Monday, December 18, 2017

Another 10 Days with our Elf on the Shelf | My Hot Mess

He always brings fun things for the boys to do. Making memories for them. At least I hope they remember these things when they're older.
Hopefully you poor, poor, unfortunate soles who have an Elf on the Shelf read my first 10 days with our crazy fellow of an elf, Raheem, HERE. If not, you should. 20 days with an Elf can be exhausting ... actually 22 but, we had an accident and he was on bed rest -- you should read the posting HERE.

Any way, here are the last 10 days with our good buddy. Apparently, Star Wars antics are always a pleasure. Especially when Darth Vader uses the force for evil ...

He even decorates his own tree every year. You should really check out my photography page HERE and see more fun Elf shenanigans.

 Of course, we do celebrate WHY we do Christmas ... We love Santa but we aren't naive. I mean, we learn about the "why," the "legend of St. Nick," and of course other religions' holidays.


We get cute silly ...


But we also get progress reports from Santa. Sometimes Raheem tries the dog biscuits and says, "worst cookie ever!" Haha! I made myself giggle with that one.

He always comes with Reindeer food the day he's supposed to go home. The boys hug him and say their good byes once he's packed up and ready for Santa to take him home.

It's all cute and shit right? I mean, I really do love seeing the joy in my boys' eyes when they spot the elf. Or comment on the shenanigans. But BOY! What a nightmare trying to figure out what to do for a whole month. And those crazies, moms, who do it right after Thanksgiving?! You are my hero, because I think next year I'm doing it for WAY less days!

Till next time!



Thursday, December 14, 2017

10 Days with the Elf | My Hot Mess


Do y'all have an Elf on the Shelf? You do?

Why?

Because I ask myself that every year when December hits.

History lesson about Pearl Harbor

At first it was FUN. I got to see the joy in my eldest's eye when he spotted Raheem ... that's the name he gave our elf ... When he'd spot Raheem in a different location every day.


Then this happened in 2016 ... the Dogs knocked over Raheem and ... well, we are lucky to say that Raheem managed to get away with just a small "scar" on his cheek and a tore up hat... in which the North Pole Doctor AKA MOM - had to fix.

Acts of kindness (Elf Mission) that only the kids can read.
But shit, that gave me an excuse not to move the little bast... ahem, elf, for TWO WHOLE DAYS!

Game of hide and seek with candy canes.
And then, when he COULD "move" I half-assed it. Well, not really, I should've but why be half-assed when you can be great?! Crafts and window clings ... you can't go wrong with that!



Harry Potter was a definite hit ... but to my surprise not as "cool" as my Spiderman shot a few years back.

See? That's the problem with the Elf on the Shelf.

You have to be careful how cool you go because these kids expect Raheem to do something FANTASTIC every night. And does it even curb their naughty-ness?

NO.

The answer is NO.

Sure, Suzy may act right for you. Or Jose for you.

But my kids?

Pft.

Nope.

He left trees to plant for next Christmas... or years from now. But We still haven't planted the seeds...
Why do I even bother?

Because I want them to enjoy being creative as much as I do.

Is it working?

Hell, I have no clue. But I sure hope it is.

Because these first 10 days with Raheem has been a bitch. And I know you guys feel my pain.

And why, oh why, does the Elf get all the damn credit?!



I'll share the last 10 days with Raheem in 2016 soon! Until then, have your Elf break a leg or 
something. ;)

For more ideas for your Elf follow me on Facebook and/or check out past blogs on our Elf HERE! Or HERE. AND HERE


















Tuesday, October 31, 2017

Just Co-Living at the Moment | Loving Him

My husband and I just celebrated our 13th year of marriage.

Thank you *takes bow* a-thank-u

Long military marriages are rare ... I mean, I hate to bring out the statistics ... but marriage/divorce rates are ridiculously high in the military.

Is it because we are a smaller population than one would think? Or is it really just that bad?

