Brave

Back in July when Brice and I went to Colorado, his mom was telling me/us about how someone once asked her to describe each of her children with one word. I thought that was so cool, the idea of boiling down your child's entire massive personality and being into just one word. I've been continually trying to think of the word I would use for Kimmy ever since then, and it has truly taken me this long to decide what that word is.

Brave.

Kimmy is brave.

In the days and weeks after little miss was born, I spent countless hours going over all the dreams I have for her in her life. How I want her to feel about herself, how I want her to be able to look back on her childhood, how I will love her and support her no matter who she turns out to become. One thing I wished deeply for her was to have a stress-free and care-free childhood.

Unfortunately, fate would have it that she didn't fully get either of those things to the extent that I hoped. Life in a single-parent home whisked her away to a reality of having to sense adult stress far too young. I remember shortly after we moved into our own house when she was 2 that feeling of insecurity she woke up with each morning and went to bed with each night. "Mommy, will we live here now, just Kimmy and Mommy?" "Who will come watch me tomorrow?" "Where will I be tomorrow?" "Do I have to go to my daddy's this weekend?" "Will you always come get me after I visit?" The fear of the unknown unsettled her. She didn't understand the back and forth between households for visitation.

But do you know what she did? Instead of losing her footing, instead of turning into a tantrum-throwing, behavioral and emotional hot mess, she took every piece of new information and just rolled with it. "Okay, I like Kimmy and Mommy's house." "I'm excited to see Brooke tomorrow." "I'll miss you, Momma. Can't wait til you pick me up."

She is like that with everything. Give her the answers to her questions of the unknown, and she intrinsically equips herself for the ride ahead.

When we're at a restaurant, and I challenge her to order for herself when the server asks me what she wants to eat, she rehearses with me and does it. That huge grin on her face afterward is amazing to see!

When she marched into kindergarten on the first day with not a tear in her eye, despite her nervous tummy that morning, and waved bye to me: brave as can be.

When a pipe burst in our townhouse this winter, and we had to pack a bag and stay in an apartment unit across the street for a week, not a complaint was uttered. She thought of it as a fun adventure.

When we go somewhere new or try something new, she stomps trepidation with curiosity.

Flexible and resilient are reactions, and she executes those reactions flawlessly. But brave is who she is. She doesn't choose to be that way; she just is.

Kimmy on superhero day at school

I love my brave little adventurer. It's still eerie to me that I no longer have a toddler, but I'm so excited to watch her grow into big-girl Kimmy Jarae.

-Kels

P.S. She loves school, and it makes me so happy. I am a big ol' worrywart about these things, you know.

P.P.S. Thanks for the inspiration, Vicki!

Middle child syndrome

I grew up with a pretty constant feeling of being misunderstood.

I was a middle child sandwiched in between a warrior-princess, mega-independent, born-leader older sister and an attention-getting, rule-changing, volatile-tempered younger brother.

There I was, just hanging out in the middle all alone, hoping to be noticed for my wild creativity, intense empathy, strong compassion, and various random talents. "Notice me! Let me be the center of attention just once!"

Don't get me wrong, I knew my parents loved me and stuff. But, your shiny edges just don't shine as brightly when you have a sibling on each side dulling that glow. For Kim and Kevin, each with a side free to blow in the breeze and shine in the sun, it was easy having a "place" in the world--at least from my comparative perspective.

My childhood years that I spent trying to find my place and figure out who I was as a sandwich filling (hah!) shaped me into an extreme introvert. I was always looking inward to find my footing. Birth order definitely affected me, and middle child syndrome is oh-so real--I even wrote a pretty compelling term paper on it once for a developmental psych class.

Then when Kim died, I had no place in the order. I was suddenly in the forefront, but I didn't want any of that attention. Like, at all. I'm still that way. "Don't notice me. Let me not be the center of attention--I don't like it. Let me hang back and people-watch and offer my input when the time is right for me."

It's weird, and I'm still adjusting. I also occasionally encounter that feeling of being misunderstood, and it unsettles me. It's a super "off" feeling. But, I guess it's not very realistic to expect to be understood all the time.

Anyway, getting to the point, I have one particular friend who sees me. Like, really sees me. We only met last month, so every time I rediscover that I'm totally understood and safe, I re-live the "wow" of that feeling. It's pretty amazing. There are only a handful of friends in the entirety of my life with whom I've fallen into such tight lockstep like this. I'm enjoying it. It's nice making new friends, and it's even nicer feeling like there's not a thing about me I have to censor or put in a huge amount of effort to explain.

