Mommy Needs A Hug

There is this socially accepted idea of OCD.

This is the idea that it is about being a clean freak. It is about perfection. It is often marketed by society as this quirky, hard-to-deal-with perfectionist personality. It is a stereotyped personality trait.

In reality, it is a mental health condition. It is so much more than cleanliness and perfection. I can’t speak for everyone’s OCD, but I can speak to mine. It is oftentimes debilitating.

My head, for some reason, can deal with a little dirt, dirty dishes, and mess sometimes. What OCD looks like for me is having to have things done a certain way. If it isn’t, the intrusive thoughts start.

“I didn’t vacuum yesterday, so I have to vacuum five times today, or we are all going to get sick and die of the flu, cancer, or the plague.”

“We got pinworms, so it had to have been from outside, so we won’t be going outside in our backyard anymore. Only outside other places is safe. The playground isn’t safe, or we will get another more dangerous parasite and be hospitalized, and my kids will get taken away.”

It looks like one minor illness ending in everyone washing their hands every time they touch anything. Doing all the laundry 3 times before putting it in the dryer. Not because I forgot, but because the first two times didn’t kill the bacteria, the bugs, the danger. It looks like washing a stuffed animal 6 days in a row because it touched the floor again.

To some people, these incidents might seem inconsequential. But for my brain, if I don’t do these things, something so much worse is going to happen. It is somehow going to lead to some life-ending medical condition that would have been prevented had I just washed the laundry one more time.

In therapy, I once heard myself respond to the question, “Ok, but what happens if your husband loads the dishwasher the wrong way?” with “Well, my brain tells me that they won’t get clean and we’ll all get sick and die.” I know that’s crazy. We all know that’s crazy. The therapist said, “But do they get clean?” Yes. Of course, they get clean. A small voice in the back of my crazy head knows this thinking is absur,d but I can’t stop myself when the OCD takes over.

I’m terrified to go to the mailbox at certain times of the day because the thoughts tell me that if I go at that time a car with drive by, swerve into the mailbox and kill me. I don’t take the kids with me to the mailbox, no matter what.

I find it hard to enjoy life sometimes and live in the moment. I try so hard to let my kids be kids, but the stuffed animal is on the floor again, and I can’t do anything else until it gets washed. But now there is a shirt on the floor, so I can’t do anything until that gets washed. I have to be here to wash it a second time. And a third. The shirt hit the laundry room floor as I was switching it to the dryer, so I have to wash the shirt again. If my house isn’t clean enough and this happens again, they’re going to take my kids away for getting a cold, pinworms, lice, the flu, or any number of treatable illnesses.

On the outside, looking at the chaos and mess of my house, it probably doesn’t look like the image everyone has of OCD. It isn’t picture-perfect clean. It isn’t spotless. But there is a quiet turmoil happening that prevents it from getting that way because that stuffed animal is on the floor again. I sometimes can’t enjoy doing the things people do with their kids normally because I have to spend this day fixing the things. Like that stuffed animal on the floor again. Why is it always on the floor?

I want to be the fun mom. And sometimes I can be the fun mom. I can push aside the feelings and work hard enough on my mental health to venture out and do other things. I sometimes make progress. Then, some relatively small thing in the grand scheme, like the pinworms we all got that are “so common in children,” sets everything back. Suddenly, I’m back in the place where I’m afraid of the outside. I’m afraid of letting things slip at all. I’m bleaching my floors and counters. I’m wearing gloves to empty the vacuum. I’m washing laundry three or more times. I’m thinking that we shouldn’t have animals because they’re getting us sick. I’m crying in the ER because I let it slip, and now my kids have pinworms.

OCD is not cute. It is not perfectionism. It is not quirky. It is not fun. It is not so great to have because at least your house is clean. It is debilitating. It is horrible. I hate it. I want to be normal. I want to have a house that looks like kids live there. I want it to be vibrant and messy and fun. I just want to live a normal life. Where a minor setback doesn’t feel like I failed and takes over my whole life. I just want to live.