I don't know. But I am proud to say that we are not part of that statistic.

However ...

(there's always a however huh?)

I do want to say that 13 years feels like forever. I mean, not literally. I do enjoy marriage and I don't really think we are growing old (at least in heart). But at the same time ... things have changed.

We aren't those two love birds in the park parking lot making out on the car hood.

Ga-ROSS.

We don't send lovey-dovey texts to one another every second of the day. We settle for once every few days. ;)

We aren't in a constant tangle of limbs any more.

And we normally don't go to bed at the same time...

We are merely co-living at the moment.

And that's okay.

I'm okay with it, I sure hope he's okay with it.

We are okay.

Life sorta gets in the way of being a couple sometimes.

Right now, we have an infant who eats every two hours, wakes up in the middle of the night and needs our undivided attention 24/7.

We have a toddler who is getting used to the fact that he isn't the youngest any more. In fact, being the middle child sorta sucks for him at the moment. He is afraid of his room that he will eventually share with his sister. Absolutely hates her fox decor and has been an emotional wreck lately because all he wants is the attention back on him.

Then there's our eldest, ADHD/Autistic son who has grown into a smart-ass with lots and lots of attitude. He wants the attention the littles are stealing and he's going to get it anyway he can - even if it's negative. He argues over everything ... even the smallest, minute things. The other day, we argued over three pieces of candy versus four pieces. I mean ... come on.

By the time bedtime rolls around, all we want to do is get the kids to sleep so that we can lounge in our prospective spots on the couch with the TV noise in the background and us staring at our Facebook newsfeed, catching up on other peoples "normal" lives.

Therapists and other happy couples may tell you that we are not doing the right thing. "You should take time with each other and treat it as a romantic evening in. Give each other your full attention."

Blah.

I mean, I get it. We need to still pay attention to each other. After all, we wouldn't have the family we have if it didn't first start with us and being so crazy in love that we couldn't keep our hands off each other. I mean ...

I get it.

But right now. I'm nursing and postpartum. I don't want to mess around at night.

He's back to working long hours and *ahem* ... had a surgery. So I'm sure he's just wanting to sleep at night as well.

We're co-living right now.

And that's okay.

Soon we will get back to US. We will. I know we will.

But right now, the stress level in this house just needs to be dealt with as a parenting unit and all of our energy needs to go to these wacked-out kids who need the love they are screaming for.

He's still my best friend. He's still my heart and soul. He still means everything to me.

But right now, the baby is crying to be fed. The toddler needs a hug. And the boy needs to clean his room....

But we are okay.



Wednesday, October 18, 2017

Tighten Down the Hatches | 'Werkit' Out Wednesday




   As I near out my "6 weeks recovery" postpartum, I've been itching to get moving again.

I mean, I understand the whole purpose of waiting 6 weeks after birth to do anything ... your body just went through hell to bring life into this world ... but BOY! Am I bored and tired of being "chubby!"

One issue though ... I'm still nursing. I nursed my middle boy while I trained for a half marathon. So, I mean, it's not THAT big of a deal. I just remember the hassle of sports bras and nursing while on a long run with the stroller (and baby of course).

I felt like I was in a straight-jacket. You need a bra that is tight enough to keep your ladies from jiggling too much, but you also want a bra that is comfortable if you HAD to nurse in a jiffy.

There was no in-between.

So I went to the best sources I knew, Facebook friends.

I asked them about the best nursing sports bras that they could think of. A lot offered their opinions, but most said Motherhood (the store) had the best, most comfy sports nursing bras out there. So, I headed to Motherhood.

motherhood.com
This is what I found ... though cute, this is not going to hold my large nursing boobs full of milk while I run. I did try on the bra just in case I was just being stubborn.

I did a few jumping jacks in the changing room, and sure enough, I almost lost an eye. This sports bra is probably good for Yoga or low impact exercise ... definitely not running or lifting or high impact exercise. Mostly, I believe, is because of the straps. They don't support. So you're relying on main part of the bra to compress but gravity takes over.