La vie est très bonne.

 More later,

-Kels

Discipline

I grew up in a home with set behavioral expectations and fairly consistent punishments for offenses. I spent many post-smart-mouth-remark bedroom quarantines brooding and vowing to discipline my future children completely differently. Never would I have a child who would sit in her room staring daggers into her parents' souls. Not my child. No, I'd be my child's best friend and never turn her against me!

As fate would have it, that wasn't completely unrealistic. Brooding preteen removed from this equation, of course--I'm not still holding onto any resentful thoughts toward my parents because I turned out pretty okay and have a strong sense of right vs. wrong. I have still retained my strong will, and I still speak my mind, though I kinda-sorta have a grasp on when to bite my tongue and when to speak up a little better than I had as a kid. (Hey, I said "kinda-sorta," right? I didn't claim to be an expert, HAHA!)

I've found myself in the role of a single parent, and I serve as both my daughter's sense of comfort and her reinforced conscience/disciplinarian. It's important for me to instill in my daughter a sense of right and wrong. But, it's even more important for me to be her friend through it all. I know a lot of people disagree with this stance, as is evident in the endless discipline advice I get from friends, family, and acquaintances alike.

(Seriously, guys, stop giving me advice. About anything. About everything. Especially about my child. I hate it. I would ask if I wanted it. I don't. Frankly, I'm sick of repeating myself on this front, too. Just stahp.)

Truth is, I know what I'm doing. My daughter doesn't have another parent to run to for comfort. Siblings either. She has me. I have to think very carefully about discipline, or I risk damaging the most secure human relationship my daughter has on this earth. Our trust and teamwork means absolutely everything and is our core mother-daughter value. I intend to never jeopardize that bond.

Someone once suggested to me that I fix my daughter's slower-than-mine pace and sense of time when we're getting ready for school and work in the mornings by locking her outside of the house in anything she could manage to clothe herself in in 5 minutes.

Let me be very clear: NEVER would I subject my child to such brutal humiliation. Discipline by humiliation is completely out of the question. I would absolutely risk every bit of trust she has in me to take care of her and help her through our differences if I made her feel humiliated, especially by something internalized and natural over which she has very little control.

Discipline by physical harm is completely out of the question, too. Discipline by silent treatment: no. Discipline by slave-style chores: no. Discipline by removing basic needs like a meal, clean and prepped clothing in the morning, etc...never ever.

I have never once laid a hand on my child, and I never intend to. I have never once purposely added the burden of shame to my child, and I don't plan to start now.

Discipline by words is plenty. Discipline by very small punishment (timeout or a prompted sincere apology) is enough.

As an only child (yes, she has a half-sister, but she lives as an only child in actual lifestyle articulation), and especially as the only child in a single-parent home, my daughter is critically sensitive to how I perceive her. If there is tension in our relationship, we both feel it. If Kimmy has even the slightest sense that I am disappointed in her actions, she is devastated. Absolutely shattered and torn to pieces.

This morning when I dropped her off at school, I learned that Kimmy had had 2 timeouts at school yesterday for sassy behavior to her teacher upon being corrected on something. While I deeply appreciate her strong will and ability to speak up for herself, there is a time and a place for such behavior, and it is not at school to her preschool teachers, whose judgment I trust. (When she's older and has a difference of opinion or fact with a teacher, then we'll talk. I remember the first time I corrected a teacher and was absolutely right in so doing...in 2nd grade.)

As her teacher was telling me what happened, Kimmy's entire posture changed. Her shoulders sunk. She turned her face from me. Huge crocodile tears welled up in her eyes instantly, and she bit her bottom lip. She was sobbing 15 seconds in. When I hugged her as I was leaving, she didn't want to let go. The thought of me being disappointed in her is just about too much for her to bear, and this is a consistent observation. That feeling is so shameful to her that just by her knowing I could potentially think badly of her, she wouldn't dare repeat a bad behavior.

We discuss bad behavior. We apologize when we get snippy or loud-mouthed with each other. I apologize constantly for getting impatient and raising my voice. I hold my daughter's hand. I tell her I love her. I hug her. I kiss her goodnight and good morning and goodbye for the day. I give leniency when leniency is due and can deepen our trust in each other. We forgive. We forget. We grow together.