As one of my favorite creators who pops up regularly on my FYP says, “Let’s get one thing straight and two things gay.”

A few days ago, I was having a conversation about our children’s predicted heights. Joe is very tall, as those of my friends and family who follow this blog know. I said that our daughter was predicted to be 6 feet tall.

This statement was met with, “She will never be able to wear heels.”

The conversation continued roughly as follows (I don’t remember the exact rundown, so disrespectfully fuck off if that bothers you):

Me: “She can wear heels all she wants.”

Them: “She’ll be too tall for that.”

Me: “I don’t care about male fragility.”

Them: “But the height difference.”

Me: “Joe did it.”

Them: “But it’s different for girls.”

So let’s get one thing straight and two things gay, I do not give a single fuck. First, she’s a child, so this shouldn’t even be in question at this point in time. Ew. Second, if your ego is so small that you can’t date a girl taller than you, you’re a weenie. Third, I will absolutely teach my daughter standards. She will know that if someone doesn’t want to date her because of her height, they aren’t worth her time anyway. I will also teach her that she does not need to change herself, how she dresses, or anything else to please a man. We don’t do that here. (Ask my husband, who left with a wife with hair past her shoulders and who came home from deployment to me with a shaved head. I do not care. We do not do that here.) If she wants to wear 3 feet tall heels because it makes her happy, if I do my job right, SHE WILL! It doesn’t matter what you think she should or shouldn’t do. Not to mention, we don’t actually even know if she’ll be that tall. However, this goes for not only my children, but anyone out there who reads this:

There will be people, no matter what you do, who you are, what you look like, and what you wear, that aren’t worth your time because they can’t accept you as you are. To someone else, you will always be too much or too little. So do whatever you want (within reason, obviously. Don’t go breaking laws or anything). If it makes you happy, do it. If you want to shave your head, tattoo it, wear stilts, or whatever else, do it. Don’t base your decisions or your self-worth on anyone else’s opinions. I spent too much of my life doing it, and it was miserable.

Choose you. Choose happiness.

Mommy Needs A Hug

I want to really start taking the blog back up here soon. I have so much to talk about and share. Bear with me for a while longer as I work to get in a better routine with mom, wife, and school life in balance with blogging. Thanks for sticking with me throughout this journey. Hopefully, I will be able to get more consistent with this again. Much love.

December 3rd each year is National PKU Awareness Day. Today has already been a significant day of reflection for me and our family’s journey with phenylketonuria (PKU).

Two years ago, we were blissfully unaware of the existence of PKU as we waited for our fourth child to arrive. We had three children already who were generally in good health and needed minimal medical intervention or visits at all throughout the year. It was really easy then to overlook the advantage we had not having to argue with insurance companies and medical food suppliers every few months (or weeks) about getting necessary medications and medical visits covered. As time-consuming and draining being the caregiver for a child with PKU is, my biggest challenge has been medical equity and insurance overall. It has been a struggle to fight with insurance every few months to ensure that the medical formula needed for life continues to show up at our doorstep.

This PKU Awareness Day I want to not only bring attention to the existence of PKU and the amazing community that has come with it, but also the Medical Nutrition Equity Act and how necessary it is for communities like this one.

Aside from that though, let’s talk about PKU and how he’s doing with it.

PKU, phenylketonuria, is an inherited metabolic condition in which you are unable to process an amino acid in protein called phenylalanine. Both parents must have the recessive gene, and then each child has a 25% chance of having PKU in every single pregnancy.

Of our four children, we have no idea if any of them are carriers yet but we do know that Sambam has PKU. Also, fun fact, my genetic mutation associated with PKU that I passed to Sambam is actually associated with Classical (more severe) PKU while Joe’s is associated with Mild PKU.

He is doing pretty darn well with PKU currently, though. We had a rough patch with trying to get him to finish his formula each day, but a few drops of strawberry syrup and he asks for it now. He is doing well with low protein recipes and eating more fruits and veggies rather than wanting and asking for things he can’t have. He loves his vegan cheese. Blood tests are pretty hit or miss though. Some times he does really well with his finger poke and other times not so much. He should be starting Kuvan here soon and going up on formula per day. Fingers crossed we keep succeeding at finding new recipes on our own and using Cook For Love.