I did however, purchase a few sleep nursing bras from Motherhood that are OH SO comfy and cute too! I mean, I have TWO lacy sleep bras and I actually feel sexy laying next to my hubby. I mean, I'm still wearing my moo moo to bed, but at least I have lace underneath! 

When I went back to my Facebook friends to tell them my discovery on the bra, they all said the same thing, "Oh yeah. I didn't run in my bras."

Well, with a little dismay I headed to Amazon.com to try and find some damn bras. I was determined not to strangle myself while nursing and training.

I found pretty much the same types of "sports bras" online. Apparently society (or at least businesses) don't think nursing mommas like to run as well.

I DID stumble across Le Leche League's sports nursing bras:

Amazon.com
I was skeptical, so I read the reviews on it from women who had purchased it.


It seemed that the low ratings outdid the high ratings ... but I thought in the back of my head, "It's Le Leche League ... They know what they're talking about and why would they endorse a shit product?"

So I took the leap and purchased two.

And I love them.

They hold my big ass puppies down (as much as a normal sports bra would), they fit fine, they nurse great and I dig it. I'm not a small lady ... I purchased large because according to the sizing chart that's what I'd be. (and I wear large normal nursing bras) I was nervous about the fit because a lot of reviews said they were smaller than actual fit, but I figured smaller would be good. Tighter, less bounce.

They fit GREAT. I honestly think it's true to fit. I don't know why other ladies said they were smaller ... but my bras fit great. They look great under the shirt (most nursing bras make you look saggy ... in my opinion).


You do get the uni-boob that most regular sports bras give, but what do you expect?! It's a tight sports bra that actually works in holding down your breasts!

The opening for the nursing section is held together with a clasp (which I love because pull downs stretch and loose their tightness after a while)


The one thing I DON'T like? The clasp is up near the collar bone, much higher than other nursing bras. It can be difficult trying to be discrete and unlatch the clasp with one hand, but it's workable.


 Just today I went for a 1 mile jog with the bra. There is bounce, but not too much. I mean, I think it's going to vary on how big you actually are. But this bra actually makes it possible to do high impact exercising while nursing. Way to go Le Leche League!

They have many different colors, but for my size I got the boring colors, grey and black. LOL But you should go purchase your own today! Click HERE!

Even if you don't own or want to buy a high impact nursing sports bra, get outside and move! Push your baby in the stroller on a nice walk or baby wear him/her around the block. The main key to getting back to feeling like yourself after pushing a watermelon out your crotch, is moving. Stretch, do yoga, etc. Just move!

'Werkit' out guys!



Tuesday, October 10, 2017

A Change in the Mix | My Hot Mess





We are in deep doo-doo here guys.

I haven't blogged in a while because, well, I did a thing.















Actually,

BIRTHED a thing.

A GIRL.




Guys, we have gone from a family of a husband, a wife, two boys, two male dogs and a male cat to adding another female in the mix.

A human baby girl.

I'm no longer a mommy of boys!

Not only do I have to get used to having three children, but I gotta get used to all the girlie things.

Which let's be honest, is amazing. Like, I'm not too set on society norms ... pink means girl, blue means boy kinda shit. But I mean, it IS different having a baby girl in the house now.

And I love it.

Like, my two loud, obnoxious, rough boys are learning to be gentle and more "soft."

.... As much as an ADHD hormonal boy can and a (now) FOUR year old can.

Maybe she will bring calm to our world. Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice -- right?

A momma can hope right?

Even up to my last night being pregnant, walking up to the hospital, I wasn't 100% convinced the tiny human growing inside me was a girl. After all... I had the shirt and all!



Sure, we had bought a few girlie things. An outfit here, a pink bow there ... but the majority of the "stuff" we got was still gender neutral (or hand me downs from the boys). I was just too afraid to commit to the ultra sound that said "Girl." I mean, after all, I WAS a momma of boys. 