This works for us. This process isn't broken. There is nothing to be fixed. Kimmy behaves exceptionally well for a child her age. She has a good heart and tries her hardest to make right decisions all the time. Best of all, she trusts me. She knows she can always come to her mother for any reason under the sun. She knows that I value her honesty. Some kids turn into snakes at age 4, but my daughter rarely even utters a lie. I intrinsically know that I am raising my daughter right. I'm not looking for a parenting overhaul.

So, please, leave me alone to discipline my child in the way that's best for her, for us, for our household, for our relationship. It's not your business. If there comes a time when I need to adjust, trust that I'm a grown-ass woman and can manage to do so just fine all on my own.

Kimmy and Mommy's house is peaceful, healthy, and happy. Is yours? #checkyourself

Peace,
-Kels

Ladies, don't apologize

I see so many women apologizing all over themselves all the time.

Men don't do this. Many men don't ever apologize, even if it's something big that they're clearly wrong about. I'm not saying we should never apologize or turn into assholes, but there has to be a limit. We're not indebted to society just by being female, yet I see these powerful, independent, wholly beautiful females continually caving to society's standard of being meek, demure, polite, quiet, subdued little creatures who are expected to not live their lives out loud when men are clearly not held to that same standard.

I think it's time we stop.

I'm my happiest me these days, and a large part of it has come from taking care of myself, especially mentally and emotionally. Yes, read between those lines: I've been putting myself first. I don't owe anyone anything, aside from owing my daughter a great childhood with a great mother...which in turn comes from me being a good, stable, happy person all on my own. And so we're right back to that mental and emotional health piece. See how that works?

I'm done feeling like my happiness comes from others. It comes from within me. I find it by paving my own way, following my heart, listening to my own head, and making my own damn mistakes--not from seeking out my next steps from other people.

Here is a list of things I've generally stopped apologizing for:

• my emotions--if I feel something, I am perfectly valid for feeling it
• missing someone's phone call
• not immediately responding to someone's text or IM
• speaking my mind or stating an opinion, whether it conflicts with someone else's or not
• how I spend my money
• where I choose to travel and when and with whom
• who I choose to talk to
• the clothes I wear
• what I eat
• what I drink
• my body/weight: I'm proud of this mom body because it's a freaking gold, chubby trophy of all the trials and tribulations I have endured over the last 5 years. It is what it is, and no one else is entitled to an opinion.
• my faith (okay, I've never apologized for this and never will, but I'm listing it anyway)
• the music I like
• laughing too loudly or too much
• crying, no matter the reason
• forgetting to tell someone something that they could just as easily have found out on their own
• not knowing if I want things like marriage, more kids, etc.
• my decision-making process on any topic under the sun
• not wearing makeup on any given day
• my timeline...for life, an activity, a goal, whatever
• the way I parent my daughter
• being good at something

It basically boils down to this: If you're a kind person with good intentions who generally does her best to treat people well and with respect, you've got nothing to apologize for. Your friends and family know you and know what you're all about--if they happen to disagree with something you do, you still don't have to apologize for it. Own it and prove them wrong! Do what makes you happy!

If you do something hurtful or wrong, sure, unleash an authentic apology and own your mistake; be the first to speak up and make it right. But if you've done nothing wrong and have simply encountered a personality or values clash, zip your lips. You don't owe anyone an explanation! If someone is offended by the way you live your life, that's on them. Free yourself.

Peace,

-Kels

P.S. Yesterday a really close friend inadvertently did something that hurt me, noticed it may have upset me, and took the time to reach out to me to verify that I was indeed upset. Then he sincerely apologized to me, and he even let me ramble on about all the reasons why it upset me and got on my level and listened to me. It was the best feeling I've had in a while. Who does that? Not many people. We're so busy blundering our way through apologies over the stuff that doesn't matter that it dulls the apologies for the stuff that does. Make it count when you tell someone you're sorry.

Extraordinary things

I find myself falling into familiar patterns all too often these days. I stumble upon a guy who quickly becomes a good friend, I sometimes develop feelings (sometimes not), and I play it by ear. We talk about everything, laugh a lot, get close, and I think things are great.

