Snuggle Bug

Snuggles from our baby girl when she was sick earlier last week.  Reese has never really been a snuggler.  Never been that baby that just rests on your shoulder or cuddles up with you.  She's always on the move and likes her independence.  But when she's sick, as much as it breaks my heart, I gotta say I love the cuddles.  The picture of me and her was taken by Buns while we were watching Sesame Street.  Have I mentioned Reese's love for Sesame Street?  We watch one show each day when she wakes up from her morning nap, and it's hysterical how she smiles SO big when the song for Sesame Street comes on.  Elmo's her favorite.  It's pretty cool to see how she's making connections.  Like for example, this chick LOVES books.  She could sit entertained for a solid hour just me reading her books.  Lately she picks out the two Sesame Street books we have EVERY time.  As we're flipping through the book, she points to Elmo whenever he shows up!  It's pretty cool to see her little mind making those connections!  

We sure love our girl and are glad she's back to her normal self!  Now off to the doctor's for shots.  #holla

4 more days 'till Friday!! Can't it be the weekend already?

♥, Ashton Tilton

Glorious Messes

 

You may look at that first picture and think, "Oh my what a cute little babe!"  You may even look at the second picture, throw your head back in laughter, and think, "Oh my what a cute, funny, little babe!"

These were pictures from bath-time yesterday, and yesterday I would have 100%, without-a-doubt disagreed with you.  Yesterday, I did not think Reese was too cute.  Not too cute at all.  (Okay maybe for just part of the day, but if you caught me at that certain, particular, hellish time of day...she was not being cute.)

Let me explain.

Sunday mornings are my favorite.  We get to sleep in, and Todd doesn't have to go to work.  We eat a yummy breakfast together, and I soak up every mostly every second.  Okay let's be real...ever since church has been moved to 1pm, I have to admit that part of me can't enjoy Sunday mornings because there's the ominous possibility of the really hellish experience of trying to get Reese to nap in church.  This just in:  she doesn't nap during church.  And she really, really, really needs to.  So Sunday afternoons, particularly Sunday school when Todd's teaching and I'm in charge of Reese, I hate to admit it, but they are not always my favorite time of the day.  

This process is nothing new, as we've had this time of church for the whole year.  There's always the struggle, but I feel like the pain of the struggle has lessened tremendously because my arms have gradually built up strength to the point where I can hold her while she's flailing.  And she's no lightweight.  But for some reason, Roni decided to really give me a run for my money this Sunday.  

First let's talk about my attire.  Which was probably the culprit that multiplied my frustration times infinity.  Pencil skirt, tucked in blouse, teardrop necklace, and pointy high heels (from the single and ready to mingle days).  Let's go through each item of clothing and why it posed an incredible threat to my sanity.  The pencil skirt:  sweaty, sweaty, sweaty (I swear the heat was cranked in church).  The blouse:  kept coming untucked...all. day. long.   The teardrop necklace:  biggest mistake yet...grab after grab after grab.  Never again! (Or at least until an adequate amount of time has passed for me to forget how hellish the grabbing was).  Lastly...THE HEELS.  Curse words, curse words, curse words.  Heels that were not made for mothers who have to hold and rock their 21 pound baby to sleep.  I repeat...never again!  All of this compounded with the fact that Reese was freaking out, but not freaking out to the extent that I felt like I needed to leave the room.  I was in over my head.  And throughout this whole ordeal, I kept trying to maintain composure and pretend like I wasn't sweating my guts out.  

Finally Reese ended up on a blanket on the floor in the hall of church trying to work through her wiggles and troubles.  I ended up on the floor next to her.  Barefoot, shirt untucked, necklace off, hair in a fat bun smack-dab on the top of my head, and is it ridiculous that it felt like this huge burden was lifted?  I felt like I could breathe!  Why didn't I do this sooner?  

I don't know why I felt so stuck in that room.  Like I had to stay for the lesson unless Reese was totally a basket case, only then would it be okay for me to leave.  The real question was why the heck did I not kick my heels off, throw my hair in a bun, and untuck my blouse sooner?  I would've been so much more comfortable!  

