, like, something you need to prove to yourself?"
Me: "No, not at all."
Friend: "Hm."
Annnnnd Shame.
 I am 100% sure that she never, in her wildest dreams, meant to hurt, shame, or offend me, but because it has become such common place to have the "right" to share our opinions, it happened regardless...
 Perhaps it is because I am Doula, or work in the realm of pregnancy in general, but it seems like I am constantly questioned about my pregnancy and parenting preferences and choices, and why I do or don't do certain things, or why I feel or don't feel certain ways. And truthfully, I love giving MY opinions and MY advice, but that is just the thing, they are MINE...opinions and advice that are now ONLY given when asked, and come with the very serious preface that they are free of judgement and that they do not fit every child. 
See, in my arrogance, prior to becoming a parent, I had an opinion about everything. I swore up and down that I would (or would not) do X,Y, and Z...told women why you should or should not do this or that, and you know what I discovered: Some things sound great in theory, and are terrible in practice. 
And I also discovered, that I lended to the guilting of many a mother in the process.
Parenthood is about grace upon grace (for YOURSELF) and as much humility as you can muster. It is perfectly ok to have your opinions, and even admirable to have done your research on said opinions...but please remember they are YOURS, and it is ok if others do not agree with you.  

Furthermore, Mothers, can we please refrain from flagrantly flouting our opinions in open forums like facebook, twitter, and other social media sites? It's just...poor practice. We, as mommies, need as much encouragement and confidence as we can get...especially from one another. 
Caring for a HUMAN, nay, being solely responsible for a human, is hard hard work. It is beautiful and crippling all at the same time.

So please, have your opinions, give your perspectives, but please PLEASE do it respectfully.

"If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal." 1 Cor. 13:1

Snugs out.  

River:1; Rice Cereal: 0

Dear River,

Today you tried Rice Cereal for the very first time! I cannot believe how fast you are growing! What is happening!? (Don't tell anyone, but your dad and I gave you a little taste of Rice...Pudding...prior to this. However, like I said, it was a VERY little taste, so it doesn't really count.)

Below you will find your adventure as told through pictures. I think it is safe to say that Rice Cereal gets a big thumbs up!

Glad you enjoyed it buddy.

We love you.

Mom and Dad

Brie and the Grizzly Affair

Allow me to set the stage.

This morning The Man and I took River to the pediatrician to check out a problematic cold that has been sticking around for the last few days or so. Seeing as how tomorrow we are getting on a plane for Thanksgiving break, we wanted to try and knock this thing out beforehand if at all possible.

You know...
Perhaps it was the upcoming holiday rest bit...
Perhaps it was the buzzing waiting room...
Perhaps it was even the significant lack of sleep both The Man and I have been experiencing lately.

But whatever the culprit, Robert and I were quite happy sitting in that doctor's office. Slap Happy that is.

As we waited for River's name to be called, The Man and I began to joke about potential future baby names. The more outrageous the name, the louder we laughed.

The Man: "No babe, sorry but our next son is going to be named Grizzly. Case closed."

Me: "Uhhhh.... no. First of all, we cannot have a son named River...and then a son named Grizzly. Second of all, his nickname would be Griz. Third of all, there is NO WAY we are naming him Grizzly.. that's like naming the poor kid ROCK."

....LITERALLY two seconds later....

[The Nurse emerges]

"WOLFE?" she calls out.

I kid you not, the woman and little boy sitting DIRECTLY across from us get up!!

I could have DIED.

To make matters worse, I was so mortified that I nervously began to laugh as they passed by us...then I nervously began to laugh so hard that I started CRYING! Which only made Robert laugh even harder than he already was.

Moral of the story?


Remember This.

Dear 27 year old you,

Remember this. 

Remember how his chubby little hand is clasping the top of your tank top as he sleeps. Remember the smell of the top of his head; it's clean and sweet. Remember how long his eye lashes look from this angle. Remember how creamy his skin is; the softness of it; the way it feels under your hand as he takes in his little breaths. 27 year old you, remember the little clicking sound his mouth makes when the pacifier falls out during his sleep. Remember that you would hold him like this forever if he'd let you, but one day he will be too big, and these days will have long since passed. 

So until then, cherish this. Soak it all in. 
Love every single ounce of it. 

And when it's been a long day, you're at your wits end, maybe he's having a rough day himself...

Remember this. 

That's A Wrap

Ok, confession.

Currently, I am en route to purchase some brass beads for my husband's...BEARD. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, his beard. And here in lies the confession...I love it. 

To know my husband is to know that he is creative when it comes to his appearance and his style. He knows what he likes, and that's that. When we first got married, I couldn't figure it out. I chalked it up to possible restlessness, but I TOTALLY missed the fact that this was expression for him. Once I figured that out, it all made sense. I love that he sticks to basics like a good pair of jeans, a t-shirt and cowboy boots, (his uniform basically) but let's his freedom fly when it comes to his hair, facial hair, and accessories. Honestly, to me, he just looks GOOD. 

Well, in this little bead adventure of mine, I noticed upon stepping out of the car, that not only is my son sporting his own beads...an amber beaded teething necklace... But I was displaying a little something myself...

I call her my "Sally Jesse Wrapphiel" and you'll see why: 

Upon moving to Colorado I've realized that over the last few months, due to the extremely dry climate, my hair has been looking a little dry itself. So, hearing great things about "retraining hair" (ie: spacing out washings in order to allow your hair's natural oil to replenish your hair) I decided to give it a go. 

The biggest downside? 

Excessively oily hair between washes at the beginning....gross. Therefore, I began to scour the internet for options. I have always been in awe of the beautiful ways black women incorporate scarves and head wraps into their wardrobe, so I wanted to see if there was a way I could possibly incorporate them into mine? 

Therefore, I give you:
Sally Jesse Wrapphiel

So let me recap. 

That is:
- one beaded, bearded, husband
- one beaded baby
- and one wrapped mama. 

We're just one big Granola family!
But don't worry, I still have heels on ;)