Then there's the ghosting (or at least extreme pullback). Reciprocal communication becomes fewer and farther in between. Eventually I realize I'm the only one talking. Then for a brief moment, I hit the bottom of this weird, emotional pit before bouncing back.

I think this a single mom pattern/weakness: happening upon someone who is a good listener, getting wrapped up in that feeling and talking a lot, and then realizing retrospectively that you've shared too much and been too real, and the guy couldn't handle it. This solo parenting thing is a lonely gig. It feels so good to have someone to share thoughts with. But based on my [very limited] experience, I think guys just get confused and scared.

Single parents have lots of thoughts, limited sounding boards, a super high level of stress and responsibility, and like no free time. Oh, and the list of things to do never, ever ends. There is always something, and we are the only ones there to do it. Life never stops, and peaceful pauses are rare. That responsibility feeling rubs off, and I'm sure it's an unpleasant taste for a non-parent guy. I get it. I really do.

I guess the part of all this I need to continue to drill into my brain is what while Kimmy is a normal part of my life, she's not a normal part of any one of these guy's lives. They don't get it--or at least if they get it logically, they don't get it practically because they don't live it. They can't separate her from me and just take me for what I am. I can see how it's all a bit intimidating.

I'm just SO BUMMED about it.

I'm not daddy shopping for my daughter. I don't want to talk about my child all the time. (But let's be real: she's a part of my life, and she's going to come up from time to time.) I just want to feel like a normal 27-year-old woman sometimes. I want a person just for me when I'm entering into a fun, maybe-more-than-friends-one-day dialogue.

I just wish that guys wouldn't assume the worst and be so quick to slam that door. I'm worth the stress and the drama that follows me and the time it takes to get some face time with me. I'm worth it all. The man who takes the effort to discover that will be one lucky son of a gun.

--

Guys everywhere, take heed:

Do not ghost a woman. She can literally see that you saw that message. It has a time stamp. Say something. If you're not interested, if you're scared, if you're on different pages, if you're going away on vacation for 5 months, if you're just looking for a hook-up, whatever the reason is...

Be real. Be honest. Speak up and break things off.

That's what it means to be a man.

That's the respectful choice.

Sure, you may not feel you owe a woman anything, and, sure, that may even be true, depending on many factors. But at least cowboy up and give her some damn closure. Even if she reacts like a fool, she'll still respect your honesty a hell of a lot more than never hearing from you again, as if she's not worth the ounce of effort it takes to text a 1-sentence goodbye.

When women say all men are the same, this is the type of BS we're talking about--because y'all prove it time and time again. Quit being so damn disappointing and prove us wrong for once!

--

So this is where "extraordinary things" comes into play. When I land in this emotional pit, I think to myself, "How did I find myself here again?" Then I realize it. My story isn't over--not even close. I am fine. I'm alive and healthy. I still have my friends and my family and my passions. I still have my mind, full of art and depth and dreams and plans. I'm still me. I'm intact. I'm standing. I'm better off.

I will do, see, and experience extraordinary things in this lifetime, regardless of who comes in and out of my story. And I'm actually never more motivated to dive deeply into my passions than when I find myself here over and over and over.

Maybe one great love isn't for me in this life. Maybe these small glimpses of it are enough. I have my daughter through it all, so where has love really gone off to? Nowhere. It's present and constant.

Being in this place makes words flow out of me. It makes me spend more time with my daughter. I'm a better friend. I travel more. I appreciate all the real people in my life even more. I toughen the parts of me that need toughening and settle deeper into the parts of me that need to remain soft. I take a good, hard look at myself and deliberately examine my headspace. So thanks for that. You're actually doing me a favor.

Take me or leave me, but if you're going to ghost me, leave me the hell alone.

-Kels

P.S. this post has been a draft for months. (I'm not happy with my first drafts lately, so I do a lot of slow crafting before I publish.) It's a culmination of experiences, not a passive-aggressive swing at any one dude. I'm in a really good place right now. If you're in my life, I hope you know we're good, too.

Just be free

I have some questions.

Where in our culture did we become so backward and messed up that we are all conditioned to rely on others for our happiness, for our validation, for our self-worth?

Why are we not instead conditioned from childhood to be freely and fully ourselves and to only settle in with someone when he/she makes us feel wholey and completely okay being our true selves?

What is the actual purpose of comprimising who you innately are just to please another human being?

Why is one-on-one companionship the ultimate goal of society as a whole; is it not better to have a firm sense of self and a handful of the best friends you could ever hope to have?