As always, feel free to drop your questions in the comments and Happy PKU Awareness Day!

Now I’m not saying life is kicking my ass, but that bitch got hands.

It has certainly been a time getting to where I am now. I have been ashamed to admit I was struggling to adjust to stay-at-home parent life from being in the military. Aside from that, life has just offered a lot of changes, struggles, and successes in the past several months. But now that I feel like I’m over the hump and the worst of it, I feel like it’s time to reflect.

In the past six months, I have worked to raise awareness of PKU, with my extended family and friends failing to support us in our PKU journey. I have graduated from college after over a decade since graduating from high school and failing out of college the first time. Not only that, but I graduated Summa Cum Laude (4.0 GPA baby!), with Honors Program Distinction. I have struggled with managed our youngest’s PKU and probably should have gotten hired full-time to be on the phone with the insurance company. I have been working on getting my VA disability rating for well over a year and have spent significant amounts of time on the phone and email with them trying to figure out what’s going on. Our marriage has some of the highest highs and mehhest mehs (not lows just meh). I started my Master’s program and have been maintaining a 4.0 GPA. Aaaaand we went on vacation as a family which was much needed. Among other changes, struggles and successes.

Our oldest finally is working toward getting the help he needs for his ADHD after continuous dismissal from his previous developmental pediatrician. So I’m going to consider that a mom and advocacy win.

Overall, though, the title of this page has been more fitting in the past several months than ever before. Mommy sure does need a hug. All the time. When I’m happy, sad, angry, sleepy, and bored I just really have needs all the hugs. Maybe it’s the pressure I put myself under. Maybe it’s finally getting to a place of peace in our home where laundry isn’t piled ceiling high and food crushed up all over the place. Maybe it’s not having a village and mourning the life I thought we would have surrounded by supportive family who stopped being supportive right around baby #3.

Despite everything I feel I have made the most progress in the past several months. On myself as a parent, wife, woman, student, advocate, and so many other things. I’m finally digging myself out of the hole of chores I have been sucked into for over a year now. I have spent more quality time with my kids and husband than previously. We are getting there. We’ll get there.

For anyone who wanted to know, we have already beat our 1000 hours outside time from last year (301 hours) and are coming in with one month left of the year at 444.5 hours outside so far.

Also, here are some important dates:

December 3rd is National PKU Awareness Day

December 25th is CHRISTMAS 😛

February 28th is Rare Disease Day (Light Up For Rare)

May is PKU Awareness Month and Maternal Depression Awareness Month

Let me know if there are any other important dates you want me to call out in the future. I will be making a conscious effort to start writing in this blog more because it is the best self care I think I’ve ever had and I’ve been struggling with self care.

OMG I don’t even know how I forgot! We also somehow ended up with three kittens when a stray gave birth on our front porch and then proceeded to abandon them. We bottle fed them and they are THRIVING!

With love,

Mommy Needs A Hug

Please remember to think of yourself this holiday season. If you need anything please reach out and I will find resources if I have nothing to offer that helps.

Stay tuned for some exciting news in the new year. Much love.

About halfway through 2022, I saw a bunch of mom vloggers talking about how they were trying to spend 1000 hours outside that year. I saw their updates and thought, “Wow. What a cool idea, but completely unachievable with three kids, a full-time job, two parents who are students, a child in school, and a baby on the way.” As the year drew to an end and I learned more about the benefits of being outside for children in my classes, I decided we were going to try it. It still seemed out of reach to even try given the cold winters and hot summers, but I brought it up and we decided to try.

Last year, 2023, we gave it a go. We really did not give it our best try because we just did not have the clothing and time to. By the end of March, we had barely hit 20 hours. On the days that we did spend time outside though, the kids had a lot of fun, got exercise in, and just generally seemed happier. It also motivated a lot more quality time as a family. I found myself actually participating in running around and making up games and activities rather than just going outside and letting them play on their own. We even ate some meals outside and utilized our kickass grill area more. We started saying “yes” to playing on the playground at school pickup a lot more.