People thought I was crazy when I posted the Instagram pic that said the gender was in an envelope and wouldn't be opened for another month or two until we had our photo session. 

"I couldn't last that long!"

"How are you not peeking at the envelope?"

"It would eat me up inside not knowing!"

It was fairly easy to not look at the envelope, one - I put it where it wasn't in plain view. Two - we went a whole pregnancy not knowing what my youngest was last time. We found out his gender when I pushed him out of my belly. And three - I was convinced it was a boy anyway.

So lemme tell you my surprise when this happened:

We let the boys spray silly string to let us know if we were having a boy or girl. I had bought both blue and pink string and covered both with silver paper so we wouldn't know once the lids were off. 



Our photographer looked at the envelope away from us to ensure we couldn't see her slip the lids off and on the count of three, we were dosed in pink silly string. 

I couldn't believe it. The photographer showed me the ultra sound ... and I still didn't believe it. LOL

I had to go back for another ultra sound due to little miss not wanting to show her profile for the doc in the first ultra sound, and even then they double checked her sex ... still a girl they said. But even then, there was no way I was having a girl. Why? Because I wanted a girl so bad, but I was a momma of boys. Every time someone asked if I knew what I was having, I'd respond, "They say a girl. But nothing is final until the baby comes out!" People would giggle, but I was completely serious. Completely.

And then this little nugget came out. The first thing I asked as everyone was oh-ing and aw-ing when she came out, "Is it a girl?" No one answered. My husband was misty eyed as they put her on my chest. I lifted her up and checked in between her legs, sure enough. I was a momma of a girl now.

Why am I telling y'all this? Because I feel like a brand new momma. Sure I have the experience of how to travel with a baby, change a diaper, breastfeed ... etc ... but I have a girl now. I've never experienced taking care of a girl... at least my own little princess. 

Guys, it really is different! I have to say "she," "her," and everything! LOL and "my little girl," "my daughter" everything is different. And I love it. I really can't explain it. The boys will always have a piece of my heart and the little one that didn't make it, BUT this little rainbow girl has got me wrapped around her finger already!

I will probably have a section just for her in the blog because she has her own story to share, along with her big brothers.

So bring on the pink bows, the unicorns, the princesses, the dolls and the glitter - I'm ready. And you better believe she'll be just as tough and rough as the boys because momma don't raise no sissy-la-las. 





Friday, July 28, 2017

Should You "Niche?" | Girl Boss

Ever since the beginning ...

That sounds like I'm going to get all philosophical, huh?

Ever since the beginning ... of my hobby turned professional business, I've heard the words,

"Find your Niche."

Niche.

Watchu mean my "niche?"

I'm a photographer. 

That's my niche ... bitch.

LOL

Sorry had to.

But seriously, all the successful photographers - or at least whom I viewed as successful, were telling me to pick a niche and stick to it.

Meaning, pick a genre to photograph and nothing more.

Because my background is in photojournalism and thats really wear my heart lays --

I chose to tell people I specialize in events.

I normally get the "oh ..."

Meaning, they don't have an "event" to photograph, they want portraits so I'm not the one for them.

This is where I play catch up and follow with, "But I like to call myself a lifestyle photographer because I don't like posing families. I mean, what three year old is going to sit perfectly still in front of my lens for an hour session? I let you guys be ... well YOU. We have fun on our sessions and nothing really is 'posed' per say, we will definitely have fun and you'll get great family portraits out of it."

Phew. Saved right?

Well, sorta. I book the client, we have fun, they love their pictures, it gets posted on my Facebook page or Blog and that's that.

I recently put an ad together for my Facebook cover and realized ... I photograph pretty much everything ...


(Watch in HD on YouTube)


But those "portraits" aren't my niche are they?

Or when I wanna get creative and I ask for a volunteer model and we get creative. I now have a beautiful portrait of a model and now headshots are being asked for by other models.