I think I had another pivotal moment in this whole process as a momma.  It is okay to not have it together.  It is okay to throw your hair up and kick off your heels.  Because what it all comes down to is that little baby of yours and being yourself.  

I came across a quote today that hit the nail right on the head about the attitude I should've had about Reese's escapade, her lack of sleep, and my total discomfort.

"Embrace the glorious mess that you are." (Elizabeth Gilbert)

Because we're all messes.  And every mess is glorious.  Crazy, beautiful, and glorious in our own way.  I guess I'm just learning as I go folks, and I definitely learned a lot yesterday.  Sorry for all the whining in this post, but I really feel like I hit a milestone as a mom yesterday.  Cheers to being a work in progress!  

XO, Ashton Tilton    

"Shared Parenting"

When Todd and I were in Park City, my sister-in-law asked me about "shared parenting" and how it was going for Todd and I.  Shared parenting meaning how we share and balance the responsibilities of being a mom and dad.  

I have to say, no one had ever asked me that before, nor had I thought about it in that way..."shared parenting".  It might sound like a duh way of describing it, but I blame my lack of common sense on my preggo brain that never went away.  Please tell me that happens to other mommas too?  

We had a little convo about it, and I went on to tell her about how some days we have a handle on it, and other days we don't.  Some days I feel like supermom and superwife.  I've got it together.  Dishes are done, house is clean, work's completed, Reese is well-napped and happy, dinner's made, etc...  On those days when Todd gets home from work, life's a peach.  I'm all, "Sit down, take a load off babe, welcome home."  It's the days where everything runs smoothly...on those days, I'm all, "I'll feed her, I'll change her, I'll put her to bed."  Those days average out to be about 9% of the time.

Then there's the other 91%.

Those days I do not have it together.  Sweet merciful, I just don't.  Dishes are stacked to the ceiling.  The front room is covered in baby toys, diapers, laundry that needs to be folded, shoes, and cups.  Cups and cups and cups.  (You'd think because there was only two of us there would only need to be two cups out at a time.  This is not the case, FYI.) Working from home is not happening smoothly.  Reese decided she didn't want to nap peacefully.  Period.  End of story.  Reese exploded.  Reese was teething.  Dinner is definitely NOT made.  On those days, when Todd gets home from work, life's a sour lemon.  A real acidic, bitter lemon.  As soon as he waltzes through that door, it's like hot potato, and Reese is the potato.  I'm all, "Ohhhh emm geeee, FINALLY.  Take her.  It's your turn.  She needs to be fed.  And changed.  And played with."  Or I'm all, "The dishes, laundry, and house in general are getting out of control, can you handle that?"  And let's just say my demeanor is less than pleasant.

**Heavy sigh**

Just writing about it is incredibly exhausting.  Because then we fast forward to the end of my escapade, and I'm all, "I'm really sorry Todd."  And truth is...I really, really am.  I hate that I react that way on those days.  Because the fact of the matter is, he's really excited to come home at the end of the day.  He wants to relax and enjoy his family, just as much as I do.  

So ladies.

Maybe instead of hot potatoing those babies right into our husbands' laps when they waltz through the door, we can try to be just as thrilled to see him as we were when we first got married.  Maybe we can give him a big ol' smile, look him in the eyes, and be all, "I'm so glad you're home (insert Hubby here)."  Maybe we can be not so quick to throw our hands in the air in frustration, and insist that our day was worse than his.  Maybe when he asks how our day was, we can try to explain that we had a really hard day before we spout off, "I'm fine!" Or when he asks you what you did all day, we can try not to assume that what he's really saying is, "Have you just been sitting on your butt all day?  What did you even accomplish?"  Because ladies...that is not what he's asking.

The biggest favor we can do for ourselves is to try to be a little less defensive and a lot more loving.  That's what I know I need to do.

So this whole "shared parenting" thing.  Do we have it down?  Absolutely not.  Will we one day?  Probably not.  Can we try to be more loving throughout the process?  You better believe it.