What if fixing yourself first is the key to being companion-able in the first place?

What if you're single fo' life--are you happy with who you are as a person right here and now? Can you actually function on your own? Because you might be all you've got.

--

The older I get, the more comfortable I feel in my own skin. There is no feeling like it.

I go to bed happy at night. I wake up happy in the morning. I wear the most comfortable clothes ever that make me feel so utterly good inside and out. "Good morning, self. Don't feel like wearing make-up today? Great! I think I won't!"

I listen to the music I want. I cook meals I want and try foods I want to try. I laugh when something strikes me funny. I spend time reading about things I'm interested in. I spend time talking to family and friends. If I have a travel destination on the brain, I find a way to make it happen.

Am I self-centered? No way. I care about others so much, but, historically, it's been at the expense of me. Since I've started making sure my own person is cared for, I have felt so truly free. Free from others' opinions and advice. Free from societal pressures. Free from fear.

Because who cares what type of boundaries other people have for my life? I literally do not care. I lie my head down on my pillow at night bound to my own voice of conscience inside my head, not anyone else's. I am my own stakeholder: the sole proprietor of my headspace.

And I would never want to be with someone who is not exactly as happy being himself as I am being myself. While I'm over here living my life to the fullest, I know the things I'm doing are the things that will shape me that I can share with someone someday if the universe sees fit.

Que sera, sera.

More later,

Kels

Standards

Hmmm, where to start on this topic? Let's go here first:

I'm a feminist. I will advocate for women's equality until the day I die. Equal pay. Equal rights. Removal of sexism from all aspects of life. There is no wrath like the wrath of a woman scorned, and media and society do a lot--both intentionally and unintentionally--to "put women in their places."

One thing that absolutely boils my blood is the societal idea that women are too high-maintenance and have standards that are both too high and unrealistic.

Society could not be more wrong.

Women have high standards because they know what they want, and they know what they deserve. We are clear thinkers. We may change our minds a lot, but we have coherent goals, dreams, and plans. I'd even venture to say that we're even better off for being mind-changers because that implies malleability and resilience and flexibility and adeptness and pure, effervescent wit.

Beyond that, we are absolutely entitled to have the standards we have--for people, for relationships, for jobs, for parenting, for gender equality, for healthcare, for women's rights, for life--and we should be lauded for having such a firm grip on our wants and needs.

A lot of times, "standards" and "goals" are interchangeable words. Why should one gender be allowed to set clear goals and the other held in constant contempt for it?

Sorry, men, but women keep the world running. We bring a hell of a lot to the table. I dare you to try to do it without us!

Anyway, off my soapbox. Kind of.

--

I'd like to advocate for women never to be afraid of having high standards and never to settle on something below those standards if it is within your power. It could lead to getting lost in a total mess, whether that's a bad relationship, a job that's a waste of your time, doing things for people who don't appreciate you, a whopping pile of debt, etc.

Set your standards high and hold your ground. Your life will be so much more amazing because you'll be living it on your terms. Circumstance and person will not affect your outlook and ambitions.

I've got a lot of standards for my future, and I refuse to find myself in a situation within my choosing that's too far away from those ideals. I'm specifically talking about future relationship, financial, and professional/educational goals for myself.

If I enter into another relationship in the future, it must be with an honest man. Honesty makes everything else tolerable, or at least overcome-able. He must be honest and worthy of my trust, time, and attention. Beyond that, he must be worthy of the time he will take away from Kimmy and Mommy 1:1. He must love my child as much as me and/or as much as his own if a blended family is in my future. He must be someone I can be comfortable praying with/around.

My financial standards include being debt-free with the exceptions of car and home loans in my future. I will save for emergencies, for Kimmy's college education, for retirement, and to help others. On these standards, I will not bend, unless forced circumstance would make it so.

I will receive a graduate degree, come hail or high water. [I think the generally accepted phraseology is "come hell or high water," but "hail" makes so much more sense to me. Natural disaster + natural disaster versus death + natural disaster. I've changed it to "hail" for myself. Why? Because I can.] I'm willing it to happen. I will not break this goal. I will work during my working years and my retirement years. I will help others all I can. Lord willing, I will spend my retirement providing free childcare for a future single momma around my age now, so she can work and save and not have to worry about the most worrisome time of life. But I can figure all that out when the time arrives. It's my plan, at least!