To sum it up, the goal is to spend 1000 hours outside over the course of the entire year. That comes down to over 83 hours outside every month and an average of just under 3 hours every day. Which is an admirable thing to achieve given that many kids, at the detriment of their development, only spend 5-10 minutes outside a day.

Here’s a little recap of our 2023 outside time. The winter months were incredibly underwhelming, as were the few months where I was newly postpartum.

January: 6 hours 18 minutes

February: 4 hours 51 minutes

March: 9 hours 42 minutes

April: 49 hours 20 minutes

May: 64 hours 39 minutes

June: 38 hours 39 minutes

July: 10 hours 18 minutes

August: 14 hours 21 minutes

September: 8 hours 5 minutes

October: 39 hours 19 minutes

November: 52 hours 51 minutes

December: 2 hours 40 minutes

We ended with a total of just over 300 hours outside last year. It set a great bar to measure progress this year and a foundation for us to build this year’s goals. It also amounted to a greater appreciation of family time and being outside. We did not reach the average monthly goal once and only met the average daily goal a handful of times. Overall though, it was a great experience that I highly recommend, especially in our technological age where we get so wrapped up in other things. It is a great supplement to the lack of recess and outside time children get during the school day too with a heavier and misguided focus on standardized testing.

Our small goal this year is to hit 500 hours minimum. It isn’t about meeting 1000 hours for us as much as it is challenging ourselves to spend more time together and get outside to boost moods and children’s development. We have been more than doubling our time outside so far from last year, and it has made a world of difference in all of our moods. When we feel down, we go outside. When the kids are grumpy or otherwise unhappy, we go outside. Anything you can do inside, you can do outside.

I will probably be updating periodically on our time outside and observations. We are currently at 31 hours for 2024.

Now, I challenge you to get outside with your family. Take a walk. Eat a meal. Read a book. If you give it a try, let me know how it goes for you. Did you notice better moods, quality time, or other benefits? Your kids need time outside in nature and so do you.

I use the app “1000 hours” to track our time.

I’m really going to be transparent here. Not that I’m not always transparent because, baby, I’m like a window.

Warning: Given that I just had cold sores clear up about a week ago that made my entire lip swell up, I might be a little heated about this.

Parents are constantly telling people not to kiss their children. Aside from this being a consent issue, there are several other very important reasons for this that make me wish parents had adopted this earlier. It also makes me wish people would FUCKING LISTEN TO PARENTS when they say not to kiss their kids. We don’t care if you “aren’t sick” or they “just have the sniffles” or “it’s allergies” because that may not be true.

First, adult immune systems are much stronger than a small child, particularly a baby. While you may not seem sick to you, you could have an illness brewing inside you that just isn’t affecting you. What seems like just a runny nose to you, could be a serious illness if a small child or baby were to catch it. I don’t want my child to get your yucky runny nose even if it wasn’t. Then they have a runny nose, which sucks and makes them grumpy, and they also have no chill and will wipe their boogers in my eyes and hair or on my shirt, pillow, blankets, and couch (or the cat). Also, have you ever tried to wipe a baby’s nose? They hate it!

But again, it could lead to a serious illness in a child or baby even if it’s not serious to you. A baby could get RSV, which can be deadly. They could get the flu, strep, COVID, or any number of illnesses from you that could have severe and sometimes fatal consequences, even if to you it’s just a runny nose, a sore throat, or some other mundane symptom that you dismiss. Even if you have no symptoms of anything, there so many germs that could get a child sick if an illness is within your body.

Why am I talking about this now three years into having this blog?

I’m talking about it for several reasons. 1. I see people continuously dismiss my wishes to not have my children kissed by those that did not create said child. 2. I see people dismiss the wishes of other parents in regard to kissing their children. 3. I had cold sores that swelled up my entire lip and have had it happening as far back as I can remember.