What about the vendor that asked me to photograph their products? Heck yeah. I'll support another small business.

Or the client who has been coming to me for all their life's moments? Their engagement, their wedding, their newborn ....

ERRRRRRRRRRR?! What?! (those were tire screech marks if you couldn't tell)

I do NOT do newborn. But for them, I decided to ... and I put my own spin to it. "

Lifestyle Newborn"

And they loved it.

I tried boudoir for Valentines Day ... nope, not my niche ... but I tried it.

Basically, what I'm alluding to is that my niche isn't a niche at all. It's about me trying.

It's my business, I get to run it how I want. 

I can say yes to one session and no to another. If I wanna give it a try, I'll give it a try.

Does this work for everyone? No ... but it appears to work for me.

But I am a photojournalistic, lifestyle photographer who loves natural light and capturing moments as they happen. That's my niche.

But let's get one thing straight, if you want boudoir or posed newborn images ... I am NOT the photographer for you. But I will point you in the right direction to someone WAY better at those niche's than I!

;)

Run your business how you see fit, girlfriend.

After all, you are the Girl Boss.




Wednesday, July 5, 2017

When Do You Call It? | Wearing Stripes

That time has come again ....

The infamous call from the retention NCO from my unit.

"You're in your re-enlistment window SFC Wells ... what would you like to do?"

Well, frankly -- I don't want you to call me and remind me of this evil-ness. LOL 

I mean, that's what I really wanted to say.

I didn't, of course.

I answered truthfully though.

"I don't know."

I really don't.

I've done this Army thing for 14 years now. I'm in the home stretch. But 6 more years seems soooooo far away. And I mean, it really is. A lot can happen in 6 years.

I know for sure there will be another PCS back to Bragg. I know there will be a third child in the mix. I know I'm up for promotion again. I know I STILL haven't deployed and probably should do something about that in the near future ... I know I enjoy training new soldiers but I also know this:

  • I hate having to ensure I hit my monthly quota of drills.
  • I hate wearing the uniform in the heat.
  • I hate all the paperwork I need to keep up with ... and all the slideshow presentations I need to sit through.
  • I hate the "game" of the Army.
  • I hate how annoying it is that drills seem to always fall on fun family outings or community events.
  • I hate dealing with self-righteous senior-enlisted leaders who assume they're always right.
  • I hate how I have to drop everything in my civilian life to accommodate the Army Reserve.
  • I hate how the units' out there say they're looking out for their soldiers, but really it's all about the Army.
  • And the biggest thing, even if I last to 20 years to retire, I can't touch my retirement pay (prorated because everything in the Reserve is prorated like you're a prorated soldier or something) until I'm 60/65 years old. What kinda BS is that?!

So what's the sense? 

Should I re-enlist?

Should I say F it?

Am I ready to say goodbye to quietly saying I'm a Reservist? I'm I ready to just be an Army spouse?

I just don't know.

I like showing my CAC card at the gate rather than my brown dependent card. It's a pride thing. It's little, but it makes me feel good when the gate guard welcomes me as "ma'am" then says goodbye with "Sergeant."

It's like, "yeah buddy ... I'm pretty badass and I'm a young ass SFC so bow to me..." 

No, I kid ... sorta. But it really is an ego booster when people are like "Oh! You're in the army too?"

Yeah bitches!

LOL ....

But as you can see, there's is a lot of "hates" that come with the "loves" and I just don't know if the loves outweigh the hates anymore.

How do you guys make big career decisions? 'Cause right now, I'm at a loss.


Sunday, June 25, 2017

I Lost My Toddler | Raising the Boys

Never in a million years would I have thought he'd actually run away.

Nope.

He's thrown body-gone-limp tantrums before in which I just let go and walk away.

But he's always came running back to me with tears in his eyes.

He's crossed his arms and stopped walking in front of toy/candy stores and I've kept walking proclaiming, "Bye then."

