Only when it is dark enough, you can see the stars.

"Deep breaths, keep taking deep breaths," I repeated to myself as Amelia screamed and squirmed in her stroller, clearly aware something was happening she didn't like. We slowly approached the security guard, mechanically repeating, "passports and tickets in hand, passports and tickets in hand, keep moving, passports and tickets in hand." I felt panic rising into the back of my throat as my stomach did that familiar flip flop. "You gave birth without an epidural and you've run a marathon, this is nothing." I told my otherwise secure self.  I watched my parent's tear streaked faces fade away as I kept shoving "organic, kid friendly" cheetos into Amelia's hands. I was balancing the cheetos bin on top of the stroller, pushing with one hand, passports and tickets in my mouth and pulling my double very organized neatly packed carry on bags with the other. We were in line at the airport to go through security to fly 10,000 miles back to ...

Dear 10 month old Amelia, Let's be honest, month number 10 in your life was definitely the hardest. I started working again this month, two days a week and I'm pretty sure you don't like that. The day before you turned 9 months old, you got your first cold and we stayed up all night, you and I, fighting the fever, the vomiting and the cough with lots of cuddles. In the morning, I had thought, well we survived that, should be uphill from here. Then a few days later you came home again from childcare with double conjunctivitis, and you continued to smile through the cough, runny nose and goey eyes. We had a rough few days but finally you started to feel better. Once again we went to bed counting our blessings only to have you wake us up with a very high fever, you vomited up your breakfast (let's face it I'm so used to being covered in vomit now, we just keep moving about our day) and I thought, well here we go again...and we did...for 10 days straight which include...

"Is the baby vegan too?" The United attendant at Melbourne airport asked us with a crumpled up nose as we stood trying to check in. "No, she doesn't eat." I replied with an awkward laugh, thinking she was asking me if she also needed a vegan meal as I just finished confirming that Nico and I had vegan meals for our 24 hour flight to the states. "I don't think that's what she was asking," Nico says to me as we walked towards our gate, wheeling and pushing our two massive carry ons, one 12 week old baby in a baby carrier and a stroller filled with winter jackets, food and neck pillows. "I'm pretty sure she was asking if we would raise her vegan." "Well that's a slightly awkward and inappropriate question to ask someone when you're checking them in, no?" I replied glancing at Nico with my eyebrows raised. So are we? I wondered. It's not the first time I have been asked if babyA would be raised vegan. ...

I copied the following words from a parenting source I use often when asking questions about baby, how many feeds, what should her naps look like, why is shy blinking so much, should she blink?....you get the picture, anyways, at the end of the 8 month old development spiel it said this... "You may not see yourself as being a separate individual to your baby at this point. Because you are so connected and attached to them it may be difficult for you to maintain your own sense of identity and self awareness. This is a common, but not well discussed issue of early parenting. If you have always valued your independence and maintained a strong sense of self, this can be a challenging time." Huh. Someone just put it in writing. So it's not just me. So this is real. This sense of self. I couldn't have captured it better myself, I have had this sense of searching for a while, but I've always had that. We live in a modern day and age where the grass is always greene...

I'm currently in bed, laptop on lap, drinking red wine (from Chile) and eating divine dark chocolate. My husband is at work, my baby has been soundly sleeping since 7pm. I feel like I'm cheating on someone, I feel like I'm 22 and just finished a shift of waitressing. Those days when I would lay in bed and drink wine, eat chocolate and watch Sex and the City, because I had just waited tables for 10 hours and... because I was 22, and didn't have a baby, or a husband, or any responsibilities. This moment is one of those moments I would dream (and cry about) 5 months ago. Only 5 short months ago when my screaming newborn would be up all hours of the night and day, when I would long for 2 consecutive hours of sleep much less an entire evening to myself eating chocolate and blogging!! Ha! I thought those days were long gone. It's true what all those seasoned moms say, it DOES get better. Wow, those first three months though, I really thought I would never dig my way out...