Let’s break down why I have had cold sores since I was a child shall we. Could it have been from sharing a drink or something else with someone? Yes. Could it be some other unknown reason that I had not figured out yet? Absolutely. But the more likely answer to this is that someone either kissed me while they had an active cold sore breakout or something of that nature.

So basically, someone couldn’t keep their mouth off me while they knew they had Herpes Simplex Virus 1 (HSV-1). (And don’t try to bullshit me that you didn’t know because if you get cold sores, it is almost certainly because you have HSV-1 and even if you didn’t know, that’s exactly why you don’t kiss children or babies because you may not know.) Now, I have to suffer with cold sores for the rest of my life because someone couldn’t keep their mouth to themselves. That doesn’t seem fair. It also doesn’t seem fair that because I’m a responsible adult that I don’t normally kiss my children (I especially don’t kiss them while I have cold sores) because I don’t want them to have the same issue.

The fact of the matter is that you shouldn’t kiss people’s children. You don’t know what you have or don’t have that could harm them. You also need to listen to parents when they set boundaries about their kids. This applies to all boundaries not just kissing their children.

Just please. Keep your mouth and your hands to yourself. There are other ways to show other people’s children you love them besides hugging and kissing them.

One more time for the people in the back who are going to pretend they don’t hear anything several entire generations are saying to them.

DO NOT PUT YOUR MOUTH OR HANDS ON SOMEONE ELSE’S CHILD. If you did not have a hand in creating a child, figure out another way to show them you care.

KEEP YOUR MOUTH AND HANDS TO YOURSELF.

This is seriously something that shouldn’t have to be discussed. This is basic decency and common sense. We learn this shit in fucking preschool people.

Thank you and goodnight.

The past couple of weeks have been hard for me. It seems like a lot of weeks have been hard for me in 2023.

On December 6, I had a positive pregnancy test. We hadn’t been trying. My cycle and ovulation has been incredibly irregular so we weren’t that worried about it. See those two lines took me by surprise and I definitely panicked. By the next day I had set up bloodwork to be sure and I had started to get pretty excited at the idea of having another baby even though it wasn’t planned or expected. Joe was pretty happy and it made it easy to get excited.

By the night of December 7 I started spotting and was having pretty bad cramps. I was pretty aware what that meant. Even so, I remained hopeful and carried on. By December 8 I was having debilitating cramps and heavier bleeding so I called my OB. They told me to schedule bloodwork and they would call me on Monday to discuss the results.

The bleeding stopped on Saturday after bloodwork and I got excited again. Maybe it was implantation bleeding, maybe it was something else. In the back of my mind I still had a lot of worry about the cramping and a potential ectopic pregnancy, cysts, or something else entirely. I impatiently waited for my results, checking every 15 minutes to see if I had them yet.

Sunday morning came and the results were ready and waiting for me.

I opened up the file and it read “467” for my HCG.

I got so happy. There was HCG so surely that meant something good. But then I checked previous HCG levels from other pregnancies and they were much higher so I was still worried, but hopeful.

Come Monday the OB calls and says to get a second round of bloodwork to make sure they went up. I immediately book an appointment for the next day. I went and aside from a snide comment about my tattoos from the technician taking my blood, all went well. Then I started bleeding really heavily again and really lost all hope.

The following day, December 14, the results come back.

256

I definitely know what that means. I was overwhelmed with anger. I couldn’t understand why. The doctor called and confirmed what I already knew but told me to go get more bloodwork on Monday and then see them on Tuesday, today the 19th.

I know it’s unwise, but I didn’t go. I booked the bloodwork and the OB and didn’t show up to either. I couldn’t do it. It just seemed too tough to prolong what had happened and go to the doctor and answer questions and the whole thing. It just seemed like ripping open a wound that I was already working to heal. So I didn’t go.

This experience this time made me realize just how strong I am though. I was actively miscarrying but I had to carry on with my life. I had schoolwork to be done. I had Christmas things to do. I had school events and meetings that I had to go to. We had events that we had planned to do with the kids and a holiday season that I had to make magical. Not to mention taking care of the four wonderful children I already have at home. Despite being in physical and emotional turmoil, I kept going.