But he's always yelled after me, "No! Don't leave me!"

He's.

Always.

Come. 

Back.

The other day at the shopping mall was a different story.

My husband and I walked out of our Target just like any other time we had and our toddler asked, "Can I go play?"

There's a bunch of those moving kiddie rides that cost an arm and a leg to just rock back and forth in front of Target, but inside an actual shopping mall. We agreed, like we normally do but said, "just 5 minutes."

We don't put coins in the rides, but he enjoys them the same. And sometimes, just sometimes, he hops in on other people's rides and we have to act embarrassed and say, "No no no, you can't just get in there!"

But he did that too many times on this particular day and so we cut his time short. Needless to say, the toddler was not happy about that and made it clear. He cried and stomped his feet but I had his arm and we headed towards the exit.

He went limp on me.

I let go of his arm.

He laid there on the ground, crying.

I began to walk away, my husband turned his back with me and we both said, "Okay, Bye!"

We walked about 8-10 feet away, I stopped turned around and my toddler was no longer on the ground.

In fact, I couldn't see him anywhere.

I looked at my husband, "He's gone."

"What?" my husband asked looking around.

We both walked back to the rides and searched in and around them. We walked behind the rides a little to see if ran the opposite direction.

Nope.

We walked back towards the exit to see if he had just ran by and we didn't see him.

Nope.

An older gentleman cleared his throat, "He ran that way." He pointed towards Target's entrance.

I got my husband's attention and we both went into Target again.

No Toddler to be found.

I walked back out while my husband walked further into Target. A younger woman was paying attention to our semi-panic and was moving her head around trying to look for my toddler too.

"He ran into the Target and went that way," she pointed to the right in which would've been in front of the cashiers' lines and the customer service area of Target. So, I went back into Target and walked the whole line from one exit to the other searching for my Toddler.

Surprisingly, my heart wasn't in a panic yet. I was fairly confident I would find him. I know my Toddler. He always comes back.

He ALWAYS comes back.

I reached the other exit and still had no toddler.

This is when my hands started to shake. I walked out the second exit, the one that is also close to the shopping center exit that leads to a huge parking lot to the left ...

Suddenly I heard, "You don't know where your mommy is?"

I looked to my right and there was my Toddler -pouty face, arms crossed, eyebrows furred.

A woman was trying to get information out of my toddler and stranger danger came into effect. I was briskly walking in the opposite direction of the shopping mall exit and I exclaimed, "I'm right here!"

The woman sighed a sigh of relief and walked into Target as my toddler ran to me ... but hesitantly.

He knew he was in the wrong.

I asked, "Why did you run away? You know you're not supposed to leave mommy."

I sat him down on the red bench and reached for my cell to inform my husband that I had found him.

"I'm very upset with you," I said to my toddler.

My toddler cried and wanted to get off the bench. But I informed him that it was a timeout. I explained that the lady was nice enough to try to help him but there are other people who could have taken him away for ever.

Was it the right technique? Meh. I dunno. But I was pretty upset, and so was my husband.

I'm hoping that my toddler learned a lesson. I know I did ... I can't just walk away anymore. He's getting more and more independent by the day and I know what he was thinking.

The Target cashiers are parallel to the shopping center hallway, so he was going to just cut us off at the shopping center exit but go through the Target area. He didn't expect us to stop and turn around. I mean, he's little toddler brain doesn't know that the hallway and the cashier lines are about a tenth of a mile long and there's no way mom and dad would NOT turn around to check on their baby. Luckily though, he says he didn't go outside the automatic doors that led to the parking lot. That was my fear... that he'd gone out there and my little baby would've been totally exposed to anyone.

And thank God for his crankiness when it comes to adults talking to him. Normally I get embarrassed of his crass looks and sharp tongue to strangers ... but that day, I'm thankful (even if the lady was just trying to help him) he took stranger danger seriously.

I do not want to lose my toddler again ... unless he's 18 and ready to move out of my house.