Why should I be made to feel "less than" for having such high standards for myself, my daughter, and my/our future?

Sorry, boyz. I'm standing strong. Row your boat to my island, or row right on by and leave me be.

Cheers,
-Kelsey

Unsolicited advice

I don't know what it is about my life in particular, but people have always felt especially compelled to give me advice on a myriad of topics. I'm also one of those people who, when out in public, gets approached by the most random people, who then proceed to tell me their entire life story. And then, ironically, a lot of people come to me for advice, so they can't think I'm entirely dim...right? These things don't seem to happen to most of my friends on so large a scale, and they certainly don't add up in my mind. So, I'm just incredibly perplexed and always have been.

The life stories thing is more entertaining to me than anything else, but I find the unsolicited advice to be tiresome and draining more often than not, plus it draws unwanted attention to me. I'm a true introvert and like to hide behind a curtain in my life without people seeing my every move (Yeah, I know that probably sounds weird out loud, but it's true. Don't notice me, people!) And even people who know me and know how often I post on FB are probably reading this thinking, "What? You post all the time. You post everything that happens in your life." Wrong. I'm a really busy and active person, so much so that it makes my head spin and causes me to live out my hectic life on detailed post-it note lists, and I really only post like 1% of my thoughts and feelings and life happenings, believe it or not.

I feel like I am very clear in when I am asking for advice and when I am definitely not, so I am often left with swirling questions. Do people think I'm stupid? Do I appear to lack common sense or the ability to think for myself? Do I come off as dependent--the direct opposite of the independent person I actually am? Do people want to feel like they have a say in my choices and be stakeholders in my life? Is my life really all that outwardly interesting (because it certainly doesn't seem like it to me)? Do people even care about what they're pushing advice on, or do they just like to hear themselves talk? Even if I take someone's advice or if I don't, why does it matter/pertain to them?

Like I said, I really don't get it. I know people care--I get that part--and I certainly don't mean to sound snobby or rude or pretentious. I just truly don't understand why I'm the target of so much more advice than your average Joe. And, especially since becoming a single mom, I've had to fight off even more advice than usual. It's not that I don't love the people who are "helping" me--I do, and I have nothing personal against anyone who offers me advice, but rather a general feeling of disdain about it all.

The point is, though, that I want to figure things out for myself. I enjoy a challenge and a learning opportunity and the ability to learn from potential mistakes. I don't have a fear of falling or failing in most things (postgraduate education is an exception because I have been there, and I have failed) because I'm very in tune with my resilience. Even if someone tells me of their failure with an exact decision that I'm making in an exact scenario I'm in, it's absolutely meaningless to me until I experience it for myself. Example: people's movie recommendations. If someone tells me a movie is terrible, and I shouldn't see it, I 100% disregard their sentiments--on purpose, as well as an innate response within myself. I totally ignore it. If I want to see a movie, I go see it, regardless of what someone else thought of it. Even if that opinion comes from my most trusted circle. Why? I have to experience it for myself.

Maybe I'm just so independent that I'm over-sensitive to the whole topic of unsolicited advice and feel boxed in and defensive and like I need to stick up for myself, but I find it very hard to bite my tongue at times. Especially those times when my absolutely harmless Facebook posts turn into a gigantic controversy of people flat out telling me what to do, as if I'm asking for their permission. I find myself thinking, "HELLO?!?! You do not own me or my decisions! Being 26 has it's benefits--it means I'm an adult who can make sound decisions for my own life. I am not a child, nor do I act like one. In fact, I have one...for whom I have been making important, foundational decisions for 2.5 years now! Treat me as such. Hush. Leave me alone. Get off my back. Butt out. Silence!"

Yeah. Responding to unwanted advice is one of my biggest challenges as a Christian--right up there with patience, a virtue with which I was not blessed. I truly struggle with it. Huge personality flaw of which I am quite aware. I have always walked the line of...

 "I shouldn't say something. I really should just swallow it and not respond. It will eat me alive, but I must refrain from a rebuttal."

and...

"I'm not being forthright with people or honest with myself if I don't say something. People will never learn the type of communication I value most if I don't speak up for myself. I will continue to be misunderstood and walked on. I must speak up."