Just know that you are not alone if you experience this. You are strong. You are amazing. You will get through it. You always have someone to talk to even if you don’t realize it sometimes. Let yourself whatever you feel. Whether that is anger, sadness, confusion, or any other emotion. Feel it all and then work to heal. This goes for anything you go through.

I am strong. I am amazing. I am getting through it. I have so much support from friends, my kids, and Joe. I am so so blessed. Right now I am still angry, sad, and confused but I will heal in due time. Until then, I will embrace what I have, which is a wonderful family, friends that care, and the happy moments. Christmas time is a great time for remembering what matters and I am glad to be losing myself in it this year.

Here’s to a better 2024! Happy Holidays!

To say that I have spread myself thin for too long would be a vast understatement. The pressures of being a mom, friend, daughter, sister, wife, student, and employee had me feeling like I had to do everything for everyone regardless if they would do the same for me when I needed them. Those are the expectations society has set for mothers. To do it all and expect nothing in return, or else you’re selfish or greedy. Do it all, no matter the cost to your physical or mental health. Like Nike, just do it.

For years I have pushed aside what I wanted or needed for my health and put the needs of everyone else ahead of me. (I also have a bit of a mind that needs a million things going on to function like a human now.)

It has caught up to me though. Years of not setting boundaries and doing too much at once has definitely caught up to me. My body and mind has let me know lately.

I have been sleeping more days than not through the school drop-off routine. I feel terrible about it because that means Joe has to pick up my slack. Which makes me feel so guilty because I’m the stay at home parent and I should be doing that. I should be on top of it. I have been just extremely exhausted though. Between various types of meetings, schoolwork, being mom from 9-9, being a homemaker in general, a caregiver to a kid with PKU, and trying to juggle everything I have put on my plate, I just can’t wake up in the morning and I’m exhausted all day. Mentally and physically. My mind is foggy and unfocused. Sometimes life doesn’t even feel real.

I’ve also been getting sick a lot and my body just feels like crap. I haven’t been nourishing myself the way I need to, especially with breastfeeding.

Every time I try to take more than 5 minutes where someone isn’t talking to or touching me someone tells me “YOU DON’T LIKE ME MOMMY!”

Pretty sure everyone in my family outside of my kids and husband hates me but won’t actually speak their mind to me. Not that it would make a difference. I feel no connection to anyone outside of this house anymore. Everyone seemed to have stopped caring a long time ago about me or my family, at least at more than a surface level. But if I bring it up its going to be reversed so that I’m the bad guy. I’ve always been the one in the wrong and I’ll wear that one if it makes everyone else feel better. That’s something I can’t entertain anymore. This needs to be the year that I put myself first. (2024 I mean)

If you’ve gotten through all my downtrodden musings, this is the good part of the life update.

I have had so much fun reconnecting with my kids. I have had so much learning about who they are now and what they like. I’ve gotten to see so much growth in them. We’ve been spending more time outside and doing things. We’ve been spending more quality time together and I have found the joy in playing with my kids. They light up when they get to explain something to me or when we spend time doing the simple things. Like I’ve been taking one kid at a time with me to the grocery store and they LOVE it. They always pick out one thing for themselves and a lot of the time they pick something out for everyone else. The kids are starting to build a really strong bond and working on empathy.

And my favorite part of the Christmas season this year is not only going through the motions of what I know makes it special for the kids, but also focusing on what we can do to make it special for me and Joe. We are trying to refind the magic of Christmas for ourselves. We put Christmas lights out this year. Not a lot. Nothing crazy. Just some driveway lights. They don’t even go down the whole driveway, but they make us both really happy.

That’s the good that comes from hitting rock bottom and not having anyone else. You get to enjoy what you do have without spreading yourself to thin and making your own traditions.

I’m grateful for everything I’ve had, everything I have, and everything I will have. Because that’s growth baby. Everything happens for a reason.

Here’s to getting catching up on a seven-year sleep deficit and finding the best version of myself.