Maybe it's wrong of me (I feel like it probably is because of the small twinge of guilt I feel), but this is where I stand right here, right now: if you don't know by now that I don't appreciate unsolicited advice, it is my job to tell you--not to be mean, but so you can learn that about me and respect me as a person for who I truly am. By combating it, I am being true to myself and my needs and removing the flurry of wanting-to-scream thoughts that overcrowd my mind when I'm being inundated with unwanted opinions. I try, and will continue to try, to be kind in expressing that I don't want any advice on whatever topic is the Kelsey controversy of the day; however, it's important to me to feel like I am being heard loud and clear to prevent future occurrences.

I guess what it boils down to is honesty. Honesty is the one human capability that I value first and foremost above all else in myself and in other people. By speaking out against the arrows of advice people send soaring my way Katniss-Everdeen-style on a daily basis, I am projecting honesty. Perhaps I just need to continue my journey on the path of Balance to find that happy place where I'm not also projecting angry-bear-who-just-awoke-from-hibernation / #LEAVEMEALONE!

#sorrynotsorry? #imnotperfect #workinprogress

Peace.
-Kels

Life before and after Kimmy

It's no secret that my daughter was a huge surprise. After our initial shock, Jarrell and I quickly accepted that Kimmy would be part of our lives without ever looking back. She is such a joy!

We all have our tales of pre-baby naïveté, though, and this is mine.

While I was pregnant with Kimmy, Jarrell and I basically did whatever we wanted when we wanted. We went to the movies, the grocery store, out for drives, to the bedroom to take naps, out shopping, out to eat, etc.

I knew pregnancy was hard work, tiring, and no small responsibility.

I knew labor was painful. I knew it was generally a long process for a first child.

I knew very well that not all babies are good (calm, happy, good sleepers, all that) and was aware that newborns drained you of all energy. However, I had been around enough babies to feel comfortable caring for and being tender with my own newborn.

Despite all the [unsolicited] advice from friends and family, I was still in for a few shockers once my sweet baby arrived. I suppose it's a rite of passage for all parents and is just one of those things you have to experience for yourself.

Shocker #1: morning sickness is no light, laughing matter--pregnancy is hard. It can rock your world. My 1st trimester was ripe with weight loss (22 lbs.) and sleeping up to 18 hours a day. The most physically exhausting time of my entire life to date.

Shocker #2: labor pains HURT, and giving birth is no easy feat. Worst pain of my life. Worse than anyone could ever attempt to describe. Epidurals sometimes don't take. In my case, neither of mine did. Sometimes labor doesn't progress as it should. Birth plans can go awry. C-sections become a valid option when you've all but given up on getting your child out of the womb. (Side note: Having a C-section doesn't make you any less of a person, woman, or mother, and your birth can be just as joyous as a traditional birth!)

Shocker #3: newborns cry. A lot. I was fully prepared for my baby to be instantly comforted by whatever means I attempted to calm her. Wrong! Newborns have to learn to be comforted by what their parents do. It took a full week for Kimmy to be calmed as quickly and easily as I had envisioned. Luckily, I was blessed with a wonderfully happy child who was relatively low-maintenance as newborns go.

Shocker #4: free time is a thing of the past. I knew the first few months would be exhausting, but all those people who warned me about never sleeping again were actually wrong. Kimmy has always been a good sleeper, and sleeping when she slept as an infant made feeling rested a pretty attainable goal most days.

What they really should have warned me about was never getting to do anything on my time table again...such as getting out of the house by a certain time, getting to go to the store alone, being able to spend time or money on yourself or your own needs, and (the most shocking to me for whatever reason) getting to go to the movies. Jarrell and I have been to the movies once since Kimmy was born. One time. We used to go all the time, but what a different phase of life we are in! I've been twice with Kimmy to see animated films, but it would be lovely to go see something with my big love again.

I don't know what I was thinking--maybe that after a certain point in Kimmy's childhood we'd get more free time. Or I guess maybe that's true, but we're still a few years away from that. Babies and toddlers need constant care. It is very much a give, give, give activity being a mother...but I gain much more than I ever thought possible by giving my love and attention to Kimmy-girl.

(And, luckily, we do have one free night of childcare lined up for when we do decide to go to the movies next! It's wonderful to have good friends.)

The lesson in all this: be appreciative. Priorities change, life becomes about other things, and routine becomes a thing of the past. Through all this, never take things for granted because you never know when your "normal" will shift.

More later. 

-Kels